“No, we’re fine,” said Odelia, who’d forgotten it was grocery run day. In spite of her uncle having gone missing, life still went on, of course, and people still had to eat.
“What’s with this Madame Solange thing?” she asked as she idly checked the bags. She’d skipped dinner, as the emergency meeting with Charlene had run late, and then she hadn’t felt like eating and neither had Chase.
“Oh, just something I picked up at the supermarket,” said her mother, waving a dismissive hand.
“So did you call the number?” she asked.
“Mh? Oh, no, of course not. You know I don’t believe in that kind of stuff, honey. And neither does your father.”
“What stuff?” asked her dad, breezing into the kitchen again.
“Fortune telling stuff,” said Mom with a careless laugh that sounded a little forced.
“Baloney,” said her dad sternly. “Every last one of those people should be sued for taking advantage of the naivety of their victims.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as that,” protested her mother as she put the groceries in the fridge, while Dad offered the same courtesy to the pantry. “I’ll bet some of them are the real deal—the genuine article. Though I still have to meet the first one who can actually predict the future,” she hurriedly added.
“So this Solange, where can I find her?” asked Odelia, her mom’s behavior making her curious to find out more. It was the reporter in her. She could never leave well enough alone.
Mom swallowed. “I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s from around here.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t called her?”
“Oh, but I didn’t! I would never spend money on that sort of thing.”
“So how do you know she’s not from around here?”
Her mom shrugged. “Just a wild guess. If she were from around here, we’d have heard of her by now, don’t you think? Or you would have written an article about her.”
“Maybe I will,” said Odelia, and studied her mother’s reaction carefully.
Mom didn’t disappoint her. She looked up in alarm. “You’re going to talk to her?”
“I might,” said Odelia, now absolutely sure her mom was hiding something, which made her want to pursue the matter even more. “I’ll bet there’s a great story there.”
“Oh, no!” said her mother quickly. “I’m sure nobody wants to read about fortune tellers. That kind of thing is so passé.”
“I’ll bet she’s down at the fair,” said her dad now.
“There’s a fair in town?” asked Odelia.
“Oh, sure. They’ve been setting up for the past couple of days. I think they’ll do a big parade through town any day now, though I’m afraid carnivals and fairgrounds and circuses are becoming a thing of the past. People aren’t into that kind of thing anymore nowadays. They prefer their entertainment more… hip and cool.” He grinned at his daughter as he said it, indicating he was anything but hip or cool.
“Look, who cares about this fair, or Madame Solange?” said Mom, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “What are we going to do about my brother? What do you propose?”
“Chase is working on it,” said Odelia, sobering. “He’s looking through a list of the people Uncle Alec put behind bars and who recently were released, as you suggested.”
“So the police are going to handle it? Even though these kidnappers specifically warned Charlene not to get them involved?”
“Chase is not working the case as a cop. He’s working it as a member of this family,” said Odelia. “Though frankly I think we actually should involve the police. I think that’s what Uncle Alec would want.”
“I hope they don’t hurt him,” said Mom. “And why did they make Charlene announce their wedding? That just doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’ll bet it’s some kind of psychological thing,” said Dad as he leaned against the kitchen wall, looking pensive. “Psychological warfare. To make Charlene crack.”
“How is announcing her wedding going to make Charlene crack?” asked Mom pointedly.
“I don’t know,” said her dad with a shrug. “But it smells a lot like psychological warfare to me.” And he disappeared into the living room.
“Oh, your father with his nonsense explanations,” said Mom. “I didn’t even want to go shopping. How can we pretend life is normal when my brother is somewhere out there, suffering who knows what kinds of torments?” Tears had formed in her eyes, and Odelia took her mother’s hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
“We’ll find him, Mom,” she said. “Chase is the best at what he does, and I’m not too shabby either.”
“And what happened to our cats?” asked Mom. “I haven’t seen them anywhere—I just hope they haven’t been taken, too.”
Chapter 13
“So, um, you guys?” said Charlene.
Dooley and I looked up. We’d eaten our fill in exquisitely tasty turkey, and our new owner had made us a cozy little spot on the couch by placing down an actual down blanket for us to lie on, and had turned the TV to a channel that showed plenty of cat food commercials. So when she called us, we knew we were in for more treats.
“Let’s go,”’ said Charlene now. She looked and sounded a little subdued, I thought, but then that was to be expected, since her future husband had been rudely taken from her.
“She’s holding something in her hand, Max,” said Dooley. “Are those… dog leashes?”
“I think so,” I said, wincing a little.
“Let’s take you guys for a walk,” said Charlene. Bless her heart, she was trying hard to turn herself into a proper cat lady, but dog leashes? And taking us for a walk? Clearly she had no idea what she was doing.
“Let’s just humor her,” I said with a shrug.
“But I don’t like a leash, Max. It makes me feel so… like a dog.”
“I know, Dooley, but clearly Charlene isn’t herself today, and I think we should indulge her.”
So we both jumped down from the couch and walked up to our new human.
“Let’s try these on for size,” said the Mayor. “I think they should fit you just fine.”
And they did. They fit exactly right, but that didn’t mean I liked the sensation of a leash being attached to my collar.
At least she hadn’t removed our collars, though thus far there wasn’t all that much for Gran and Scarlett to learn from keeping tabs on Charlene.
“You know the drill,” said Charlene. “We’ll go for a walk around the block, and if you feel the need to do your business, please do it against a tree.” She quickly inspected the pockets of her cardigan. “Poo baggies—check. Tissue paper—check. I think I’m ready to take my new cats for a walk for the very first time. Are you guys ready?”
“Yes, Charlene,” I said dutifully.
“Yes, Charlene,” Dooley chimed in.
Charlene smiled. “So weird,” she muttered, and then walked out of the house, but not before taking a quick glance through the window to see if there weren’t any more of those home invasion people lurking about. “I probably should hire myself some protection,” she said now, talking to herself more than to us. “I’ll call a security company first thing in the morning. I don’t even feel safe in my own home, that’s the worst part. And I can’t stop thinking about poor Alec. He must be going through hell right now.”
“I’m sure Uncle Alec will be fine, Charlene,” I assured her as we walked down the gravel path that split her front yard and through the little gate and out onto the sidewalk. “He’s a police chief, after all, so he’s probably used to dealing with the scum of the earth.”
“Maybe he’s managed to escape already,” said Dooley, “and he’s on his way home as we speak.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Dooley is right,” I said. “Uncle Alec will probably be home soon, and then he’ll put all of those nasty home invasion people in prison where they belong.”
But of course Charlene couldn’t understand a word we said, poor thing, so our comforting speech fell on deaf ears.