Hoppy Holiday Homicide

Chapter Seven

I dropped everything I’d been holding into the fresh snowbank at the side of the road and took off running after the van.

“Even though I land on my feet, it still hurts to be dropped, you know,” Octo-Cat shouted after me.

But I had no time to respond. I put everything I had into following that van even though I knew I’d never be able to catch it on foot. Perhaps I would still be able to make out the license plate or catch a glimpse of the driver, something, anything to keep me connected with Mags.

I squinted hard at the departing vehicle, trying so hard. I didn’t wear glasses, but I’d always been a bit nearsighted due to my obsession with reading. And unfortunately for Mags now, I couldn’t make out a single digit beneath the dried mud that coated the plate.

I stopped running and bent over with my hands on my knees, gasping for breath while Paisley continued to run and bark up a storm drawing the curious stares of all who were near.

“Get back here, you bad guy!” the Chihuahua shouted. “It's not nice to take people when they don’t want to be taken. Bad human, bad, bad.”

Once I caught my breath a little, I scanned the downtown area for Octo-Cat but came up short. Maybe he’d gone to get that lobster roll after all, or maybe he was off somewhere nursing his wounded pride—both at having been dropped so unceremoniously into the snow and at having been forced to wear the harness he so loathed.

A burst of bright pink flashed onto the scene. Nan had arrived, and unlike me, she didn’t appear winded in the slightest.

“You dropped this,” she said, pushing my fallen phone into my hand. “And you worried me silly. What happened?”

I couldn’t help the tears that splashed onto my cheeks. It was one thing to find the bodies of people I’d never know and quite another to witness my cousin’s kidnapping firsthand. It had been my job to look after her, to take care of her. And I’d really messed it up.

“They took Mags,” I said, my voice trembling in the same way hers had upon the discovery of the bodies in the ice sculpture garden. “They took her, and they’re gone.” Fresh tears welled, and I choked back a sob as Nan wrapped her arms around me and made a soft shushing sound.

“Oh, dear. Dear. Dear. Dear,” she repeated like a chant.

Her gentleman friend moved closer and placed a hand on Nan’s shoulder. I hadn’t even noticed his arrival earlier, but now here he was, pushing his way into this family moment.

“Who took her?” he asked in a deep rumble.

“I don’t know.” I kept my eyes on Nan instead of looking toward Mr. Milton. “I couldn’t see the face, but they put her into the back of a white van and drove away. I didn’t even get the license plate number.”

“Well, that’s a rotten thing to do and not with keeping the spirit of the season either,” Nan mumbled into my hair. “But we’ll get her back, I promise.”

I fell apart in my grandmother’s arms, asking her the many frantic questions that swirled through my mind. “What if it was the same people who killed the judges? What if they’re going to kill her, too? It's all my fault. She doesn’t even know anyone here. I don’t understand. Why would they take her? I mean, why would anyone want to take Mags, especially someone who doesn’t even know her?”

A small paw patted the back of my calf. I turned around and bent down, expecting to find Paisley, but instead, it was Octo-Cat who sat there looking rather pleased with himself.

“Now that I’ve finally filled my stomach, I can think a little clearer,” he explained, then stopped to lick his paw and drag it across his forehead. I waited impatiently as he licked and dragged—licked and dragged half a dozen times—without providing further commentary.

Finally I blurted out, “Do you know something? Do you know who took Mags?”

He dropped his paw back to the ground and stared up at me with large amber eyes.

“I don’t know anything,” Mr. Milton answered, assuming I’d been talking to him. How could I have forgotten he was here? I needed to be more careful with my secret, no matter how much I was worried about my cousin in that moment.

“Of course I don’t know that,” Octo-Cat answered with an exasperated groan. “But I think I know something else that might help.” He paused again for emphasis, the way he so often liked to do when he was building the drama of the scene.

My cat’s love of theatrics would be the end of me one day. Quite literally. I’d probably have a heart attack while waiting out one of his dramatic pauses.

“Well?” I demanded, unable to take it anymore as I moved my hands to my hips. I shifted my eyes from the cat to Nan, pretending she was the target of my ire so that I’d at least have a cover in front of Mr. Milton.

Ugh. Why had she brought him along?

“Yeesh. So impatient.” My cat stopped again and stared at me, challenging me to push him again.

I bit my tongue and waited him out while Nan filled the silence to keep up our charade.

After several moments, Octo-Cat seemed appeased and blinked his eyes slowly before continuing. “Even though you’re being a bit rude, I’ll tell you what I know. You know how all humans look the same? You and Mags look even more the same than most.”

Even though I was pretty sure I knew what he was getting at, I asked for clarification, anyway. “What do you mean?”

Nan gave an answer, but my ears were focused firmly on Octo-Cat.

He shook his head, flicked his tail, and sighed yet again. “I mean whoever took Mags probably meant to take you instead. Think about it, and you’ll see that I’m right. As usual.”