“Try McDonald’s. Carmel works the evening shift, and so does her boyfriend.”
And so we went from one food emporium to another. And since Odelia and Chase were famished at this point, but wanted to see their investigation through, they decided to skip dinner, and grab a burger instead. It’s those kinds of sacrifices your true detective needs to make.
Frankly Dooley and I were also a little peckish, and a nice burger patty or chicken wing sounded just fine to me.
25
The McDonald’s in Hampton Cove is where our friend Big Mac likes to hang out. His human runs that particular restaurant, and Big Mac enjoys all the perks—and he has the size to prove it.
I was really hoping to run into him, as it had been a while since we met the guy. Also, he might be able to shed some light on this missing person case.
“Do you think Big Mac will be there, Max?” asked Dooley now, clearly thinking along the same lines.
“I hope so,” I said. Talking to witnesses and such is all fine and dandy, but it doesn’t beat the kind of information you can pick up when talking to a fellow feline.
Chase parked his pickup in the McDonald’s parking lot, which is located just beyond the town limits, and he and Odelia got out. On the drive over, Odelia had called her mom to tell her she and Chase wouldn’t be able to make it home for dinner, and asked her if she needed to get her something from McDonald’s. Marge had ordered fries, but when Odelia asked her if she wanted mayonnaise with that, Marge had choked up. Odd.
“What was that about?” asked Chase as they walked up to the entrance, Dooley and me hot on their trail.
“I’m not sure,” Odelia confessed.
The place was pretty busy. It was the dinner hour, after all. And while Odelia went in search of Angel’s friend, and Chase scanned the menu, Dooley and I slipped out the back to look for Big Mac, who likes to hang out near the dumpsters.
As luck would have it, we immediately laid eyes on the voluminous orange cat.
“Hey, buddy,” I said as we snuck up on him from behind.
It was with a grin that we watched him jump about a foot in the air, then turn on us with a baleful look on his cherubic face. But when he saw it was us, his anger quickly dissipated, and he caroled,“Max! Dooley! Long time no see!”
“Hey, Big Mac,” I said.
“Have you eaten a lot of Big Macs lately, Big Mac?” Dooley quipped.
“You better believe it,” said the large cat. He took a seat next to the dumpster. “Though they seem to have changed the recipe. Something tastes off lately—maybe it’s the topping.” He pointed to a half-eaten hamburger lying next to him, which he’d clearly been sampling when we caught up with him.
“Maybe you should eat them fresh,” I told the cat. “Not drag them out of a dumpster.”
“What can I tell you? I like to live dangerously,” said Big Mac with a Cheshire grin.
“That, you do.”
“Anyway, I’m thinking about changing my name. Lately I’m more partial to the Quarter Pounder with Cheese Bacon, so maybe you should call me that from now on.”
“That’s a mouthful,” I said.
“You bet it is. Takes more than one mouthful to chow down one of those bad boys.” He gestured to the remnants of just such a specimen. It looked a little yucky, smeared as it was with ketchup and other condiments. In fact it looked as if a child had used it for fingerpainting practice rather than as part of its Happy Meal. “Wanna have a bite?”
“Thanks, but I’ve just eaten,” I said. At the sight of that burger, my stomach had miraculously stopped rumbling, deciding to skip a meal if it looked like that. “So is your human still running the restaurant?” I asked as we watched one of the servers step out for a smoke.
“Absolutely. Place is still as busy as ever. So what brings you guys out here?”
“An investigation.”
“Not another murder investigation.” Last time we met, we’d investigated the murder of a bestselling writer, and Big Mac had been of great assistance describing the killer.
“No, a missing girl this time,” I said. “She went out with some friends last night, and now she’s missing.”
“And one of her friends works here,” Dooley explained.
“Carmel Kraft.”
“Oh, yeah, I know Carmel. She’s so sweet. Always gives me the best stuff.”
“So let me get this straight,” I said, deciding to clear up a point. “Your human feeds you, then you dig through these dumpsters every night, and the people who work for your human also feed you?”
The big cat gave us a big smile.“I know, right? I’m one lucky cat. Now talk to me about this investigation. Color me interested.”
“Okay, so the name of the missing girl is Angel Church. She was last seen leaving a club in downtown Hampton Cove. And one of the girls who was with her was Carmel.”
Big Mac was nodding.“I think I know the girl you’re referring to. Pretty little blond thing? She was in here last night.”
“Angel was in here last night?”
“Oh, sure. She’s in here all the time, her and her friends. Since Carmel works here, they’ve been coming here a lot.”
“But Carmel wasn’t even working last night.”
“No, see, this is how it goes: they all meet up here, have dinner, then go out. Then they drop by again around three or four o’clock in the morning, when they have another late-night snack.” He shook his head. “How these girls manage to stay so thin is beyond me.”
“So did they adhere to the same schedule last night?” I asked.
“Oh, absolutely. Though I have to admit I didn’t see Angel.”
“You didn’t?”
“I saw her friends, but not her. Which is weird, because she’s the biggest trencherwoman of them all. That girl loves to eat, Max. A pleasure to watch.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
“Do you believe in aliens, Big Mac?” asked Dooley now.
“Oh, absolutely,” said the big cat. “Why?”
“Well, I happen to think Angel was abducted by aliens, see, because two friends of ours followed her trail from Hampton Cove to the woods, and the trail stopped dead in the middle of the woods, right next to a pond. And a diver who dredged the pond only found her phone.”
“Oh,” said Big Mac, eyes wide. “And so you think…”
“I’m almost one hundred percent sure that she was…”
“… beamed up!”
“Exactly!” said Dooley, glad that he’d finally found a friend who subscribed to his outlandish theory.
“I think you might be onto something, Dooley. Those aliens beam innocent people up all the time.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why only humans? Why don’t they beam up cats and dogs? Or livestock?”
“Max is right,” said Dooley, nodding. “Why the discrimination? We have just as much right to be beamed up as the next human.”
“Oh, but they do beam up pets and livestock,” said Big Mac, who seemed to know a lot about this stuff. “In fact they beam us up all the time. Lampposts all across town are plastered with flyers of missing cats and dogs—and if you gave me a cheeseburger every time a complaint is filed about a missing cow or sheep…”
“I don’t believe this,” I muttered. Now I had two delusional felines to contend with.
“I just hope they won’t beam me up,” said Dooley, directing a worried glance at the sky. “I don’t think I’d enjoy being probed. I’m very ticklish, you see.”
“You know what you should do?” said Big Mac. “You need to make sure you gain weight, Dooley. A lot of weight.”
“And why is that, Big Mac?”
“Because those aliens, they only beam up the young and healthy. A fat cat like me doesn’t stand a chance. They’re not interested!”
“But why?”
“Because those aliens are trying to build a master race, see, and they can only build their master race by abducting the best and the brightest. So your sports jocks, your fitness freaks and your mathletes. Those are the ones they’re interested in. So the unhealthier you are…”