What thieves have in common:
- They’re selfish.
- They’re greedy.
- They don’t tell the truth.
- They sometimes make homemade dog biscuits.
Mrs. Steele did not go to the post office, the lying liar. She went in totally the opposite direction, and I followed her scent, keeping my nose to the ground as the blood of my ancestors pulsed through my veins.
“What’s that sound he’s making?” asked Rocco, decidedly uncomfortable with this adventure and flinching at each noise. Not an outdoor cat, by any means, this was a terrifying endeavor for him.
“You mean the chuffing sound coming from his nose?” asked Gracie. “He’s following her scent trail.”
“Why aren’t you and Jackson doing the same?” asked Rocco.
Gracie looked at Jackson, and they both burst out laughing. “First of all, I’m a herding dog. Border collies, even the miniature ones, are meant to keep animals in line. We aren’t trackers or hunters.”
“You certainly keep us in line,” said Jackson with a wiggle of his puggy eyebrows. I didn’t understand how it might be considered suggestive, but somehow Jackson managed to make it sound lewd.
“What about you?” asked Rocco. “What were pugs meant to do?”
“Sit on the laps of kings,” said Jackson, pulling himself up proudly.
“So, basically, you’re useless?” asked Rocco.
“Look who’s talking, fluff ball.” Jackson let out a growl. Rocco responded in kind.
“Stop it, you two,” said Gracie, keeping them in line as an excellent miniature border collie would. “Can’t you see Capone is trying to work? And we have more important things to worry about right now than your egos. We’re outside. Outside is dangerous. We have to be careful, and we have to stick together.”
Rocco’s eyes darted back and forth, and he jumped closer to me when a car sped past us. “She’s right. I don’t like it out here. We need to finish this and get back home as soon as possible.”
“And we need to be discrete,” said Gracie. “I’m shocked no one has noticed us yet, but it’s only a matter of time before someone sees us and brings us back to the shop. We have to be quick and sneaky.”
“My two favorite things,” said Jackson, wiggling his eyebrows at her again.
“Why do you keep flirting with Gracie?” asked Rocco.
“She digs me. I can tell.”
“Not going to happen, pug boy,” said Gracie with a swish of her fluffy tail.
“We’ll see, princess,” said Jackson, waddling after her.
Note to self: Jackson is the most optimistic dog I’ve ever met.
We stayed on the edge of the sidewalk and ducked into bushes whenever someone approached. It took us some time, but, at last, we reached Mrs. Steele’s house. Located on River Road, it was a neat and tidy Cape Cod painted white with blue shutters.
Staring at it, I imagined a kitchen with copper pots and beds of flowers blooming in the spring and summer. Now the beds were filled with nothing but brown leaves, which had fallen from the oak tree next to the house. Mrs. Steele’s scent wafted strongly here, as did something else.
“It smells like Miss Josie’s shop,” I said, lifting my nose. “More than what could come from having one book in her purse.”
We stood near a small window leading to Mrs. Steele’s basement, and as I looked inside, I got a surprise. Rather than a basement filled with old lady things like porcelain vases and old coats, this resembled a warehouse. Shelves lined the walls, filled with identical cardboard bank boxes, each carefully labeled in black marker.
Not for the first time, I sincerely wished I could read. At the sound of someone approaching, we all jumped and hid behind the large rhododendron bush on the side of Mrs. Steele’s house. From there, we could still see her porch, but no one could see us. A good thing, since I recognized the people on the sidewalk.
“Mrs. Norris and her lover boy,” said Jackson. “What a surprise.”
They knocked on Mrs. Steele’s door, and she quickly ushered them in. “We have a problem,” she said, and she shut the door.
We ran up to the porch, and heard the murmurs of conversation from inside, but we weren’t able to make out the exact words.
“What are we going to do?” asked Gracie, prancing in excitement. “We have to hear what’s going on.”
“Follow me,” said Jackson. “Let’s find another door.”
He led us around to the back of the house and onto a small deck in Mrs. Steele’s postcard-pretty back garden. Gracie, Jackson, and I stared up at the door knob, high above our heads. None of us were big enough to reach it.
“Why couldn’t one of you have been a St. Bernard?” I asked, looking at the two small dogs next to me.
Jackson stood on his stubby back legs, reaching as high as he could, which wasn’t high at all. “Wait. I’ll get it.”
Mrs. Steele must not have closed the back door firmly, because as soon as Jackson pushed on it, it opened, causing Jackson to land in an undignified heap on the floor.
“My hero,” said Gracie with a snort, stepping over him.
“I meant to do that,” said Jackson as he hefted himself up.
“If you two are done messing around,” said Rocco, “I suggest we go this way.”
We followed the sound of voices. Mrs. Steele, Mrs. Norris, and Billy sat in the front room, and we stood in the hallway, pressed against the wall like a criminal line up.
“Do you have the book?” asked Mrs. Norris. I stuck my head around the corner, and saw her sitting primly on Mrs. Steele’s couch, with Billy next to her.
“Do you have the cash?” asked Mrs. Steele. She stood near the window, peeking through her lace curtains and looking furtively outside.
Mrs. Norris rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, they aren’t after you, Lucy. We destroyed all evidence of what you stole from the shop with those smoke bombs. You ought to thank us.”
“There was still so much more I could have taken.” Mrs. Steele’s voice came out as a plaintive whine, tinged with greed.
“Pish, posh. You took enough. Now give me the book, and I’ll sell it through the usual channels. You’ll get your payment once I do. Have I ever cheated you before?”
Mrs. Steele folded her arms across her chest. “The smoke bomb helped you more than it helped me, Henrietta. You now have the insurance money, thanks to the way you tricked Mr. Bartleby into making you the beneficiary.”
“You’re jealous you didn’t think of it first.” She let out a laugh. “You should have seen Josie’s face when I told her Benjamin and I were lovers. It was most amusing. As if I would ever sleep with someone so old.”
Mrs. Steele raised a quizzical brow at her. “But Henrietta, he was only a few years older than you.”
Mrs. Norris waved a hand dismissively. “I prefer younger gentlemen. Like my Billy.”
Billy lifted her hand and gave it a kiss, but he was no gentleman, and Mrs. Norris was no lady. They seemed more like monsters, and so did Mrs. Steele.
She folded her arms over her ample bosom and glared at Mrs. Norris. “Well, since your plan to take his money worked, I want my payment up front.”
“I don’t have the money yet.” Mrs. Norris opened her purse. Green and covered in butterflies, it seemed like an odd choice for a criminal mastermind. “I’ll give you a down payment. Let’s say, ten thousand dollars.”
Mrs. Steele’s jaw dropped. “Newton’s Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica is valued at nine hundred thousand.”
“We don’t know we’ll get that much for it. We aren’t selling this at Christy’s, you know.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a wad of cash, and counted it. “I’ve meant to ask, how did you get your hands on this book, and why have you held onto it for so long?”
“I hid it,” said Mrs. Steele. “When Mr. Bartleby was still alive. I shoved it in a box in the back room, mixed in with old tax records and such. When he realized a few of his more valuable items had gone missing, he grew suspicious. He locked up the back room and didn’t give me a key. After he left Josie the shop, she kept it locked, too. I couldn’t get into there until today. She opened it to let the cleaners in, and I jumped at the chance. I’ve waited years for this.”
“It’s too bad we couldn’t get it sooner. Benjamin’s mind was a mess toward the end, which was how I got him to put my name on the insurance policy. He kept forgetting things, losing things.”
“Which makes me wonder…”
“Wonder what?” asked Mrs. Norris.
“About those missing books.”
Mrs. Norris shook her head. “Do you know how many times my Billy has broken into that shop looking for them? They aren’t there, Lucy. They’re gone.”
She let out a sigh. “Well, we had a good thing while it lasted. And now I’ll have a nice little nest egg for retirement, too.” She narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Norris. “Not as nice as yours, but I suppose we can’t be greedy.”
“No, we can’t, especially if Josephine contacts the insurance company. In a rare lucid moment, Mr. Bartleby rewrote the policy, then hid the documents, the scamp. He told me all about it, but he couldn’t remember where he’d put the information, so I think we’re safe. Josie is the new beneficiary, but if she doesn’t sign it in a week, it goes to me.” She shook her head sadly. “Poor dear. I feel quite sorry for her.”
“So do I,” said Mrs. Steele. “But business is business.”
“They are horrible humans,” whispered Gracie.
“I agree,” I said, and caught a glimpse of Mrs. Steele’s purse sitting only a foot or so away from me. Rocco followed my gaze.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.
I nodded. “This is our one shot.”
“Maybe I can help.” The voice came from a pure white cat perched on a table above us. He had one blue eye and one green. “I’m Casper. I’m staying with Mrs. Steele while my family is on vacation. She locks me in the bathroom and won’t let me sit on her couch. I hate her.”
“I feel you, dude,” I said. “We used to have the same rule, too.”
“Only for you, kibble breath,” said Rocco. “Rules don’t apply to cats.”
Casper agreed. “I want to get even with her. I peed on her bed a few times, but I’d like to do more. How can I help?”
“Can you create a distraction, Casper?” I asked. This might work.
He grinned. “Definitely. Leave it to me.”
I gave him a grateful nod. “Let’s do this. Now.”
We sprang into action. Rocco ran back into the kitchen. Casper took off full speed into the room, hissing like a maniac, and jumped on top of Mrs. Norris’s hat. Mrs. Norris screamed, and as Billy and Mrs. Steele tried to yank him off, Gracie, Jackson, and I grabbed the strap of the purse and pulled it toward the back door.
We nearly made it out, but Mrs. Steele spotted us, letting out a high-pitched scream. We froze in mid-pull and that’s when Casper, still perched on Mrs. Norris’s hat, lifted his leg to pee.
“You’d better move,” he said. “I can’t hold them much longer.”
“Bye, Casper. Thank you,” shouted Gracie over her shoulder as we dragged the purse into the kitchen.
“My pleasure,” he said. “We should hang sometime. I’ll look you guys up.”
Rocco held the screen door open for us. “Hurry up, butt sniffers. You can chat with Casper later. We need to go. Now.”
He was right. We’d just made it out the door when we heard the heavy footfalls of Billy’s massive feet.
“Run,” screamed Gracie.
I couldn’t go quickly pulling the heavy purse. Jackson grabbed the handle, too, and together we managed to get it out of the backyard.
“They’re getting away,” said Mrs. Norris. “Stop them, Billy.”
Billy barreled around the corner. Although big, he wasn’t fast or agile.
“Where are we going?” asked Gracie panting.
“The one place he can’t follow us,” said Jackson. He nodded to indicate a drainage pipe leading down to the river. Rocco ran into it, and so did Jackson. Gracie stared at me in horror.
“It’s dirty in there.”
I gave her a shove. Not the most gentlemanly thing I’d ever done, but necessary. The pipe, set at a steep angle, led down to the banks of the Ohio River below.
“I’ll get you for this, Capone.”
I heard Gracie’s voice echoing through the pipe, but I had no time to dawdle. I hopped into the pipe and slid down bottom first, bringing the purse with me and landing with a plop in the mud near the river.
“Worst. Day. Ever,” said Gracie, glaring at me. “Did we have to do that?”
“Yes, we did,” I said. “I could never have outrun Billy carrying this purse. He would have caught me in no time.”
Billy stood on top of the cliff, his eyes scanning the river bank, but he couldn’t see us due to the dense foliage. “I lost them,” he shouted. “But they couldn’t have gone far. I’ll head downriver to find them. I can’t climb down from here.”
“If he’s heading downriver, we’re heading up,” said Jackson, starting to walk.
“But the shop and Miss Josie are in the opposite direction,” I said.
“We’ve got no other option, pup.” Jackson looked over his shoulder at me, his expression serious. “We need to get away from Billy, and it’s nearly dark. It’ll be harder to find our way back to our humans once the sun goes down.”
“Well, this sucks.” Rocco tiptoed through the muck, his expression one of pure disgust.
Grace’s face mirrored his. “Ew. Ew. Ew. Was that raccoon poop? Gross. I smell something. It’s like an animal crawled in a cave somewhere and died, and then their body slowly decomposed until there was only a pile of rotting flesh left and nothing else.”
We all looked at her in shock, except for Jackson, who grinned and let out a soft chuckle. “He, he, he,” he said. “Oops. I farted.”
“Jackson, you are foul,” she said.
“But charming and handsome, too.” Jackson winked at her. “Come on, princess. I know you’re out of your element, but we’ve got to move. You don’t want to spend the night out here, do you?”
It was slow going with me dragging Mrs. Steele’s handbag. It kept catching on roots and other things in the undergrowth. A distance which should have taken us ten minutes to cover took closer to forty. By the time we reached a trail near the bridge spanning the Ohio River and connecting Beaver to Monaca, I was exhausted, and it had started to rain.
“Let’s rest a few minutes,” said Jackson, shooting a sympathetic glance at me laboring under the weight of the purse, and at Rocco who seemed terrified of the precipitation. “We can take shelter under the bridge.”
We scrambled to find a dry spot and cuddled up against the cold. As the sky darkened, our gloom increased with each passing moment. The rain pounded harder, and I doubted we’d make it much farther being so tired and cold and hungry.
“We should stay here until daybreak,” said Jackson. “We’ll get some rest and move on.”
Gracie circled a few times before lying down. “Well, this is not what I’m used to,” she said with a hmph.
“Same goes for all of us, peaches. We don’t have an option, though.” Jackson gave me a worried look. “Are you okay, Capone?”
I nodded, barely able to keep my eyes open. “I’m tired. This bag is so heavy.”
“Sorry we couldn’t help much,” said Jackson. “Grace and I both have extremely stubby legs.”
“Speak for yourself, puglet. My legs are perfect.” Gracie sat next to Rocco, who snickered at the word “puglet.”
Jackson didn’t seem to notice. “Your legs are perfect, Gracie. Perfect and stubby.” Jackson turned to me. “Get some rest. I’ll keep watch.”
“Keep watch for what?”
A dark shape appeared next to us. For a moment, I thought it might be Billy. I yelped and backed up into the side of the bridge. Jackson, Gracie, and Rocco did the same, and we clung to each other, hiding as we slipped as far as we could into the shadows.
The tall man who stood before us smelled dirty and strange. He was thin, with a shock of red hair. He carried a flashlight, and when he noticed the purse on the ground, he stopped.
“Well, lookie here,” he said softly, picking it up. “This is my lucky day.”
As he trudged away with Mrs. Steele’s purse in his hands, I slumped down to the ground, filled with utter despair. All our hard work had been for nothing. The purse was gone, and any hope I had of saving Miss Josie and her shop went with it. I let out a howl of pure misery.
Note to self: It’s always darkest before it’s pitch black.