Raccoon Racketeer

Chapter Eleven

Despite the night cap of perfectly chilled Evian, I had a hard time drifting to sleep. Sometime early the next morning, I gave up on getting any meaningful shut-eye and went to see if Nan was up yet.

Oh, not only was she up…

She was already gone—and with her little dog, too. Darn, I could have used Paisley’s eternal sense of optimism to help get me through what I knew was going to be a tough day.

Well, it’s not like Nan and Paisley would be gone forever. Eventually, they had to come back. Eventually, the woman who was maybe not my actual grandmother would have to give me some answers. After all, Pringle had given me undeniable evidence that something wasn’t quite right about our family past, and even though I was one whole generation removed from whatever scandal Nan had worked so hard to keep hidden, it still upset me deeply.

Octo-Cat sat waiting for me on the kitchen counter. Nan didn’t like it when he dirtied her food prep surfaces, but I hadn’t the heart or the inclination to correct him—especially not today.

“Good morning, Angela,” he said, making eyes toward his empty food bowl. “You’re right on time for my morning repast.”

“C’mon,” I mumbled as I shuffled toward the pantry and extracted a can of Fancy Feast. I also grabbed a clean Lenox teacup and matching saucer, the only dishes he was willing to eat or drink from. After setting both on the floor, I grabbed the half-empty bottle of Evian from the fridge and poured it into the delicate filigreed teacup until it was exactly three-fourths full.

During our time together, he’d learned to appreciate the nuanced flavor of chilled water, and I’d learned not to question his sometimes ridiculous standards and completely non-optional routines.

“Many thanks,” he mumbled before digging in with aplomb.

I grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge since Nan wasn’t around to make coffee, and I didn’t feel like dealing with my deep-rooted fear of getting electrocuted on top of everything else so early in the day.

“So what’s on our schh-edule for today?” my cat asked, over-emphasizing his speech as he often liked to do when he was feeling fancy—usually in the mornings and usually post-Fancy Feast.

I considered his question for a few moments. Of course, I already knew exactly what we needed to do, but that didn’t mean I liked it. He probably wouldn’t, either, but there was no time like the present.

I forced a smile. “We need to talk to Pringle and see what it will take to get him to help us.”

Octo-Cat groaned, refusing to even pretend he liked this plan. “Do we have to?”

“It’s the quickest, most surefire way to figure out what Nan’s hiding, especially since she doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

“I did find it a little strange how quickly she ran out of here this morning.” His voice became deep, cold, as he cast his eyes toward the floor. “She didn’t even stop to give me a pet hello.”

Poor guy. There was nothing he hated more than being ignored when he wanted attention. Of course, that had never stopped him from ignoring me when it suited him to do so. Double standards were just a part of being a cat owner, and I’d accepted that a long time ago.

“Nan’s always been a lot strange, but she’s also always been honest and upfront. At least that’s what I thought.” I sighed and took another sip from my can of Diet Coke. Yes, I knew he was hurting from that morning’s slight, but I was hurting, too—and if you asked me, it was for far bigger, far more painful reasons.

My cat studied me with large amber eyes. “You’re really upset by this, aren’t you?”

I nodded and sighed again. “I really am.”

He moaned as if in terrible agony. “Well, that won’t do. Let’s go rouse the raccoon and get this over with.” He traipsed out of the kitchen, his tail held high as he led the way to his electronic pet door and slipped outside.

Aww, he really did love me. Sometimes I still wondered about that, given his hot and cold behavior when it came to pretty much everything he ever encountered. But today his willingness to do something that mildly annoyed him in order to mend my badly broken heart gave me all kinds of warm fuzzies.

When I joined him outside on the porch, he sat and motioned with one paw toward the giant gaping hole that led into Pringle’s lair. “Well, go ahead.”

I approached slowly, my voice soft, beseeching. “Pringle?”

“What do you want?” the raccoon growled from somewhere under his porch. Actually, it was my porch. Must not forget that.

“I was wondering if you could help us get to the bottom of that secret you shared with me last night?” I begged.

If my cat’s moods ran hot and cold, Pringle wavered between the freezing and boiling points on that same wretched thermometer. His warm was almost angry, though. In fact, did we really need his help? Was it worth dealing with his attitude and trickery?

Yes, I realized, my heart dropping to the ground. Yes, we did need him. Darn it.

He poked his head out of the hole and grimaced. “Actually, I’m not very happy with you right now.” That was unexpected.

“What? Why?” I was already having a hard time coming to him hat in hands. If I had to spend half the morning groveling and begging, we’d never make any progress at all.

He rubbed his temples and squinted hard against the rising sun. Well, at least we both gave each other headaches.

“I wasn’t giving you the papers,” he explained with a tired yet demanding voice. “I showed them to you to see, not to keep. I refuse to help until you give back what’s mine.”

Octo-Cat came galloping over with impressive speed. “Excuse you? Don’t those papers actually belong to Nan? Didn’t you steal them away from her in the first place?”

“Not helping,” I groaned, nudging Octo-Cat gently to the side with my foot, a slight I knew I’d pay for later. “I’m sorry, Pringle. That was really rude of me. I was just in such shock that I forgot. I’ll go get them for you right now.”

When I returned with the letter and birth certificate in hand, Pringle was waiting on the porch.

“I’ll take those,” he said, yanking them away even though I would’ve given them to him freely. He tucked both into his armpit and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, how can I help you? Make it snappy. I’m a very busy animal, you know.”

I nodded toward the papers he’d stashed within his gray fur. “Those told part of a secret, but not the whole thing. I need to know the rest. Can you help?”

He cocked his head to the side and sighed heavily. “That depends.”

Octo-Cat hissed and raised the hair on his back. “Depends? Depends! Stop being a furry jerk wad and help already. You started this!”

“Madame, please control your associate.” He shook his head as if this all pained him greatly.

“Octo-Cat, I’ve got this,” I told him with an apologetic smile, then turned back to the raccoon with what I was sure had to be a very poorly concealed grimace. “Go ahead, Pringle.”

The raccoon walked a few paces, then turned his face over his shoulder dramatically and sized me up. “I’m not sure how much you get around the forest these days, but I’m not just some amateur gumshoe. I’m a legitimate business animal now.”

Octo-Cat exploded upon hearing this claim. “I don’t believe this. Does he reall—”

As much as I hated to do it, I pushed my best feline friend through the pet door and then blocked it with my leg. “You’re in business?” I asked peaceably.

He nodded animatedly; his chest puffed with pride. “Yes, indeed. You’re looking at the proud owner and key talent behind Pringle Whisperer, P.I. I’ll have you know that it’s the very best investigation firm in the area.”

I pinched the skin on the inside of my wrist to stop myself from saying something snarky. I had no idea this masked thief stole ideas and business models in addition to papers and trinkets. I also hugely resented the implication that his P.I. outfit was superior to the one I ran with Octo-Cat. But, ugh, I still needed his help.

“Congratulations,” I managed, thinking it was a good thing I had pushed Octo-Cat in through the cat door, otherwise there would be a definite brawl right about now. “So can I hire you to help me out here?”

He smiled wide, revealing two rows of gleaming, pointed teeth. “Of course you can, princess. But it’ll come at a price.”

“You’re going to charge me?” I balked, remembering the stack of pretty green bills he planned to use for origami. He didn’t even know what cash was, let alone its value, considering he had a tendency to just take anything he wanted. “What do you even need money for?”

He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “Not money. Favors.”

I took a moment to soak this in. When I’d promised Octo-Cat a favor in exchange for his cooperation, I’d ended up with the giant manor house that had once belonged to his late owner. I’d grown to love our new house, but it was still a steep price to pay for getting him to agree to wear a cheap pet harness one time.

“Well,” Pringle prompted me, reminding me that I still hadn’t responded to his heinous offer. “Are you in or out?”

Oh, I knew I would come to regret this, but I also knew I needed him and that the longer I went without untangling Nan’s secrets, the more desperate I would become.

“Fine.” I squatted down and offered him my index finger, which he promptly accepted and shook in agreement.

“Excellent. Then it seems we’ve got ourselves a deal,” Pringle said, steepling his fingers in true villain fashion.

Well, at least he was on my side this time. Um, right?