by Dave Warner
'You mean he picks his nose?' Feathers was lost.
'No I mean he gambles, bird brain.'
'How do you know this?' asked Charlotte.
'How do you think? I eavesdropped.'
Leila recounted the conversations she had overheard between Mac and his bookie, in which it was clear Mac had owed the bookie big-time. Mac, however, had kept promising the bookie he had money coming.
Charlotte considered. 'He definitely said he was expecting money?'
'Yes. And he got it too.'
'And he has a van!' squawked Feathers triumphantly.
'Would he have known about Oscar?' asked Charlotte.
'Everybody on the crew knew about Oscar. Honey would always bring him to the wrap party,' said Leila.
Feathers chirped in. 'By the way, with the wrap party this time do you think you could give me a little more notice than usual?'
Leila snapped, 'I always give you notice. You nod off on your perch and forget.'
'I don't "forget" what I haven't been told.'
Charlotte had to step in. 'You two, do you mind? Mac? Money? Would he have been able to run over Tommy?'
'He spends a lot of time at the studio,' confirmed Leila.
'Let's tell Mr Gold. Get the traitor keelhauled.' There was relish in Feathers' voice.
'Keelhauled?' Leila pulled a face.
'Yeah, I was in a pirate movie once. That's how I started my career, on the shoulder of a one-legged pirate with an eye patch.'
There was a knock on the door. Zara called through. 'Leila on set in five minutes.'
'I'll do this scene. Then you go to Mr Gold,' said Leila. 'In the meantime, keep your ears and eyes open.'
Charlotte groomed Leila and walked her out to the set, trying hard to not look too closely at Mac. He seemed like a nice enough man but perhaps if he owed money he'd become desperate. Charlotte was walking back from make-up when at the back of one of the trailers she heard a man's voice.
'I've booked us first class to Paris and then on to London . . . I told you I was coming into money. You didn't believe me, did you? I just had to do a little unpleasant work first.'
The words stopped Charlotte cold. Could the man be talking about stealing Oscar? Obviously he had money to spend if he was booking first class airfares. She leaned forward to try to catch a glimpse of whoever was talking but just as she craned around and put all her weight on a stack of empty film cans, they collapsed.
'Wait a second.'
The man stopped talking. She heard steps coming towards her . . .
There was nowhere to run so she slid under the trailer. She held her breath as the man moved over to where she had been standing, and waited. Charlotte couldn't see his face but his shoes were very shiny patent leather, which none of the crew wore. After a short time the man moved off. Charlotte slid out but whoever it was had vanished. Her heart was pounding fast.
Chapter 15
'You didn't see his face?' asked Feathers later, between scenes.
'No.'
'Would you recognise his voice?'
Charlotte wasn't sure that she would. Unfortunately a lot of American men sounded the same to her. 'But I would recognise his shoes.'
'Atta girl,' chuckled Leila. 'An eye for shoes. Come on, let's get over to the coffee cart and take a look at the suspects.'
Everybody had gathered for a coffee break. Charlotte walked around, eyes on the ground, checking out shoes. There were boots, grubby sneakers, new sneakers and loafers, but only three pairs of patent leather shoes. Charlotte felt a little wriggle up her spine when she saw the ones that she had seen while hiding under the trailer. Her eyes lifted from the shoes to his face. He was talking to Zara.
Charlotte recognised him now; not very tall, with black hair. This was the same man who was being treated the other day by the nurse for scratches on his arms. He had claimed they were from brambles. But what if they were from Oscar?
Leila was just about to snaffle a fat pastry snail when she felt a jab in her ribs. She looked over, annoyed at Charlotte, who was always trying to cut out all the fun food from Leila's diet, but when Charlotte jerked her head and slid her eyes in the direction of Zara and Tommy's assistant, she remembered why they had come to the coffee cart in the first place. This must be the guy. Zara looked over and saw Charlotte staring.
'Hi Charlotte, need anything?'
Charlotte was a bit stricken. The man seemed to be eyeing her keenly. Had he caught a glimpse of her before?
Zara gestured at the suspect. 'You know Rufus?'
Charlotte found herself stammering, 'Um . . . hi.' She flashed a smile at Zara and tried desperately to find an excuse. 'Is the farrier around? I think Leila has a loose shoe.'
Zara picked up her mobile and spoke into it quickly and efficiently.
Charlotte smiled self-consciously at Rufus.
'How are your arms?' she said.
He looked at her curiously and she was forced to explain.
'The other day I saw you with the nurse.'
'Oh, right. No, they're fine now.'
Charlotte decided to push her luck. 'Those cat claws can cut quite deep.'
Listening in, Leila figured Charlotte was trying to get him off guard.
'It wasn't a cat,' he said definitely. 'Brambles. I've been working on a garden.'
Zara ended the call. 'The farrier will be at the east end by the lake waiting for you.'
Charlotte thanked them and they hustled off.
'Thanks a lot,' huffed Leila. 'Not only do I miss out on a pastry, now I get nails hammered into my hoof.'
'You don't feel it.'
'Who are you to know what I feel?' shot back Leila.
'You need new shoes anyway.'
'Well, I want the ultralight Swedish design sort that Madonna collaborated on, not something a country hack would wear.'
Charlotte ignored Leila.
'I think he's the guy,' said Charlotte. 'In fact I'm sure of it.'
Leila did not share her certainty. Rufus hadn't even blinked when a cat had been mentioned. She still liked Mac for the catnapping. She'd known a lot of gamblers in her time and they would sell their mother for a dollar. In fact there were times Leila would gladly have sold her mother for a dollar, but that was a mother–daughter thing.
'Mac has a van, remember.'
'Rufus could have hired one.'
Charlotte said she would just have to tell Mr Gold her suspicions and let him figure it out. That did not appeal to Leila.
'All my life I've wanted to do a detective movie and here we have the perfect chance and you want to just hand it over. We've done all the work. We should follow this through.'
'This isn't a movie, Leila. This is real.'
'Yeah, that's what Frangelina De Fontaine says about her lips too. Believe me, I was there. The fat they injected into her lips came from my butt. It was a win-win situation and we split the bill.'
'So what do you propose?'
'I propose we take a look at their places and see if Oscar is there.'
'What? One of these guys tried to kill us.'
Leila shrugged that off.
'We weren't prepared, now we are.' Leila didn't wait for a reply. She trotted to the production office knowing Charlotte would follow.
'What are we doing here?'
'All their addresses are on the production sheet. Go in and find where they live.'
Charlotte glared at Leila, who smiled with all her teeth.
'Please.'
Charlotte knew it was foolish but it was also quite exciting. She went in and flicked through the sheet on the wall, taking a note of where Mac and Rufus lived. Leila checked out the addresses.
'Mac is in Silverlake. That's close by. Rufus is North Hollywood, not too far. Soon as we wrap, you and me are taking a look-see.'
Feathers was muttering as Charlotte saddled Leila up at the end of the day's shoot. 'This is madness.'
'You're just a scared tweety-bird,' laughed Leila.
&
nbsp; 'Charlotte, don't go along with it.'
Charlotte was finishing off a letter on the computer. 'I'll be very careful. Don't worry. If we don't come back, you deliver this letter to Mr Gold. I've written out all our suspicions.'
Charlotte printed off the letter and hid it on top of the air-conditioning unit. Leila was champing at the bit.
'Let's go, Watson.'
Leila had seen a number of Sherlock Holmes movies and always fancied she could do as well as the lean detective in following clues. Charlotte was definitely her Watson.
It didn't take them long at all to find their way to Mac's place, a converted garage in a street adorned by motorcycles, litter and cyclone fencing. Just the kind of street where some low-life cat thief might live. Mac's van was nowhere to be seen.
'Check the garbage,' ordered Leila. 'See if there's any cat food.'
Charlotte lifted the bin lid and poked around with a stick. A lot of empty beer bottles, betting stubs and pizza cartons, but no cat food.
'Smells pretty good.' Leila flipped open the pizza cartons and found an uneaten slice. 'Gold!'
'Don't be disgusting.'
Charlotte slammed the bin lid down.
Leila nudged her. 'Let's take a peek.'
There was nobody visible in the street but Charlotte didn't like going any further than this.
'Let's not.'
A meow sounded from the back of the house. Leila wasn't waiting. Oscar was there. She would free the stupid fleabag and be a hero. Mr Gold might even give her a detective movie to star in. Leila had to squeeze down a narrow path to a backyard of dead grass, boxes of junk and an empty swimming pool.
'Oscar, is that you?' she hissed, close to the back window covered by newspaper.
'It's not Oscar.'
Charlotte had reached Leila and was pointing to a small black cat sitting on top of the back fence, hungrily eyeing off a small bird tantalisingly out of reach on the lower branch of a tree. Leila considered this was inconclusive.
'Oscar could still be inside.'
But before they could debate that, a rumbling engine approached.
Mac was back!
The van was coming up the side, blocking their escape, and the house next door was right up against the fence, preventing them jumping that way. Charlotte swung onto Leila's back in one motion and jumped her into the not quite empty swimming pool. Leila's hooves landed with a splash in the dark mucky mix of dirt, water, leaves and . . . her nostrils didn't lie . . . stale beer. Yuck!
Nothing short of a steam bath would get rid of that.
They listened anxiously as the engine switched off and the car door opened. Leila caught the waft of fried chicken and was about to smack her lips when she noticed Charlotte's stern glance telling her to shut up.
Mac was on the phone to somebody.
'No, I still have it. You don't think I'd get rid of it, do you? The longer I keep it, the more it's worth.'
Leila glanced up. Mac's boots were level with her head. If he looked this way they were history. But Mac didn't look. He turned and walked back to the house. They waited in the foul-smelling water for another five minutes, then Charlotte remounted Leila.
'You got us into this mess. You can get us out.'
It was a steep jump out of the pool with not much run-up but Leila had no intention of staying a second longer in this muck. She cleared it easily. Mac's van was now up the side, leaving space behind it to squeeze back out. As soon as they were out in the street, Leila began.
'You hear what he said? "I still have it." Obviously he's got Oscar. If he gets rid of it, there's no guarantee he'll get paid.'
'Or he's talking about something completely different.'
'Okay. Let's check out your prime suspect. See how the ducks line up there.'
Charlotte really didn't want to. One close call was enough for the night, but then Leila would only go on about Mac being the culprit and she was sure it was Rufus. They galloped in the direction of North Hollywood.
The apartment block where Rufus lived was in stark contrast to Mac's. Very flash with a small landscaped garden, it was in a quiet North Hollywood street. Leila had been to many a party around here. The apartment block was only three stories tall. Rufus' apartment was around the back on the ground floor.
'Not a bramble in sight,' observed Charlotte from behind the neatly trimmed hedge. Leila nodded at it.
'Nobody in this block did this. It's professional.'
As they were talking, the rear door of the block opened and Rufus appeared.
'Tommy always has a dim sum dinner at 8 pm, where his assistants have to take notes,' said Leila knowingly. 'You've got an hour, easy, before he comes back.'
'I've got an hour?' Charlotte wondered if she'd heard correctly.
'He's your boy,' said Leila. 'Besides, if Oscar is in there he might freak and scratch me.'
'Whereas it's okay if he scratches me?'
'Hey, no offence but you don't have to look your best for close-ups.'
'I'm not breaking into somebody's apartment.'
'You don't have to. I'll do it.'
'But . . .'
Charlotte didn't get out her protest in time. Leila trotted to the intercom and pressed every button.
'Flowers,' she announced. At least three apartments responded by clicking open the door. Leila shoved in her hoof and winked at Charlotte.
'Women don't think twice if they think somebody has sent flowers. And we haven't even broken in.'
Charlotte slid into the vestibule, still protesting.
'I refuse to break into his apartment.'
'You don't need to. Reach into my saddlebag.'
Charlotte did, emerging with a doctor's stethoscope.
'Pays to be prepared,' winked Leila. 'Put it against the door and see if you can hear anything.'
'But Oscar could be sleeping.'
'Not when I bark into the intercom. He'll think it's a dog and begin moving around.'
Charlotte never ceased to be amazed at Leila's evil genius. She went down the hall and placed the stethoscope at the door.
Outside, Leila hit Rufus' button and was about to do a good imitation of an annoying terrier, sure to get any cat up and about, when she saw a security car pull up and a very large guard get out. Leila swallowed hard. There always had to be a fly in the ointment. The guard advanced, staring curiously at Leila.
Leila went for it. 'You have just entered a covert L.A.P.D. operation. Clear the area immediately.'
The security guard stared in disbelief. 'You can talk?'
'No, you idiot. This is central command ops. The horse's eyes are a sensitive camera. I am speaking to you via a microphone in the horse's mouth.'
'Wow.'
The security guard stood there a moment, then leaned into Leila's face. She thought he was going to kiss her, she could even smell garlic on his breath, but he obviously was trying to talk into what he thought was a microphone.
'I'd love to join the L.A.P.D. Can you put in a word for me?'
'Listen, you idiot, get out of there now or I'll have you arrested.'
The security guard scrambled to his car and roared off.
Charlotte, who had been stuck inside, listening to the exchange, came storming out.
'No more silly games. I'm going to tell Mr Gold.'
That night Charlotte nervously took herself off to Mr Gold's trailer and knocked.
'Come in.'
Charlotte entered to find Miss Strudworth and Mr Gold dining. They greeted her warmly and asked if she would like to join them. Charlotte declined.
'How can I help, Charlotte?' asked Joel Gold.
'I hope you don't mind but I've been thinking a great deal about this Oscar business . . .'
'Oh, you want to be an actress?' Mr Gold nodded. 'Tough profession but I can give you a part . . .'
'No, Oscar the cat.'
'Oh, right.'
Miss Strudworth reached across and patted Mr Gold's hand.
'Joel has bee
n trying not to think too hard about that,' she said.
'Tomorrow is pretty much the last day of Honey's script and the new writer's stuff is terrible.'
Charlotte took a deep breath. 'I think somebody might have taken Oscar to stop the movie.'
Joel Gold's eyebrows shot up.
'There's a thought! The other studios, of course. They're trying to wreck the picture so there'll be no box-office competition.'
Charlotte speedily took them through the incidents that had begun with Tommy's injury. She then laid out her suspects, leaving out the visits she and Leila had paid earlier. After hearing about Mac, Miss Strudworth muttered.
'Never trust a gambler, my grandfather would say.'
Joel was shaking his head sadly. 'But I've known Mac for so long. He's worked so many movies for us. Rufus I don't know very well but Tommy gave him his first job. Why would he hurt Tommy?'
Miss Strudworth said she supposed it all came down to money.
'Anyway,' said Charlotte. 'I thought I should let you know.'
'I'm glad you did, Charlotte.'
Charlotte continued. 'If you ask them straight out they'll probably deny everything and get rid of any evidence.'
'Perhaps first,' suggested Strudworth, 'you could determine where they were during the times in question? If one of them has an alibi then it must be the other.'
'Great idea, Caroline,' Mr Gold snapped his fingers. 'I know for a fact that Rufus was on the studio lot when Tommy was injured because he was running around making calls for Tommy.'
Charlotte pointed out that the other important times were when Oscar went missing and when the barrel accident happened at Excelsior Studios. Mr Gold said he would get a private detective onto that.
Strudworth giggled.
'A private detective! It's like I'm in a movie.'
'Well, you're on a set,' quipped Joel Gold, and they began laughing together. When grown-ups began laughing like children, Charlotte knew it was time to go.
'We'll reconvene tomorrow morning before the shoot,' said Mr Gold. 'I'll let you know what we've discovered. And Charlotte, well done.'
That night Charlotte couldn't sleep. Had Mac or Rufus taken Oscar? Would Mr Gold be able to find him in time? She got up for a glass of water and was surprised to find Leila also awake. Feathers was fast asleep on his perch.
