Dog-Eared Delinquent

Chapter Eight

The man who opened the door was slight and gangly with a massive array of freckles scattered across his pale face. Definitely not the type one would expect to see in the role of security for…

What was this place?

I squinted my eyes and strained to see in the dank lighting. The inside looked very much the same as the outside—all brick and blah.

“Who sent you?” the bouncer asked, guiding us down the long staircase. His eyes shone a beautiful shade of green I’d never seen before—and not just in nature, but had truly never glimpsed under any context.

“Peter Peters,” I muttered, searching the big, empty space, but seeing nothing beyond the guard in front of me and Octo-Cat at my feet.

The guard shook his head and wrinkled his nose in a way that suggested perhaps he also didn’t think much of Peter. “He’s not due in until later tonight, but go ahead and have a seat if you want. You’re welcome to have a drink while you wait.”

I scanned the room again, wondering how I could have missed something as large as a bar in my previous glance about. “Um, where?” I asked nervously when I was still only met by dust and dirt and cobwebs.

The guard jabbed me in the ribs playfully, but it still hurt. “Ha ha, good one.”

I let out an awkward laugh, truly not knowing what I should say next. Should I ask how he knew Peter, or would it be better to inquire about how the door had just magically appeared in the alleyway earlier?

“Who are you, and what is this place?” Octo-Cat asked the guard, shifting his weight from one side to the other, clearly unnerved by the filth of our current surroundings.

Our strange host answered him directly. “I’m Moss O’Malley. Haven’t you ever been to the lair before?” If you’re keeping count, that’s now at least three of us who could talk to Octo-Cat. I definitely wasn’t alone, not anymore.

“Can’t say that we have,” I answered for the both of us, pointing at my chest emphatically. “At least I haven’t.”

“Me neither,” Octo-Cat supplied.

Moss stiffened. “You did say Peter sent you, right?”

We both nodded, eager to learn more.

“What would that dog want with you two?”

I ignored Moss’s strange choice of words and also the fact that he seemed to be edging back toward the stairs.

“That’s personal, I—” I began.

“Clearly she can talk to animals, doofus,” my very unhelpful tabby interjected. He lived by one simple motto: when in doubt, add an insult. That didn’t seem to be a good plan right about now. We were both in over our heads with Moss and his strange lair here.

Moss’s attention shot back toward me, and he sniffed. “But you don’t see the bar over there?” He pointed a shaking finger toward the far corner of the room.

I followed with my eyes, but still saw nothing beyond the empty, dirty basement. “Well—” I began.

But before I could come up with a good excuse, Moss pushed me back up the stairs with surprising strength. “Just forget you ever saw this place, okay?” he said after tossing both me and Octo-Cat into the alley. Next he did something strange with the fingers on one hand and then slammed the door shut before either of us could demand an explanation.

Octo-Cat twitched and flicked his tail. “That fool manhandled me. My precious coat is a mess!”

“What just happened?” I asked breathlessly, watching in disbelief as the outline of the door faded into the brick wall right before my eyes.

“A little help here?” Octo-Cat cried, and I crouched down to help straighten his fur.

“He… he scruffed me,” my poor cat sputtered in tears. “Scruffed me!”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, glancing back toward the door but finding that same unforgiving swatch of bricks where it had once been.

“Can we…” Octo-Cat let his words trail off and then sighed heavily. “Can we just head home? I need to be in my own environment for a while.”

I still didn’t know what had just happened. Would it have been different if we’d waited until ten like Peter had asked?

It was tough to say. We may have gotten more answers, but we also might have gotten ambushed. Moss hadn’t told us much, but he’d made it clear that he also didn’t much care for Peter. Maybe we should initiate Operation: the Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend. If Nan was here, that’s surely what she would suggest.

But how could I get more out of Moss when I had no way of reaching him again? If I came back tomorrow, might I find the door again? Would Moss let me back inside? Or might a different guard welcome us to the lair? Would I be able to pretend I knew and saw everything?

Neither of us said a word on the short drive back home. As soon as I dropped Octo-Cat off at the manor house, I headed back into town to do some more reconnaissance on the mysterious underground lair. On my first drive through downtown, I accidentally passed it and had to turn around and track back.

It seemed a pretty silly mistake, one I’d probably made due to the fact my mind was still reeling from the earlier encounter with Moss.

I willed my brain to be quiet and focused hard, but still, I somehow managed to pass by it again.

Frustrated, I parked my car on the street in a sloppy parallel job, then went to search on foot.

An hour passed.

Two.

And still I could not find the lair again.

“I’m not crazy,” I muttered to myself. “I’m not.”

I checked in at home for dinner, then came straight back to town so that I could wait nearby for Peter. He said he’d be here at ten, that we could talk, and—most importantly—that he’d have answers.

People passed me on the street, shooting questioning glances my way, but I didn’t care. I needed to know what was going on with me, now more than ever.

Nine o’clock came. Just one more hour to go.

Nine thirty.

Nine forty-five.

Ten came and went with no sign of Peter.

At five after, police sirens erupted in the quiet night. They grew louder and louder until the red and blue flashing lights were right upon me.

For a moment, I worried that I was about to be arrested for loitering, but the cop car flew right past me and stopped a couple blocks away. Now I had a choice to make—continue to wait for Peter or go investigate.

With one longing glance back toward where the lair should have been, I put my head down and jogged down the street to meet Officer Bouchard as he climbed out of his police cruiser.

“What happened?” I cried, short of breath despite the fact I’d only jogged a couple blocks. If only I could be in as good of shape as Nan. Maybe when this was all said and done, I could ask about accompanying her to that Zumba class she was always raving about.

My friendly neighborhood policeman just shook his head. “Got called about a robbery in progress, but the door is still locked and there’s no sign of forced entry.”

I peered into the lit up storefront, an upscale bridal boutique that folks from all across Blueberry Bay visited when they were ready to tie the knot. Nobody was inside. “Where did the robber go?”

Officer Bouchard shook his head again and turned to me. “You’re on foot. That means you were nearby, right? Did you see anyone? Anyone at all?”

“No. Sorry.” I frowned, wishing I had a different answer for him.

The officer let out a frustrated sigh and raked a hand through his overgrown hair. “Third time this week we’ve had a call like this. The security tapes always show up empty, but sure enough, the registers and safes are cleaned out. I’d say it was all for show—you know, insurance fraud—but it keeps happening. For the life of me, I can’t figure out how.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, choosing to keep quiet even though I had a sneaking suspicion the lair might somehow be involved with all of this.

I was well past beginning to suspect I wasn’t the only one in Glendale with a super power. Yes, Peter I already knew about, but how many others stood hidden in plain sight as they went about their daily lives? My talking to animals was innocent enough, but what could others do? Could they make whole buildings disappear? Commit a burglary without leaving a trace? Murder someone without ever being suspected?

I gulped down the giant lump that had formed in my throat. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation,” I told Officer Bouchard, praying my words would prove true, but also knowing that they wouldn’t.

They couldn’t. We were so past normal at this point, we weren’t even in the same zip code.

Octo-Cat and I had taken on murderers more than once, but those were just regular, everyday people. Bad people, absolutely. But still regular.

What would happen when we found this mysterious new breed of magical criminal?

We wouldn’t stand a chance…