Raccoon Racketeer

by Molly Fitz

  The date of birth matched my mom’s, too. It had to be her.

  Did this mean that she had never really been Nan’s?

  That I wasn’t Nan’s, either?

  And what was with this all going down in Georgia? Nan had spoken fondly of her memories growing up in the south, but she’d claimed to be from one of the Carolinas.

  Not Georgia. Never Georgia.

  And if she’d fibbed about her home state, then what else might she have lied about over the years?

  Oh my gosh, did my mom know about any of this? If not, she’d be devastated to learn now. Should I tell her? Or wait until I knew more first?

  I had so many questions, and short of tracking down this William McAllister, there was only one person I could ask.

  I marched into the house, letter and birth certificate in hand, to confront Nan and demand the truth.

  Chapter Ten

  Nan and Charles sat in the living room, sipping on matching mugs of hot cocoa topped with giant heaps of marshmallow fluff. He wasn’t a big fan of tea, so Nan kept this alternate hot drink around mostly just for him.

  Paisley had cuddled into Nan’s side, and Octo-Cat sat on his favorite perch looking out the window. More than likely, he’d been keeping tabs on me this whole time.

  They all looked so cozy and content. I almost felt bad for disturbing that peaceful moment, but then I remembered that I was the one who’d been wronged, lied to. And for my entire life. Wow.

  I stood frozen at the edge of the living room, the birth certificate and letter clutched between shaking hands. Where could I possibly begin?

  “Hey! You can’t just take people’s things without asking!” Pringle cried from the foyer. Apparently, he’d followed me inside despite our rule that he wasn’t allowed in the house. That snapped me right out of my deer-in-headlights moment.

  And I turned on him so fast, he reared back in fright. “Are you really lecturing me on decorum right now?” I demanded, hand on hip. “You can’t expect things from others when you’re not willing to do the same for them.”

  Charles set his mug onto the coffee table and approached me carefully. “Angie, is everything all right, sweetie?”

  “No, it’s not!” I fumed, hating that I’d yelled at him now, too. None of this was his fault. Or Octo-Cat’s. Or Paisley’s. Or really even Pringle’s.

  “What’s that you have, dear?” Nan asked, remaining seated firmly in her favorite chair. It was her. She’d caused the pain that threatened to rip my heart right in two. The very same woman who’d taught me the importance of honesty as a child had lied to me my entire life.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” I strode over to her and dropped both pieces of paper into her lap.

  My grandmother froze. It seemed as if even her heart stopped beating for a moment before she gingerly plucked the papers from her lap and set them on the coffee table. “I haven’t the foggiest,” she told me as she calmly delivered both mugs to the kitchen sink and then started up the stairs.

  “Oh, no!” I shouted, charging after her. “You are not getting away that easily! What is this, and why didn’t I know about it? Does mom know about it?”

  Nan remained silent as she climbed the steps at her normal pace. It was almost as if I weren’t there at all.

  “Hey, why aren’t you answering me?” I demanded as a new wave of tears began to sting my eyes.

  Nan reached her bedroom door, then turned back to me. Her voice was quiet and almost completely devoid of emotion as she said, “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m not feeling too terribly well all of a sudden. I think I’ll just excuse myself to bed for the evening.”

  Before I could argue, she slipped into the room and clicked the door shut behind her. Still shocked by what I’d learned, and even more so by the fact that my normally talkative grandmother refused to discuss it with me, I twisted the knob hard and pulled.

  But it wouldn’t budge.

  Locked out by my own grandmother!

  I pounded on the door instead. “You’re going to have to talk about it with me eventually!” I shouted into the wooden barrier.

  A warm hand brushed my arm, causing me to jump in my skin.

  “C’mon,” Charles said, gently guiding me back toward the grand staircase. “It seems like you both could use some space to work things out right about now.”

  “Did you read it?” I asked through the hot tears that flowed freely now. “Did you read the letter?”

  He nodded, his mouth a tight bow.

  “What do you think it means?” I asked, my voice cracking partway through that awful question.

  “I hate to guess at it.” His voice remained soft, comforting. “It’d be much better if we heard from Nan directly.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, she doesn’t seem to be too keen on sharing. Do you think this means she’s not my real nan?”

  “Of course, she’s your real nan. She raised you. She’s been there your whole life. The letter—whatever it means—it doesn’t change anything.”

  “What about my mom, though? Is she the Laura on the birth certificate? Is that what the letter is about? Did her dad give her to Nan for some reason? And does her real mom even know what happened to her?” It was all too horrible to even think about. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop doing just that.

  Charles sat on the couch and opened his arms, inviting me to cuddle against him. “I know it’s all so confusing and upsetting right now, but I promise you it will be okay. Whatever this is, it doesn’t change who your nan is, who you are.”

  I laughed again. Angry. “If it’s no big deal, then why would she keep it a secret all these years? Why would she refuse to talk about it now?”

  “I don’t know the answers to those questions, but I’ll be here to help you figure them out for yourself.” He pressed a warm kiss to my forehead.

  “I can’t,” I sobbed, all my hot-headed energy ebbing away.

  Charles just hugged me tighter. “What do you mean you can’t? You’re Angie Russo, Pet Whisperer P.I. You’re the woman who solved her first official case in less than an hour. That’s pretty incredible.”

  Oh, yeah, I guess Julie’s case was solved. Pringle had admitted to taking the mail and banging up the mailboxes. All I had to do is offer him something he wanted more than whatever secrets he thought he might find, and he’d be sure to stop.

  Case solved. Whoop-de-do.

  I tried to smile but couldn’t. Instead, Charles held me as I cried into his nicely pressed work shirt.

  The one person I’d trusted most in this entire world had kept something monumental from me. If I couldn’t rely on her to be honest with me, then who could I count on?

  Charles stroked my hair and made soothing noises, reminding me that there was at least one person in my corner, no matter what.

  Octo-Cat jumped onto the couch beside me and licked my hand tentatively. Okay, one person and one cat—and probably one dog, too. Though I had no doubt Paisley was busy comforting Nan right about now.

  I ran my fingers through Octo-Cat’s silky fur, appreciating his friendship more than ever in that moment.

  “Angela, I can see you are quite upset,” he murmured, proving just how far we’d come since fate first flung us together. “Does this mean we’re out of Evian?”

  Leave it to my cat to put things into stark perspective.

  “No. Don’t worry,” I said with a chuckle, feeling lighter already. “We have plenty of Evian.”

  I scratched him between the ears and then pulled myself up from the couch. A nice cool glass of Evian would do us all good right about then.

  Chapter Eleven

  Despite the night cap of perfectly chilled Evian, I had a hard time drifting to sleep. Sometime early the next morning, I gave up on getting any meaningful shut-eye and went to see if Nan was up yet.

  Oh, not only was she up…

  She was already gone—and with her little dog, too. Darn, I could have used Paisley’s eternal sense of op
timism to help get me through what I knew was going to be a tough day.

  Well, it’s not like Nan and Paisley would be gone forever. Eventually, they had to come back. Eventually, the woman who was maybe not my actual grandmother would have to give me some answers. After all, Pringle had given me undeniable evidence that something wasn’t quite right about our family past, and even though I was one whole generation removed from whatever scandal Nan had worked so hard to keep hidden, it still upset me deeply.

  Octo-Cat sat waiting for me on the kitchen counter. Nan didn’t like it when he dirtied her food prep surfaces, but I hadn’t the heart or the inclination to correct him—especially not today.

  “Good morning, Angela,” he said, making eyes toward his empty food bowl. “You’re right on time for my morning repast.”

  “C’mon,” I mumbled as I shuffled toward the pantry and extracted a can of Fancy Feast. I also grabbed a clean Lenox teacup and matching saucer, the only dishes he was willing to eat or drink from. After setting both on the floor, I grabbed the half-empty bottle of Evian from the fridge and poured it into the delicate filigreed teacup until it was exactly three-fourths full.

  During our time together, he’d learned to appreciate the nuanced flavor of chilled water, and I’d learned not to question his sometimes ridiculous standards and completely non-optional routines.

  “Many thanks,” he mumbled before digging in with aplomb.

  I grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge since Nan wasn’t around to make coffee, and I didn’t feel like dealing with my deep-rooted fear of getting electrocuted on top of everything else so early in the day.

  “So what’s on our schh-edule for today?” my cat asked, over-emphasizing his speech as he often liked to do when he was feeling fancy—usually in the mornings and usually post-Fancy Feast.

  I considered his question for a few moments. Of course, I already knew exactly what we needed to do, but that didn’t mean I liked it. He probably wouldn’t, either, but there was no time like the present.

  I forced a smile. “We need to talk to Pringle and see what it will take to get him to help us.”

  Octo-Cat groaned, refusing to even pretend he liked this plan. “Do we have to?”

  “It’s the quickest, most surefire way to figure out what Nan’s hiding, especially since she doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

  “I did find it a little strange how quickly she ran out of here this morning.” His voice became deep, cold, as he cast his eyes toward the floor. “She didn’t even stop to give me a pet hello.”

  Poor guy. There was nothing he hated more than being ignored when he wanted attention. Of course, that had never stopped him from ignoring me when it suited him to do so. Double standards were just a part of being a cat owner, and I’d accepted that a long time ago.

  “Nan’s always been a lot strange, but she’s also always been honest and upfront. At least that’s what I thought.” I sighed and took another sip from my can of Diet Coke. Yes, I knew he was hurting from that morning’s slight, but I was hurting, too—and if you asked me, it was for far bigger, far more painful reasons.

  My cat studied me with large amber eyes. “You’re really upset by this, aren’t you?”

  I nodded and sighed again. “I really am.”

  He moaned as if in terrible agony. “Well, that won’t do. Let’s go rouse the raccoon and get this over with.” He traipsed out of the kitchen, his tail held high as he led the way to his electronic pet door and slipped outside.

  Aww, he really did love me. Sometimes I still wondered about that, given his hot and cold behavior when it came to pretty much everything he ever encountered. But today his willingness to do something that mildly annoyed him in order to mend my badly broken heart gave me all kinds of warm fuzzies.

  When I joined him outside on the porch, he sat and motioned with one paw toward the giant gaping hole that led into Pringle’s lair. “Well, go ahead.”

  I approached slowly, my voice soft, beseeching. “Pringle?”

  “What do you want?” the raccoon growled from somewhere under his porch. Actually, it was my porch. Must not forget that.

  “I was wondering if you could help us get to the bottom of that secret you shared with me last night?” I begged.

  If my cat’s moods ran hot and cold, Pringle wavered between the freezing and boiling points on that same wretched thermometer. His warm was almost angry, though. In fact, did we really need his help? Was it worth dealing with his attitude and trickery?

  Yes, I realized, my heart dropping to the ground. Yes, we did need him. Darn it.

  He poked his head out of the hole and grimaced. “Actually, I’m not very happy with you right now.” That was unexpected.

  “What? Why?” I was already having a hard time coming to him hat in hands. If I had to spend half the morning groveling and begging, we’d never make any progress at all.

  He rubbed his temples and squinted hard against the rising sun. Well, at least we both gave each other headaches.

  “I wasn’t giving you the papers,” he explained with a tired yet demanding voice. “I showed them to you to see, not to keep. I refuse to help until you give back what’s mine.”

  Octo-Cat came galloping over with impressive speed. “Excuse you? Don’t those papers actually belong to Nan? Didn’t you steal them away from her in the first place?”

  “Not helping,” I groaned, nudging Octo-Cat gently to the side with my foot, a slight I knew I’d pay for later. “I’m sorry, Pringle. That was really rude of me. I was just in such shock that I forgot. I’ll go get them for you right now.”

  When I returned with the letter and birth certificate in hand, Pringle was waiting on the porch.

  “I’ll take those,” he said, yanking them away even though I would’ve given them to him freely. He tucked both into his armpit and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, how can I help you? Make it snappy. I’m a very busy animal, you know.”

  I nodded toward the papers he’d stashed within his gray fur. “Those told part of a secret, but not the whole thing. I need to know the rest. Can you help?”

  He cocked his head to the side and sighed heavily. “That depends.”

  Octo-Cat hissed and raised the hair on his back. “Depends? Depends! Stop being a furry jerk wad and help already. You started this!”

  “Madame, please control your associate.” He shook his head as if this all pained him greatly.

  “Octo-Cat, I’ve got this,” I told him with an apologetic smile, then turned back to the raccoon with what I was sure had to be a very poorly concealed grimace. “Go ahead, Pringle.”

  The raccoon walked a few paces, then turned his face over his shoulder dramatically and sized me up. “I’m not sure how much you get around the forest these days, but I’m not just some amateur gumshoe. I’m a legitimate business animal now.”

  Octo-Cat exploded upon hearing this claim. “I don’t believe this. Does he reall—”

  As much as I hated to do it, I pushed my best feline friend through the pet door and then blocked it with my leg. “You’re in business?” I asked peaceably.

  He nodded animatedly; his chest puffed with pride. “Yes, indeed. You’re looking at the proud owner and key talent behind Pringle Whisperer, P.I. I’ll have you know that it’s the very best investigation firm in the area.”

  I pinched the skin on the inside of my wrist to stop myself from saying something snarky. I had no idea this masked thief stole ideas and business models in addition to papers and trinkets. I also hugely resented the implication that his P.I. outfit was superior to the one I ran with Octo-Cat. But, ugh, I still needed his help.

  “Congratulations,” I managed, thinking it was a good thing I had pushed Octo-Cat in through the cat door, otherwise there would be a definite brawl right about now. “So can I hire you to help me out here?”

  He smiled wide, revealing two rows of gleaming, pointed teeth. “Of course you can, princess. But it’ll come at a price.”

&nb
sp; “You’re going to charge me?” I balked, remembering the stack of pretty green bills he planned to use for origami. He didn’t even know what cash was, let alone its value, considering he had a tendency to just take anything he wanted. “What do you even need money for?”

  He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “Not money. Favors.”

  I took a moment to soak this in. When I’d promised Octo-Cat a favor in exchange for his cooperation, I’d ended up with the giant manor house that had once belonged to his late owner. I’d grown to love our new house, but it was still a steep price to pay for getting him to agree to wear a cheap pet harness one time.

  “Well,” Pringle prompted me, reminding me that I still hadn’t responded to his heinous offer. “Are you in or out?”

  Oh, I knew I would come to regret this, but I also knew I needed him and that the longer I went without untangling Nan’s secrets, the more desperate I would become.

  “Fine.” I squatted down and offered him my index finger, which he promptly accepted and shook in agreement.

  “Excellent. Then it seems we’ve got ourselves a deal,” Pringle said, steepling his fingers in true villain fashion.

  Well, at least he was on my side this time. Um, right?

  Chapter Twelve

  My deal with the sometimes downright devilish raccoon made, I opened the front door wide and invited him to join us inside.

  “I’ve never been so insulted in all my life,” Octo-Cat grumbled, apparently having overhead our entire conversation from the other side of the blocked pet door. “And don’t you know better than to make an open-ended bargain with a crook?”

  Pringle bared his teeth. “You know, I used to like you,” he spat at the cat. “Idolize you, even. Pffft. Pathetic.”

  “Oh, and now you don’t? I’m so hurt,” my cat snarked right back. These two were pretty well-matched when it came to conversational gymnastics. It was a shame the only thing they wanted to do was fight each other rather than work together.