Tango couldn’t believe his good fortune. The mystery was almost solved. His two pieces of silver had slipped off his neck when he slid into the sea. McKenna had the chain. Most likely, Nigel had the heart. McKenna Skye was the key to putting the pieces together.
Tango was sure she’d understand. Hadn’t McKenna known exactly what to do when he expressed his desire to save the jellyfish, just as they had saved him?
Oh, what fun they’d had!
He’d race ahead, zigzag across the sand, and when he located a jellyfish, he’d bark. McKenna would skip, barefooted, over to where Tango was, and with her shovel, scoop the jellyfish into her bucket. At the edge of the sea, McKenna tossed the jellyfish back into its watery home. Sometimes, they found only one or two, but other days, ten, even twenty, jellyfish dotted the sand.
Deep in his soul, Tango understood how desperately the jellyfish wanted to go back to the sea and be reunited with their own kind. How proud his good, generous sister Theresa would be of her brother. His mother, too, Tango thought.
Doing his daily good deed, Tango temporarily forgot about returning to Marcellina.
However, as July turned into August, Tango’s desire to go back home returned with full force. Tourists were descending on Victoria-by-the-Sea like flies on a restaurant Dumpster in Manhattan. Both McKenna and Augusta were working from earliest morning until late into the night.
One afternoon, Tango asked Beau if he’d come up with a plan to get Tango’s silver identification tag back from Nigel Stump.
“Nigel Stump is evil—at the very least, he’s Axel’s spineless pawn. Do not let your desire for the silver cloud your judgment.”
On this unusually hot, windy day, Tango’s loneliness was unbearable. His nose just inches from the sand, Tango wandered aimlessly up and down the narrow beach. Even the village children, diving off the wharf at high tide, were too busy to take notice of him.
Lost in thought, Tango didn’t see that Nigel Stump was trailing him.
“Rat-Boy, my man, what’re you doing? Looking for something?”
Tango was in no mood to be called Rat-Boy, especially by a surly, three-legged cat.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe I could help you find what you’re looking for. I’ve got experience,” Nigel claimed arrogantly.
Beau’s strict warning—do not, I repeat, do not—echoed in Tango’s mind. But if Tango was smart about it, and Nigel just happened to tell him something, that wouldn’t be breaking his promise, would it?
“Maybe you could,” Tango replied. “I thought I saw something shiny in the sand just now, but I can’t find it.”
“A guy’s gotta be pretty sharp to find the good stuff out here. Lucky, too.”
“I bet you’ve got a real good eye, being so experienced and all.”
Soaking in the compliment, Nigel’s face softened. “It’s all a matter of timing. When you see something, you can’t hold back—you gotta take it and run.”
Nigel threw his head toward the bay, where white-capped waves glistened in the sun. “Listen up, Rat-Boy.”
Tango flinched—he couldn’t stand being called Rat-Boy.
“A guy can get busy out there, lose track of time. Before you know it, the tide rolls back in. If you get trapped on a sandbar, you’re in BIG trouble.”
Tango inhaled a breath of cool, crisp air. Play it smart, he told himself. Ignore the put-down—stroke the cat’s ego.
“You know, the way you get around on three legs is pretty amazing—if you don’t mind me saying so.” Tango smiled.
“It takes practice, my boy.” Nigel nonchalantly circled Tango. “So, you said you saw something shiny out here?”
“I’m pretty sure I did,” Tango answered.
“Hmm, I’m pretty fond of the shiny stuff myself.”
“You are? Like what?” Tango asked. “What’s the best thing you’ve ever found?”
Nigel’s pea green eyes shifted—from Tango to the Pitiful Place and then back to Tango. The cat’s tail curled like a snake on the sand. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this …”
Tango’s heart was pumping wildly. Hoping the cat wouldn’t notice, Tango feigned interest in a sailboat moored at the wharf.
“A while back,” Nigel whispered, “I found a silver heart.”
“Really? A silver heart?” Tango nodded with enthusiasm. Beau was right! Tango thought his body would burst!
“Shiny as a star. I’m quite fond of it.”
Slow down, Tango cautioned himself. Play it smart. Flattery will get you everywhere, he remembered Diego once saying.
“A silver heart? Wow—you’re good!”
Nigel licked his left leg, stopping at the spot where his skin was hobbled and scarred.
“Like everyone says, Rat-Boy, Nigel Stump’s the best.”
Tango’s jaws were ready to snap. If they did, Nigel Stump wouldn’t be calling him Rat-Boy any longer. But again, Tango held back.
“I’d love to see that silver heart,” Tango murmured. Nigel flicked his tail. The white hairs on its tip brushed across Tango’s nose.
“No way. No dogs,” Nigel said. “Only cats allowed in the Pitiful Place.”
Tango was losing patience with this cat-and-dog dance. “That’s not what I hear.”
Nigel’s mood changed. He shoved his black-bearded face into Tango’s. “What, Rat-Boy? What do you hear?”
“Oh, what I mean—what I meant to say—is that the Pitiful Place is where all the village animals hang out at night, right?”
“Private. By invitation only. Very exclusive.” Nigel puffed out his chest. “But, listen, I’ll talk to the guys.” He twitched his whiskers. “I’ve got a little clout. Maybe I can get you in.”
Tired of flattering the arrogant cat, Tango could contain himself no longer. “The silver heart is mine,” Tango growled viciously.
Anger and frustration—a desire for what was rightfully his—overpowered him. Tango lunged at Nigel, closing his jaws just short of Nigel’s throat.
The fur on Nigel’s back exploded into a field of black needles. “Hey, hey, hey! Calm down.”
Tango bared his sharp teeth. “And I want it back. Now.”
“You say the silver heart is yours?” He pointed at one of Tango’s footprints in the sand. “A little charm about that big?”
Like a shot, Tango drove his muzzle into Nigel’s chest. Nigel stumbled backward over a flat sandstone rock.
“Back off, little buddy. Back off. There’s a peaceful solution here. Listen up,” Nigel said as he rolled out of his fall. “We’ve got a motto: All for one and one for all. Technically, the silver heart’s not mine. But, hey, I’m a reasonable fellow. I’ll talk to the guys.”
“When?” Tango demanded.
“Soon. But I gotta warn you—the guys aren’t going to give up the heart just because you say it’s yours. They’re not fools. They’ll want something in exchange.”
He had the upper hand, and knew it.
Beau had been right—Tango’d been a fool. He’d opened his mouth and made things worse. Now Nigel was on to him.
“Something good—a fair trade.” Nigel gave Tango a sinister grin. “When you come up with something, let me know. I’ll arrange a little handoff. But you’d better hurry,” Nigel warned. “Things at the Pitiful Place have a way of disappearing, if you get my drift.…”
“I get it.”
Nigel turned and stuck his rear in Tango’s face. “Later, Rat-Boy.”