“She’s gone?” asked Mildred and Flo, looking at each other in alarm. “Where could she be?”
“Well, don’t worry, my stupidimentos. She won’t be hard to find,” said the Grand Poobah. “She is sure to have left a trail. I have my finest foxes scouting for her now. It’s only a matter of time. The two of you will be kept alive just until we find her and just until she tells us where this decoder is. Then it’s curtains for all of you! You may have lima bean–sized brains, but lima beans, my dears, are very tasty! And guess what? We have been reading your hooman cookbooks and have decided for dinner to have—FINGER FOOD! Guess what the key ingredient is? MWA-HAHA! MWA-HAHA! MWA-DOUBLEHAHAHAHA!”
And he approached them, his grin widening until all they saw were teeth.
SOMEONE IS IMPRISONED AND IT ISN’T THE BUNNYS
Mrs. Bunny waited outside for Madeline and Mr. Bunny to pick her up. When they arrived, they seemed tired and discouraged.
“The fox finder found nothing,” said Madeline.
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Mr. Bunny. “We know now where the foxes are not. We also know where marmots are not, because we went over to see if The Marmot had remembered anything else, but when we got there he had moved.”
“So we Googled his new address and went there,” said Madeline.
“But he had moved again by the time we got there,” said Mr. Bunny.
“We spent the whole afternoon doing that, and we never did catch up with him,” said Madeline.
“And we can’t do anything tomorrow morning because we have to go to the Bunny Council,” said Mr. Bunny.
“And then what?” said Madeline. “What if they throw you in prison?”
“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Bunny stoutly. “Mr. Bunny will never let us get thrown into prison. He’ll think of something. He always does. And you must never give up hope, Madeline. I have lived many more years than you, and I can say with certainty that something always turns up. Especially when things look blackest.”
“Maybe you should tell the Bunny Council about the foxes’ factory. Wouldn’t it help if more bunnies were out looking for it? Maybe we need to organize.”
“I’m telling you, it’s pointless without evidence. We need the translated file card and at least two other pieces of evidence. In fact, the fox SWAT team emergency panic button is right outside the council hall, but there is a terrible fine for pressing it without solid evidence of foxes. And besides, the fox SWAT team will do us no good until we know where the foxes are.”
“What about the kidnap note?”
“Anyone could have written that. They didn’t even sign it ‘The Foxes.’ They signed it ‘The Enemy.’ No, be patient, Madeline. We need more.”
They rode silently, some of them sulkily, back to the hutch.
When they arrived, there was an envelope stuck to the door. Mrs. Bunny opened it and gasped.
“Great,” said Mr. Bunny. “More Bunny Council threats?”
“No,” said Mrs. Bunny. “Wait until you read this. This is the break in the case we’ve been waiting for!”
She passed the note to him and he read, “ ‘So you think you’re so smart spying on me, do you? Meet me at the top of the cliff edge, under the oak tree. Signed, your enemy.’ ”
Madeline squealed. “The foxes! They must have been spying on us while we tried to spy on them!”
“Hmmm,” said Mr. Bunny. “It would appear so, but I find it hard to believe that the fox finder didn’t sound an alarm. The cliff edge is right before you come to the bunny shopping district. Seems an odd place for foxes. Everyone knows they hate paying retail.”
“Let’s go right now,” said Madeline.
“We can’t. It’s too late and we have to be up early for the council. I promise we’ll go right after the Bunny Council meeting.”
“But suppose they throw you in jail?” said Madeline.
“They won’t. And whatever you do, Madeline, you are not to go alone. Have you got that?” said Mr. Bunny sternly. “This note is excellent news. It means that those foxes are more scared of us than we are of them, or they would have just kidnapped us today when they had us unawares.”
“Why would they be scared of us?” asked Mrs. Bunny. “They weren’t scared of Flo and Mildred.”
Madeline cleared her throat. “Nobody could be scared of Flo and Mildred. I love them dearly, but they’re, well, not exactly fearsome foes. Come on, let’s go to the cliff edge now. We can rescue Flo and Mildred and be back in time for the Bunny Council.”
“Listen, Madeline, you don’t ever want to go after a fox at night. Their night vision is extraordinary, and they’re sure to be lying in wait for us. We must hunt them by daylight. Now, Mrs. Bunny and I have a lot on our minds with the council meeting in the morning. You and I have had a busy spy day, and Mrs. Bunny is exhausted from cavorting. We’ll go to bed, wake up refreshed and, after the council meeting, charge off to confront this dastardly foe.”
“All right,” said Madeline. “I guess I could use some rest. Since I can’t go to the council meeting with you, I may as well sleep in. Could you not wake me in the morning, please?”
“Of course, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny, patting Madeline. She threw Mr. Bunny a look. “You sleep as late as you like.”
Mrs. Bunny put Madeline to bed with a glass of warm carrot juice, which was just as delicious as it sounds.
When Mrs. Bunny returned to the hutch, she was surprised to find Mr. Bunny rapidly pacing in front of the fireplace.
“I’m getting worried about Madeline. She’s so worked up about those ridiculous parents. She seems to have no faith in our ability to rescue them. She doesn’t seem to realize that a bunny always gets his man.”
“I think that’s a Mountie, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny.
“Whatever. I’m sure it applies to rabbits. Anyhow, Madeline is too young for such cares. She should leave it all in our capable detecting paws. And isn’t it time to be thinking about her graduation ceremony? It’s in two more days. I have an idea, Mrs. Bunny. Instead of you going by bus with the other hat clubbers, why don’t I drive you and Madeline up? Then, after the parade, we can go inside and clap our little paws off for Madeline.”
“Oh, oh, Mr. Bunny! That is a brilliant plan! Except I think I will even skip the parade. I don’t want to risk missing Madeline’s big moment.”
“Wait a second, what about the white shoes?”
“Let me worry about that. Oh, look, Madeline finally turned out her light. Thank goodness, she is getting some sleep. Let’s go up and do the same.”
But Mrs. Bunny was wrong. Madeline had closed her light. But she had not gone to sleep.
Madeline crept softly along the ground. The giant moon had waned since Luminara but still glowed behind the clouds, and there was enough starlight to see the way to the edge of town.
“I like the dark. I like the dark,” she chanted. “I liked being alone in the dark woods on Hornby.”
But this was not the Luminara-lit woods of Hornby, and the errand she was going on was not a carefree one. Instead, she was going over strange countryside to meet with kidnapping murderous carnivorous foxes. This was not a friendly welcoming darkness; it hid things. Leaves fluttered and twigs crunched. Suddenly she regretted going out alone. But she couldn’t wait for Mr. and Mrs. Bunny forever. They had their council meeting and might even be in prison tomorrow. And she couldn’t wait for her uncle to come out of the coma. Even if he was willing to help her, there was no longer a file card for him to decode. Who knew how much of it he had managed to decode before his coma? The only word they seemed to have was rubber, and that was getting them nowhere. No, Flo and Mildred had one person they could count on right now, and that was she. As usual, she alone must save the day.
As Madeline approached the cliff, she spied sawdust arrows on the ground. Clever, she thought. The foxes can easily brush them away afterward, leaving no trace. She moved from arrow to arrow until she came to the oak tree. Now what? she wondered, reading
the note again. It didn’t say. So she followed the last arrow.
Would the foxes be there under the oak or in the oak, waiting for her all this time? The thought that perhaps they could see her and she couldn’t see them chilled her. She turned for a second. Maybe she should come another time. There could be an awful lot of teeth to contend with. Suppose they ate her first and asked questions later? But no, she could not delay.
Madeline walked to the end of the last arrow and started to say, “No guts, no glory,” but it came out, “No guts, no gloooooooooooory!” for what looked like firm earth instead gave way and she dropped down, down, down, down, down into darkness.
Madeline dropped a long time before she finally landed in some kind of huge cloth bag. It immediately closed around the top of her head.
Oh no, she thought, I’m trapped.
It was just as total panic ensued that she heard a sound at the top of the hole. A sound oddly like millions of leaves being scuttled about by millions of feet! Fox feet! A voice boomed down into the hole, “HA! At last you are mine! Say your prayers, I’ve got you now!”
As scared as she was, Madeline felt that there was something somehow wrong with these words. They were so theatrical. But she’d never spoken to foxes before. Perhaps they had sophisticated thespian societies. Before she had time to think about this, she felt a sharp jerk and the bag was slowly drawn upward.
Now she felt herself being hefted onto the backs of many foxes and carried along. It was not uncomfortable. It was a soft furry bed, but she supposed such comfort would not last long.
Eventually there was the sound of a door opening and she thumped down on a hard cement floor.
“Is anyone there?” asked Madeline in a scared little voice.
“You’re mine now!” said the voice.
“I wish you’d stop saying that,” said Madeline, rallying. “It’s a silly thing to say!”
“Is not. It’s scary,” said the voice.
There was something about the whiny tone that reminded Madeline of someone, but she couldn’t think who.
“Anyhow,” the voice went on, “I guess this will teach you to spy on me!”
Did the foxes think she and Mr. Bunny had been spying on them? They had been trying to, but they hadn’t caught sight of the foxes once. It was she and Mr. Bunny who had been spied on, apparently. She tried to remember if they had glimpsed any sign of foxes, but she didn’t think they had. Oh, they really were formidable foes, to stay so well hidden. Anyway, the thing now was to figure a way out. Well, first things first, Madeline thought, and began to try to scratch open a hole in the bag.
Madeline frantically worked at the cotton with her fingers. She was about to try her teeth when she heard the loud clang of a door opening and a whooshing noise as cold air poured into the room. There was the sound of scurrying and then the door clanged shut again.
“Hello?” called Madeline. “Has everyone left? Hello?”
She felt certain there were still foxes in the room. She could smell their slightly musty fur. And then she smelled something else. She couldn’t place it at first. Wait, it was garlic!
“Are we on a garlic farm?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” came the voice.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know that too?”
“Where are Flo and Mildred? Are they okay?”
“Who are Flo and Mildred?” taunted the voice once more before the room grew silent, leaving Madeline alone in the dark. She began to cry.
She had always been so self-sufficient. And that had been fine with her. She took pride in it. Didn’t Flo and Mildred like to say she was more of an adult than they were? Didn’t she solve their problems for them? She was very good at it. But she didn’t want to anymore. She had gotten used to the Bunnys’ company. To Mrs. Bunny’s soothing cups of tea and Mr. Bunny’s complete confidence in every situation. She liked knowing she could rely on them. And she missed her bunny pals! But they’d never find her here. Because of her great self-sufficiency, no one would ever know what happened to her. And the Bunnys themselves might be tossed into prison the next morning and not understand why she never visited them with carrot cakes or tried to plan a daring prison break. They would think she didn’t care! Oh, the poor, poor Bunnys! And poor, poor me! Madeline thought. She soaked her bag with tears until she fell asleep.
THE BUNNY COUNCIL
Mr. Bunny slept so badly that he got up at the crack of dawn, put on his overalls and went out to hammer a few shingles onto Madeline’s roof. He found hammering always calmed him down.
He lost complete track of time, and before he knew it, Mrs. Bunny was standing in front of the Smart car and calling, “Mr. Bunny, stop that, you’ll wake Madeline. And shake a paw, it’s time to leave!”
“I thought she was already up,” said Mr. Bunny, climbing down his ladder.
“No, no, don’t you remember, she asked me not to wake her this morning. She’s exhausted—poor, tired little thing. A morning in bed will do her good. Now hurry!”
She must be able to sleep through anything, thought Mr. Bunny, who had been pounding on her roof for the last hour. “I’ll be there in a second. I have to change,” he called.
“Are you kidding? We’ll be late! Just wear your overalls.”
“Overalls?” said Mr. Bunny, coming over to the car. “I can’t go wearing my overalls. What will they think? It doesn’t show the proper respect. They might arrest me for that alone.”
“Nonsense. They’ll see me in my lovely black dress and best high heels and they will forget to arrest you because they will be consumed with the question of why such an elegant bunny would marry a zshlob like you.”
“I do not like that word, Mrs. Bunny,” said Mr. Bunny.
“Come along, let’s not talk anymore. We’re both nervous and we’re sure to quarrel,” said Mrs. Bunny.
So they rode in nervous silence all the way to the council hall.
There they found other bunnies waiting outside the courtroom with pale, strained faces.
“See!” said Mr. Bunny. “They’re all accessorizing their pale, strained faces with suits.”
“Hush,” said Mrs. Bunny. Now she was very nervous. Suppose they both went to prison? How could they take proper care of Madeline? She wondered how long a little girl could live on prune cakes. She had baked and frozen a dozen. Then she realized Madeline couldn’t even get into the hutch to find them. Well, they would simply have to win their case, whatever it was.
The council was running late, as luck would have it, so the Bunnys had an even longer chance to fidget. Mrs. Bunny got a run in her stocking by nervously clawing at it.
“Darn it,” she said.
“Shhh,” said Mr. Bunny. “You never know what they will think is objectionable language. They may arrest you for that alone and throw you in the clink. Some part of me rather thinks it would serve you right.”
Some part of me rather thinks the laugh will be on you when you get home, open the freezer and find nothing to eat but prune cakes, thought Mrs. Bunny. She smiled. Mr. Bunny, seeing her smiling face, thought she had really lost her bunny mind this time. Of course, neither one of them meant these things at all. They were bunny pals forever, through thick and thin.
“Listen, seriously, Mrs. Bunny, this is important. In the courtroom, never volunteer information. Got that? Keep the bunny trap shut. In these situations, answer politely and to the point, but never volunteer anything.”
“Okay, okay,” muttered Mrs. Bunny, twisting her handkerchief. She hated it when Mr. Bunny was emphatic. It made her twice as nervous. It stirred her all up.
Finally the door opened and the Bunnys were called in.
They stood in the dock, looking up at the council, who all sat on very high stools behind a very high table up on a very high stage and stared down at them with great dislike.
And they’ve never even met us, thought Mrs. Bunny perturbedly.
“So, is y
our name Mrs. Bunny?” asked the head councilbunny, looking at her sternly.
“Yes,” squeaked Mrs. Bunny.
“And are you married to that zshlob in the overalls?”
“I dislike that word,” said Mr. Bunny.
“Yes, I am married to the, uh, gentleman in the overalls,” said Mrs. Bunny. “But I’d like to add that he was working feverishly hard right up until the time we left and didn’t have time to change. He owns a very nice suit too. With cuffs.”
“Stop volunteering information,” muttered Mr. Bunny out of the side of his mouth.
“Really?” said the head councilbunny acidly. “I hope this putative suit of his is long enough to cover his PURPLE PLATFORM SHOES!”
There was a stunned silence. However had the council found out about Mr. Bunny’s disco shoes?
“Those are my driving shoes,” said Mr. Bunny with dignity.
“Well, they are unbecoming to a bunny,” said the head councilbunny. “But that is the least of your worries and not why you have been called here. It has been brought to our attention that you have been consorting WITH MARMOTS!”
“Curses!” said Mr. Bunny, sotto voce, to Mrs. Bunny. “Someone squealed.”
“Wh-wh-what makes you think we consort with marmots?” stuttered Mrs. Bunny.
“Someone at The Olde Spaghetti Factory reported it to us,” said the head councilbunny.
“But how did he know? The Marmot was in disguise!” said Mrs. Bunny.
“AHA! That is the confession and confirmation we were looking for. Thank you very much, Mrs. Bunny,” said a councilbunny, making a note.
“I told you, never volunteer information,” whispered Mr. Bunny.
“Silence! That alone would not have been enough to have you thrown in the big pit of snakes,” said the head councilbunny.
“You have a big pit of snakes?” interrupted Mrs. Bunny, beginning to shake violently.
Mr. and Mrs. Bunny—Detectives Extraordinaire! Page 10
