Cat Burglar Caper Page 3

  George turned back to the computer and opened a search page. She typed in the site for the River Heights Animal Shelter. With Bess and Nancy reading over her shoulder, George discovered a tremendous amount of information on caring for new pets.

  “It says that orphaned kittens need to be fed a special formula with a bottle.” Bess pointed at a photo of a little hair ball being given white formula. She read the caption. “Babies must eat every two to three hours, even at night, to grow properly.”

  Nancy read the next part. “Kittens need warm blankets to sleep on and because they aren’t ready for a litter box, someone has to clean up after them.” Scratching her chin, Nancy went on, “Usually the mama cat would provide everything the new kittens need, but abandoned babies require lots of human help.”

  George scrolled down the web page. “At about four weeks old,” she read, “the kittens will sleep through the night. Then, they can eat a mixture of cat food and formula. Or cat food and water. They can also use a litter box. All kittens reach these goals at slightly different ages.”

  “So?” Bess asked, looking over at Nancy. “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

  “I’m not sure yet …,” Nancy said. She was being quiet. The detective wheels were spinning inside her head.

  “All the clues still lead to Ms. Berman,” Bess said firmly, trying to push Nancy along.

  “I know, I know,” Nancy replied. “Ms. Berman is suspect number one. I just want to be absolutely certain before we accuse her. For some reason it just doesn’t feel right to me yet.”

  “I hope whoever’s taking the kittens knows what to do with them,” George remarked.

  “I feel pretty confident that the babies are fine,” Nancy said. “All three of our suspects—Pete, John Jones, and Ms. Berman—definitely know how to care for baby kittens.”

  “So when can we call the police?” Bess asked, her mind locked on suspect number one. “If we wait another day, Ms. Berman might steal even more kittens. Chief McGinnis said that three are gone already.”

  Nancy thought about that. It was a really good point. On the one hand, it seemed like Ms. Berman was clearly the thief. But on the other hand, Nancy’s detective sense told her not to jump to a conclusion too fast.

  “Know what would help me think more clearly?” Nancy asked the Clue Crew. “A double-fudge ice cream sundae!”

  The cousins laughed.

  “Nancy, I didn’t know you thought with your stomach!” Bess giggled. “But I’m with you, especially if it has nuts on top.”

  “Personally, I think it’s even better with maraschino cherries,” George said, dreamily licking her lips.

  While Bess tied her shoelaces, Nancy checked the time and realized that the ice cream shop was closing in thirty minutes. “We better hurry if we’re going to solve this mystery today,” she said, smiling.

  Hannah was spending her free time over at Mr. Seilsopour’s, so the girls headed next door. When the girls asked for a ride, Hannah agreed, but by the time she put her tools away there was only fifteen minutes before the shop closed.

  They hopped out of Hannah’s car and ran toward the ice cream store door. Just as they were about to go in, Pete from Pete’s Pets came out, carrying a chocolate chunk, two-scoop cone.

  “How’s the mystery business?” Pete asked Nancy. “Chief McGinnis said you were helping him out.”

  “We’re zeroing in on one particular suspect,” she replied, looking past Pete and into the cool shop.

  “Let me know when you catch the thief,” Pete said, taking a bite from his cone.

  “We want to come see your kittens again,” Nancy told him.

  “Well luck is on your side. I got another baby kitten this afternoon.” Pete grinned. “He’s a cutie.” Pete wiped his mouth with a napkin and added, “I just closed up for the day, but you girls can come by tomorrow and see him, if you want.”

  George looked at Bess and Nancy. It was clear that they were all thinking the same thing: Another kitten went missing from the shelter yesterday, and Pete now had another kitten.

  Could Pete be suspect number one? Or was it possible that he didn’t know his kittens were the missing ones?

  “We’ll be there first thing in the morning,” Nancy said with certainty.

  “I can’t join you,” Bess said, regret in her voice. “Allergies.”

  “Sorry about that,” Pete said to Bess, “but I’ll teach Nancy and George how to bottle-feed the babies. It’s so sweet the way they curl up in your hand.” There was a dreamy look on Pete’s face. He obviously loved those kittens.

  Pete headed toward his shop and the girls turned to finally go into the ice cream store. But just as George put her hand on the door, the teenager who ran the shop flipped the sign from OPEN TO CLOSED.

  “Oh no!” Bess exclaimed. “Without ice cream to inspire us, we’ll never be able to name the culprit!”

  “I have an idea,” George told the girls. “Why don’t we ask Hannah to take us to the River Heights Café tomorrow morning? They have awesome ice cream, including double-fudge sundaes. The best part is, they’re open for breakfast before Pete’s Pets opens up.”

  “Pancakes and ice cream for breakfast?” Nancy said, liking her lips. “Yum!”

  “We can ask Hannah if it’ll work to eat breakfast first, then drop me and Nancy off at Pete’s, and then Bess can go work with Mr. Seilsopour on his truck.” George summed up. “We’ll call Hannah from Pete’s when we need a ride again.”

  “A perfect plan,” Nancy agreed.

  “We’ll solve this mystery tomorrow,” Bess said. “For sure!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Perfect Plan

  “I’ll have a double-chocolate-fudge sundae with extra whipped cream,” Nancy told the waitress at the River Heights Café.

  The waitress gave Nancy a funny look. “Are you sure you don’t want eggs?”

  “No, thanks. I need to think,” Nancy said, as if that explained her odd breakfast order.

  “I’ll take a superscoop vanilla bean sundae,” Bess ordered.

  The waitress turned to George, who was sitting in the booth next to her cousin. “I suppose you want ice cream too?”

  “Oh, yes,” George told her. “If we are going to solve this mystery today, I need a banana split.”

  The waitress okayed their orders with Hannah, who was reading the morning paper and sipping a cup of coffee at the next booth. Hannah assured the waitress that the girls had promised to eat healthily for the rest of the day.

  Shaking her head, the waitress took their orders and went into the kitchen.

  “Okay,” Bess said to Nancy after their unusual breakfast was delivered. “It’s time to solve this case. I still think it’s Ms. Berman.”

  “Well one thing seems pretty certain,” Nancy said, licking whipped cream off her spoon. “The kittens at Pete’s sure look a lot like the shelter kittens and the number of kittens that are missing from one place and appearing at the other place certainly seem to match up.”

  The girls talked about the clues and the suspects for a while longer, but they were interrupted when Ned Nickerson, a fourth-grade boy from school, came into the café.

  “Scoot over, Nancy Drew,” Ned said, squishing into the booth next to Nancy. “My mom dragged me along with her this morning,” he said pointed at Mrs. Nickerson, sitting with some of her friends. “Thank goodness you three are here so I don’t have to sit with her and her knitting club.”

  Ned ordered a glass of milk and a muffin from the waitress who had come to check on the girls and their desserts.

  “Did you guys know that Deirdre Shannon got a new pet cat?” Ned asked his friends. The girls were surprised but held their comments until after the waitress returned with Ned’s order.

  “We just saw Deirdre at the pet store two days ago,” Bess told Ned. “She was looking at dogs, not cats.”

  Ned took a gulp of his milk. “That’s weird because I was walking by her house yesterday, and I hear
d meowing and she didn’t used to have a pet.” Ned commented.

  “Are you positive?” Nancy’s detective sense told her that there was something suspicious about Deirdre getting a cat when they all knew she wanted a beagle puppy.

  “One hundred percent,” Ned told them.

  “I’ve got to write this down.” Nancy reached into her back pocket for her purple detective’s notebook. Her elbow accidentally knocked into Ned’s glass, spilling the last bit of milk onto his blue soccer jacket.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Nancy said, reaching for some napkins.

  It wasn’t a bad spill so Ned said, “No worries. It’ll dry clear. Milk usually does—unlike yogurt or chili,” Ned added, pointing out a gray speck then a brown spot on his coat.

  “Ewww,” Nancy said, handing him the napkins. “You seriously need to clean that coat.”

  “Why?” Ned shrugged. “I’ll just spill something else on it tomorrow.”

  “Good point,” George said with a giggle.

  When Ned and his dirty jacket left the restaurant, it was still too early for either the pet store or car repair. All three girls agreed that they should head over to Deirdre’s to check out her new cat since she lived close by. Hannah could stay and enjoy her paper a little longer, and they could walk there and back on their own.

  As they left the restaurant, Chief McGinnis was coming in.

  “Solved the mystery yet?” he immediately asked the girls.

  “The ice cream we just ate is helping us focus,” Nancy said. “We’re off to investigate a bit more now.”

  “Ice cream for breakfast?” Chief McGinnis asked.

  George smiled. “Eat dessert first, that’s my motto!”

  “Sounds delicious,” the chief said, thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll have ice cream too.” The girls were about to leave when the chief suddenly stopped them. “All this talk about frozen treats, I nearly forgot to tell you—when Ms. Berman returned from a quick coffee run this morning, the last three kittens were gone.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Searching the Suspects

  “All six are missing now,” Nancy said thoughtfully as the girls headed toward Deirdre’s house.

  “Yikes!” George grabbed Nancy’s arm just in time. Nancy was concentrating so hard, she’d nearly walked right into a fire hydrant.

  “If Ms. Berman is in there feeding them every two hours, it doesn’t give someone a lot of time to steal them, does it?” Nancy said, half to herself, half to the others.

  “Just another reason why Ms. Berman is our main suspect,” Bess said. “She has the most opportunity.” Then Bess sneezed. “Achoo!” They had arrived at Deirdre’s front door. “Yep, Deirdre has a cat all right.” She rubbed her eyes and sneezed again.

  “I can’t believe you’re sneezing before we even ring the doorbell!” George exclaimed. “You are really sensitive.”

  “I think it’s getting worse,” Bess said. “It’s like I can sense a cat a mile away.”

  Nancy rang the doorbell at Deirdre’s, while Bess stayed back on the sidewalk.

  “Hi,” Deirdre greeted the girls. “What’s up?”

  “Hey, Deirdre. We’ve got a weird question for you.… Ned said that you just got a pet cat. Is that true?” George asked.

  “We thought you wanted a beagle,” Bess called out.

  “I don’t have any pets yet,” Deirdre replied. “My dad said he’ll go look at Sunrise tonight after work.” Deirdre crossed her fingers, hopefully.

  “Ned must have been wrong—,” Nancy began, but then she noticed something odd. Leaning forward, Nancy peered into Deirdre’s hair. “What is that?”

  Deirdre ran her fingers over her curly black hair and removed a green leaf. “Oh,” she said, “it’s nothing. I’ve been outside, feeding a stray cat. About a week ago, I found a cat in my backyard. It looked hungry, so my mom said I could give it some tuna.” Deirdre pointed at the tuna she’d just put out, by the base of a big, leafy tree. “Now the hungry kitty comes by to eat every day, at about the same time.” Deirdre checked her watch. “She should be here any minute.”

  “Achoo!” Bess sneezed.

  “Shhh, you’ll frighten her away,” Deirdre warned. “She’s a real scaredy-cat.”

  Bess plugged her nose, squeezing it tight.

  It was only a minute or two before the cat showed up to eat. The girls watched as she gobbled down the tuna and then scampered off.

  “I have a feeling that might be the shelter babies’ mama,” Nancy said. “Maybe she was out looking for food when Mrs. Simon called Ms. Berman. Mrs. Simon did say that Ms. Berman showed up really fast.”

  “The shelter kittens do look an awful lot like her,” George added in agreement.

  “After we find the kittens we should come and get her. Put the family back together,” Bess said, finally releasing her nose.

  “The cat’s gone for today. She’ll be back tomorrow though, I bet.” Deirdre told them. “Well, I gotta go—I’m off to Natalie’s house for a play date. Originally Suzie was supposed to come over and hang out, but she called to say she’s way too tired and needs a nap. I hope she’s not getting sick.”

  The girls waved good-bye to Deirdre, then turned and walked down the sidewalk together. They were off to get Hannah at the café so she could take Nancy and George to the pet store, then bring Bess to Mr. Seilsopour’s to work on the truck.

  Bess was so excited, she ran up the walkway to Mr. Seilsopour’s house. There, she found Mr. Seilsopour laying out the tools he’d need for the day. The radio was turned up loud and a great tune was playing. It was all too perfect.

  “You and Hannah are going to finish changing the other three tires,” he told Bess, “while I replace the truck’s battery.”

  “Hey!” Bess exclaimed, as they got to work, “This truck has no windows!” The places where the windows would have been were completely open and airy.

  “I know,” Mr. Seilsopour said. “I’m going to install new ones as soon as the car can be driven down to my shop. You can help put in the windows, too, if you want.”

  “I’d love to!” Bess cheered. Suddenly, Bess sneezed. “That’s weird,” she said to herself, looking around. “There are no cats anywhere. Hmm.” Then, after sneezing again, Bess got busy, handing Hannah the tools she needed.

  At Pete’s Pets, Pete was supposed to be teaching George and Nancy how to feed the baby kittens, but there were so many people in the store, he was too busy.

  “I’ve asked Mr. Jones to show you,” Pete told them as he rang up a dog food sale.

  “The name’s John Jones,” a large, gray-haired man wearing overalls told them, shaking hands with each of the girls. “And these babes are from my Kind Kittens farm. I brought the last few little guys in this morning.”

  George leaned over and whispered to Nancy, “He’s one of our suspects.”

  “I know,” Nancy replied softly.

  “Let’s get started.” Mr. Jones picked up one of the kittens from the open-topped cage and tucked it in the palm of his hand. “The trick with newbies is to make sure they are getting enough formula to grow. These little babies are in a transitional stage,” he said, shaking up a bottle that had a mixture of water and white creamy formula in it.

  “How old are the kittens?” Nancy asked.

  “Just over four weeks. I don’t give away any kittens until they can sleep through the night. That’s why Pete only gets one or two at a time. Each of these little guys progresses on their own timetable, so I hand ’em over when they’re sleepin’ well. Pete promises me he won’t sell ’em until they can eat and drink on their own.”

  Nancy remembered the first time they’d seen the kittens, Pete had told them that they weren’t ready for adoption yet.

  “Do you own the mama cat?” Nancy asked, in full detective mode.

  Mr. Jones handed Nancy the kitten. “Hold this,” he said and then pulled out his wallet. The photo pages were jammed with pictures. He flipped through the shots until he said, “H
ere she is. This is Gabriella. Pete’s six kittens are her babies.” The cat in the photo looked a lot like the cat they’d seen at Deirdre’s, but this one had a big, black ring around her right eye.

  The baby that Nancy now held had the same black ring around her eye. Nancy handed the baby to George and pulled out her notebook and pen. She quickly knocked Mr. Jones off the suspect list. He really did own the mama cat. That also meant that Pete was no longer a suspect, because these were obviously Gabriella’s babies.

  So Bess must be right after all. All the clues led back to Ms. Berman. But if she wasn’t giving the kittens to Pete, who was she giving them to? All the clues swirled in Nancy’s head until suddenly she realized—maybe there was another suspect, one they hadn’t considered yet.…

  “Did you say that Pete can’t sell the kittens until they can eat food and drink water on their own?” Nancy asked.

  “Yep,” Mr. Jones confirmed.

  “Not milk?” Nancy asked. George looked at her funny, unsure where Nancy was headed with her question.

  “Kittens drink a white formula. Cats drink water.” Mr. Jones said. “Although people always think of feeding milk to cats, milk isn’t actually very good for a cat.”

  “Aha!” Nancy practically shouted. “I know who has been taking the kittens from the shelter.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kind Kittens

  Nancy went running out of Pete’s with George on her heels. George’s mom, Mrs. Fayne, was doing errands downtown, so she offered to take the girls back to Nancy’s when they were done. They were definitely done at Pete’s and in a hurry to get back to Bess!

  “Bess,” Nancy shouted as she jumped out of Mrs. Fayne’s car after the short ride. “Drop the tools! We gotta roll.”

  “Roll?” Bess asked, setting down a ratchet. “Where are we going?”