We walked around the block, and I have to admit it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Of course cats aren’t used to being walked like a dog, but that bit of fresh air was doing me the world of good after having been cooped up inside the house all evening, and frankly I did feel the need to do a little doo-doo and a little wee-wee, and so did Dooley.
And so we gave Charlene quite a bit of work cleaning up after us. I would have done it myself, but it’s tough digging a hole in the sidewalk, just as it was tough for me to have to deposit it there. Then again, I didn’t have a choice in the matter, and neither did Dooley.
And we’d walked probably half a block when suddenly we saw a parade of some kind heading our way. There were a lot of cars and trailers, fancifully painted in bright colors, and I could even see an elephant walking along, and a cage containing an actual lion!
“Hey, look. It’s one of our relatives,” I told Dooley.
More people had come out of their houses, leaving their televisions to watch the spectacle that was being announced by a sort of carnival barker riding on top of the elephant.
“Hey, cousin!” I said, waving at the lion. But he either couldn’t hear me, or wasn’t interested in making my acquaintance, for he totally ignored me.
Clowns were also there, and jugglers, and what looked like trapeze artists, judging from their Spandex outfits, though they’d left their nice and trusty trapezes at home.
“Alec and I went there yesterday,” said Charlene now. “It was wonderful.” She gave a wistful sigh, clearly thinking about those halcyon days of yore. “The fair will be there for another two weeks or so and then they’ll move on to the next town.”
“Charlene talks to herself a lot, doesn’t she?” said Dooley.
“I think it soothes her,” I said. “It makes her feel less anxious about what happened to Uncle Alec.”
So maybe it had been a good idea for Gran to give us to Charlene as a present, even though her intentions had been less therapeutic and more born from deep suspicion.
One of the final trailers in the parade had the words ‘Madame Solange’ painted across the side, and up in front sat a woman dressed in a sort of flowing robe. She looked to be in her early thirties, had long fair hair with two small braids, and was really pretty.
And oddly enough, next to the woman sat a man, who looked like the spitting image of… Uncle Alec!
Charlene must have seen it, too, for she did a double take, then said, “Isn’t that Alec over there?” And then without awaiting our response—and why would she?—she started frantically waving at the man, who sat stoically staring before him.
Madame Solange, who must have thought Charlene was waving at her, returned the wave with a vague smile on her pretty face.
But then Charlene was yanking us forward and in the direction of the trailer.
“Alec!” she yelled. “Alec, it’s me!”
But this Alec lookalike didn’t even look up at the sudden commotion.
And then, before Charlene could reach Madame Solange’s trailer, suddenly a couple of burly men showed up, and physically held her back. They must have been parade security, protecting the fair and circus people from overzealous fans like Charlene.
And as Charlene kept jogging alongside the trailer, dragging us along with her, I noticed something else. Cameras! Everywhere I looked I saw cameras filming the parade, and now also filming the crazy woman dragging two poor cats and yelling ‘Alec’ all the while.
“Please, ma’am,” said one of the security people. “For your own safety, please stay behind the barrier.”
“But that’s my boyfriend up there!” said Charlene.
“Where?” asked the burly man, giving her a look of confusion.
“Up there with that woman. His name is Alec and he’s my boyfriend.”
“That’s impossible, ma’am,” said the security guy. “That’s Wolf, Madame Solange’s husband. And now I’m going to have to ask you to please return behind the barrier.”
So Charlene did as she was told, even though clearly she wasn’t happy about it.
And it has to be said, the guy only shared a vague resemblance to Uncle Alec. For one thing, this Wolf sported a funky rust-colored mustache. And for another, he had a full head of hair, something Uncle Alec hadn’t been able to claim for many, many years.
“Poor Charlene,” said Dooley. “Now she’s starting to see things.”
“It’s normal,” I said. “She’ll start seeing Uncle Alec everywhere she goes from now on. It’s the strain from the kidnapping that’s starting to make itself felt now.”
“I really thought it was him,” our new human now murmured softly. “Sweet Alec…”
And then she started the trek home, and frankly not a moment too soon, too. People were starting to point at her, and those camera crews that had captured her frantic intervention would probably be transmitting that footage of a mayor gone berserk.
If Charlene wasn’t careful, soon she would be mayor of Hampton Cove no more.
Chapter 14
Marge compared the numbers on her lottery ticket with the ones on the television screen and had to admit they didn’t match—not one single number had she gotten right.
Disappointed, she crumpled up the ticket and thought dark thoughts of that woman—that Madame Solange, who’d promised she’d win the lottery in the next couple of days.
Three days had gone by since she and Tex visited the fortune teller at the fair and still nothing. So far she’d only lost money, not gained a single cent, and Tex’s prediction hadn’t materialized either.
“Better luck next time, hon,” said her husband, rubbing her back consolingly.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” she said.
“If Madame Solange said you’re going to win, you’re going to win. I’m sure about it.”
“I think Odelia is on to us,” said Marge as she darted a quick look at the family room door. Odelia had a habit of dropping by unannounced. That was the disadvantage of having a professional reporter for a daughter: snooping around and listening at keyholes came naturally to this breed of nosy parkers, even when it concerned their own family.
“I think I made a convincing case though, didn’t I?” Tex said.
“Oh, yeah, I thought you were great, honey. She’d never think you were as keen on Madame Solange as I am.” Though her excitement was waning fast.
Just then, there was a rattle of the mailbox, and she frowned. The postwoman never came by this late. But since her favorite show was about to start, it was up to Tex to take a look. When he returned, he just stood there, frowning at a piece of paper in his hand.
“What were those winning lottery numbers again, honey?” he asked.
“Um… Five, four, and the rest I don’t remember.”
His shoulders sagged. “Nope. I thought for a moment…” And he walked over to place a lottery ticket into her hands.
She stared at it, then frowned as recognition dawned. “I think those are the winning numbers from two days ago,” she said slowly. She locked eyes with her husband, and then they were both frantically grabbing for their phones to look up the numbers.
“You’re right!” said Tex, a little quicker off the mark than her. “You’re absolutely right!”
“How much?” she asked. “How much did we win?”
“Fifty thousand, it says here,” said her husband, slowly looking up at her, then down at the ticket lying in her lap.
“Fifty thousand? But…”
“I don’t get it,” he said, taking a closer look at the envelope the ticket had arrived in. It was just a blank envelope, with nothing written on it. “How can this be?”
“Who cares?” said Marge, a smile slowly lighting up her face. “Madame Solange was right: we won the lottery, Tex! We won!”
“Yoo-hoo! Finally!”
And then they were both getting up and hugging it out before Marge realized being happy and celebrating their lottery success, no matter how strangely it had come about, was inappropriate with her brother still missing.