“Hello?” A deep voice called from the top of the staircase, turning my blood cold despite the warm air inside.
My eyes zoomed toward the mayor, who stood in a matching flannel pajama set staring at us with huge, unblinking eyes. “Oh, Mark, hi,” I sputtered, unable to rip my eyes away. How were we going to explain this one?
Even though I had no answers, Nan was quick to save the day.
“Didn’t you hear us knock?” she asked, bringing both hands to her hips.
The mayor looked back behind him for a second. “No, I was—”
“Well, then you should at least lock your door. Really, anyone could wander in off the streets.”
He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head with a sigh. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”
We all stood staring at each other for a few silent moments.
Finally Mark spoke up, putting the uncomfortable moment to rest. “Can I, uh, help you with something?”
“We wanted to talk with you a bit more about the… the-the… the case,” I explained quickly, stumbling over a few choice words. “We don’t have much to go on and thought—”
“I told you everything I know,” the mayor interrupted with a scowl. “It’s all I have. That’s why I hired you to find and put together the rest of the pieces. Are you suggesting you’re not up for the task?”
Nan laughed at this. “Oh, we’ll handle it. Don’t you worry. Your case is as good as solved with Pet Whisperer, P.I.”
I still hated that name, but Nan and Mom had both made sure I’d be stuck with it going forward.
Mark straightened to his full height and finally descended the stairs. “Well, good. That’s just what I needed to hear.”
“Since we’re here,” I jumped in smoothly before the mayor could push us out the door. “Would you mind giving us a quick tour as it relates to Marco and his daily schedule? It always helps to get into the victim’s head when we can.”
“Yes, a tour would be most helpful,” Nan agreed, nodding vigorously.
Paisley barked her agreement. The way the carrier shook suggested that she had tried rather unsuccessfully to wag her tail.
“Sure. Okay.” Mark shook his head, ran another hand through his hair, then waved for us to follow. What followed was a lengthy description of the missing golden retriever’s daily comings and goings, including when and what he ate, where he liked to sleep, his favorite spots to pee in the yard, and more.
“So as I’m sure you can see,” the mayor said when the tour concluded, “despite my own busy schedule, Marco was well taken care of and very much loved. Please bring him home safely. And soon.”
“We will. We will,” Nan assured him.
Personally, I would rather under promise and overdeliver. “We’ll do everything we can,” I said as we shook hands goodbye.
Paisley, however, had other, more important things on her mind.
“Marco has good instincts,” she whispered in admiration on our way out. “If I lived here, I would choose to pee there, too.”
I glanced toward the area on the side of the house the mayor had pointed out mid-way through our tour. The snow was too fresh and too deep to give anything away.
But, well, at least our abducted dog had good taste in pee spots. As for our case, we still had absolutely nothing to go on.
Yet.
Chapter Eight
“Wow, that human really loves his dog,” Paisley observed on the drive home. I’d taken her out of the pet carrier as soon as Nan had handed her over to me and settled herself behind the wheel. She’d since repaid me with no less than a few dozen enthusiastic doggie kisses.
Her debt paid, Paisley had now turned her mind back to the investigation. “I feel so sad that they have been separated. We’re going to get his dog back soon. Right, Mommy?”
I kissed the small white spot on the Chihuahua’s forehead. “Yes, we will.”
The little dog wagged her tail and opened her mouth in a panting grin.
Later, Nan sighed as she made the turn into our driveaway. “Well, that accomplished exactly nothing.”
“I don’t know what you expected. He’s our client, not the suspect. Even though I agree with Octo-Cat that he’s hiding something. I also agree with Paisley that he really loves that dog.”
“So much that he won’t give us all the information that we need to get him back?” Nan chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Whatever he’s hiding, we don’t know whether it’s related to the ransom,” I pointed out as the car bumped along the icy drive.
Finally, Nan parked and the three of us raced inside as fast as our feet would carry us. Octo-Cat sat waiting for us in the center of the coffee table.
“Well?” he asked with one raised eyebrow. “How did the break-in go?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Who says we broke in?”
“Please. Nan went, so you were bound to break in. It’s what she does.” He chuckled merrily to himself.
Touché.
“So?” He raised the other eyebrow. “How’d it go?”
“Oh, right. Unfortunately, there’s not much to tell. We got caught and then got a very detailed tour and description of Marco’s day-to-day routine.”
“Yuck. I’m glad I missed that.” My cat shuddered, shaking off several loose hairs in the process.
I watched them dance through a nearby sunbeam, entranced.
“We’re still at square one,” Nan muttered, “but I refuse to stay there.”
I watched her shrug out of her winter gear and then reach back into the closet. Sometimes I suspected our foyer closet wasn’t unlike Mary Poppins’s magical bag. It seemed she never ran out of space and always had exactly what she needed waiting. This time, Nan pulled out poster board, Sharpies, sticky notes, and a pack of little magnifying glass stickers, then dumped them all onto the living room coffee table.
Octo-Cat had to leap out of the way to avoid being buried under the falling heap of craft supplies. “Watch it, old lady!”
I shot him a withering look, then returned my focus to Nan. Unlike my snarky tabby, she at least had a plan—one with flair at that.
She arranged all her supplies just so and then set to work, using a dark green marker to divide the neon green poster board into three evenly spaced sections. Next, she selected the black marker and scrawled People at the top of one column, then Places and Events on the others.
Out came the stickers, which she used to create bullet points, three down each column.
“We’ll start with three each, but don’t worry, I have enough stickers to match however many ideas we come up with. So what’s the first one? How about a person?” Nan stared at me expectantly, a blue marker uncapped and at the ready.
She’d created a similar setup when Octo-Cat had gone missing, so I knew exactly what she expected during today’s shared brainstorm.
“Start with his opponent,” I directed. “The one he very narrowly beat in the election. He definitely has a grudge.”
Nan nodded and wrote the name down. “I’ll add Brenda Eaves. She was one of the folks protesting at the inauguration, and if we play our cards right, I bet we can get her to tell us the names of the others, too.”
Octo-Cat watched in silence while Paisley snoozed on my lap. Tiny whimpering sighs escaped her muzzle as she dreamed.
“How about—?” I was just about to suggest a third suspect when a sudden, persistent tapping drew my attention to the window.
Octo-Cat spotted the source before I could and startled me by rearing up to hiss. He hissed often, but very rarely went full into Halloween kitty mode.
I followed his line of sight and found our favorite backyard roommate staring straight back at me with a cheesy smile. “Pringle! What are you doing here?”
He motioned toward his ear and shook his head. The raccoon’s mannerisms seemed so human at times and were only becoming more so, given his insane addiction to reality TV.
“I know you can hear me!” I shouted louder.