The Case of the Crafty Christmas Crooks

by Cindy Vincent

  The burglar screamed and dropped the flashlight. Lil was already racing across the floor before that flashlight even hit the ground. When it did, she batted it from side to side with her front paws, like she was hitting a soccer ball. The little flashlight went spinning into the family room. In a matter of seconds, she had it hidden way under the couch.

  The bigger burglar leaned over and grabbed his wrist. "What was that?"

  "Maybe they have a parrot," whispered the other burglar.

  "I don't know," said the first one. "But let's get the stuff and get out of here! Fast."

  For a second, I thought I kind of recognized those voices. But I couldn't quite put faces with the voices.

  "You're up, Buckley," Lil meowed to me.

  So I went into position. I jumped up onto the counter, right behind the smaller burglar. I got a running start and I leaped right onto that crook's back. I had my claws full out and I dug in hard when I landed.

  "Eeeooooow!" screamed the smaller burglar. That burglar fell forward and started to stumble around the room.

  I even managed to get in a bite through the ski mask, onto the burglar's neck. Then I sprung off, touched on the countertop, and leaped onto the floor.

  By then Bogey and Lil were back in position.

  The little burglar was still screaming and the bigger burglar looked like he was trying to help.

  "Plates!" Lil yelled.

  When the smaller burglar moved forward, Lil sent one of our cat food plates sliding across the floor. Lil's aim was perfect and the plate hit its mark. It went right beneath the smaller burglar's foot as the crook stepped forward. The burglar's foot went down on top of the plate and that person went sliding across the floor, almost landing in a splits position. That burglar let out quite a scream. Then Bogey sent another plate flying that tripped up the big burglar.

  "It's those cats!" the smaller burglar yelled. "Those cats are doing this to us. Get 'em!"

  That's when I pulled my strand of Christmas lights out from behind the cabinet. Bogey took one end of the strand and I held on to the other. Then Lil picked up the partly smooshed jingle bell collar that we'd hidden behind the potted palm. She waved it in the air to get the burglars' attention.

  And to get them to run toward her.

  As she did, Bogey and I ran in opposite directions with the light strand ends in our mouths.

  I heard that familiar "jingle, jingle, jingle" of the collar as the burglars ran straight for Lil. Bogey and I pulled our strand tight about a foot off the floor, just in time to trip the burglars.

  The little burglar went down again with a thud, and the bigger burglar tripped and landed right on top of the smaller one. The little burglar cried out, and the bigger burglar fell over and hit his head on the floor.

  In a flash, Bogey made a beeline to the computer in our Mom's office. That's where he had it all set up to dial 9-1-1 by computer and send a message to the police.

  The burglars moaned and rolled around on the floor. In the meantime, the Princess went into action. She pushed and pushed just as hard as she could against that huge cookie jar on the top of the cabinets.

  "A little to the left," I coached her.

  "Now give it all you've got," Lil hollered.

  Let me tell you, I've never seen that little Princess try so hard as she did right then. She scooted back and then ran at that cookie jar for all she was worth. She hit it with her shoulder and put all her weight into it. She did her very best to shove it off the ledge, but she was just too tiny.

  The heavy ceramic cookie jar barely budged an inch. In that instant, I realized we were short on muscle and short on time. Clearly the Princess needed some help.

  It was one of the few times in my life when it paid to be an extra large cat.

  I soared onto the counter, then leaped up on the refrigerator and finally to the top of the cabinets. Then I zoomed over to the cookie jar.

  Just as the burglars were getting to their feet!

  I didn't have a second to lose. So I got into place, right behind that heavy cookie jar, all ready to push it over the ledge.

  That's when it hit me.

  Cookies.

  Suddenly, all the things we'd seen and investigated about this case came flooding back into my mind. That's when all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

  I knew who the Christmas Crooks really were.

  And I had to say, considering the way they'd had everyone fooled, they truly were criminal masterminds.

  Holy Mackerel!

  CHAPTER_19

  __________________________

  Holy Catnip!

  More than ever before, I knew I had to stop the Christmas Crooks who were rolling around on the floor below me. Otherwise, no one would ever believe they were the people behind the break-ins. They had hidden their true identities so well all along. If I didn't stop them now, they might just get away with their crimes. And worse yet, they might just keep on stealing from everyone in town!

  As far as I was concerned, they'd done enough damage to St. Gertrude. Worst of all, they'd tried to ruin Christmas. For everyone.

  When Bogey first told me about Christmas, he told me it was the best. Little by little, I'd learned that he was right. Now I still wanted it to be the best for Bogey and my family, and for me, too. And the rest of St. Gertrude.

  But for that to happen, I needed to end the crime spree of the very crooks who were on our kitchen floor.

  So I took a deep breath and tried to shove the big, giant cookie jar with all my strength. And that's when I finally understood why the Princess couldn't push it off. I could barely make it move myself and I was about four times her size. I guess we hadn't realized this was one cookie jar that weighed a ton!

  By now the burglars were starting to get to their feet.

  That meant I had to push the cookie jar off the ledge, and I had to push it off fast.

  "Come on, Princess," I ordered. "This is going to take both of us. We've got to do this together."

  She nodded her little chin. "Okay, Buckley. Whatever you say."

  We both took a few steps back and got a running start. We aimed straight for that cookie jar and gave it everything we had. Together we hit it with such force that the cookie jar slid almost halfway off. Then we gave it one more shove and the huge thing finally tipped over the edge.

  And it went falling, falling, falling . . .

  Right smack-dab on top of the little burglar's head.

  It landed with a loud whuuuump that echoed around the kitchen. Then the cookie jar bounced to the floor without even breaking into pieces. I could hardly believe it.

  The little burglar went down in a heap. For a moment, she just lay on the floor. Not making a sound. And not moving. I guessed we had probably knocked her out cold.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, which meant Bogey had gotten through to the police.

  The bigger burglar began to slap the smaller one in the face. "Mesmeralda!" he said over and over. "Wake up! Wake up! We've got to get out of here!"

  He tried to pick her up but he slipped on one of the food plates we had on the floor.

  He went down again but quickly pulled himself up. He picked Mrs. Mitchell up a second time and tried to make his way to the door. I jumped down from the top of the cabinets and onto the counter.

  By now Bogey was back, and he intercepted Mr. Mitchell as he tried to escape. He bit him on the back of the leg and Mr. Mitchell fell forward again. He dropped Mrs. Mitchell and fell on top of her once more.

  I jumped onto the floor just as Mr. Mitchell managed to grab his wife and throw her over his shoulder.

  "Jingle bell collar, kid!" Bogey hollered to me.

  And I knew exactly what he was talking about. I ran and grabbed that collar from Lil and made a beeline to the back door.

  Bogey bit Mr. Mitchell on the other leg. Just as he went down again, I dropped the collar into Mrs. Mitchell's pocket.

  The sirens sounded even louder, and Mr. Mitchell picked up
his wife once more and headed out the door. He stumbled along and kind of zigzagged out into the back yard.

  He ran around the garage and hid in the shadows. Bogey and I followed behind him.

  "They're getting away!" I hollered.

  Police cars pulled up, and their flashing lights lit up the neighborhood. Officer Smiley and a few other officers were heading to our front door.

  "Jump on his back, kid. We've got to get the Mitchells out where people can see 'em," Bogey commanded.

  So I did just that. I jumped onto Mr. Mitchell's back with my claws fully extended. And let me tell you, I dug in deep! Mr. Mitchell let out such a shriek that I'm pretty sure people heard it from three blocks away.

  With my final attack, Mr. Mitchell ran down the driveway. He carried his wife, and my jingle bell collar in her pocket went "jingle, jingle, jingle" all the way. They made such a ruckus that the police couldn't help but notice them. The police all turned and aimed their flashlights at the Mitchells. Mr. Mitchell dropped to his knees and pulled off his ski mask. Then he pulled off his wife's.

  "We were attacked," he screamed. "It was those burglars!"

  Just then our Mom and Dad and Gracie pulled up. They came running out of the car to tend to the Mitchells.

  Officer Smiley ran over to help them, too.

  "Oh no!" I meowed. "Everyone thinks the Mitchells are victims! They don't know the Mitchells were the crooks!"

  But much to my surprise, Bogey just sat back on his haunches and grinned.

  "We've got to stop them," I hollered at my brother. "We've got to do something.

  "Don't sweat it, kid," he said with an even bigger grin. "I'm way ahead of you on this one."

  Right about then, my jaw fell open wide and I could hardly speak. I wondered if my brother had been hit on the head, too. Or had he been injured in the scuffle? Because I could hardly believe what he was saying. Didn't he want to stop the Christmas Crooks?

  Before I could take a good look at him and make sure he was all right, another young officer came running up into the yard.

  He waved at Officer Smiley. "Phoebe, you're going to want to see this. We just got a pretty interesting email."

  He held his cell phone out so Officer Smiley could read it.

  She read the email and her eyes got so big I was afraid they'd pop out of her head! Then she turned red and looked so mad I thought steam was going to burst out of her ears.

  She almost sort of growled and pointed a finger at the Mitchells. "Cuff Mr. Mitchell and take him to the station. Take Mrs. Mitchell to the hospital first, and when she's better, we'll put her in jail, too."

  "But wait," Mr. Mitchell sputtered. "You can't do that! We're the victims here."

  "Don't even start with me," Officer Smiley said. "You had us all fooled but now we know better. It wasn't nice to ruin Christmas for the good people of St. Gertrude."

  Mr. Mitchell leaned back on the lawn and glared at everyone. "You can't prove a thing."

  A smug smile came over Officer Smiley's face. "Oh yes we can. It's all right here in this email. Somebody mapped it out for us quite nicely. Every clue and all the pieces leading up to solving this crime."

  Mr. Mitchell scowled. "Where did that email come from?"

  "You can worry about that in jail," Officer Smiley said.

  I gasped and looked at my brother.

  He only grinned in return.

  I grinned back at him. "You figured it out, too!"

  He nodded. "You got it, kid."

  I crouched down and looked out into the yard. "And you sent the police an email."

  He nodded. "With all the details and clues that we'd already found, kid. Leading the police right to the Mitchells' door."

  "When did you know?" I asked him.

  I was amazed when Bogey pushed a fake rock out of the way and came up with a bag of cat treats.

  He pulled the pouch open wide. "Right after I knocked the flashlight out of Mrs. Mitchell's hand, kid. I caught her scent. Then all the pieces added up and made sense."

  He handed me a cat treat. "How about you, kid? When did you figure it out?"

  I munched on the turkey-flavored treat. "When I looked at the cookie jar. That made me think of cookies and I remembered Mrs. Mitchell's cookies. She said her 'star cookies' had all been stolen. But when we found those cookie cutter sets at Nunzio's store, there were no star cookie cutters. She traded for some at the Craft Fair. So she didn't have any star cookies. So no star cookies were ever stolen."

  Bogey popped a cat treat in his mouth. "You got it, kid. Plus the star was never stolen from the top of her Christmas tree. But the stars were stolen at every house that was broken into. So I'll bet Mrs. Mitchell has a real thing for stars. She must have worked pretty hard to make sure her booth was right next to the Starry, Starry Night booth at the Craft Fair."

  I grabbed another treat from the bag. "That's where she was selling all those Christmas wreaths. Wreaths that she had stolen and just decorated differently. I'll bet she made a bundle selling all those."

  Bogey patted me on the back. "Good job, kid. Good job."

  I smiled. "Thanks. You, too."

  Now Bogey grinned bigger than I'd ever seen him grin before. "You know, kid. You're turning into a first-rate detective."

  And that was when I couldn't say even one more word. Funny, but I felt all choked up inside. I liked the idea of being a first-rate detective. If I got to be as good as Bogey was, well, I'd be one very happy Maine Coon cat.

  I turned to my brother and best friend, Bogey. Then I tried to salute him. And this time, well . . . I got it just right.

  Holy Mackerel.

  By now an ambulance had arrived and was taking Mrs. Mitchell away on a stretcher. She was starting to come to, and rolling her head around a little. She just kept saying, over and over again, "Those cats . . . Those cats . . ."

  Officer Smiley turned to another officer. "Wake up the Judge and let's get a Search Warrant. I'll bet our missing presents are right there inside the Mitchells' house."

  Later that night, no matter how many times we told the story, we all enjoyed it every time. Bogey and Lil and the Princess and I all gathered in the dining room.

  The police were outside our house and in our kitchen, finishing up all the crime scene stuff. And judging from the flashing lights down the street, I guessed they were working at the Mitchells' house, too.

  "There's one thing I don't understand," the Princess said. "I thought Mrs. Mitchell was a victim of the crooks. How could the Mitchells be victims and the burglars at the same time?"

  Bogey grinned. "That was part of their plan. As criminal masterminds. They only made it look like they'd been victims."

  I nodded. "To throw everyone off their trail. Because nobody would ever suspect people they believed were victims of the burglars."

  Now Lil jumped in. "And, as you'll recall, they were the first victims. So from that time on, they knew nobody would ever dream they might be the crooks."

  "Oh," the Princess nodded her little head. "So they were sort of hiding out as victims, in a way. That's pretty smart, I guess."

  Bogey passed us a round of cat treats. "They threw us off the trail when they went over to the Nelsons' house. They were there the night Bogey and I went to check things out."

  I chomped on my treat. "Of course, when we smelled their scent, we thought it was from their visit that night. We didn't know their scent was also there from the break-in."

  "You got it, kid," Bogey said. "You got it."

  We were just munching on some more treats when Officer Smiley and our Mom walked into the room.

  Officer Smiley gave our Mom a hug. "Thanks to that email you sent, Abby, we have enough evidence to put the Mitchells away. For a long, long time."

  Our Mom raised one eyebrow. "Email? I didn't send you an email, Phoebe. We were all at Gracie's play this evening."

  Officer Smiley looked at her cell phone. "But the email was sent from your computer."

  Our Mom
looked over at the phone. "What name is on it?

  "It says BBCDA," Officer Smiley said.

  Our Mom rubbed her head and blinked a few times. "What in the world . . .?"

  For a second, both our Mom and Officer Smiley turned and looked at Bogey and me.

  "Could it be . . .?" our Mom started to say.

  But she finished her own sentence with, "No, it's not possible . . . is it?"

  Bogey and I just purred and smiled up at her. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know what BBCDA stood for. The Buckley and Bogey Cat Detective Agency.

  Holy Catnip.

  CHAPTER_20

  __________________________

  Holy Mackerel! After Bogey and I caught the Christmas Crooks, the rest of the days leading up to Christmas were really happy ones. People kept stopping by and bringing Christmas cookies and presents. Some people even brought cat treats. A bunch of Christmas carolers came to the door one night and sang songs to us. And Christmas lights sparkled on all the lawns in our neighborhood.

  Except for at the Mitchells' house, of course.

  All in all, it was a pretty wonderful time of year.

  Then, at long last, Christmas Eve rolled around. I was so excited to see Santa for the first time in my life, I could hardly stand it.

  Our humans went to church right after dinner. Then they came home and went straight to bed. I guess they were pretty worn out from all the Christmas activities. In the meantime, us cats stayed up to see the big guy in the red suit.

  But first, Bogey and I had a little Christmas Eve gift-giving trip of our own to make. We had to deliver cat toys to the cat shelter.

  Luckily, figuring out how to get outside turned out to be pretty easy. After all, the window on the back door had been shattered when the Mitchells broke in. And since our Dad couldn't get anyone to fix it until after Christmas, he'd just taped a thick piece of plastic into place.

  A thick piece of plastic that was pretty easy to push open if we jumped up hard enough.