Fool's Moon, page 20
“—so I would ride around on it and pretend to be driving, but I’d actually be listening to them. And that’s how I finally found out what PAWN is.”
He explained the strange human custom of bringing something special—like a watch, or a big saw—to the shop. Luis would give the other human money in return, and then put the thing in the back of his store. If the human brought back the money, Luis would give them back their thing. If the human never came back, Luis would put the thing in the front of his store for other humans to look at, and would give it to whoever gave him money.
Zuki and Ophelia nodded. Living in the Botanica, they knew all about the paper and metal pieces that humans gave out in exchange for food and other things. This PAWN, apparently, was just another way to trade.
“But that’s not all that Luis does. You see, there are some humans that have lots of things, like the old woman did, but they don’t have any money. So they have to trade for it … but they don’t want to come to PAWN in case someone sees them. Luis said they’d be embarrassed. You know, like if you try to jump onto a table or a sofa, but slip and land back on the ground.”
Ophelia and Zuki nodded again. They’d both experienced that sort of cringeworthy indignity before.
Brandon continued. “Since they can’t come to PAWN, Luis goes to where the embarrassed humans live. He gives them money and takes their things. That’s what he was doing the night we snuck into the back of the truck and went looking for Luciana.”
“So he’s not selling doughnuts or tuna or the bad medicine? How can you be certain?” Ophelia asked, green eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Brandon gave her a lofty look. “Because I went with him and saw all the things he brought out of the houses.”
While Ophelia and Zuki listened in amazement, he explained about the trip from the Botanica to PAWN riding in the front seat of Luis’s picking up truck. The human had laughed when he’d balanced his forepaws on the dashboard and stared intently out the windshield, watching the streets slide past. And that had given Brandon an idea.
That night, when Luis had closed the store and gone out to the picking up truck with his bag of money, Brandon had boldly followed after and leaped into the passenger seat. And rather than shooing him out, the human had patted his head and said something about shotguns.
“But don’t worry, he didn’t shoot anything. We drove around to big houses near where we used to live. And he showed me all the things the other humans gave him.”
Check this out, gato, Luis had said after their first stop. A diamond tennis bracelet, a Rolex, and a pair of emerald earrings.
The next stop had yielded similar items. Diamond necklace, diamond and ruby ring … stones are kinda small, though. And look, gato, here’s a tiara.
To Brandon’s amusement, the human had put a circle of sparkly spikes on top of his head … looking, Brandon thought, like a picture he had once seen of the old woman wearing her fanciest clothes.
But with the last stop, Luis hadn’t been laughing. He’d stayed there longer than at the other places. When he came back out, the only thing he brought with him was a big gold circle that fit on a human’s finger. It was flat on the top with a picture of some winged human carved on it.
A signet ring, Luis had called it. And his expression was as flat as that ring.
Here’s a lesson for you, gato. Don’t get old. El viejo, the old guy who pawned this ring, you’d think he has lots of money living here. But his hija—his daughter—and her husband, they control everything. And he’s in a wheelchair, so he can’t just leave. He has to wait until they go out of town so he can call me and sell some of his things, so he has money for emergencies.
He’d stuck the ring on his own finger. His papa gave him the ring back when he was in prep school, sixty years ago. It’s worth a fortune to him, but best I could give him was full melt price. But don’t worry, gato, I’ll hold onto it and get it back to him someday.
“And that’s where we went,” Brandon finished, as Ophelia and Zuki nodded soberly at that last story. “We didn’t go out tonight, so I mostly rode around on the robot. But I did find something that looked like a clue on the floor under Luis’s desk. Wait here.”
He disappeared into the shadows again, returning a few moments later with a crumpled ball of newspaper in his mouth. He walked over to a spot where the moon was shining onto the concrete and, with a proud purr, dropped the bundle.
Forgetting the story of the old human, Ophelia walked over and nudged the paper with a careless paw. “A piece of newspaper? What kind of clue is that?”
“It’s a good clue. Look.”
Snagging the paper back from her, Brandon poked at it until he’d managed to smooth it almost flat.
“See its edges,” he explained. “They’re not ripped, like someone accidentally tore it off a bigger paper. They’re straight, like a human cut it out with those scissor things.”
Ophelia flicked her whiskers. “So the human cut up a piece of paper and crumpled it up. Maybe he was making a toy to bat around. Ruby does that for us sometimes.”
Brandon gave an exasperated growl. “You’re not looking hard enough. It’s a picture out of the newspaper. And see the human in it?”
Ophelia leaned closer so that her nose was almost touching the page. Then, with a squeak of surprise, she jumped back. “It’s him! It’s a picture of the son!”
Then, squinting, she took another look at the paper. Tone suspicious now, she stalked a few feet away as she added, “What are all those little holes all over the picture? It looks like something with fangs was biting it.”
Though she’d never seen a fang pattern quite like that, with single punctures randomly scattered about. Not that she blamed the unknown biter, she thought, momentarily baring her own glossy white teeth. If she ever saw the son again, she was going to bite him herself … for real!
“It smells like Luis,” the pit bull observed as she walked over and gave the paper a sniff. “So why do you think he cut out a picture of the son? The way it’s all wrinkled up, it looks like he tried to throw it away.”
“There’s writing at the bottom,” Brandon pointed out. “Maybe you can read it.”
Zuki furrowed her brow, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as she slowly sounded it out. “Mr. Terrence W. Givens … and … Ms. Joan … Ratzen Attend … the Spring Opening of … the Gardens. What does that mean?”
“Nothing important,” Ophelia replied as she slid between the pit bull’s front legs for another look. “But, see, the Joan female was in the picture, too. That’s her shoulder and hair on the edge. Luis cut her out and only left the son. I wonder why.”
“Maybe he didn’t like her,” Zuki suggested. She stepped around the cat and flopped onto the concrete. Then, brown eyes widening, she added, “Or maybe he liked her and didn’t want to bite her picture.”
“How would he even know who she was?” Ophelia countered.
“I never even saw him come visit Luciana the whole time we lived there. But I bet she told him about the son, and Luis knew he was a bad man.”
To her brother, she said in approval, “That was a very clever find, even though we don’t know what it means. Did you discover any other clues?”
“Only one.” Brandon’s whiskers drooped. “I noticed it yesterday, after I jumped out of the truck. Come here and look.”
Bobtail drooping, too, he led them to the front of the picking up truck and pointed with one paw. On the passenger side, the headlight was broken, and part of the front end crumpled.
The three exchanged silent glances while the truck gave a final tink-tink before going silent, too.
“No!” Brandon yowled. “I know it has to be what humans call a coincidence. She was his mother’s sister. He wouldn’t hurt her, not even on accident.”
“What about the son?” Ophelia pointed out in a subdued voice. “He was mean to the old woman, and she was his mother.”
“Luis isn’t like that. I’m sure … ”
But he wasn’t sure, Ophelia knew from the uncertain tone of her brother’s voice. Beside, Philomena had warned them about a rat, and the human had a big picture of one painted on his arm.
“Maybe he hit her with the picking up truck because he thought the old woman left Luciana lots of money. Maybe a hundred dollars,” she suggested, naming the largest sum she had ever heard of. “And since the police people gave him her phone, maybe he thought he would get her money, too.”
Brandon gave a softer yowl. “But he was nice to me … and he felt sorry for the old man in the wheeling chair.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Zuki said with a shake of her blocky white head. “I’ve see humans do bad things, like make canines fight, but then they give some of the moneys they win to the good place they call church.”
They lapsed into silence for another moment; then Brandon asked in a small voice, “Can we go home now? I—I don’t think I want to be a cat detective anymore.”
Nor do I, Ophelia decided. At least, not when it came to humans’ problems. They were far too complicated and made too much of a mess of things … unlike felines, who were always straightforward in their dealings. Even canines didn’t cause this much trouble!
Leaving the picture of the son behind, they slipped out of the open room and onto the street. Keeping to the shadows, they padded quietly in the direction of the Botanica. Ophelia kept close to her brother, giving him a concerned look every few steps, but leaving him to his own thoughts. They’d barely gone two blocks, however, when a familiar growl sounded behind them.
“Hey, you. Cats, pit bull. You’re on my turf again.”
The trio halted and swung about to see the terrier, Rally, trotting on stubby legs down the sidewalk after them. He stopped as well, and bristled his wiry black-and-white fur in an obvious attempt to look larger.
“I told you to stay away, but you came back,” he snarled, crooked teeth bared. “Now I—we—are going to have to teach you a lesson.”
“We?” Zuki echoed, looking about. She gave a quick sniff and added, “I don’t smell your friends anywhere around.”
“Bobo and Sammy? Eh, they couldn’t hack life on the streets. They let some rescue group pick them up.” Rally bristled even more. “But I don’t need them. I’ve got other canines to help me.”
Ophelia rolled her green eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t see any canines besides you. Do you see any, Brandon?”
Her brother shook his furry head. “Nope.”
Rally glared at them another moment, black eyes gleaming. Then his fur settled back into place and he plopped down on the sidewalk in a seated position, hind legs shifted to one side.
“Fine, you got me. Now have your laugh, and then go on back to your nice house and your nice humans.”
“Oh-kay,” Zuki replied, nodding for Brandon and Ophelia to come along. But instead of following, the two cats exchanged looks; then Brandon grimaced.
“We can’t just leave him there,” he hissed to the departing pit bull. “He thinks he’s tough, but being on the streets alone is even tougher. I—I know about that.”
Zuki halted. She stood there a moment before cocking her blocky head and turning with a sigh. “Go ahead, ask. But there’s no guarantee Ruby will say yes even if he does.”
Still, Brandon’s whiskers flicked hopefully as he padded back toward the terrier.
“Uh, Rally,” he began, “it wasn’t too long ago that I was on the streets alone, myself. Our owner died, and her son didn’t want us. He stuck me and Ophelia in a box and dumped us out here. If I hadn’t chewed my way out and found a place to stay, and if a different human hadn’t found my sister before she had heat stroke … well, we would be dead now.”
Rally bared his crooked teeth again. “And that’s interesting to me because … ?”
Brandon hesitated, so Ophelia jumped in.
“Our human, Ruby, is really nice,” she explained. “And we live in a nice place, too. We have our own courtyard, and we get extra snacks. So maybe, if you’re tired of living on the streets, you might want to come home with us.”
“Come home … with you?”
The terrier stared at them in amazement; then he threw back his wiry head and gave a howl of laughter.
“That’s a good one, cat. What makes you think I’d want to do that?”
“Maybe because you’re lonely without your friends,” Brandon replied for her. “Or maybe you’re hungry. Or maybe you’re scared—”
“Oh, for kibble’s sake,” Ophelia spat, cutting him short. “He obviously isn’t interested in our offer. This was a bad idea. Leave the stupid canine where he is, and let’s go home.”
Not waiting for either one’s reply, she stomped over to where Zuki waited. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Brandon shake his head and come trotting up to join her and the pit bull.
“You tried,” she told him in a softer tone. “That’s all you can do.”
But as they continued down the sidewalk and onto the next block, she thought she could hear the snick, snick, snick of nails on concrete behind them. She gave Brandon a nudge and whispered, “We’re being followed.”
He nodded. As if on cue, all three of them halted.
So did the snick, snick sound.
Smothering a smile behind her paw, she started walking again, flanked by Brandon and Zuki. The pattern continued for the rest of their journey home, the sound of pawsteps stopping and starting whenever the three of them stopped and started. By the time they reached the Botanica, however, Rally had dropped all pretense of subtlety. They stopped in front of the house and turned to see him strolling up to join them.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” the terrier said, resuming the conversation as if it hadn’t been cut short. He glanced about and nodded. “Kinda small, but I’ve seen worse. Maybe I’ll stick around out here tonight and think about it. You know, just in case I get bored with that whole street warrior thing.”
“Sure,” Zuki said. “I can bring a little midnight snack for you, if you like.”
The trio slipped back through the door in the wooden gate, leaving it propped open long enough for Zuki to sneak into the kitchen and carry out a couple of bone-shaped biscuits she’d been saving for later.
Setting the treats beside Rally, who gave an audible gulp but pretended not to notice them, she said, “See you in the morning.”
“Maybe,” the terrier replied, giving a little growl.
Probably so that they didn’t think he was too grateful, Ophelia told herself.
And, apparently, he wasn’t impressed enough with the place to stick around after all. The next morning, following her walk with Ruby, Zuki reported back to Brandon and Ophelia that there was no sign of the terrier.
“Though he did eat the dog biscuits,” she added. “I guess if he changes his mind again, he knows where to find us.”
“He’s a grown-up canine,” Ophelia said with a shrug. “He knows how to take care of himself.”
Though she was a bit disappointed not to see Rally waiting there. His visit would be a distraction from worry over what they’d learned the previous night. And even though, like her brother, she’d decided to give up detecting, she couldn’t help but worry over Luis and what bad things he might have done. Brandon didn’t say anything, but she could tell from his expression and the way he’d ignored the roosters that he was feeling much the same as she.
Still, the morning passed uneventfully. Ruby had been surprised and happy to see Brandon again, showering him with kisses and praising him for his cleverness.
“So I guess you decided you liked us best,” she’d told him with a big smile. Even better, she seemed not to care when he enthusiastically rubbed his head against her cheek and knocked her glasses askew.
“I don’t blame you,” she went on, brushing black fur off her pink T-shirt with its picture of a lady with a crown holding a big stick in one hand and a flower in the other.
Queen of Wands Tarot card, Ophelia knew. Even better, in that picture she had a black feline seated nearby her.
“I mean, the guy couldn’t even think of a more original name for you than Blackie,” Ruby went on. “But we’ll keep your return on the down-low, okay? Last thing we need is word to get back to Mr. Pawn Shop that you’re here.”
And all went per Ruby’s plan … that was, until it was almost time for their noon snack. Ophelia and Brandon had moved back inside the Botanica again to escape the noise of the roosters’ fighting over a fresh crop of bugs they’d found in one of the planter boxes. The two felines were lounging on the register counter near Ruby, who was writing up what she called “inventory.” Zuki was lying next to the pair of plaster dogs that were part of the life-sized statue of St. Lazarus, looking rather saintly herself.
Then the bells on the front door gave a violent jangle, disrupting the Southwestern flute music Ruby had playing for background ambiance. Zuki scrambled to her paws and gave a warning woof. Her warning didn’t come soon enough, however.
The PAWN human, Luis, was striding into the store. He spied them at the register and pointed at Ruby, light glinting off the big signet ring he wore on that finger. In an outraged voice, he said, “I knew it! Someone kidnapped my cat last night, and that person is you.”
Nineteen
Ruby’s first instinct at hearing Luis’s accusation was to grab Brandon and clutch him to her, which she did. He gave a little squeak of surprise but fortunately didn’t try to wriggle away.
“I didn’t kidnap him,” she protested in an offended tone. “When I got up this morning to feed the other animals, Brandon was with them. Apparently, he decided he still didn’t like living with you. The fact that he keeps running away from you is hardly my fault.”
“That’s your story,” Luis countered, expression still outraged.
