by Lisa Martin
All the while, Mala continued her growling. “What’s a house cat doing in here?” she complained.
Anton could only glance at Mala as they passed closer to her barrel. He saw the lion stand and arch her back, her tail twitching. Not good, thought Anton. She’s getting worked up.
“I’ve had it with this dumb show,” the lion growled. “It’s undignified. This is an outrage!” And on that last word, Mala roared.
The audience took in a collective breath of terror and the tamer turned on Mala, snapping her whip, but she was too late. The lion leaped from the barrel and came down facing Paka.
The poor little elephant slammed to a halt and screamed in terror.
Mala swiped at the cowering Paka, but Anton, sliding down her long nose, saw that the lion’s claws were sheathed.
“She’s just trying to scare you,” he called to Paka.
Anton turned and hissed furiously at Mala. “All great cats are brave and noble. Where’s your nobility?”
Mala growled but said nothing, still looming over Anton and Paka. Anton saw the tamer approaching, her whip raised. He whirled to Paka.
“Show her what you’ve got, Paka!”
Paka nodded fiercely and took a breath. Anton ducked just as she blared a high trumpeting note from her trunk, right into Mala’s face. The lion flinched, grimacing, and scooted away.
Anton gave Paka a wink. “That sounded plenty big to me!” he said, and the little elephant grinned.
Sparky ran up, speaking quickly. “Hey, the dog thief is opening his basket,” he announced. “He’s over there, right next to a lady with a pup.”
Anton swerved to follow Sparky’s direction, and as he did the lights strung across the top of the tent flickered and went out. The audience screamed with alarm but it wasn’t pitch dark, and Anton’s eyes adjusted easily. He had his eye on the man near the exit and he watched with dread as the man opened the lid of a fishing basket on his lap and deposited a fluffy white puppy inside. The man wore a scarf—a bright yellow scarf, unlike all the white collars and bow ties the gentlemen mostly sported. The man turned and made for the exit as the lights flickered back on. It was several moments before everyone heard two women shouting in dismay. Anton raced toward the exit on his trail.
“Tell Miss Ruby Sparky sends his regards,” the dog shouted.
Anton ran past the tent flap so quickly the two guards only had time to call after him, “No cats!” Then he was in the crowd, darting among the human legs, intent on spotting the man with the basket. Anton looked up and down, this way and that. He caught a glimpse of the man’s fluttering scarf through an opening where a side lane crossed the wider road, lined with tents and people. Anton dashed past a woman who was dressed in very odd clothing and dancing as if her feet were on fire. The fellow was moving away from the crowd along a narrow path. But how could a cat stop a man?
Anton redoubled his speed, but before he could close the gap, he first heard and then saw a great troupe of humans banging on drums they carried in front of them and blowing horrible racket out of shiny metal tubes of all shapes and sizes. Boom, boom, went the drums, yowl, blare, went the tubes, and the men all stayed close together, walking fast. They barged across the path, paying no attention to the gray cat who bobbed from side to side trying to get around them.
The noise terrified Anton, and he couldn’t see a thing through the marching legs. When at last they passed, it was too late. The man had vanished and Anton couldn’t even tell which way he had gone. Anton stood on the Midway uncertainly for a moment, shaken by the vision of the purloined puppy. Finally, without looking back, he took off at full speed to find Ruby and share his hard-won clue.
Chapter 6
A Bird’s-Eye View
And then, just as I was about to lose them, the hairless cat said the dognapper’s cap was green!”
Cecil, his expression triumphant, stood in the shade of a small grove of exotic palm trees, waiting for Ruby’s response. He expected the canine detective to be over the moon.
Ruby, however, was silent, her long face pulled into an even longer frown than usual.
“Isn’t that a great clue?” asked Cecil. “Most hats around here are black, right?”
“Well, yes, Cecil,” said Ruby, shifting her big paws uncomfortably. “Most human hats do tend to be as black as your fur, that’s very true. And I dare say that the clue you have unearthed will do us a great service on this case. Yes, I’m quite sure it will. It’s just that . . .” She paused, took a long breath, and finally sighed. “I don’t know green.”
Cecil stared for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t know the color green, Cecil, simple as that,” said Ruby, gazing at him levelly. “Dogs don’t have green, as a rule. I’ve heard other creatures mention it, most particularly birds, who seem to see dozens of hues, but I can’t say that I can distinguish green in my surroundings. I do know blue and yellow, black and white.” She lumbered over, sat next to Cecil, and blew air out through her nose.
Cecil closed his mouth, which had been hanging open, and looked straight ahead. “Are you sure?”
“Well, let’s have a test, shall we?” Ruby lifted her chin gamely. “Go ahead now, give me a for instance. What’s green, that you can see?”
Cecil raised a paw. “How about the grass there, on the mound in the middle of the Midway? That’s green.”
“The grass is the same color as the road to me,” said Ruby. “No different.”
Cecil looked at Ruby’s watery brown eyes for a moment, nodding slowly. “All right, what about the leaves in the strange trees above us?” He craned his neck at the high branches.
“The leaves blend seamlessly with the sky, when it’s cloudy,” explained Ruby, gazing up as well. “They are quite similar in color to the water in the Basin and your brother’s fur, now that I think about it.”
“Then it’s official,” said Cecil. “You don’t have green.” The big dog nodded stoically, and Cecil went on. “It’s no problem, though. We’ll let you know of any green hats we see. In the meantime, your nose can tell us everything else. Like what a mouse had for breakfast . . .”
Ruby smiled. “And when Mr. Morgan last had a bath.”
“And who keeps changing their shoes,” added Cecil. “Yep, everything else.”
The dog and cat sat chuckling quietly in the shade of the trees, watching the hordes of people stroll by under the steady afternoon sun. Suddenly, Anton burst through the tide of legs.
“Hello, you two!” he exclaimed. “I come bearing a clue. The puppies are being put in baskets when they’re stolen.”
“Excellent.” Cecil leaned in conspiratorially. “I found out that the criminal wears a green cap.”
“A green cap,” repeated Anton. “Hmmm.”
Ruby cleared her throat. “You know about green, I take it?”
Anton turned to her, amused. “Of course. But the man I saw had a yellow scarf, and no cap. Maybe there’s more than one of them.”
Ruby nodded. “Quite possibly. In my conversations with Camille and others, here’s what we’ve determined so far. The dogs being stolen are all of small stature and light coloration, of types known for their intelligence and agility. Six have disappeared, each one brought here by a visitor to the Fair.”
The brother cats sat thoughtfully. Cecil curled and uncurled his tail. Anton, whose gray fur was covered with sawdust, began cleaning his shoulder with long licks. Ruby fell silent as well. As the humans continued flocking past, Cecil stated the obvious.
“To tell the truth,” he said, “the Fair is too big and there are too many people for us to check them all for green caps or yellow scarves and baskets. I don’t think we have much chance of finding the criminal from down here on the ground.”
“What are you suggesting, Cecil?” Ruby asked, watching the crowd.
Cecil thought of how far he could see from the top of the lighthouse in Lunenburg. “We need to get higher,” he said. At that, the three
creatures raised their eyes skyward.
“Into the trees?” offered Ruby.
“Up to the rooftops?” suggested Anton.
“Higher,” said Cecil, lifting his chin. “How about on top of that.”
Anton and Ruby followed his gaze across the road and up and up, to the tallest structure at the Fair—a gigantic wheel made of massive metal beams, spinning on an axle the size of a tree trunk. The top of it seemed to brush the clouds. From each spoke of the wheel dangled a boxy windowed carriage, the glass winking in the bright sunlight.
Cecil was surprised to see that each carriage was jammed full of people. “Humans will ride in anything, won’t they?”
“Look who’s talking,” said Anton, giving Cecil a nudge.
“My partner calls it the Furs Wheel,” said Ruby, squinting up. “The most popular place at the Fair, by far. People just adore riding in those boxes way up high and then down again, round and round in a circle.”
“Have you ever gone up there?” asked Anton.
“Me?” said Ruby. “Heavens no. I’m pleased to keep my paws on the ground, thank you very much. I’m no climber like you felines. Besides, they wouldn’t brook an animal in one of those fancy boxes for a second.” She looked sidelong at the cats.
“Then we’ll have to ride on top,” said Cecil, turning to Anton.
“We?” said Anton, his eyes widening.
“Sure!” said Cecil, his whiskers twitching. “We can look for caps, and baskets, and all sorts of clues. We’ll be able to see for miles.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Anton.
Cecil and Ruby hustled Anton across the Midway and into the crowd in front of the Wheel. Each box on the Wheel stopped at a platform as it passed to let passengers on and off through doors on either end. The bottom of the great Wheel dipped below the platform on its way around.
“We can jump onto the top of one of the boxes down there, do you see?” asked Cecil, gesturing with his head toward the space below the platform.
“I do indeed,” said Ruby, beginning to muscle her way through the multitude of humans. “Stay close behind me, then go when you can.”
“I’m not crazy about heights,” muttered Anton. The two cats crept up the stairway, keeping out of sight by tucking under Ruby’s belly.
“It’s important work, Anton,” replied Cecil seriously. “We’ve got clues but we need the big picture.”
Anton opened his mouth to protest further, but just then Ruby planted her paws and began a woeful and frightfully loud baying, her heavy jowls rippling with the effort. A space immediately cleared around her on the platform as the humans recoiled and stared, and the cats seized the chance to slip away.
“Quick, down here!” called Cecil. He dashed to the edge of the platform overlooking the deep lower arc of the Wheel, readied his front paws, and sprang lightly onto the roof of the nearest box. Anton hesitated only a second before following. The roof was peaked in the center, and the brothers flattened themselves against the far side of the peak, out of view of the Fair-goers. They had only a moment to settle in before the giant Wheel began to move.
A thunderous chuff-chuff-chuff issued with a cloud of steam from a tangle of pipes situated on the ground nearby, and the Wheel began turning on its axis. It rose smoothly until the box of humans ferrying the cats reached the platform, then stopped for passengers to enter and exit. Ruby’s baying cries were subsiding now that her task was accomplished, and the excited chatter of the people below drifted up. With a slight jerk, the box began to rise again.
While Anton stayed as flat as he could on the warm metal roof, Cecil sat up and let the breeze fluff his fur. As the Wheel carried them higher into the air, Cecil swished his tail with delight.
“Isn’t this incredible?” said Cecil, turning his head in every direction. “Look how far we can see! It’s like flying!”
“But we’re supposed to be looking for clues,” Anton insisted.
Cecil glanced down at Anton. “You’re going to have to sit up, then.”
The Wheel stopped again for passengers with a mechanical thunk, and the box swayed. Anton gulped.
“You’re looking a little wobbly, brother,” observed Cecil. “Come over here, breathe the fresh air. See? There’s the Basin with all those white statues around it.”
Anton raised up a little on his forelegs. “Oh, wow, I see it. And the boy with the fish who fed us yesterday, over there.” He took a breath and steadied himself. “Look at those strange twisted trees—the huge leaves look like they could swallow you up.”
“Ho, there’s a little girl with a green hat on,” said Cecil, looking straight down. “She’s not a likely culprit. How about the other way?” He turned and stepped over the peaked roof to the opposite side. “I see a bunch of humans stacking themselves, one atop the next while spinning rings on their arms.” Cecil shook his head. “Why do they do stuff like that?”
The Wheel began its mighty turn again, and up they rose. Every time the Wheel stopped and rocked, Anton stretched out his claws to grab something to hang on to, but the metal was flat and slick and he scrabbled along the warm surface. He inched forward on his stomach and peered over the edge.
“Great cats above,” Anton breathed. “I could never be a bird, that’s for sure. Say, there’s the balloon ride Ruby was talking about,” he said, pointing a paw. “The two huge balloons resting on the ground, see?”
“I wonder how high they go,” said Cecil. Anton didn’t respond, and Cecil turned to tease him again. But Anton was motionless, his ears swiveled forward and his eyes focused on a spot far down the Midway.
“I see something else,” Anton said softly. “Look out there, past the building with the curved roof, near where that boy is tossing things in the air and catching them. There’s something green, isn’t there?”
Cecil braced his front paws and opened his eyes wide. “Oh, hey, it’s a . . . green cap,” he said slowly. “A man with a green cap, but he’s walking away so I can’t see his face.”
“Yes!” said Anton, with rising excitement. “Watch him and let’s see where he goes.”
At that moment, with a blast of steam from the engine, the immense Wheel began to turn once more, lifting Anton and Cecil higher in the sky. At the same time, two birds fluttered by overhead and landed on top of the passenger box just above the cats. They were unusually large, one more plump than the other, with eye-catching blue and yellow feathers, fringed tails, and long pointed beaks. Cecil had never seen birds like these before.
“Don’t even look at them,” Anton warned. “Stay focused on our job.”
But Cecil was distracted. He twisted his neck to stare up at the birds, who perched on the edge of the box above and chattered away to each other, never looking down.
“I just think,” said the plump bird, preening her chest feathers, “if they really want us to stay put on that dismal island so that people can gawk at us all day, they should stock the lagoon with better fish.”
“Oh, quit complaining,” said the thinner bird. “The parrots are stuck in cages over by the Basin. That’d be a whole lot worse.” She flared out one brilliant wing, examining it.
“I hear you,” agreed the plump bird. “But they get fancy seeds over there, plus crickets if they speak to the humans.”
“Too much trouble.” The thin bird shook her beak. “I’m glad we can fly, at least.”
“Right, and we’re not getting snatched like those dogs,” added the plump bird.
The Wheel started up once more, and this time the birds’ box rose to the top of the giant circle. Cecil paced along the roof of the cats’ box just below, watching the birds intently.
“Did you hear what that crazy goose Mimi said about that, by the way?” asked the thin bird, strutting along the edge of the roofline. “She said that she was up at cloud level one day and she thought she heard dogs crying in the sky. Can you believe that?”
“Crying in the sky?” squawked the plump bird. “Oh, that
goose is a loon, honestly.” She chuckled.
“A loon, ha.” The thin bird tittered and tapped the other with a wing. “Good one.” She turned and noticed the cats for the first time. “Flying feathers,” she screeched. “Felines dead ahead.”
“Ugh,” said the plump bird mildly, peering across. “I can’t stand cats. But don’t worry. What are they going to do, jump over here?” She turned her back and shook her tail feathers at Cecil.
Cecil stepped to the edge of the roof and hissed at the birds. Just as Anton opened his mouth to warn him off, the Wheel ground into motion again, this time without stopping. In a sweeping arc the boxes were carried over the top of the circle and down the other side. The birds sent a steady stream of taunts at the cats.
“You tough guys gonna fly and get us, or what?”
“Hey, fat cat! Stuck on a hot tin roof?”
“Gonna use up some lives, getting out of this one, that’s for sure.”
As the Wheel revolved, the birds’ box descended underneath the cats’ perch, and Cecil glowered down at the birds as they yammered up at him.
“Ignore them, Cecil,” pleaded Anton.
“I can’t endure insults from birds,” Cecil growled.
At that moment the steam engine hitched and the Wheel jolted sharply as it revolved. The dangling boxes quavered on their hinges. Anton struggled to hang on, his claws spread wide, scraping the metal. Cecil, balanced on the far edge, yelped as the box jounced. His eyes met Anton’s in terror as he slipped straight off into the air.
“Cecil!” Anton cried, lunging toward him. Cecil’s front paws spun, grasping at the box desperately, and then he dropped like a stone.
Cecil flailed as he fell. Clang!—he crashed onto the roof of the box below, skidded across the slippery metal and managed, barely, to stay on. He looked up, and for a brief moment he stared at the brightly colored birds only a few feet away, their beaks open in a silent squawk.
