“Sheriff Fischer wouldn’t believe that,” I say with certainty.
“Yeah, he didn’t. But how did you know?”
I smile because this is a secret I can share. “I know because there are no accomplices.”
“Yes, there are,” Becca insists, standing up to face me. “Leo told me you spied on the guy with the spider tattoo.”
“I chased him too—on my bike.”
“Really?” Becca laughs. “But a bike can’t chase a car.”
“I figured that out the hard way,” I say, holding up my callused hands. “But it wasn’t till later that I remembered the jumbo-sized silver key ring Spider Tattoo carries—exactly like the one Officer Skeet has. And I remembered your saying Officer Skeet likes to dress up in costumes to entertain sick kids.”
“Yeah,” Becca says, nodding. “He used to perform in the local theater.”
“He never stopped performing,” I add with a shake of my head. “I didn’t connect it all until after I was hiding in the shed closet and found costumes and props like the cane for the old lady, Santa’s beard and black boots, and the western hat for Spider Tattoo Guy.”
“You mean the entire pet-napping ring was just one person?” Becca’s mouth falls open.
I nod. “Officer Skeet in costumes.”
“I guess it makes sense,” she says after a moment. “County officials can’t collect rewards for doing their job. So he collected the rewards in costumes so dramatic no one looked closely at his face. He may not go to jail, but he was fired from his job.”
“It’s a little bit of justice,” I say, satisfied.
Becca moves toward the Skunk Shack door. “Let’s go inside.”
“What the point?” I swallow bitterness. “We don’t have a club anymore.”
“We can, if you want.” Becca looks at me hopefully.
“But you gave the kittens away.”
“Actually, I didn’t even tell my mother about them.” Becca smiles then pushes open the door.
I’m already rushing into the Skunk Shack—and there they are. Three tiny kittens curled together in their comfy kitty bed.
“Honey!” I cry, kneeling beside her.
Honey lifts her head to look at me with a meow as if to say, “Where have you been? I missed you.”
At least that’s what I imagine she’s thinking when I scoop her up. And as I hold her close to my heart, she starts to purr.
When Leo joins us, he’s just as shocked and delighted to see the kittens as I am.
As he hugs his calico kitten, he turns to Becca with a cautious expression. “Does this mean that we’re in a club again?”
Becca and I share a smile and we both nod.
“Yes indeed,” Becca tells Leo. “The CCSC is back in business. The cat-dumper case is solved but we still have to care for three kittens.”
“Actually … only two,” Leo says with a smile so tense it’s more like a frown.
“I count three.” I point to the kittens. “What are you talking about?”
He picks up his kitten and sits down at the table with her on his lap. “Remember that family meeting I had with my parents?”
“Sure.” I nod. “How did it go?”
“Good and bad. Bad news is my parents are getting a divorce.”
“Oh, Leo!” Becca cries, rushing over to put her arm around him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you okay?” I ask but I don’t touch him—not after that weird accidental hug we had when he rescued me from the cage.
“I’m very okay,” he assures us. “It’s easier than living in a war zone. There won’t be any more fights and my parents will be happier living apart. Dad must have been planning this for a while because he already has an apartment and says I can stay with him whenever I want. He has a room for me in his new apartment.”
“As long as you’re okay,” Becca says.
“I used to dread going home because of their fights. Now that they won’t be avoiding each other, I’ll probably see Dad more often. I’ll miss living with Dad—but not his allergies.” Leo pauses. “So I told Mom I wanted a cat—and she said yes.”
“OMG!” Becca bounces up and down. “This is so amazing! You get to keep your kitten!”
He nods. “If it’s okay with you.”
“It’s better than okay,” she says, and I agree.
I’m super happy for Leo, but a little envious. I want to keep my kitten so much. But with the CCSC back together, I’ll see her almost every day.
By the time we leave the Skunk Shack, Leo has named his kitten.
Lucky.
A few days later, Leo and I are in the Skunk Shack waiting for Becca. I’m playing with the kittens while Leo is busy on his laptop organizing CCSC finances. Some of the pet owners insisted on giving us rewards—which is enough money to care for our kittens for four months. (Leo calculated this down to the last penny, of course.)
There’s a thud as the door bursts open and Becca comes rushing in. Her face is flushed and she’s breathing hard like she ran the entire way from her house to the shack. The kittens, startled, duck underneath the grandfather clock.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, coming over to Becca.
“No. But I had to hurry through my chores before I could join you. And before I left I checked my email and got some info I’ve been waiting for.”
“About what?” I ask.
“The kittens. I wanted to solve something on my own since you and Leo had a big adventure in Skeet’s shed, and I felt left out.”
“Being locked in a cage wasn’t fun.” I’m surprised that someone as popular as she is could ever feel left out. “Next time I’m locked in a cage, you can join me.”
“No thanks,” she says, laughing.
“So what was in the email?” I ask Becca.
“Since you and Leo found out who dumped the kittens, I did some online sleuthing and found out what happened before the kittens were dumped.” Becca lifts her cell phone, its glittery pink case sparkling under the lamp. “I know where they were born.”
Leo closes his laptop. “How did you find out?” he asks.
“By emailing an informant,” she says mysteriously. “Mama Cat had our kittens in a barn off Murphy Road.”
“That’s not far from our school—where Violet was lost,” I say, more sure than ever that Violet is our kittens’ mother. Not that it matters now. The kittens are happy here.
“The farmer living there found the mother with her kittens in his barn,” Becca continues. “The mother was catching mice, so he decided feeding her was a fair trade. But he mentioned the cats to a friend who told the animal control officer. Skeet recognized Mama Cat from a missing flyer and hoped to get a big reward for all four cats. So he went to the farmer disguised as a jolly fat man with a Santa beard and said the cats belonged to him. He took the cats home, but the mother ran away. So he was left with four-week-old kittens.”
“I know he tried calling Violet’s owner to get a reward,” I say. “But Violet had already returned home and her owner wasn’t interested in kittens. The woman accused Officer Skeet off conning her and told him never to call again.”
“We know the rest of the story,” Becca says sadly. “Officer Skeet didn’t want to keep evidence of his crime, so he told his nephew the kittens were infected with rabies. Burt didn’t want to kill them—he really does love animals—but he believed his uncle.”
When Becca says this, I know who emailed her this information: Burton Skeet. I don’t ask her about this though. She’s allowed to have secrets of her own. It’s not my business who she likes or dislikes. As long as she likes me enough to (hopefully) become my best friend.
Leo and I congratulate Becca on solving the final piece in the cat-napping mystery. One mystery solved by the CCSC.
But there are more, I think as I
flip through my notebook for the list of three mysteries I made a week ago.
I put a check by the kitten-dumping mystery and write the word solved.
But that still leaves two mysteries—why a grandfather clock was left in the Skunk Shack and who owned the zorse.
I smile to myself because I like having a few unsolved mysteries to puzzle over. And it’s great being in a club all about helping animals. We’re going to keep looking for lost pets. One day a week we’ll ride around, searching for missing animals. Not for any rewards, but because we want to help.
Right now I’m just having fun hanging out with my club mates. Leo has gone back to tinkering with the grandfather clock. It still doesn’t work but it has shiny new parts. Becca is drawing a design for leopard spotted curtains for our clubhouse in her sketchbook. I’m doing what I love best—playing with my sweet Honey. I giggle when she chases a catnip mouse on a string.
Lucky spies a spider and chases after it. Honey abandons the toy mouse to chase after Lucky’s tail. And Chris, who loves to sleep, snoozes curled up in the cat bed.
All three kittens jump when Becca’s phone rings.
“It’s Mom,” Becca says.
Becca goes strangely quiet. Her eyes grow big and she gasps as she listens. When she hangs up, she looks positively stunned.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting down beside her at the table.
“I can hardly believe it,” she says with a shake of her dark curls. “Mom told me she just had a call from a man in Nevada looking for his missing zorse. He’s sure Zed belongs to him and he’s coming here to take Zed home.”
Leo’s forehead creases. “Is this good or bad news?”
“I’m not sure …” Becca’s words trail off, and I know exactly what she’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing.
I’m scared for Zed. What if his owner is the same person who scarred him so badly? We can’t let him go back to an abusive owner. How can we find out what really happened to Zed?
Another mystery for the CCSC to solve.
I can’t wait.
About the Author
At age eleven, Linda Joy Singleton and her best friend, Lori, created their own Curious Cat Spy Club. They even rescued three abandoned kittens. Linda was always writing as a kid—usually about animals and mysteries. She saved many of her stories and loves to share them with kids when she speaks at schools. She’s now the author of over thirty-five books for kids and teens, including YALSA-honored The Seer series and the Dead Girl trilogy. Her first picture book, Snow Dog, Sand Dog, was published by Albert Whitman & Company in 2014. She lives with her husband, David, in the northern California foothills on twenty-eight acres surrounded by a menagerie of animals—horses, peacocks, dogs, and (of course) cats. For photos, contests, and more check out www.LindaJoySingleton.com.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Linda Joy Singleton
Cover illustration copyright © 2015 by Kristi Valiant
Interior illustrations and hand lettering by Jordan Kost
978-1-5040-0102-1
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The Curious Cat Spy Club Page 14
