If only she felt as confident in her abilities as Tessa did…
Chapter 29
While the humans were all ensconced in a room discussing the recent dramatic events, I was wandering the house and wondering how to contribute to the unraveling of the mystery. Frankly I didn’t have a lot to contribute. As far as I could tell anyone could have kidnapped us. And it wasn’t anyone we’d met so far.
So I decided to give the investigation a rest for now, and await further instructions from sleuthin-charge Odelia.
And as I was pottering to and fro, trying to find that perfect spot to take a well-deserved nap, I was softly humming a little tune to myself. It’s my habit to sing, not when I’m in the shower, for as you may or may not know, cats don’t enjoy taking showers, but to aid the thinking process. Also, I’m something of a songbird. What can I say—I just enjoy the joy of singing!
Dooley, who was sampling a spot on the couch in front of the big television set, winced as I passed and sang my few bars.
Harriet, who was inspecting a nice throw pillow on the second couch, likewise screwed up her face and gave me a long, lingering look that didn’t harbor a lot of warmth and appreciation for livening up her day with song.
Brutus, who was eyeing a shelf laden with knickknacks, thinking up ways and means of making the jump and lounging there for a while, shook his head.“Can you please stop that racket? I can’t hear myself think.”
“It is a little annoying,” agreed Fluffy, who, as queen of the castle, had reserved the prime spot all to herself: a basket on the floor near the window, where she had a great overview both of the goings-on inside and outside.
“I was just humming a gay little tune,” I said defensively.
“We need to continue our lessons, Max,” Harriet said now. “And we might as well do it now, as there seems to be a lull in the investigation.”
A lull was right. It would appear that none of the humans had a clue how to proceed in catching this dastardly demon who was gunning for lovely Tessa.
“Oh, great,” I said, not expecting this. “I would love to put in some more practice.”
That way, when we finally got back from our trip overseas, I could be reinstated as a full-blown and appreciated member of cat choir once more. Maybe I could even induce Shanille to let me sing a solo. Singing solos, it would appear, is what being part of a choir is all about: it lends one prestige and makes one the standard-bearer of the group, if one catches my meaning.
“Where do you want me to sit?” I asked. “Near the window? Or maybe higher? For the acoustics,” I clarified. “It’s very important to have great acoustics when you’re singing. It gives it that little extra oomph your musical aficionado wants.”
“I think your voice has all the oomph it needs,” said Brutus. He’d finally decided against jumping on top of the high shelf. A wise decision, I thought, as those little knickknacks contained a framed picture of Silvy and a portrait of the Queen, and if Brutus knocked them all to the floor, there would be hell to pay, or at least a stern rebuke from the Duke.
“Maybe we should take this outside,” said Harriet after careful consideration. “There are too many sensitive ears in here to be subjected to the kind of racket you call singing. I’m thinking about the baby.”
I should probably have felt insulted but strangely enough I wasn’t. I was touched that Harriet would want to protect me from the ire of the humans. Most of them are, after all, cultural barbarians, everybody knows that. So I tripped to the door, only to find it closed again, with no pet flap in sight.
“So how do we get out of here?” I asked Fluffy, lounging languorously in her pillow-covered basket.
“You have to ask one of the humans,” she said. “I usually yap loudly, and that does the trick. If that doesn’t work, I jump up and down someone’s leg.”
I wasn’t going to lower myself to jumping up and down someone’s leg. Cats are better than that. But the meowing could work. So I licked my lips, opened my mouth, and let my larynx do the talking. And when that didn’t produce results, Harriet, Brutus and Dooley joined in for an impromptu recital.
“It helps if you stand in front of the door,” Fluffy advised. “That way they know exactly what you want.”
We all moved to the door and restarted our mini-concert for an audience of one: Fluffy, who was holding her paws to her ears, grimacing generously.
I guess dogs are cultural barbarians, too.
The meeting was still in full swing, so those inside couldn’t be bothered with our plight. Luckily there’s always staff members and security people flitting about a royal home like this, and one of them now stuck her head around a corner. I recognized her as Suzy, the maid. When she saw what was going on, she approached hesitantly.
“Um… I guess you want to go out, right?”
We all meowed in confirmation, happy at her acumen.
“The thing is, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to open the door. What with the whole kidnapping thing and all.”
We meowed a little louder, singing with panache and vigor.
“Nature calls, lady,” said Brutus. “And if you don’t let us out right now, we won’t be held responsible for the consequences, if you know what I mean.”
“He means we’re going to leave a permanent mark on the floor,” I said.
“Oh, dear,” said Suzy, bringing a hesitant hand to her face. “Don’t you have, um, litter boxes to do your business in?”
“We do, but we’re rough-and-tumble cats,” Brutus continued the negotiations. “We like to do it in the bushes.”
“I guess you really need to go, huh?” she said finally, darting uncertain glances in the direction of the office. “Oh, I guess it’s fine,” she said, convincing herself. “Just don’t tell anyone it was me that let you out, all right?” Then she laughed. “How silly of me. Who are you going to tell? You’re just cats. You can’t talk.”
So she opened the door. Outside, a burly guard turned his head.
“It’s all right, Phil,” she said. “It’s just the cats wanting to go for a walk.”
“Of course,” said Phil with an indulgent smile. “We don’t want those precious little furballs to do their business on the couch, do we?”
“No, we don’t,” Suzy said a little shyly.
“So how are things with you, Suzy?”
“Oh, can’t complain,” Suzy said conversationally. “This kidnapping thing has got us all on edge, though. Who would do such a horrible thing?”
“The world is full of monsters, Suzy,” he said indulgently. “Which is why it’s good to have a guy like me around, to protect you and yours.”
“And I’m ever so glad for that, Phil,” she said with a little giggle.
We decided to let the two lovebirds explore their budding affair, and moved off into the wild—or at least the perfectly sculpted gardens that surrounded the cottage.
There were no other humans in sight, not even a pesky reporter trying to snap Tessa’s picture, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized it before, but the atmosphere inside the house was rife with tension. So it felt great to be away from that for a moment.
“I’ll bet Harriet is going to make a great singer out of you yet, Max,” said Dooley encouragingly.
“Thanks, Dooley,” I said. “I certainly hope so.”
“When I’m through with you, you’ll be ready to sing at the Royal Albert Hall,” said Harriet.
“What’s the Royal Albert Hall?” asked Dooley.
“It’s like Madison Square Garden, only British. And royal, obviously. You’re going to turn heads, Max. Just you wait and see.”
“Max doesn’t need to turn heads,” said Brutus. “He just has to open his mouth.” And he gave me what I thought was a very insensitive grin.
“I’m at a very difficult time in my life right now, Brutus,” I said. “I’m feeling vulnerable, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to give me some much-needed encouragement.”
“You mean you’re traumatized, Max?” asked Dooley.