by Molly Fitz
“The royal we, indeed,” my cat sneered as he followed us down the stairs.
“Dorothy has my number,” Julie said, lingering near the door. “Thank you again for your help.
“Done already?” Nan appeared, wiping her hands on the edge of her frilly pink polka dot apron.
“I’m in good hands with Angie taking on my case. Thank you for putting us together.”
Nan beamed with obvious pride. “Oh, I’m so glad. Please tell me you’ll stay for dinner. It’s nearly ready.”
“I really can’t, but thank you for the invite.” Julie nodded toward Nan and shook my hand a second time, then excused herself from our home.
“And stay out!” Octo-Cat called as the door latched shut behind her.
Chapter Five
“That was fast,” Nan remarked a second time as I followed her into the kitchen. Even I had to admit that it seemed as if Julie couldn’t wait to get out of here. Was that simply because she had other plans, or could there be another less savory reason? Gosh, I hoped she hadn’t hired us to clear her name for crimes she had, in fact, committed.
No, no. I shook my head and let out a deep breath. How could I even think these things about Julie? She’d always been kind to us, always been reliable and, as best I could tell, honest.
“Looks like you have lots on your mind.” Nan pulled vegetables from the fridge and dropped them beside a clean cutting board. “Fill me in while you fix our salad,” she said, returning to her place of honor at the stove.
I washed the lettuce, then put it in the spinner. Not to brag, but I’d gotten quite good at preparing our nightly veggies. Mostly because Nan didn’t trust me with anything that required heat to prepare. Not after the burnt brisket fiasco of 2019.
“There’s not much to tell,” I said thoughtfully. “Someone’s stealing mail and banging up mailboxes.”
“Oh, I knew that.” Nan moved toward the fridge and grabbed a stick of butter. “It’s why I suggested you two to get together. Did she have anything else to say?”
I kept my focus fixed firmly on the salad. “Only that she’s not able to pay. I told her that’s fine, but Octo-Cat is pretty rankled about it.”
“Well, of course he is. Such a crabby tabby.” She turned and stuck her tongue out at Octo-Cat, who was sitting by his empty food bowl and scowling. I knew better than to feed him early, though. He’d be even more upset by the change in schedule than he’d become when he found out we wouldn’t be getting paid for our first case.
“Well, excuse me for having standards,” the cat said drolly. “And self-respect.”
What a drama queen.
“Well, it’s a good thing his trust fund is more than enough to cover our half of the mortgage and expenses.”
“Indeed,” Nan said, bobbing her head.
Octo-Cat let out a low growl but didn’t add any words to further express his displeasure with me and the situation.
Nan and I worked in silence for a few minutes, each enjoying the peace that came with chopping, stirring, and plating up. That’s when I remembered something from my past that may help with Julie’s case.
“Hey,” I said into the quiet kitchen. My voice seemed extra loud after the brief period of quiet. “Remember when Octo-Cat received his arbitration summons? That was delivered way late, almost too late for us to show up to the hearing. Do you think maybe one of Julie’s colleagues at the post office could be to blame for what happened then and maybe also for what’s happening now?”
“It’s possible,” Nan replied with a shrug. “But last time it was a case of a wrong mailing address and slow forward.”
I chewed my lip as I considered this. I remembered it, too, but that still didn’t mean there wasn’t a connection now. “You know what? I’m going to grab that letter just in case. See if it sparks any memories or ideas. It may be nothing, but at least it gives us a place to start.”
I raced up to the library where I kept my important papers stashed in a hanging file system in the bottom drawer of my desk. There wasn’t too much I kept, but it did have a copy of Octo-Cat’s trust fund paperwork, my various associate degree certificates, a copy of our mortgage, that kind of thing. Except…
Everything was gone.
I pulled the drawer completely off the track in case something had fallen behind, but not a single scrap of paper was to be found.
“Nan!” I called at the top of my lungs as I sank the rest of the way to the ground, needing to feel something solid beneath me as panic rushed through my veins. Even though I was sitting on the hardwood floor in front of the desk, my legs still felt weak, my knees shaky. Could all my most important documents really have vanished without a trace?
My grandmother appeared a short while later. “Yes, dear?”
I twisted around to look her in the eye. “Have you been Marie Kondo-ing my things, too?”
She lifted a hand to her chest. “Of course not. I wouldn’t throw your things out without your okay first. Each person needs to go through the process herself. My joy sparklers might not match your joy sparklers. In fact, they probably don’t.”
I lifted up the empty drawer and bit my lip to keep from crying.
“Well, now that’s a pickle.” She crossed the room and took the drawer from me, giving it a good firm shake.
“Oh, dear,” she said when nothing fell from inside. “I’ll go call Charles.”
I kept sitting there even as I heard footsteps carry down the hall. Although there wasn’t really anything my boyfriend could do in this situation, it still felt good knowing he’d be here soon.
While I was the best at piecing together clues and evidence, he always had a way of knowing what to do in tough situations like this.
“What’s the matter with you?” Octo-Cat asked with twitching whiskers. I hadn’t even noticed him enter the room.
“All of my important papers are gone,” I said with a sniff.
“What is it with you and papers going missing?” he asked with a laugh, but then sobered when he noticed I was still quite upset.
“The flyers weren’t my fault,” I reminded him. “And neither is this.”
“No,” he said with a yawn. Good to see he found my turmoil to be so relaxing. When he’d finished his enormous yawn, he added, “The first set of papers were Pringle’s fault. Do you think he took these, too?”
I perked up at this suggestion. “Pringle? Hmm. But he’s not allowed in the house.”
Octo-Cat laughed sarcastically. “Do you really think that stops him?”
“That’s it.” I pushed up and onto my feet, drawing strength from my newfound anger. “I’m calling animal control.”
How could one little raccoon cause so much damage to my business and personal life? And why wouldn’t he just leave me and my things alone?
“Oh, goodie!” Octo-Cat trilled as he trotted down the stairs behind me. “Can I be there when they come? I can’t wait to see the look on his face, when—”
He stopped abruptly when a booming knock sounded on our front door. It seemed far too soon for Charles to have arrived after Nan’s call, but then who…?
Nan ran out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel that she carried with her. “Yes,” she called. “Who is it?”
“It’s Julie!” the mail lady answered, her voice dripping with distress. “Can I come in?”
Chapter Six
Julie, Nan, and I stood in the foyer with Paisley at our heels and Octo-Cat watching from what he deemed a safe distance part-way up the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as Julie’s shoulders shook from crying.
Nan put an arm around the mail lady’s shoulders and offered a tissue she’d pulled from her front pocket.
“I was hardly here for ten minutes,” Julie reminded us. “And yet someone ransacked my truck. I didn’t notice until I’d already driven all the way home, and I still can’t believe it.”
“What’s missing?” I asked, fearing what her answer might be.
<
br /> “Some packages that I was unable to deliver since I had no one to sign for them.” Her expression grew dark, angry. “I’m already in just about as much trouble as I can get at work. What I’m really upset about is that my lucky angel was taken, too.”
“Doesn’t sound very lucky anymore,” Octo-Cat quipped, then laughed at his own joke, his striped, furry head tilting from side to side.
“Your lucky angel?” I asked, dread rising in my chest. I could always print more flyers or order new copies of my paperwork. A lucky angel sounded like it might be irreplaceable.
“Oh, it’s not an expensive thing, but it was real special to me. It was the first Mother’s Day gift my girls ever bought for me with their own money. It’s mostly glass with a bit of gold-like plating along the edges. I keep it in the glove compartment since it’s fragile. That way, it’s always close enough to keep me company as I go about my day.”
“How’d you find out it was missing?” I asked, resisting the urge to start biting at my fingernails from the mounting anxiety.
Julie got a far-off look in her eyes and she swayed slightly from side to side as if in a dream. “My youngest called to update me on college life. That’s why I was in such a rush to say goodbye after our visit, because I knew she’d be calling to check in after the shift at her part-time job ended tonight. I like to hold onto the angel while I talk with either of my girls. It’s the next best thing to being able to hug them in my arms.”
“But when you went to get it, it wasn’t there,” I finished for her with a sigh.
She nodded and pointed at me. “Exactly.”
“But you knew it was still in your truck before you came to visit us?” This whole thing was giving me a headache. It had to have been Pringle, which meant his kleptomania had reached alarmingly dangerous heights.
“Of course, it was!” Julie exploded. Suddenly, it didn’t feel as if we were allies trying to solve this thing together. “Like I said, it’s my lucky charm, and I figured I’d need a good bit of luck heading into our meeting, hoping you’d agree to help me for free and all.” She dropped her voice to a husky whisper and glanced hesitantly toward Nan. “D-d-d-did you take my angel, Dorothy?”
Oh, no. It was one thing to blame me, but to even think Nan could… Impossible! Of course, I was quick to defend my grandmother. “No way! You and I both know she didn’t, but I have a pretty good idea who did.”
“Let me guess…” Octo-Cat descended the steps slowly and plopped himself between Julie and me. “A certain, up-to-no-good-ever raccoon?”
Paisley began to bark furiously at this. “Big, bad raccoon!” she cried. “He hurt Mommy’s friend!”
Julie glanced nervously toward the upset little dog and stepped closer to the door.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Nan said, lifting Paisley into her arms and giving her a big, wet kiss.
I kept my attention focused squarely on Julie as I explained, “There’s a raccoon with sticky fingers that lives under our front porch. And, well, I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if he’s the one who snuck into your truck and stole your angel. The packages, too.”
“Angie’s also had some things go missing recently,” Nan explained, and we’ve already caught him red-handed once.
Julie’s head whipped back at this news as if she’d just received a blow right to her face. “A raccoon is taking your things? You know this for sure, and yet you haven’t exterminated him yet?”
How could I explain that killing the raccoon would be akin to murdering a human in my book? No matter how much he got on my nerves, I would never hurt him to make my life run a little smoother.
“My dear Angie has a soft heart,” Nan explained with a sad smile.
“Can you get it back for me?” Julie asked with another sniffle. I had no idea whether this newest round of tears were caused by sorrow or by hope—or perhaps both at the same time. “Can you get my angel back?”
“Of course, we can,” I said, shooting a worrying glance Nan’s way. If I was going to recover stolen property from a raccoon burrow, I’d need a bit of privacy to do it.
“Dinner’s just about ready,” my grandmother said right on cue. “While Angie is out dealing with the raccoon, I’ll need someone to stay here and eat it with me. C’mon, dear.” She guided Julie toward the dining room before anyone could argue.
I marched out the door with the animals in close pursuit. And even though I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, I had to play it cool or risk Julie overhearing.
“I’ll get him, Mommy!” Paisley volunteered, and before I could stop her she ran into the raccoon’s lair beneath the porch.
“Paisley, no!” I hissed, worry beating its ugly wings within me. “Get back here!”
Pringle was about five times her size and could really hurt her if he felt threatened by her unexpected entry into his home.
“Well, this could all go terribly, terribly wrong,” Octo-Cat said with a sigh. “That’s dogs for you, though. Always doing. Never thinking.” Yes, Paisley had become his closest friend in recent months—and, no, he hadn’t waivered one bit in his prejudice toward dogs. Contradictions were okay in his book, as long as he was the one making them.
Tires crunched in the distance, and I glanced up just in time to see Charles’s car pulling up our long driveway.
He parked right in front of the porch. “Nan told me you’re having a little raccoon problem,” he said as he moved around to the trunk of his car and popped the lid.
“More like a big raccoon problem,” I mumbled.
Charles grabbed a pair of shovels and a flashlight, then slammed the trunk closed again. “Well then, let’s get to work. Shall we?”
Chapter Seven
Charles and I approached the slim, jagged hole that led into Pringle’s under-porch apartment, shovels in hand. Octo-Cat stayed on the porch, preferring not to get directly involved if he could avoid it. Paisley, of course, had already charged bravely ahead against my wishes.
“Pringle,” I whisper-yelled at the hole, praying he was in a good enough mood to spare my poor overeager Chihuahua warrior. “Get out here!”
A little head with shining eyes poked out through the overturned grass and dirt—not Pringle’s, but Paisley’s. Oh, thank goodness!
“Hi, Mommy,” she said with a giant, excited shiver. “The raccoon isn’t home, but he sure has a lot of stuff under there!”
More than anything, I was happy to see Paisley had survived her foolish venture without so much as a scratch on her tiny head, but I was also happy about the intel she’d gotten for us.
“I guess that works in our favor,” I said. “It will be easier to get in there and get what we need without raccoon interference.” Glancing up at Charles, I backtracked a little and explained, “Pringle’s not home.”
He chuckled good-naturedly. “Yup, I got that from context. I’m getting really good at understanding your one-sided conversations, you know. I’ve had lots and lots of practice.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, followed closely by Charles’s lips as he pressed them against my skin. Instantly, I felt better, more in control of the situation. What can I say? He just had that kind of effect on me.
I hummed a satisfied beat. “How did I get so lucky to land the best boyfriend in all of Blueberry Bay?” I asked, turning to press my mouth directly to his.
“Only Blueberry Bay?” Charles asked as he playfully twisted a strand of my hair around his index finger, then bopped my nose.
“Okay, then how about the whole state of Maine?” I suggested with a wink.
“How about eww, gross, not in front of the cat?” Octo-Cat groused, jumping off the porch and charging over to stand between us. “This is the reason I call him UpChuck. Every time he’s around, the two of you make me want to vomit.”
Actually, my cat had begun referring to my boyfriend as UpChuck long before we’d started dating, but now wasn’t the time to argue over the timeline. We had a raccoon hideout to raid.
I rai
sed my shovel and smiled awkwardly at my companions. “Ready?”
Charles answered by stabbing his shovel down into the ground and lifting out a giant heap of dirt. “Oh, yeah.”
“This is almost as disgusting as what you two were doing before,” Octo-Cat growled, returning to the porch. He loved exploring the outdoors but hated getting dirty. Sure enough, the sight of the disturbed dirt was enough to have him whipping out his sandpaper tongue and getting to work.
“How can I help, Mommy?” Paisley asked, shifting her weight back and forth between her two front paws in a merry little dance. Unlike the cat, she loved any and every chance to get dirty. On more than one occasion, I’d found her in our laundry room rolling around in the dirty clothes pile with an expression of absolutely unfettered joy.
“Stay out of the way for right now, because I don’t want you to get hurt while we’re digging.”
Paisley’s face fell for an instant. It seemed she was the only one who didn’t understand how small and vulnerable she could be when danger struck—and even when it didn’t. Even though I wanted to keep her safe, I knew better than to completely exclude her from our mission.
“Once we’re done digging, you can help bring things out,” I offered, making my voice high and hyper. “Deal?”
“Deal,” she barked and ran up the porch steps. She had a hard time running in a straight line since her tail was wagging so furiously. Still, she made it to her kitty bestie’s side, tail still wagging a staccato against the porch floorboards.
Turning my attention back to the matter at hand, I realized the pile of dirt beside Charles had grown by several shovelfuls now and I hadn’t even broken earth yet. I raised my shovel again, ready to dig in, when Charles stopped me with a sharp command.
“Grab the flashlight and see what you can make out under there,” he said, lifting yet another pile of dirt out of the way.
I searched the yard until I spotted the flashlight lying in a nearby patch of grass. Grabbing it with both hands, I switched it on. Twilight had already begun to set in. Within half an hour, the sky would be completely dark. We needed to hurry. I had no idea when Pringle would be back, but I knew he had the benefit of night vision plus knowledge of the terrain. And while Octo-Cat could see in the dark, he wasn’t exactly the most hands-on when it came to tonight’s task.
