“Oh, God,” I said, liking this whole endeavor less and less as time went on and the hour of putting ourselves in the path of this crazy nabber/killer drew closer and closer.
“Max?” said Dooley as Odelia and Chase talked the plan through a little more, “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t like it either, Dooley, but I’m sure it will be fine.”
“But we’re wearing a cancer-inducing collar, and Odelia is going to drop us right in the middle of the Bermuda triangle for cats. This is very dangerous, Max!”
“Just think of it this way, Dooley,” I said. “Soon we’ll have this catnapper behind bars, and then all cats of Hampton Cove can finally breathe a little easier again.”
He took a deep breath, then said in a small voice, “I just wish I could breathe a little easier now.”
Chapter 10
Marge was not in a good mood. Though she should have been in a great mood, she wasn’t, and it was all because of her mother. “Look, this is still my kitchen,” she said, “and I’m the one who has to pay for it, so I think it’s only reasonable that I’m the one who decides.”
“Excuse me, but I live here, too,” said Ma, “and also, I’m paying from my pension, so I have as much right to have the deciding vote as you have—if not more!”
Marge looked at the design her mother had chosen on the computer tablet, and shook her head. “I don’t like the cupboards,” she said finally. “They’re too small. My tableware is never going to fit. And besides, I always wanted a kitchen island.”
“So what?”
“So where is my kitchen island? There’s no kitchen island in this design.”
“If you want a kitchen island, Marge,” said Ma, sitting next to her at the computer in their cozy little living room, “you should get a bigger kitchen.” She threw up her hands. “There simply isn’t enough space for the kind of kitchen you want.”
Marge knew that her mother was right, of course, but she was loathe to admit it. “I’m sure that if we measure things again we can create enough space.”
“You can measure all you want, but as long as that measurer you have isn’t one that belongs to Harry Potter you’re not going to create more space, Marge. You knew when you bought this house that you were getting a small kitchen, an okay living room and a small sitting room.” She paused. “Though if you really want a bigger kitchen there is a solution.”
Hope surged in Marge’s bosom. She really had always wanted a bigger kitchen. In fact it was her main gripe ever since they’d moved into the place. “There is?”
“Of course. All you have to do is knock out a wall, or better yet, two walls.” She pointed to the living room walls. “If you knock out that wall, and that one, you create one big space. And then you’ll have an open kitchen, with kitchen island, and you’ll also have a lot more light in here.”
“You’re right,” she heard herself say.
Ma’s jaw dropped. “What did you just say?”
“I said you’re absolutely right.”
Ma smiled a beatific smile, which was a rarity for her. “I’m glad to hear you say it.”
They should have done it a long time ago. The living room, which was located in the center of the ground floor, didn’t get any light at all, and the sitting room, where they didn’t spend all that much time, got all the light, as did the kitchen.
“How much is this going to cost, though?” she asked, immediately putting a damper on these ambitious plans.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Ma suggested.
“Tex is going to—”
“Tex will be happy as a clam! He wants this as much as we do. He just doesn’t want to pay for it, even though he can easily afford it.”
“It would mean remodeling the entire downstairs,” Marge pointed out.
“So? You only live once, Marge. And didn’t you tell me when you moved in that this was the original plan all along?”
“It was,” Marge admitted ruefully.
“So why not finally put it in motion?” Ma got up. “This is the way to go, honey, and you know it as well as I do. Now all you need to do is convince that Scrooge husband of yours to take out his checkbook and get this show on the road.”
“Where are you going?” she asked as Ma grabbed her purse from the table.
“Better don’t ask,” said her mother curtly.
“Better don’t ask what?”
“Exactly,” said Ma with a slight grin, then skedaddled before Marge could ask more.
“You’re not going to pull any crazy stunts, are you?!” she yelled after her aged but sprightly mother, but the only reply she got was the door being slammed shut. “Oh, dear,” she said, then glanced at that mockup on the screen again. It did look pretty wonderful, she thought, but only with the addition of a kitchen island. And bigger cupboards. And more of them, too. And maybe even a second kitchen island. And for once in her life she had to agree with her mom: if they could pull this off, they’d all be a lot happier, and could live a lot roomier. Now all that needed to be done was to convince Tex.
Chapter 11
We’d arrived at cat choir, and I have to admit I wasn’t feeling entirely sanguine about the plan Odelia had outlined. But she was right: what could possibly go wrong? Nothing!
Cat choir was where all the cats that had been taken had set out from, and from there they’d roamed around the downtown area, at which point they’d been taken, so this was the exact route and timetable we’d adhere to, hoping we’d get taken, too. Yikes!
“I just wish Clarice was here,” said Dooley. “She wouldn’t be scared like we are.”
“I’m not scared,” said Brutus, always the butch cat.
“You look scared.”
“Well, that’s just your imagination, Dooley,” said our friend. “Cause I’m not afraid of anything. In fact if you just stick close to me nothing will happen to you—I promise.”
“If you’re not afraid, Brutus,” said Dooley earnestly, “then why is your tail quivering?”
“My tail is quivering because I’m happy,” said Brutus, promptly tucking in his tail.
“Oh, just admit it, Brutus,” said Harriet, “you’re just as nervous as the rest of us.”
“I am not!” said Brutus, managing to sound indignant.
Cat choir was happening as it always does: in a boisterous way, with cats shooting the breeze, greeting each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though we’d all met the night before, and some even that afternoon, like Kingman and us.
“What is that thing around your neck, Max?” asked that same Kingman now as he studied me intently.
“It’s a GPS tracker,” I said, and explained Odelia’s plan in great detail.
“A GPS tracker, huh?” he said, nodding. “Always wanted to get one of those myself, actually.”
“You did?”
“You never told us,” Harriet pointed out.
“Well, it’s just one of those cool hip things, isn’t it? In fact in this day and age of modern technology I think every cat should have a tracker. That way when something happens their owner can easily track them down. Isn’t that right, Shanille?”
Cat choir’s director had joined us, and was staring at Harriet’s collar. “Yeah,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right, Kingman.”
Harriet, who’d noticed that Shanille was eyeing her with a touch of envy, now thrust out her chest and lifted her chin, to make that tracker collar stand out even more. “Nice, isn’t it, Shanille? Top-of-the-line GPS tracker. It’s the latest fashion. With this cool little gizmo Odelia can find us anywhere, down to the inch. Isn’t that so, my precious angel?”
“Yeah, she can even hear what we say, and see what’s going on around us,” said Brutus.
“I don’t think she can,” I said, but Brutus quickly shut me up with a glance.
“Latest high-tech gadget,” said Harriet, shoving her collar in Shanille’s face. “All the It cats are wearing it these days. So where’s your tracker, Shanille?”