Raccoon Racketeer

Chapter Five

“That was fast,” Nan remarked a second time as I followed her into the kitchen. Even I had to admit that it seemed as if Julie couldn’t wait to get out of here. Was that simply because she had other plans, or could there be another less savory reason? Gosh, I hoped she hadn’t hired us to clear her name for crimes she had, in fact, committed.

No, no. I shook my head and let out a deep breath. How could I even think these things about Julie? She’d always been kind to us, always been reliable and, as best I could tell, honest.

“Looks like you have lots on your mind.” Nan pulled vegetables from the fridge and dropped them beside a clean cutting board. “Fill me in while you fix our salad,” she said, returning to her place of honor at the stove.

I washed the lettuce, then put it in the spinner. Not to brag, but I’d gotten quite good at preparing our nightly veggies. Mostly because Nan didn’t trust me with anything that required heat to prepare. Not after the burnt brisket fiasco of 2019.

“There’s not much to tell,” I said thoughtfully. “Someone’s stealing mail and banging up mailboxes.”

“Oh, I knew that.” Nan moved toward the fridge and grabbed a stick of butter. “It’s why I suggested you two to get together. Did she have anything else to say?”

I kept my focus fixed firmly on the salad. “Only that she’s not able to pay. I told her that’s fine, but Octo-Cat is pretty rankled about it.”

“Well, of course he is. Such a crabby tabby.” She turned and stuck her tongue out at Octo-Cat, who was sitting by his empty food bowl and scowling. I knew better than to feed him early, though. He’d be even more upset by the change in schedule than he’d become when he found out we wouldn’t be getting paid for our first case.

“Well, excuse me for having standards,” the cat said drolly. “And self-respect.”

What a drama queen.

“Well, it’s a good thing his trust fund is more than enough to cover our half of the mortgage and expenses.”

“Indeed,” Nan said, bobbing her head.

Octo-Cat let out a low growl but didn’t add any words to further express his displeasure with me and the situation.

Nan and I worked in silence for a few minutes, each enjoying the peace that came with chopping, stirring, and plating up. That’s when I remembered something from my past that may help with Julie’s case.

“Hey,” I said into the quiet kitchen. My voice seemed extra loud after the brief period of quiet. “Remember when Octo-Cat received his arbitration summons? That was delivered way late, almost too late for us to show up to the hearing. Do you think maybe one of Julie’s colleagues at the post office could be to blame for what happened then and maybe also for what’s happening now?”

“It’s possible,” Nan replied with a shrug. “But last time it was a case of a wrong mailing address and slow forward.”

I chewed my lip as I considered this. I remembered it, too, but that still didn’t mean there wasn’t a connection now. “You know what? I’m going to grab that letter just in case. See if it sparks any memories or ideas. It may be nothing, but at least it gives us a place to start.”

I raced up to the library where I kept my important papers stashed in a hanging file system in the bottom drawer of my desk. There wasn’t too much I kept, but it did have a copy of Octo-Cat’s trust fund paperwork, my various associate degree certificates, a copy of our mortgage, that kind of thing. Except…

Everything was gone.

I pulled the drawer completely off the track in case something had fallen behind, but not a single scrap of paper was to be found.

“Nan!” I called at the top of my lungs as I sank the rest of the way to the ground, needing to feel something solid beneath me as panic rushed through my veins. Even though I was sitting on the hardwood floor in front of the desk, my legs still felt weak, my knees shaky. Could all my most important documents really have vanished without a trace?

My grandmother appeared a short while later. “Yes, dear?”

I twisted around to look her in the eye. “Have you been Marie Kondo-ing my things, too?”

She lifted a hand to her chest. “Of course not. I wouldn’t throw your things out without your okay first. Each person needs to go through the process herself. My joy sparklers might not match your joy sparklers. In fact, they probably don’t.”

I lifted up the empty drawer and bit my lip to keep from crying.

“Well, now that’s a pickle.” She crossed the room and took the drawer from me, giving it a good firm shake.

“Oh, dear,” she said when nothing fell from inside. “I’ll go call Charles.”

I kept sitting there even as I heard footsteps carry down the hall. Although there wasn’t really anything my boyfriend could do in this situation, it still felt good knowing he’d be here soon.

While I was the best at piecing together clues and evidence, he always had a way of knowing what to do in tough situations like this.

“What’s the matter with you?” Octo-Cat asked with twitching whiskers. I hadn’t even noticed him enter the room.

“All of my important papers are gone,” I said with a sniff.

“What is it with you and papers going missing?” he asked with a laugh, but then sobered when he noticed I was still quite upset.

“The flyers weren’t my fault,” I reminded him. “And neither is this.”

“No,” he said with a yawn. Good to see he found my turmoil to be so relaxing. When he’d finished his enormous yawn, he added, “The first set of papers were Pringle’s fault. Do you think he took these, too?”

I perked up at this suggestion. “Pringle? Hmm. But he’s not allowed in the house.”

Octo-Cat laughed sarcastically. “Do you really think that stops him?”

“That’s it.” I pushed up and onto my feet, drawing strength from my newfound anger. “I’m calling animal control.”

How could one little raccoon cause so much damage to my business and personal life? And why wouldn’t he just leave me and my things alone?

“Oh, goodie!” Octo-Cat trilled as he trotted down the stairs behind me. “Can I be there when they come? I can’t wait to see the look on his face, when—”

He stopped abruptly when a booming knock sounded on our front door. It seemed far too soon for Charles to have arrived after Nan’s call, but then who…?

Nan ran out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel that she carried with her. “Yes,” she called. “Who is it?”

“It’s Julie!” the mail lady answered, her voice dripping with distress. “Can I come in?”