Atticus wondered what it could have been about. They had seemed chummy enough yesterday over plankton-and-cod cookies. Perhaps Mrs Tucker had found out Inspector Cheddar had thrown away her fish tea.
Atticus slunk over to his bowl and stared at it hopefully. No one had thought to put anything in it. Not even the children. He waited. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The heavy silence was broken only by the sound of crashing crockery as Mrs Tucker banged down the frying pan and started to clear the table – slinging empty bowls and cups recklessly into the sink.
Atticus kept staring at the empty dish. Eventually he heard Mrs Tucker open a cupboard with a crash. She rattled round in a drawer. There followed an unpleasant scraping noise that set his teeth on edge. What was she doing? He didn’t dare look. Atticus’s stomach gurgled. Couldn’t anyone see he was about to starve to death?
Mrs Tucker bent down beside him.
Food! He thought. At last!
SPLAT!
A thick cylinder of evil-smelling wobbly pink goo landed heavily in Atticus’s dish and collapsed into a pile of lumpy sludge.
Atticus flinched as a dollop splattered on to his clean whiskers. He wiped it off with a paw. Tinned food? TINNED FOOD? Atticus couldn’t believe it. What had happened to his sardines? Or those yummy foil sachets Callie bought him? He hated tinned food. It was worse than the mummified rabbit poo the matador from Madrid used to feed him.
Atticus was about to walk away when Mrs Tucker’s hostile glare fell upon him. He stopped.
‘That’s all we’ve got, you fussy animal!’ she snapped. ‘Eat it up!’
Atticus tiptoed back to his bowl. Why was everyone in such a bad mood?! He didn’t dare leave it though. He chewed his way reluctantly through gristle and fat, trying hard not to burp. He hoped he wouldn’t get indigestion.
‘Bye, Atticus,’ Michael said dolefully, getting down from the table.
‘See you later.’ Callie gave his ears a stroke.
Atticus couldn’t purr. A piece of gristle was stuck in his throat.
The children went to put on their shoes in the hall. From the corner of his eye, Atticus saw Mrs Tucker give Inspector Cheddar one last furious scowl and march after them, clutching two brightly coloured plastic containers, one in each hand. Why had they got those? Where were they going? Atticus was worried that the kids had left their school bags beside the kitchen table but no one else seemed to care. He tried to meow but his gums were glued together with gunk.
The front door slammed. Mrs Tucker and the children had gone.
Atticus spat out what was left in his mouth. He picked a bit of fat from his teeth with one claw and had a drink of water.
Meanwhile Inspector Cheddar was finishing his cereal. He drained his mug of tea, banged it down on the table, picked up his cap and jammed it on his head. He got up and strode towards the kitchen door.
Atticus stared after him. Inspector Cheddar had a wet patch on the back of his trousers where he’d sat in something.
‘Meow,’ Atticus yowled urgently. It seemed only fair to tell him. The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth wouldn’t be very impressed if Inspector Cheddar turned up to work with a soggy bum.
‘Shut up, you mangy moggy!’ Inspector Cheddar yelled. ‘I’ve had just about enough animal nonsense for one morning!’ He stormed out.
What animal nonsense? Atticus stopped in mid-meow. He felt confused. Yesterday it was tickles and sardines. Today it was shouting and tinned cat food. He sighed. He’d never understand humans. Perhaps it was just as well he was going away.
The front door slammed again. He was alone.
Atticus tried to concentrate on the day ahead. He looked at the kitchen clock. It was 8.15. The magpies had called him to the pier at 11.15 to discuss the next stage of the crime spree; exactly eight days to the hour since their first meeting. Jimmy and his gang seemed to be enjoying the burglaries. They’d even talked about building a new nest to hold some more jewels. They wouldn’t enjoy what he had to say to them today though – that was for sure.
The school trip was an outing to the fair beside the pier.
Callie and Michael found a quiet spot by the candyfloss stall and sat down on a bench.
‘This morning was awful!’ Callie began. ‘I’ve never seen Dad so cross.’
‘I know!’ Michael said. ‘And Mrs Tucker looked as though she’d swallowed a bottle of vinegar.’ He sighed. ‘I had a feeling Dad wouldn’t believe her.’
‘You were right,’ Callie said. ‘When Dad asked her if she needed to lie down I thought she was going to hit him with the frying pan!’
‘She got her own back though,’ Michael said, ‘when she spread that fish paste on his chair.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Callie said. ‘Dad will never catch the magpies if he doesn’t believe they did it.’
Michael stared gloomily out to sea. ‘Hey look!’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Isn’t that Atticus?’
Callie jumped up. A large tabby cat with four white socks and a chewed ear was picking its way across the sand from the direction of the beach huts towards the pier. It had a red handkerchief around its neck.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Michael wondered. ‘Do you think he’s lost?’
‘Maybe he’s looking for the magpies!’ Callie said excitedly.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Michael said. ‘How would Atticus know about the magpies?’
‘Beats me,’ Callie said, ‘but I’m going to follow him, just in case. And anyway, I don’t want him to get lost again.’ She started to move away. ‘Come on.’
‘We can’t!’ Michael was horrified. ‘What if the teachers find out we’re missing?’
‘I don’t care,’ Callie said stubbornly. She jumped down on to the sand.
‘Callie,’ Michael shouted. ‘Come back!’
Callie kept on going.
Michael groaned. Little sisters could be a real pain sometimes. He glanced round. No one was looking. ‘OK,’ he muttered. ‘I’m coming.’ He ran after Callie. ‘Wait for me!’
‘Hurry up!’ Callie called back. ‘Or we’ll lose him.’
Michael jumped down from the sea wall on to the sand. He raced to catch her. ‘Where’s he gone now?’ he panted.
A dog started to bark.
‘Over there.’ Callie pointed to Atticus’s waving tail. Luckily the dog was on a lead. It couldn’t chase Atticus even though it wanted to. ‘He’s heading for the pier.’
They ran after Atticus. The sand was soft and their trainers kept sinking into it, making them stumble. Atticus was making quicker progress than they were – picking his way effortlessly along the sand. He paused for a second and sniffed the air. Then he disappeared into the dark shadows beneath the pier.
‘Quick!’ Callie urged Michael. ‘We’re losing him.’
They stumbled on until they got to the pier. They had walked along it loads of times with their parents but they had never been underneath it before.
‘It’s creepy!’ Callie whispered nervously, peering into the dark space.
The sea crashed in and out of the shadows. The air was rank with the smell of mouldy seaweed.
‘It stinks!’ Michael pulled a face. He couldn’t help thinking that any minute now one of Mr Tucker’s giant sea monsters would slither out from behind a rock!
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’
The sound of chattering came from somewhere up ahead.
MAGPIES!
‘That’s them!’ Callie gripped Michael’s hand. ‘I knew Atticus was on their trail.’
Michael frowned. It was the magpies all right. Nothing else could make that horrible noise. But why would Atticus be following them? ‘I still don’t see how …’ he began.
‘Shhh!’ Callie tugged her brother’s arm. ‘Come on.’
They tiptoed forwards.
‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’
The chattering came again, louder this time.
‘How many of them do you think there are?’ Callie whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Michael hissed back. ‘Two, maybe? Three? He looked around. Where was Atticus?
Suddenly they heard a low throaty moan, followed by a sharp meow and some fierce hissing.
‘Look! Up there!’ Callie pointed.
Michael peered up into the gloom. Way above him, where the light shone through the gaps in the pier’s wooden platform, he could just make out a scruffy mess of twigs and leaves sandwiched between the iron beams. Michael gasped. Shiny strings of red, gold and dazzling white dangled from it like wonky Christmas lights, glinting in the narrow shafts of sun. A silver watchstrap hung lopsidedly over the edge.
‘It’s the stolen jewellery!’ Callie breathed. ‘Atticus found it! I told you he would!’
‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA.’ The magpies were going mental. One of them – a huge bird with a glossy green tail and blue wings – took off for a moment and circled the air, its eyes shining cruelly in the light reflected by the jewels.
‘That must be the leader,’ Michael whispered, pulling Callie back. The bird looked vicious. Its beak was as sharp as a dagger. Luckily it was so intent on whatever was happening beside the nest it didn’t notice them.
‘GGRRRRRRR.’ It wasn’t a purr. It was a growl.
‘That’s Atticus,’ Callie hissed.
Michael’s eyes travelled slowly along the beam. Beside the nest dangled a long furry striped tail he recognised. It twitched backwards and forwards slowly.
‘GGRRRRRR.’ The growl came again.
‘He’s arguing with the magpies!’ Callie whispered.
Suddenly Atticus’s tail disappeared.
‘Quick, Callie, he’s coming down.’ Michael pulled her out of sight.
Atticus dropped down on to the sand a few feet away from their hiding place. Michael and Callie stared. Instead of the red handkerchief being tied round his neck, Atticus was carrying it in his mouth by its four corners. From one side of the untidy package dangled the end of a green sparkling necklace.
Michael felt the colour drain from his face. He watched Atticus pad away into the sunshine. Then he stumbled out from underneath the pier.
Callie ran after him. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Atticus is working with the magpies,’ Michael gasped. ‘He’s involved in the burglaries.’
‘No!’ Callie protested. ‘I don’t believe you!’
‘Remember what the Pearsons said? It all makes sense.’
Callie shook her head stubbornly.
‘Mrs Pearson saw a cat beside the bedroom window,’ Michael said urgently.
‘So?’
‘Mr Pearson said it looked as if it had been fighting. He said it had a chewed ear.’
Callie went white. ‘So does Atticus,’ she whispered.
‘Exactly. We thought it couldn’t be him because he wasn’t wearing his handkerchief,’ Michael went on. ‘But what if he’d taken it off to hold the jewels?’
Callie screwed her fists into her ears. ‘I don’t want to listen,’ she said.
‘That’s how he knew where to find the magpies, Callie,’ Michael said. ‘Because he’s a cat burglar. He’s been helping them. He’s the one who’s been using the cat flaps to break into people’s houses.’
Callie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You’re not going to tell Dad, are you?’
‘I have to!’ Michael said despairingly. ‘Atticus is in a lot of trouble. He’s a thief! What he’s done is wrong.’
‘But Dad will put him in jail,’ Callie wailed. ‘Can’t we just tell Dad we found the jewels? Can’t we just tell him it was the magpies?’
‘No, Callie. We can’t. It wouldn’t be true. And anyway, what if Atticus does it again?’
‘I know, but …’ Callie buried her head in her arms and started to sob.
‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’
‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’
The magpies were still chattering furiously.
Callie looked up. ‘Then why are the magpies so cross?’ she sniffed. ‘If Atticus is supposed to be helping them?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Michael said slowly. A crazy idea had occurred to him. What if …
‘Maybe Atticus has changed his mind,’ Callie said suddenly. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want to be a cat burglar any more.’
‘That’s just what I was thinking!’ Michael jumped up from the sand. ‘Come on, let’s follow him and see where he goes next!’ He ran off.
Callie scrambled up and chased after him.
Atticus was padding along the beach towards the promenade. He jumped on to the sea wall, crossed over by the bus stop and started walking up the road towards the centre of town.
The children hung back until they were sure Atticus wouldn’t see them, then they leapt over the wall, crossed the road carefully and tiptoed after him. After a little while Atticus turned right into a quiet street just off the main road. He walked along it a short way and disappeared behind a hedge.
‘He’s gone into that garden!’ Callie hissed.
‘Quick!’ Michael ran to the gate. ‘We need to see exactly what he’s doing.’ He peered over the gate just in time to see Atticus’s tail disappearing round the back of the cottage. Michael opened the gate quietly and sneaked in. Callie followed him. They peered round the side of the house into the back garden.
‘Oh, look,’ Callie gasped. ‘There’s another cat!’
A small caramel-coloured cat with a chocolate-brown face was sunbathing on the patio. She got up when she saw Atticus. Atticus dropped his bundle and pushed the corners of the handkerchief away with one paw.
‘He’s showing her the necklace!’
Michael said.
The caramel-coloured cat meowed.
‘You don’t think he’s giving it to her, do you?’ Callie said doubtfully.
‘No. I don’t think so.’ Michael shook his head. ‘Look, he’s wrapping it up.’
Atticus dropped the necklace back into the handkerchief and picked it up again. The children watched breathlessly as he followed the small cat towards the house. They disappeared through the cat flap.
Michael’s heart was beating fast. ‘What’s he doing now?’ He grabbed Callie’s hand. Together, they crept along the back of the house and peeked into the kitchen.
Atticus had jumped on to the kitchen table. Beside him was a handbag. He placed the handkerchief carefully on the table and drew the corners to one side with his teeth. Gently, he lifted the necklace up with one paw. The emeralds glinted in the sun. Atticus flicked out his claws one by one. He twiddled the clasp of the handbag. It sprung open. Carefully, Atticus placed the necklace in the handbag and snapped it shut. He picked up the handkerchief in his mouth and jumped off the table.
Michael and Callie ran to the front of the cottage and back out to the pavement. They were both laughing.
‘He put it back!’ Michael yelled, hugging his sister. ‘He put it back!’
‘He’s not bad after all!’ Callie cried in delight.
Just then they heard the sound of voices.
‘There they are!’ Two very cross-looking teachers were on the corner of the main road. They started towards them.
Michael and Callie looked on in horror. They had completely forgotten they were supposed to be on the school outing!
‘Uh-oh,’ Michael groaned. ‘Now we’re for it!’
Beneath the pier, Jimmy Magpie was hopping up and down the rusty beam in a rage.
‘I knew that cat couldn’t be trusted!’ he screeched.
‘You was right, Boss!’ Slasher said hastily, moving a safe distance away.
‘Yeah, Boss, you hit the tail on the head!’ Thug agreed.
‘NAIL! You idiot. Not tail. I hit the nail on the head.’ Jimmy swiped at him with his beak.
Thug dodged and fell off the beam in a flutter of feathers. ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka.’
‘But even I didn’t think he’d be capable of such snivelling cowardice!’
‘It’s pathetic!’ Slasher said.
‘
Sick!’ agreed Thug. ‘You should have seen your face, Boss, when the cat said he wanted to put all the loot back!’
‘You looked like you’d been told you’d got bird flu!’ Slasher chortled.
‘And then when he took that necklace,’ Thug hooted. ‘I thought you were going to lay an egg!’
THWAK! Jimmy punched them both in the crop.
‘He took me by surprise, you idiots, or I’d have stopped him.’ Jimmy paced up and down. What a wussy pussy!’ he screeched. ‘What a pampered pet!’ He put on a baby voice. ‘Poor little kitty-witty, doesn’t like being a cat burglar any more. Wants us to say sorry and give the jewels back to their owners like good little magpies.’ He picked up an old sardine from a heap beside the nest and bashed it viciously on the twigs until its head fell off. ‘NEVER!!’ he screeched. ‘NEVER. NEVER. NEVER. NEVER. I’d rather be boiled in oil.’
‘Er … I wouldn’t,’ Thug said nervously, regaining his perch. ‘If it’s all the same to you.’
‘Nor me,’ Slasher gurgled. ‘I’ve never been good with boiling.’
‘SHUT UP!’ Jimmy hurled the rest of the sardine at Thug. Thug ducked. The sardine hit Slasher hard on the chest. He fell off the beam in a flap. ‘You two are the most lily-livered layabouts I have ever come across. You’re a disgrace to the bird world. You’re a pair of pathetic poultry. PUK-PUK-PUK-PUK-PUK-PUK-PUK!’ Jimmy strutted along the beam with his wings tucked in like a chicken. ‘You’re like PIGEONS!’ He turned on them. ‘Remember Penguin? Remember Beaky? Remember Goon?’
‘Yes, Boss.’ Slasher crawled back on to the ledge and collapsed.
‘They’d have been happy to be boiled in oil. They’d have laughed at the prospect. You could have pulled out all their feathers one by one and tied their beaks in a knot and they wouldn’t have cared.’
‘You sure, Boss?’ Thug scratched his head. ‘Only it doesn’t sound much fun.’
‘YES, I’M SURE, YOU FEATHER-BRAINED FATTY!’ Jimmy’s wing popped out in a swift karate chop and punched Thug in the stomach. ‘It’s not meant to be FUN. This is WAR. We’re doing this to HURT HUMANS. Just like they hurt us.’ He drew a claw across his throat. ‘That cat’s curtains.’
Thug gulped. ‘You gonna get the crows in, Jimmy?’ he whispered. ‘Only, can I leave before they kill him? I don’t like the sight of blood.’
Atticus Claw Breaks the Law Page 7
