Catnapped!

by Gareth P. Jones

  “The cats, yes, that’s right. I swam out – something was holding on to the raft. I bit into it, then it all went black.”

  “What do you mean, something was holding on to it? Like what?” asked Holly.

  “I don’t know but whatever it was tasted pretty bad. Was your cat in the crate?”

  “Yes, you saved Willow.” Holly grinned. “Thank you so much. She means more to me than anything. I can pay you. I’ve got some money saved.”

  “That’s great, kiddo, but right now I’m more interested in how I got myself across London unconscious. That sounds pretty impressive even for me.”

  “I got Mrs Klingerflim to come and pick us up.”

  “Mrs Klingerflim…” started Dirk anxiously.

  “Don’t worry. She doesn’t know,” interrupted Holly. “She really is blind. The scariest roller coaster in the world has nothing on a short road trip in her car. I told her you were ill and she gave me this homemade medicine.” Holly held up a bottle of distinctly dubious-looking brown liquid and handed it to Dirk.

  He opened it and sniffed cautiously.

  “Apparently it used to work wonders on her poor Ivor,” said Holly.

  Dirk took a sip. It tasted revolting, like boiled cabbage and sewage.

  “Eurgh!” he said. “It’s no wonder the poor man died.”

  Holly laughed.

  “Well,” he said, putting the bottle down. “I guess I owe you one. Thanks. But if you’ve got your cat then the case is closed. Why are you still here?”

  “Closed? It’s far from closed. Look at these.”

  She slammed a pile of papers on the desk between them.

  Dirk reached out a paw, twisted the top paper round and read out loud, “Allotment owners complain of stolen vegetables. ‘It’s a case of bean and gone,’ said allotment owner Len Cooper.”

  “The story above that,” said Holly impatiently.

  Dirk read:

  Police flummoxed by the mass disappearance of pet cats in London.

  The second paper read:

  Londoners advised to keep cats indoors as cat theft increases by 340%.

  And another:

  Cat thieves continue to evade the authorities as more moggies go missing.

  “We rescued those cats but there’s loads more still missing. I heard those two crooks say it was their fourth time down to the river. What’s happened to the poor cats in the other three crates? What are they doing with them?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Dirk. “Have you gone to the police?”

  “The police? No way. This is our case,” replied Holly. “Look, I’ll tell you what I’ve found out—”

  “No,” interrupted Dirk, remembering the resolution he had made while swimming in the Thames. “This isn’t our case. It’s my case. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, kiddo, I really am…”

  “What? For me saving your life?”

  “Yeah, for that,” said Dirk. “But I can’t let you get involved. You’re only a kid and you’re only a human. I suggest you go home, board up your cat flap and hold on to Willow. This isn’t your case any more.”

  Holly stared angrily at Dirk. “Not my case? If it wasn’t for me you’d still be lying by the Thames or possibly in it.”

  “It’s for your own good.”

  “How do you know anything about my own good?” Holly stared intently into his large yellow eyes.

  Dirk glanced around his office. There was something odd about it. It took him a moment to work out what. It was tidy. In fact, it was more than tidy. It was clean. All the empty baked bean tins and bottles of orange squash had been thrown away, the newspapers piled neatly into a corner and the details of previous cases had been picked up and actually filed in the filing cabinet. The broken desk had been propped up on old phone directories. Tentatively he pulled open a desk drawer. The paperclips, pens and pencils had all been sorted into different colours. The drawer had been lined with floral paper. He lowered his nose and sniffed. It was even worse than he had thought. It was scented paper.

  “How much time have you spent here?” he asked.

  “I’ve been here every day,” replied Holly, “working on the case.”

  “And what about school? What about your parents?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about them,” said Holly casually.

  “And yet I find I am worried. Look, kiddo, I don’t want any trouble and if you keep sneaking off here instead of going to school it’s going to attract trouble.”

  “My parents think I am going to school.”

  “And what about your school?”

  “They think I’m at home with the flu. I do a pretty good impression of my dad’s wife, if I do say so myself.”

  “And they don’t suspect a thing?”

  “I’ve done it before. I’ve been to quite a few schools in my time. I know the systems.”

  “How many schools?”

  “One … two … three…” Holly counted on her fingers. “Four… Five schools,” she announced proudly.

  “Right,” said Dirk. “And if you’re so good at this, why do you keep getting expelled?”

  “They don’t call it expelled any more.”

  “What do they call it then?”

  “Excluded. But with me, they more just asked me to leave. Apparently I’m a disruptive influence,” she said brightly. “Anyway, the first school I left because we moved down to London. That was the one school I actually liked. I’ve only been asked to leave three schools. This is my fifth school now and I’ve just started so I reckon I’ve got a good few months before my parents figure it out. Honestly, they don’t really care what I do as long as I stay out of their way.”

  “Listen, I’m not a child counsellor and I’m not an educational psychologist, and if you want to mess up your own education and never learn to read or write—”

  “I can read and write very well, thanks, and do maths and art and science and I’m teaching myself the trumpet. I just get my education from places other than school.”

  “Again, you’re confusing me with someone who gives a rat’s bandana. I really don’t care what you do with your life but you’re not getting involved with this case.”

  Holly looked down, placed her head in her hands and began to wail, but Dirk instantly interrupted her. “And don’t think that’s going to work again,” he said sternly.

  Holly stopped dead, looked up, her eyes dry and clear, and said, “I’ve got information.”

  “What information?”

  “Like who owns the warehouse.”

  “The warehouse? How did you—”

  “I heard those crooks talking about a Mr G. I did a little research and I think I know what the G stands for.”

  “And?”

  “Are we partners then?” asked Holly, pulling out a piece of paper.

  “Give me that,” said Dirk, reaching out to grab it.

  Holly whipped it away quickly.

  “Partners?” she said, maintaining eye contact.

  Dirk stared into the girl’s brown eyes. He could easily take the paper from her by force but it just didn’t seem right. She had saved his life. She had been both brave and resourceful back at the river and now she had even found a vital clue. And he was already too far behind with the case, having spent the last three days unconscious. He bowed his head and muttered, “OK.”

  “I’m sorry?” Holly smiled. “I can’t hear you.”

  “OK,” said Dirk louder, “but just this case. And you do what I say, all right?”

  “Absolutely,” said Holly.

  “And you’re still the most annoying human I’ve ever met.”

  Holly stretched out her spare hand and Dirk met it with his paw. They shook and, with a triumphant look upon her face, Holly passed over the document.

  Dirk grabbed the piece of paper and read. The property was owned by a Mr V Grandin. The name rang a bell but it wasn’t a loud bell like Big Ben. It was softer, the sort of bell an old lady might have on a bicycle
– quiet but persistent enough to nag at you.

  “The warehouse is registered under the company name of Gronkong Shinard Plc,” said Holly. “I checked your previous cases while I was filing them but you haven’t got any record of a Gronkong Shinard. So I called Company House, where they keep a record of all registered companies in the country, but they didn’t have any other information on it either. Grandin is also a bit of a mystery. There’s nothing about him online.”

  “Good research,” said Dirk, trying not to sound too impressed. “But this case calls for some old-fashioned groundwork.” He grabbed a large coat and hat from the stand behind the door. “Sorry, kiddo, can’t take you on this one.”

  “But we’re partners,” said Holly. “That means doing everything together.”

  “Sorry,” Dirk said again. “There are some places I just can’t take you.”

  “That’s fine,” said Holly, picking up a phone directory, opening it up and lifting the receiver on Dirk’s desk phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hiring a detective to follow you,” she replied.

  Dirk whipped out his tail and knocked the phone off the table, yanking the receiver out of Holly’s hand. It landed heavily on the floor.

  Holly pulled out her mobile phone. “Then I’ll use this,” she said.

  Dirk scowled at her. He growled at her. Black smoke billowed from his nostrils but the brown-haired, brown-eyed girl just smiled back at him defiantly. He looked away in frustration then up in thought. The trail of smoke from his nose turned light grey and took shape, forming into a dragon’s head.

  “I guess as long as no one else sees her…” Dirk muttered to himself. “The Shade-Hugger isn’t stupid enough to say anything… Not with everything that I’ve got on him…” The smoke dragon dissipated, and Dirk said to Holly, “All right, but it’s at your own risk.”

  Holly put the phone back on the desk. “Great.” She grinned.

  Dirk looked at the clock. The big hand was pointing to the right, the small hand downwards. He scratched his head.

  “It’s quarter past six,” said Holly helpfully.

  “I knew that,” he snapped. “Here,” he said, throwing the hat and coat at Holly.

  “Why do I need these?” she asked, catching them.

  “They’re not for you. Come on, let’s go.”

  “Hold on,” said Holly, and she opened a carton of milk and poured it into a bowl in the corner of the room. There was the sound of a meow and then Willow appeared from under the table.

  “Why is there a cat in my office?” asked Dirk coldly.

  “She’s safer here,” replied Holly. “You wouldn’t want her to get stolen again, would you?”

  Dirk groaned. “As long as she doesn’t do anything,” he said, eying the animal suspiciously.

  “What, like mess up the place?” laughed Holly. “I don’t think you need any help with that.”

  Dirk pulled up the blind and checked the street. A grey Mercedes with a white stripe was parked illegally on the double yellow lines. Next to it stood a man in a long raincoat and a wide-brimmed hat. He looked up and Dirk backed away from the window quickly. One of the reasons he liked this spot was the fact that cars couldn’t park below. It lessened the chances of being seen jumping out of the window. Luckily the parking enforcement officers were never far off and no one ever got away with it for long. Sure enough, after a moment, Dirk saw two of them hurrying towards the car. The man in the long coat dived into the Mercedes and drove away, leaving the disappointed traffic wardens to head off in search of their next victim.

  “Come on, let’s go,” said Dirk.

  “Are we going back to the warehouse?” asked Holly.

  “No. Here, hold these.” He grabbed a couple of bags of assorted liquorice sweets and handed them to Holly. She stuffed them in her pockets and climbed on to his large red back, carefully positioning the hat and coat between her and the dragon.

  Dirk pushed open the window, glanced down again and then leaped on to the neighbouring roof.

  Bathed in the reddish glow from the setting sun, the rooftops of London looked even more magical to Holly this evening. She was doing her best to think like a proper detective but, looking down at the yellow lamps and the people below going about their humdrum lives, unaware of the dragon flying over their heads, she couldn’t help but feel excited.

  Dirk decided it was time to tell Holly about the catnapping dragons he had witnessed. As they travelled, he described how he had followed the Mountain Dragon to the warehouse and then narrowly avoided being seen by the Sea Dragon shortly afterwards.

  “Wow, so there are loads of dragons in London,” said Holly. “What do you think they’re doing with the cats?” she asked. “You don’t think they’re eating them, do you?”

  “Not likely,” replied Dirk. “Unlike humans, dragons don’t eat other animals,”

  “Not all humans. I’m a vegetarian too,” said Holly.

  “You choose not to eat meat. For us, it’s death to consume another living creature.”

  Holly looked at their surroundings. She was lost. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “We’re in Greenwich,” replied Dirk.

  “What’s in Greenwich?”

  “Well, there’s a market, a scenic walk along the river and a lovely park,” joked Dirk.

  “I mean, what’s in Greenwich for us?”

  “The underground.”

  “We’re getting the tube?”

  “Something like that,” replied Dirk and he jumped on to a large clock tower and scampered up its side, gaining enough height to spread his wings and glide down on to a row of houses. He ran across their roofs, then sailed over a glass-topped market place. One more jump and he landed on a flat pub roof next to a concrete concourse beside the River Thames. Holly stopped herself from squealing with excitement like she was on the best roller coaster ride in the world.

  She dismounted and looked down. In the middle of the concourse was an old, tall ship called the Cutty Sark. By its side was a cylindrical concrete structure with a green dome-like top.

  “That’s the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel under the Thames,” said Dirk, pointing to the building.

  “I know,” replied Holly. “I came here on a school trip once.”

  “You went on a school trip?” said Dirk disbelievingly.

  “It wasn’t my school. I’d had an argument with my dad’s wife, so I ran away and then I saw a coach and just jumped on it. It turned out to be a school trip so I pretended I went to their school.”

  Dirk laughed. “You’re growing on me, kiddo. Now, give me the hat and coat.”

  Laughter rose up from the pub garden below. Someone dropped a glass. It smashed on the ground, receiving a round of applause and a cheer.

  Holly handed Dirk the giant coat, which he pulled over his shoulders, covering his wings. He tucked his long nose under his chin and buttoned it up. Next, he put the hat over his head and pulled it down. He swished his tail twice and then curled it up behind him, making the coat taut and strangely shaped. He took a step back and said in a muffled voice, “How do I look?”

  Holly assessed him. Although he had succeeded in hiding his distinctive dragon features he still looked pretty bizarre. Even with his tail tucked in and his head bowed, he remained taller than the average human adult. Then there were the large yellow eyes that glowed from under the hat. Not to mention the bulges of his nose and tail, which made it look as though he suffered from terrible growths.

  “This normally works, does it?” asked Holly doubtfully.

  “Well, tell me,” muttered Dirk, “do I look like the sort of person you want to strike up a conversation with?”

  “No,” said Holly honestly.

  “Then it works,” said Dirk. “Come on.” He peered over the edge of the building and, sure that no one was looking, grabbed Holly round her waist and jumped down, landing heavily on the concrete without the use of his wings to ease the impact.
r />   He put her down and they walked quickly to the tunnel entrance, moving with the shadows and avoiding eye contact with passing strangers. Dirk led them down a large spiral staircase that circled the lift. At the bottom they headed through the long tunnel under the river. The lift opened behind them and a young couple got out.

  Dirk slowed his pace. “Let them overtake,” he muttered.

  As the couple passed they glanced around at them and it occurred to Holly how odd they must look together. She tried to act normally but it was difficult with the strange figure in the overcoat towering above her.

  Dirk kept a slow pace and it wasn’t long before the couple had disappeared around the corner. He stopped. “Through this door,” he said.

  “What door?” asked Holly.

  Dirk pulled an old rusty key from his coat pocket and pushed it into a hole in the wall, where a couple of tiles had fallen away. He turned the key and pushed the wall with his shoulder, revealing a door. “This one,” he said.

  Holly gazed into the gloom and then entered. Dirk followed, pulling the door shut behind him and plunging them into darkness. He turned on a torch and handed it to her.

  “Follow me,” he said, discarding the hat and coat and disappearing down the gloomy corridor.

  The corridor was narrow and winding. Holly could hear their footsteps echoing and the continual swish of the river above them. She kept her eyes fixed on the small circle of light created by the torch, trying not to look into the darkness where her imagination was able to summon up all manner of scary beasts. She didn’t want Dirk to know that she was scared, so she made up a tune to the rhythm of her footsteps and whistled it to calm her down.

  “Stop that,” said Dirk.

  “Stop what?” asked Holly.

  “Whistling. No whistling.”

  Holly hummed the tune instead.

  “Or humming,” snapped Dirk.

  Holly stopped humming. For a moment she made no noise at all and then in a clear voice she sang the tune. “La de da da da da daah.”

  “Look, no music at all, OK?” said Dirk, turning around. His face was deadly serious.