Atticus Claw Lends a Paw

by Jennifer Gray

  ‘Vow!’ Zenia breathed. ‘The lost city of Nebu-Mau! That sounds tempting, doesn’t it, Biscuit? I’ve alvays vanted to try out my mummy disguise.’

  ‘The book is in a secret hiding place in a secret chamber in Howard Toffly’s crypt,’ Lady Toffly said.

  ‘The crypt is on an island in the lake,’ Lord Toffly added. ‘In the grounds of Toffly Hall.’

  ‘Ginger von’t have any problem vith that.’ Zenia Klob smiled. ‘Vill you, my little crypt cracker? I’ll drop him off in the boat. He’ll be in and out in a visker.’

  POP. POP. POP. POP. Biscuit popped out his claws one by one.

  Lady Toffly shook her head. ‘Breaking into the crypt is a job for those mangy magpies.’ She lowered her voice. ‘There’s a curse, you see. Anyone who disturbs the cat pharaoh is doomed, like Howard Toffly. He was horribly murdered in his bed.’

  Ginger Biscuit withdrew his claws.

  Thug fainted.

  Wally pooed himself.

  ‘We reckon magpies being what they are …’ Lady Toffly continued –

  ‘Revolting,’ Lord Toffly sneered –

  ‘… they’re the best ones to steal the book.’

  ‘Vy?’ asked Zenia.

  ‘They’re a bad omen,’ Lady Toffly told her. ‘People are superstitious about them. They’ve got the whiff of evil. So they’re less likely to offend Anubis, the Egyptian God of the Underworld.’ Lady Toffly snickered. ‘Hopefully Anubis won’t even bother to wake up his cat pharaoh pal to tell him the book’s gone missing again if the magpies take it. And if the magpies are still alive by the time we get to Egypt, they can lead the way into the cat pharaoh’s tomb as well. Anubis won’t suspect a thing.’ She flashed her horsey teeth in a yellow grin.

  ‘And even if old Nuby does tell on them to the pussycat king,’ Lord Toffly sniggered, ‘what Antonia and I say is, let’s get the curse out of the way by bringing it down on the magpies first! Then the rest of us can schmooze in and steal all the treasure while the cat pharaoh’s busy ripping the magpies’ throats out. Then we can turf out the Tuckers and return to Toffly Hall and you can put some central heating in this dump. What d’you reckon, Ms Klob?’

  ‘Great idea!’ Zenia shouted. ‘Brilliant, in fact. Let’s get the burnt beetroot out and celebrate! Vait a minute!’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Never mind the curse! Ve’ll have to vatch out for Inspector Cheddar and his cheesy family. And those vorms, the Tuckers. And that traitorous veasel, Atticus Claw. Ve don’t vant them spoiling the plan like they did last time!’

  ‘GGGGGRRRRR!’ Biscuit started wrestling with the bearskin, pretending it was Atticus.

  ‘We’ve already thought of that,’ Lady Toffly said smoothly. ‘We’re going to create a diversion to put Cheddar off the scent. Show them, Roderick.’

  Lord Toffly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a fist full of knitting needles, some balls of wool and a screwed-up magazine cutting.

  Klob, Biscuit and the magpies looked at the Tofflys, bewildered.

  ‘Vot’s that for?’ Klob demanded.

  ‘Are we going to knit nest snugglers?’ Thug woke up.

  Lord Toffly winked. ‘Let’s just say we’ve got it covered!’ He uncurled the magazine cutting and spread it on the table.

  Lord Toffly embraced his wife. ‘We’re going to knit the town red!’

  Inspector Cheddar was baffled. Littleton-on-Sea was under siege. Four graffiti knitting crimes in as many days! It was the worst crime spree the town had known since Atticus had stopped being a cat burglar and got rid of the magpies.

  The first day Inspector Cheddar woke up to find his panda car wearing a knitted cover that said ‘GET LOST, LOSER’. The next day he was called to a park where the roundabout had been stitched up. On the third day, startled shopkeepers in Littleton-on-Sea on their way to work reported that the town-hall clock sported a woolly hat. On the fourth day the pier had disappeared beneath a very large pair of red knitted underpants.

  ‘What’s going on, Cheddar?’

  Inspector Cheddar was in the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth’s office. The Chief Inspector was purple in the face from shouting at him.

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ Inspector Cheddar admitted.

  ‘You don’t know?’ the Chief Inspector roared. ‘What good’s that?’

  ‘None, sir,’ Inspector Cheddar said.

  ‘We need to find out who’s behind this evil crime,’ the Chief Inspector yelled.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘They’re making the police look ridiculous!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘We can’t have police officers driving round in woolly panda cars saying ‘GET LOST, LOSER’. What if the papers got hold of it?’

  Inspector Cheddar agreed that would be a disaster.

  ‘Think, Cheddar! Who do you know in Littleton-on-Sea who knits?’

  Inspector Cheddar thought for a moment. ‘Nellie Smellie, the old lady who runs the cats’ home does,’ he said doubtfully. ‘She organises an abandoned lady cats’ knitting circle. But I don’t think that she—’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I don’t care what you think!’

  ‘But you just said …’

  The Chief Inspector silenced him with a look.

  ‘This Smellie Nellie woman: is she a known criminal?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Hmmm. Just as I suspected: that makes it easier for her to slip under our radar.’

  ‘That’s true, sir,’ Inspector Cheddar agreed. ‘But she must be about a hundred and seven. I don’t think she could climb the town-hall clock to put a hat on it.’

  ‘She must have an accomplice then. Maybe more than one. What about those kittens? Didn’t you say you’d had some trouble with them?’

  Inspector Cheddar stared at the Chief Inspector. What he was saying was beginning to make sense. ‘You’re right, sir, I did! In fact now you come to mention it, they can climb! I had to get the fire brigade out last week to help me get them down from a tree.’

  ‘Go on!’ the Chief Inspector was listening intently.

  ‘After that I found the other kittens in the panda car ripping the seats,’ Inspector Cheddar told him. ‘And THEN they stuffed a ball of wool up the exhaust pipe! It was Atticus’s idea.’

  ‘What? You’re saying Police Cat Sergeant Claw’s behind it?’ the Chief Inspector thundered. ‘He should be thrown out of the force.’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that!’ Inspector Cheddar said hastily. He trusted Atticus enough to know that he wouldn’t go back to a life of cat crime. ‘I think he might have given the kittens the idea by mistake.’

  ‘That’s the sort of mistake that gets you fired!’ The Chief Inspector banged his fist on the desk. ‘My gut feeling is Smellie’s the one to watch.’ He frowned. ‘How did she get her hands on so much wool though?’

  ‘The fundraiser!’ Inspector Cheddar cried. ‘My wife organised a lecture at Toffly Hall to raise money so that Smellie could buy things for the kittens to play with. She raised over two hundred pounds.’

  ‘You mean your wife’s in on it?’ the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth wriggled his eyebrows. ‘That’s not good.’

  ‘No, of course she’s not!’ Inspector Cheddar said impatiently. ‘Smellie must have used her in her evil knitting plan. Good heavens,’ he cried. ‘Is there nothing that woman wouldn’t do?’

  The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I’m afraid some criminals are like that, Cheddar!’ he said. ‘Lowlife scum.’

  ‘But how do we prove it, sir?’ Inspector Cheddar asked. ‘We haven’t found so much as a dropped stitch at the scene, let alone anything incriminating like a knitting needle we can trace back to the cats’ home.’

  ‘We need to catch those kittens red-pawed,’ the Chief Inspector said. He narrowed his eyes. ‘My guess is they’ll strike again, and soon.’

  Inspector Cheddar stood up. ‘Don’t worry, sir. I’ll put my best officers on it straight away.
We’ll keep Smellie and her gang under twenty-four-hour police surveillance. Then, when they strike, we’ll pounce.’

  ‘Make sure you do,’ the Chief Inspector said darkly. ‘Or I’ll put you back on traffic cones.’

  Atticus was put on night watch.

  ‘I can’t believe the kittens would do such a thing,’ Mimi said to him before he left.

  ‘Neither can I,’ Atticus agreed. ‘They’re not that bad.’

  ‘And Nellie Smellie seems so kind!’ Mimi said. ‘Do you really think she and her lady cats are master knitting criminals?’

  ‘Not really,’ Atticus said.

  Mrs Cheddar and Mrs Tucker, who had come round to number 2 Blossom Crescent to say hello, thought the same thing.

  ‘You’re being an idiot, darling!’ Mrs Cheddar said cheerfully to her husband as she handed Inspector Cheddar his police cap.

  ‘As usual!’ Mrs Tucker muttered.

  ‘It’s not the kittens, Dad,’ Callie and Michael agreed. ‘Nellie Smellie’s been framed.’

  ‘The question you should be asking yourself is why,’ Mrs Cheddar said.

  ‘And by whom,’ Mrs Tucker scratched her head.

  ‘Thanks for the advice but I’ll do the detective work around here,’ Inspector Cheddar snapped. He went out of the door.

  ‘Meow!’ Atticus winked at Mimi. He had plans to do a bit of detective work of his own.

  Atticus and Inspector Cheddar drove to the Littleton-on-Sea Home for Abandoned Cats in Mrs Cheddar’s car so that Nellie Smellie wouldn’t suspect anything. Inspector Cheddar parked on the opposite side of the road and got out his night-vision binoculars.

  ‘Now listen, Atticus,’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘I’ve got officers on the roof.’ He waved at two men dressed in black who were hanging on to the chimney. ‘And I’ve got officers all the way down the street.’ A few car windows opened and fists appeared giving the thumbs-up sign. ‘I’ve got officers guarding every public building from Littleton-on-Sea to Bigsworth. No one can get past us. Your job is to guard the back garden in case they go out that way. You got that?’

  ‘Meow,’ Atticus said.

  ‘Good. And don’t let on that we’re here.’

  ‘Meow.’

  ‘Okay, off you go.’

  Atticus jumped out of the car and slunk across the road. Nellie Smellie’s house had a gate at the side that led to the back garden. Atticus squeezed under it and followed the path round to the back of the house. A light was shining from the sitting room. Atticus jumped up on the window ledge. The kittens were in there, but to his surprise they weren’t lounging about watching TV. They were crowded round the table doing a jigsaw. Atticus tapped on the window with his claws.

  The mean-looking kitten opened it.

  ‘Hi!’ He looked pleased to see Atticus. ‘Police Cat Sergeant Claw! Where’s your badge?’

  Inspector Cheddar had made Atticus take it off for the surveillance operation, although he still had his neckerchief on.

  ‘I’m incognito,’ Atticus said.

  ‘In where?’ The kitten looked blank.

  ‘You’re not supposed to know I’m here,’ Atticus explained.

  ‘Oh. Why are you telling me then?’

  ‘Because I want a straight answer,’ Atticus said gruffly. He jumped down off the window ledge into the room.

  The kittens stopped doing the jigsaw and looked at him.

  ‘Is Nellie Smellie behind the graffiti knitting crime wave?’ Atticus demanded.

  ‘Of course not!’ the kittens said.

  ‘So you lot aren’t accomplices then?’

  ‘No!’ the kittens denied.

  ‘Why should I believe you,’ Atticus said crossly, ‘after what you did the other day?’

  The kittens hung their heads.

  ‘We thought you told us to!’ the mean-looking one protested.

  Atticus growled.

  ‘All right, we didn’t really,’ the kitten admitted. ‘We’re sorry we got you into trouble. We won’t do it again.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ Atticus said. ‘What’s with the jigsaw?’

  ‘Nellie bought us some fun things to do with the money from the lecture!’ Another kitten pointed to a pile of board games and some packs of cards in the corner. ‘Would you like to play something?’

  ‘Another time.’ Atticus quickly fitted a piece of jigsaw. ‘I’ve got some police-catting to do.’

  ‘Do you have any leads?’ one of them asked.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Atticus admitted. ‘More of a hunch.’ The graffiti knitting had ‘magpie’ written all over it. It was just the sort of thing they’d do to create a diversion from something else. But Jimmy and his gang were in Siberia with Klob and Biscuit. Weren’t they?

  ‘Why would someone cover the pier in a giant pair of woolly pants?’ The mean-looking kitten frowned. ‘And try to blame it on us and Nellie?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Atticus scratched his whiskers. He touched his chewed ear. ‘But that’s exactly what I intend to find out.’

  As it happened, Atticus didn’t have to wait long.

  The next morning Mr Tucker appeared on the doorstep of number 2 Blossom Crescent.

  ‘What are you doing here, Herman?’ Mrs Tucker asked. She was looking after the kids for the day while Mrs Cheddar was at work. Inspector Cheddar was at the police station, explaining to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth why he hadn’t caught the graffiti knitter yet. Secretly Inspector Cheddar thought that Atticus might have tipped the kittens off about the surveillance operation. He’d taken him off the case.

  ‘I’s thought the kids and Atticus might like a trip on me boat,’ Mr Tucker said, looking at the floor. ‘See if we can catch us some saaarrrdines.’

  ‘Good idea!’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘It’ll take your mind off your beard-jumper.’

  ‘Can I’s take the motorbike?’ Mr Tucker asked.

  ‘All right then,’ Mrs Tucker agreed. ‘Pick me up later.’

  Soon Atticus, Mimi, Callie and Michael were tucked into the sidecar. Mr Tucker balanced precariously on the saddle. ‘It’s haaarrrd to ride a motorbike with a wooden leg,’ he grumbled.

  They zoomed along Blossom Crescent into Townley Road. They came to a T-junction at the High Street. Mr Tucker turned left.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Michael whispered. ‘This isn’t the way to the sea.’

  ‘This is the way to Toffly Hall!’ Callie whispered back.

  Atticus was puzzled. Why would Mr Tucker lie about going for a trip on his boat? He’d been acting very strangely since his beard-jumper got minced.

  They pulled through the gates of Toffly Hall. But instead of going up the main drive towards the house, Mr Tucker turned left along a narrow path through the woods.

  They bumped along through the trees. Atticus had never been down here before. The blanket of leaves made everything dark and spooky. After a while they came to a lake. A small rowing boat was tied to a jetty. Mr Tucker stopped the motorbike and switched off the engine.

  The children struggled out of the sidecar with Atticus and Mimi.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Michael asked.

  Mr Tucker pointed across the lake towards an island.

  ‘That’s where Howard Toffly’s crypt is,’ he said.

  ‘But Mrs Tucker said we weren’t to go looking for the book!’ Callie said, astonished. ‘She told us to leave it alone.’

  ‘I’s not going after that book,’ Mr Tucker said. ‘I’s going after a different book.’

  ‘A different book?’ Michael echoed.

  ‘Aye, the one where’s I keeps me notes.’

  ‘Your notes?’ Callie repeated.

  ‘Aye!’ Mr Tucker said impatiently. ‘I’s been trying to grow me beard-jumper back,’ he explained. ‘And I’s been doing some experiments in secret and keeping all the results in me notebook.’ He looked glum. ‘I didn’t want Edna to find out so I set up a laboratory in the crypt. I knew she wouldn’t look for me there! She’s funny about dead people, Edna
is.’

  Atticus knew how Mrs Tucker felt. He was funny about dead people too. Especially when they’d been killed by an Ancient Egyptian curse. He felt his fur prickle.

  ‘Why are you telling us then?’ Callie asked. ‘If it’s a secret.’

  ‘Because I keeps forgettin’ things!’ Mr Tucker rubbed his chin. ‘I think one of me blaaarrrsted experiments made me lose me memory. I can’t remember where I’ve put me notebook! And I’m a catfish’s whisker away from growing the best beard-jumper ever!’

  To Atticus’s horror, tears began to drip down Mr Tucker’s cheeks. ‘I miss me beard-jumper!’ he howled. ‘I needs youze help!’

  ‘Of course we’ll help you, Mr Tucker,’ Callie patted his shoulder. ‘I’m sure we’ll find your book. You probably put it in a safe place somewhere like Mum does with the car keys.’

  ‘Come on, then!’ Michael said. ‘What are we waiting for?’

  The kids and Mr Tucker stepped into the rowing boat. Mimi followed.

  Atticus hung back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help Mr Tucker, but something told him he shouldn’t go to the island.

  ‘What is it, Atticus?’ Mimi asked. Her golden eyes bored into him.

  Atticus shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Just a feeling.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s nothing.’ He hopped into the boat beside Mimi.

  The lake was very still. Mr Tucker pulled the boat through the water with the oars. They made a rhythmic splash. A fish jumped. No one spoke. The cats were silent. They were all thinking about Howard Toffly’s ancient book and the curse of the cat pharaoh, except Mr Tucker, who was thinking about his beard-jumper.

  The island loomed larger as they crossed the lake. It was mostly covered in thick knotty bushes and long grass. A few slender silver birch trees waved like ghostly fingers. No one – other than Mr Tucker – had been near the crypt for years. Atticus swallowed. It wasn’t surprising. Who would want to go there after what happened to Howard Toffly?

  They landed at a small wooden jetty and clambered out of the boat.