“Oh, my God,” said Tex.
“What is it?” asked Marge a little uncertainly.
“We’ll let a neutral party decide,” said Gran, and held up Harriet as if this was a scene from the Lion King and she was introducing the new king to the world.
“You’re going to let a cat decide what kitchen we choose?” asked Tex with a touch of incredulity.
“She has to live there, too, right? And everybody knows that cats have great taste.”
The salesperson, whose smile had fallen off his face by now—no one can train those facial muscles to keep working so hard for that long, not even a seasoned kitchen-hawking pro—glanced at Harriet, and nodded his acquiescence. “Why not?” he said.
In other words: if you people are crazy enough to trust the word of a cat, I’m perfectly willing to indulge you. Or also: never argue with a crazy old cat lady.
“So what will it be, Harriet?” asked Gran as she showed Harriet some of the designs they’d put aside. “Just pick a number—one to twelve—for the one you like best.”
“Seven,” Harriet said immediately, and placed her paw down on its corresponding design.
“Not that one!” Tex said, looking as fed up with this whole kitchen-choosing process as we were.
“I told you!” said Gran triumphantly. “Good job, sweetheart.”
“I’m not sure,” said Marge, wavering.
“Why not? It’s light, it’s modern—”
“And timeless,” the salesman interjected.
“It’s also the most expensive one of the bunch,” Tex added, an objection immediately brushed aside by his wife and poo-poohed by his mother-in-law.
The salesman was fully on board with the decision, for he was beaming again, and said, “Shall I wrap it up or are you going to have it here?” And laughed heartily at his own joke.
Chapter 9
We’d just arrived home when we came upon Odelia giving us a look of determination.
“What is it?” I said immediately.
“I have an idea, Max.”
“You have?”
“An idea to catch this catnapper of yours.”
“Well, he’s not my catnapper, per se,” I countered.
“It’s a foolproof plan,” she assured me.
Even through our recent kitchen saga, the thought of a person catnapping cats and murdering homeless people hadn’t been far from my mind. It was a very strange tale.
“We need to stop this person,” Odelia announced. “And also, if this is the same person who’s killed and buried our John Doe, he needs to be stopped before he kills more people.”
“Do you really think he’ll kill more people?” asked Dooley.
“I don’t know, Dooley. As long as we don’t know why he did what he did, we have no way of knowing what his next move will be.”
“So weird,” I murmured. “A man who kidnaps cats and murders homeless people then buries them in the woods for some reason.”
“It is a very strange business,” Odelia agreed. “So I’m going to run my idea by you.”
“Shoot,” I said, perhaps a little injudiciously, considering our John Doe had been killed with a firearm.
“I was thinking: why don’t you let yourselves be taken by this person, and that way we’ll know exactly who’s doing this, and we can catch him in the act.”
Both Dooley and I stared at our human in visible dismay. “We have to allow ourselves to be taken?” I asked, wanting to make sure I’d heard her right.
“You’d wear a tracker, of course,” she said, “and Chase and I will be close by, so that when you’re taken, we’re right on that catnapper’s heels.”
“Um… sure,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely convinced of their scheme. Don’t let my robust appearance fool you, I’m not exactly the world’s most courageous cat. Still, it seemed like a good plan, so I decided to go along with it.
“So what exactly is it we’re supposed to do, Max?” asked Dooley.
“Odelia is going to put a tracker on us,” I explained, “and so when we’re taken by the catnapper she’ll know exactly where we are at all times.”
He nodded intelligently, then said, “What is a tracker, Max?”
“A tracker is exactly what the word says, Dooley: it is a small device that tracks our every movement. In fact the full term is GPS tracker, and it sends a signal to a satellite, which sends the signal back to an app on Odelia’s phone pinpointing our exact location.”
“You mean like the GPS on Odelia’s car?”
“Exactly like the GPS on my car,” said Odelia with a reassuring smile. “That way whatever happens to you, Chase and I will know where you are, and we can come and save you.”
“And catch the catnapper,” I added, “which is what this is all about.”
“Since all five cats were taken in the same area and around the same time,” Odelia explained, “I think it’s best if you roam around that area around that time—assuming the catnapper hasn’t changed his MO—and hope he’ll take the bait.”
I nodded, seeing the soundness of her scheme.
“What do they say, babe?” asked Chase.
“They’re going to do it,” said Odelia.
Chase nodded. “Good boys,” he said, giving us both a pat on the head for our trouble. He’d crouched down so he was at eye level. Then suddenly, and completely out of the blue, he put a collar around my neck!
“What are you doing?” I asked, slightly alarmed. I trust Chase, of course I do, but no cat likes to be outfitted with a collar. I mean, we’re not dogs, okay?
“It’s the GPS tracker I was telling you about,” Odelia said.
“Oh, right,” I said, only mollified to a minor extent.
“Are you sure this is safe, Max?” asked Dooley as Chase repeated the procedure with my friend.
“Yeah, I’m sure it is,” I said, though to be perfectly honest I wasn’t entirely sure myself.
Harriet and Brutus had entered the house through the pet flap and now halted in their tracks when they caught sight of the recent additions to our costume. “Why are you wearing a collar, Max?” asked Harriet.
“It’s not a collar,” I told her. “It’s a GPS tracker.”
“We’re going to nab the nabber,” Dooley announced.
“Nab the nabber!” said Brutus. “And how are you going to do that?”
“You’re going to know exactly how they’re going to do that because you’re going to be nabbing that nabber along with your friends,” said Odelia. And before Brutus and Harriet knew what was happening they, too, had both been outfitted with tracking devices!
Harriet blinked and said, in a plaintive voice, “I don’t like the color. It doesn’t become me.”
“There isn’t much choice in tracking collars, unfortunately,” said Odelia. “So these will have to do I’m afraid. How do they feel?”
“Weird,” I said, grimacing and pulling at the collar.
“A little tight,” said Brutus in a tight voice.
“So if these give off a signal that transmits to a satellite,” said Dooley, “isn’t that dangerous? I mean, doesn’t that kind of thing give you cancer?”
“Don’t worry about that, Dooley,” said Odelia, getting slightly annoyed with all these objections to a plan that must have seemed perfect in her mind when she thought it up.
“So what’s going to happen now?” I asked.
“Now you’re going to walk around where the others were all taken,” said Odelia.
“And where is that?”
And as she told us where she was going to drop us off, and even was so kind to show it on a map on her phone, Harriet said in a low voice, “You guys, it’s the Bermuda triangle.”
“The Bermuda triangle?” asked Brutus.
“You know, the place where everything disappears.”
“Oh, right.” He produced a low chuckle. “It’s the Bermuda triangle of cats—the place where all cats disappear into thin air!”