“C’mon,” I told my raccoon accomplice after several moments of tense silence passed between us. “Let’s go get you some Fancy Feast.”
I took a picture of the ransom note with my phone and forwarded it to both Charles and Nan, then headed for the pantry to prepare a late-night snack for both me and Pringle. I’d already made it about halfway down the stairs when I realized he wasn’t following me.
Instead, Pringle stood at the top of the narrow stairway with giant, glistening tears in his dark eyes. “Fancy Feast? For me?” he crooned.
I smiled at the sweet but bizarre forest creature. “I can also throw in some Evian if that helps to sweeten the deal.”
Pringle scampered down the stairs as fast as his four feet could carry him and attached himself to my leg in what I assumed was a grateful hug. “This is the best day of my life,” he whispered into my plaid pajama pants. “The very best day.”
“Just wait until you meet Octavius,” I said with a chuckle, picturing the scene unfold—the look of unadulterated joy on Pringle’s face, the likely irritation on my cat’s. “I have a feeling he’s going to love you,” I said anyway. It was true; once Octo-Cat got past the raccoon’s enthusiasm, he’d love having someone in his life who appreciated him as much as he appreciated himself.
Pringle stopped in his tracks but quickly started moving again. I absolutely loved how easy it was to make his day. Once I prepared a late-night meal of Fancy Feast and Evian for him—served on disposable dishes rather than Octo-Cat’s preferred Lenox set—and grabbed a granola bar for myself, I went to wake Nan with news of the ransom note.
Before I could reach her bedroom, however, my cell phone buzzed in my hand. The call came from a number I didn’t recognize, which seemed especially odd this late at night.
Could it be the catnapper calling to talk terms? I’d happily pay whatever he wanted if it meant getting my cat back.
“Hello?” I asked, a quiver of anticipation racing through me.
“Angie, why didn’t you call me earlier?” The speaker sounded quite angry, so it took me a moment to place her.
“B-B-Bethany?” I stuttered, finally recognizing my friend’s voice. “Where are you?”
“Peter and I made it down to Georgia earlier tonight, and Charles just called to catch me up on everything that happened since we left. First tell me, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied for some reason. I’d grown to love Bethany, even though our relationship hadn’t always been an easy one. Still, as much as I trusted her, I didn’t want her to know how destroyed I was by this latest turn of events. She didn’t know my secret, and I planned to keep it that way.
“Do you have any idea who could have wanted to take Octo-Cat?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Bethany didn’t hesitate in her response. “Clearly, this has something to do with Ethel’s will. Remember how angry everyone was that he got anything at all, let alone that huge trust fund?”
I’d already been thinking along these same lines myself, but there was a part of it that still made absolutely no sense to me. “Yeah, but that was months ago,” I added. “Why act on it now?”
She hummed a few beats, then asked, “How long has it been since you moved into Fulton Manor?”
“A couple months,” I mumbled as I slipped one of my fingers into my mouth and began to bite at the scraggly fingernail. “Think that has something to do with it? I did get this ransom note that specifically mentions it.”
“Of course the house has something to do with it,” Bethany exploded after I caught her up. “There’s one thing that doesn’t quite make sense, though. If the catnapping was supposed to keep you from contesting the arbitration, then why send a ransom note at all? I mean, without Octo-Cat’s monthly stipend, you wouldn’t be able to afford the house and would have to give it up, anyway. Right?”
I groaned, suddenly feeling like I might pass out. “Thanks for reminding me of just how much is at stake here. But yes, I can’t afford my mansion on a part-time paralegal’s salary. This isn’t House Hunters.” My joke fell on deaf ears.
“I’m thinking,” Bethany mumbled without giving me even a pity laugh.
“Like thinking you might know who did it?” I chanced. It killed me that I hadn’t been able to figure this out yet. Was I missing something big due to my panic? Could my shrewd and logical friend catch something I hadn’t been able to?
“Not yet,” she answered with a sigh. “But I do know the Fultons a bit better than you do. I may be able to connect some of the dots if I puzzle over this long enough.”
“Anything you can do would be very helpful,” I said politely. “Thank you, Bethany.”
“Hey, I owe you one, anyway.” Now she let out a little chuckle. I had no idea what she was talking about, though.
“You do? Why?”
“Um, never mind,” she said with another nervous laugh. “Gotta go. Bye!”
Well, that was weird. Bethany was right about one thing, though. The arbitration notice and the ransom note did seem at odds with each other. The note might even establish grounds for delaying the arbitration a bit longer. Could the catnapper mastermind really be so shortsighted?
Charles would know better than me.
I glanced at the tiny digital clock on my phone. It was just past twelve thirty. Since I knew Charles regularly burned the midnight oil, I decided to try giving him a call.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered coldly.
“Oh, um, Breanne?” I chanced a guess. It gutted me that she had answered his phone at this hour.
“Who else would it be? And why are you calling my boyfriend in the middle of the night. Hmm?” Well, apparently, it bothered her just as much that I had reason to call so late at night. Charles was my friend before he was ever her boyfriend, though, and I was willing to bet I knew him better and cared for him more.
“Give me that,” I heard Charles say before presumably yanking the phone free of his girlfriend’s hands.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Charles sucked air in through his teeth. “You’re not interrupting. Breanne just stopped by to say a quick goodnight since we’re not going to be able to see each other tomorrow.”
Yup, uh-huh. Likely story.
Even though I myself was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin, I knew how the world worked. It made me want to throw up everything in my stomach, but still I understood.
“Charles!” Breanne hissed from the other end of the call. “I haven’t got all night to wait around here.”
“I’ve gotta go,” my friend said, and he even sounded a little sad about it.
“Bye,” I whispered after he’d already disconnected the call.
“Humans are weird,” Pringle informed me as he waddled his way over to my side.
“We are,” I agreed. “But raccoons are kind of weird, too.”
He laughed and used his hands to groom himself following his decadent feast of canned cat food. “You’ve got that right.”
“Do you think he’s okay out there?” I asked, not bothering to clarify who I meant.
“Listen, babe. I can’t live in a world that doesn’t have my boy Octavius in it. You better believe he’s okay and that whoever did this is gonna pay—and pay big-time.”
I reached over and stroked Pringle’s fur. If I closed my eyes, it almost felt like he was my missing friend. Instead of purring, he made a soft chattering noise.
“You know,” he said after a while. “I’ve been thinking that perhaps we should start planning Octavius’s welcome home party now. That way we’re ready whenever he turns up.”
“That’s a good idea. Why don’t you think it over and then get back to me with what we need?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Pringle showed me his toothy, slightly scary smile and then hobbled out through the cat door to begin his preparations.
I clutched the ransom note to my chest and sent up a prayer for Octo-Cat’s safe return. There were so many people—and animals—who loved him, who missed him, and needed him home.