The woman was eyeing her intently.“Do you know that even the President of the United States of America loves his Duffer of a morning?”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Well, he does. So there you go.” And having delivered this bit of inside information into the world of the Duffer, she pottered off, probably to break the terrible news to her husband and Fifi that the Duffer Store had run out of Duffers.
Odelia’s phone chimed, and she fished it out of her bag. It was Dan.
“And? Did you talk to the Mayor?” asked the veteran newspaperman. “I would love to see his face when you confront him with his temper tantrum over a slice of sausage.”
“Never call a Duffer a sausage, Dan,” she said sternly. “It’s a saucisse.”
“I can tell this Duffer business is getting to you, honey. Stay objective, all right?”
“I’m just kidding, Dan. But the Duffer clientele clearly isn’t. The mayor isn’t the only one going nuts over this sudden Duffer dearth.”
“Duffer dearth. Nice one.”
“Yeah. It’s a real Dufferdry spell. Get it? Because salamis are air-dried?”
“Yah. Maybe you should stick to being a reporter.”
She cleared her throat.“So do you have any idea where I can find these Duffers?”
She heard the sound of keys clacking, then Dan came back with an address.
She whistled.“Nice digs.”
“Yeah. I should have gone into the sausage business.”
“Saucisse, Dan. Saucisse.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She got back into her car and was just about to drive off when her phone jangled again. When she saw it was Chase, she picked up with a cheerful,“Howdy, stranger.”
“Howdy,” said Chase, sounding a lot less chipper.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The weirdest thing. First off, your uncle seems to have gone missing.”
“That is weird.”
“Yeah, and secondly, all of Hampton Cove’s cats have gone missing, too.”
“What?”
“We’ve been getting dozens of calls from worried pet owners. Only cats, though, not dogs or parakeets or whatever, which is kind of specific, don’t you think? Not to mention strange.”
“Yeah,” she said, a worried frown creasing her brow. “Have you called Gran to ask—”
“About your cats? I have, but she’s at the office, so she has no idea. And your mom is at the library so she doesn’t know either. She promised to call me as soon as she gets home.”
“So… about my uncle?” she said slowly, thinking about the missing cats mystery. How strange that all the cats of Hampton Cove would suddenly go missing for some reason.
“Unfortunately he didn’t take the car, so I have no idea where he went.”
“He walked?”
“I know.”
“It’s not like my uncle to not take the car to go anywhere.”
“He has a pedometer app on his phone, so I guess he decided to use it.”
“Mh.”
“So what are you up to?”
“Doing a story on the missing Duffer.”
“Duffer? I don’t remember seeing a report about a missing person called Duffer.”
“You wouldn’t. The Duffer is a famous saucisse, a local delicacy.”
“Ah, that Duffer.”
Like practically everyone in Hampton Cove, Chase had fallen for the seductive charm and lingering aroma of the delicious salami. And as Odelia drove out to the Billionaire Mile, where all the celebs lived on a narrow stretch of exclusive beachfront property, she thought about her cats, and hoped they were fine. Then again, why wouldn’t they be? She’d taught them never to talk to strangers—human strangers, not feline ones.
Chapter 17
The van had been picking up more and more‘passengers’ like a regular bus route, but at the next stop no door was being opened and no fresh prisoners were being dumped in. The van was full to overflowing, and since there was no room left, and we were all packed solid, the atmosphere was frankly becoming a little uncomfortable.
“I have to wee, Max,” Dooley whispered into my ear.
“Well, you’ll have to hold it up for now,” I said. “Unless you want to turn this van into a toilet, and all these other cats into very angry travelers.”
“I know,” he said, looking as pained as only he can look. “But I really have to go, Max. I’ve been holding it in for fifteen minutes already and I’m going to burst if I don’t go.”
“Maybe you can pee through that crack in the floor,” said Brutus, indicating a small crack where sunlight peeked in and through which we could see a small patch of asphalt.
“Gee, thanks,” said Dooley gratefully, and aimed very precisely indeed, peeing straight through the crack.
Moments later, a growly voice right outside announced,“Damn oil leaks,” and a loud thunk on the side of the van told us the driver had exited and was standing next to us.
Harriet giggled, in spite of the circumstances.“He thinks Dooley’s wee is an oil leak.”
“Yeah, very funny,” I agreed, though I wasn’t laughing.
I now noticed for the first time that the engine had been turned off, which told me that we might have reached our destination, wherever it was. The other cats had come to the same conclusion, for they all started to chatter nervously.
“I say we make a run for it the moment those doors are opened,” said Tom, who likes to think he’s tough but is actually a scaredy-cat.
“And I say we don’t do a thing,” said Shanille, whose position as cat choir’s supreme leader tends to lend her a modicum of authority in our small feline community.
“What are you talking about?” asked Tom. “If we don’t take a stand now and fight our way out, who knows where we’ll end up?”
“We’ll all end up back home where we belong,” said Shanille snippily. “This is all some kind of mistake, obviously, and as soon as everything is cleared up we’ll be escorted home with a full apology and that will be that.”
“An adventure to remember,” said Shadow happily, then sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
All eyes now turned to Dooley, who apparently hadn’t aimed as well as he’d anticipated.
“Dooley!” cried Buster. “I know it’s you. I’d recognize that scent anywhere!”
And he would. We all would. Cats can easily recognize the scent of another cat, even if we’ve only met once. In fact it’s one of our strong suits, though it was a little annoying now, not to mention embarrassing, and Dooley made himself as small as he could, which is hard when you’re in the same cramped space as all of your accusers.
But then suddenly the door was thrown open, and half of the cats seemed to have made up their minds to follow Tom’s advice, and stormed towards the exit. They quickly disappeared from view, and then it was just us stragglers.
“Out!” shouted a male voice. “Out right now!” And to make his meaning perfectly clear, he thunked the side of the van with his fist, creating a loud ruckus that frankly was very disagreeable to our highly sensitive ears. So we all got out of the van, and were led down a short sort of ramp and then into what looked like a basement of some kind.
It all smelled very foul, I don’t mind telling you. Like rot and damp and mustiness.
“This doesn’t look like the pound, Max,” said Brutus as we looked around the place.
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “It looks more like the basement of a very old house.”
It was cavernous, too, with an arched brick ceiling, where moss was growing, and the floor was an earthen one, also moss-covered. There was a definite nip in the air that I found particularly unenjoyable. As if someone had left the windows open for a long time.
The cats that had led the charge out of the van, and had hoped to secure their escape, were also there, so their brave attempt had been for naught, a fact that didn’t appear to sit well with them, for they were all muttering dark oaths under their breaths.
There only seemed to be one entrance, the one through which we’d been dumped, and as I listened intently I could hear the van now driving off again. It had simply backed up against the only window into the place, and had deposited all of us inside this cellar.