The Case of the Jewel Covered Cat Statues Read online




  The Case

  of the

  Jewel Covered Cat Statues

  Also by Cindy Vincent

  The Case of the Cat Show Princess:

  A Buckley and Bogey Cat Detective Caper

  The Case of the Crafty Christmas Crooks:

  A Buckley and Bogey Cat Detective Caper

  The Mystery of the Missing Ming:

  A Daisy Diamond Detective Novel

  The Case of the Rising Star Ruby:

  A Daisy Diamond Detective Novel

  Makeover For Murder:

  A Kate Bundeen Mystery

  Cats Are Part of His Kingdom, Too:

  33 Daily Devotions to Show God's Love

  The Case

  of the

  Jewel Covered Cat Statues

  A Buckley and Bogey

  Cat Detective Caper

  Cindy Vincent

  Whodunit Press

  Houston Bozeman

  The Case of the Jewel Covered Cat Statues

  A Buckley and Bogey Cat Detective Caper

  All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2014 Cindy W. Vincent

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Whodunit Press

  A Division of Mysteries by Vincent, LLC

  For information, please contact:

  Whodunit Press

  c/o Mysteries by Vincent

  Mysteriesbyvincent.com

  This is a work of fiction. All events, locations, institutions, themes, persons, characters and plot are completely fictional. Any resemblance to places or persons, living or deceased, are of the invention of the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-932169-71-3

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my friends, the real treasures in my life.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  _____________________________

  Holy Mackerel! There I was, sitting in our living room, when I suddenly noticed a fishpond right in the middle of the floor. Funny, but I sure didn't remember that being there before! I tiptoed over to the edge and saw lots of tiny fish swimming around in the water. Now my brother, Bogart, joined me and sat on the other side of the pond. Together we stuck our paws in the cool water, grabbed some fish and pulled them out.

  Before long, we had a whole pile of fish, all ready for a nice lunch. Except these fish didn't exactly look like regular fish. No, they looked a whole lot like the fish-flavored cat treats we usually eat.

  That's when I felt someone shaking my shoulder. “Wake up, kid. Look alive.”

  It was Bogart, or Bogey, as I call him. Not only are we brothers, but we're best friends and cat detectives, too.

  I lifted my head and glanced around. But there wasn’t a fishpond in sight. And I wasn’t even in the living room. Instead, I was lying right on top of our Mom’s desk, in her home office.

  It turned out the whole thing had been nothing but a dream!

  I sighed and laid my head back down. Then I shut my eyes really tight and tried to go back to sleep. Back to my dream. After all, how often does a guy get to see a fishpond smack dab in the middle of the living room?

  “C'mon, kid,” Bogey said. “Rise and shine.”

  I pried one eye open and saw him waving a fish-flavored cat treat right in front of my nose.

  He grinned at me. “Here you go, kid. This'll get you going.”

  I had to say, that cat treat smelled pretty good.

  Bogey dropped it next to me and helped himself to one from a foil pouch.

  I opened my other eye. “I had the best dream.”

  Bogey took another treat and then stashed the pouch into a vase on the desk. “You can tell me all about it while we run our rounds, kid. Let's get a move on.”

  I rolled onto my feet. “I know, I know. We always run extra surveillance on Saturday nights. Because burglars like to stay out late on Saturday nights.”

  “You got it, kid,” Bogey said.

  He took one last glance at the computer screen where he’d been working. The glow from the screen gave off the only light in our Mom’s office downstairs. The rest of the house was completely dark, while our human family slept upstairs.

  Bogey tilted his ears toward the hallway and then moved over to the edge of the desk. I could tell he was ready to roll. Sometimes I was amazed at how different Bogey and I really are. Sure, we're both black cats with big, gold eyes. But he's thin and wiry, and he can run so fast that some say he can even fly.

  As for me, well, I'm a Maine Coon cat. Maine Coon cats are very, very large. And I do mean large! My paws and tail are gigantic, and my fur sticks out a mile wide. Especially since I've got three layers of the stuff. I'm just two years old, so you might say I'm still a growing boy. It seems like I barely get used to my big paws when they grow some more. No matter how hard I try, I still can't get them to go exactly where I want them to go. When I want them to go there.

  But I did manage to scoop up the cat treat Bogey had dropped for me. I popped it into my mouth and glanced at the computer to see what Bogey had been looking at.

  Bogey and I use the computer mostly at night, when our family is asleep. Especially since we opened the Buckley and Bogey Cat Detective Agency on the Internet not long ago.

  Now the screen was filled with a news story from our town paper, The St. Gertrude Times. The title read, “Rare Jeweled Statues to Go On Display at St. Gertrude Museum. Items in Daunton Exhibit Nearly 150 Years Old.”

  Right below the title were a bunch of pictures that showed all kinds of little statues. Some looked like they were carved out of rocks, and some looked like they’d been made from gold and silver. There were dogs and birds and rabbits. There were turtles and elephants and horses. Even though the statues were all different, they had one thing in common — they were decorated with jewels. Lots and lots of jewels. And those jewels made the little statues very, very sparkly.

  Holy Catnip!

  I pointed to the computer screen. “Wow, Bogey, those statues are so beautiful!”

  Bogey nodded. “Yup, kid, you got it. And they’re going on display at our museum. The lady who owns them lives right here in St. Gertrude.”

  Right then, I’m sure my eyes went about as wide as my food dish. “She does?”

  Bogey sat back and flexed the claws on his right paw. “Oh yeah, kid. She’s related to the guy who made them. He was one of the first people who lived in St. Gertrude.”

  I blinked a couple of times. “So I guess he must have passed this stuff down through his family.”

  Bogey shook his head. “Nope, kid. He sold most of them right after he made ‘em. It was part of his business.”

  “So how did she get all those statues?” I asked.

  Boge
y stood up and stretched his hind legs. “She did some detective work of her own, kid. She tracked them down and found the people who owned them. She searched all over the world and bought all the pieces she could get. It probably took her a while.”

  “Oh . . .” I tried to put a paw to my chin, but I ended up poking myself in the mouth instead. “So she hunted for those little statues, kind of like we hunt down the bad guys.”

  Bogey grinned. “Something like that, kid. But I wonder why she’s letting them go on display. According to the article, she usually keeps them locked up tight.”

  Suddenly my heart started to pound. “Maybe we could go see them! I wonder if they let cats into the Museum.”

  Bogey looked past the office doors and out toward the front entryway of our really old house. “Cats probably aren’t welcome there, kid. Not usually, anyway. But that shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll figure out a way to get in. You can bet we’ll be heading to that museum before long.”

  I turned and stared at my brother. “We will?”

  His ears tilted forward. “Yup, kid. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this. Something’s fishy here.”

  I sniffed the air. “It is? I don’t smell any fish.”

  Especially since we’d already eaten our cat treats and Bogey had put the bag away.

  Bogey shook his head. “Just an expression, kid. Just an expression. It means ‘something is suspicious.’”

  Before I could ask more, he jumped down to the floor. “Time to put it in gear, kid. We’ve got a schedule with our names on it.”

  “Aye, aye!” I tried to salute him, but I only ended up poking myself in the ear with my huge paw.

  Luckily he’d already trotted into the hallway and didn’t see me. I jumped off the desk and ran after him.

  Part of our job as cat detectives is to run surveillance on our house every night. And if you don't know what the word “surveillance” means, well . . . like my brother would say . . . don't sweat it. I didn't know what it meant either. Not until I got adopted from the cat shelter and came to live here with my forever family. That's when Bogey took me under his paw and taught me everything he knows about the cat detective business. He's an expert, and he's been a cat detective ever since he got adopted from the cat shelter years ago. Bogey told me that “surveillance” is a fancy word for checking out the whole house. Just to make sure everything is okay. And to keep our family safe.

  And believe me, I wanted to do everything I could to keep my family safe. After all, they gave me a home and plenty of food to eat. Not to mention, lots and lots of love. Plus, my human Mom and Dad are always happy to cuddle me. So is my human sister, twelve-year-old Gracie. So I’m happy to repay the favor and earn my keep. Especially since I'd once been out on the mean streets and didn't know where my next meal was coming from.

  I caught up to Bogey in the front entryway and we took off, running side by side. Together we checked out doors and windows and all around the main floor of the house. We made sure everything was locked and secure, exactly the way it was supposed to be.

  Plus we took a good “sniff” wherever we went. A cat can sure learn a lot by smelling things. Cats have a really good sense of smell, and we can also pretty much see in the dark. That's why it didn't bother us that our whole house was dark while our human family slept upstairs.

  We finished our downstairs run and headed toward the staircase. Even though I've probably run surveillance a million times, it still makes me kind of nervous. A guy just never knows what he might run into. So I always keep my senses on full alert, to be ready to spring into action.

  Or, at least I try to be ready to spring into action.

  Yet somehow it didn't actually work out that way tonight. Not when we saw a white streak zip down the hallway. That same streak turned and flew straight into our Mom's office.

  Holy Mackerel!

  But instead of springing into action, I just sort of froze in my tracks. I could hardly breathe.

  “What was that?” I whispered to my brother. “A ghost?”

  In all my training as a cat detective, Bogey had never told me anything about ghosts. And, to tell you the truth, even the thought of a ghost scared me.

  Beside me, Bogey just rolled his eyes and flopped onto the floor. “Dames. I can never make heads nor tails of ‘em, kid.”

  “Dames?” I managed to squeak. “Um, Bogey . . . shouldn't we go investigate this?”

  Bogey pointed toward our Mom's office. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

  By now I was shaking in my paws. “Aren't you coming with me?”

  Bogey shook his head. “Nope, kid. I think you can handle this one on your own.”

  I gulped. Did Bogey really want me to investigate this by myself? Sure, I had a little experience under my belt, and I'd even helped solve a big case or two. But that didn't mean I was ready to investigate something like a ghost on my own.

  I glanced at my brother again. But he just grinned and nodded toward the office.

  Well, I guess that answered that. I guess it was all up to me to go check things out. So I tiptoed as quietly as I could to the open French doors of the office. All the while, I wondered if this ghost was going to jump out and yell, “Boo!” Or scream like ghosts do in movies.

  Not that it mattered. My heart was pounding so loud I probably wouldn't have heard a ghost scream anyway.

  I glanced inside the room, but I didn't see any white streak. Or a ghost, either. So I slowly stepped into the office, moving one paw at a time. To tell you the truth, I didn't know what I'd do if that white streak headed straight for me. I wasn't really sure how cat detectives were supposed to handle ghosts.

  I moved toward my Mom's desk. Then I carefully tiptoed around the corner.

  Just in time to see the white streak go straight up the tallest bookcase.

  Every strand of fur on my body stood on end.

  Especially when that white streak turned and stared down at me.

  With big, green eyes.

  It was the Princess.

  Now I wasn't sure if my heart was pounding because I was scared, or because my heart always pounded when she looked at me like that.

  “Hello, Buckley,” she said. “Would you like to join me? The view up here is lovely.”

  The Princess, or Lexie, as the humans call her, was the newest cat to join our family. She was all white, and a kind of cat called a Turkish Angora. She had once been a show cat who was expected to be prim and perfect. But since she'd come to live with us, well, she acted a whole lot more free. She usually raced around the house at lightning speed. Plus she smiled a lot these days.

  “Thanks, Princess,” I told her. “Maybe later. Right now Bogey and I are on our rounds.”

  She tilted her head and slowly blinked her eyes at me. “I'm so glad you're here to protect us, Buckley.”

  Right about then I felt the room start to spin. For some reason I had a hard time breathing. I nodded goodbye and barely managed to get out to the hallway before I flopped onto the floor.

  Bogey was right there with a cat treat in his paw. He waved it over my nose. “I told you, kid. Dames.”

  “Dames,” I murmured.

  “Here,” he said. “Take this and let's get rolling.”

  I took a few deep breaths and munched on the cat treat. Then I wobbled onto my legs and nodded to Bogey. Seconds later I was running behind him to the staircase.

  We were halfway up when it happened.

  The phone rang.

  Let me tell you, I've learned a lot of things since I came to live in this house. Lots and lots of things. And one of the things I've learned is that it's never good when the phone rings in the middle of the night. Humans don't exactly call each other to chat right then. No, it usually means there is some kind of an emergency.

  “C'mon, kid,” Bogey hollered. “I smell trouble. We've gotta check this out!”

  I ran behind him as he raced up the stairs and into our Mom and Dad's room. Our Dad flipped on his bedside lamp a
nd picked up the phone. Beside him, our Mom moaned and rolled over.

  I wonder if she'd been dreaming about a fishpond, too.

  “Yes, this is Mike Abernathy,” our Dad said into the phone. “Uh-huh, okay.” Then he suddenly sat up straight in bed. “It did?” he practically shouted.

  Next he spoke six numbers into the phone. The alarm code to our Mom’s store.

  He combed his fingers through his blond hair while he listened for a second or two. Finally, he said, “We'll be right there, Phoebe.”

  I looked at my brother. “Did he say ‘Phoebe?’”

  Bogey nodded. “Yup, kid, he did.”

  Right away, Bogey and I knew who Phoebe was. Her full name is Officer Phoebe Smiley, and she works for the St. Gertrude Police Department. We'd met up with her on a couple of cases, and we liked her a lot. Though like most humans, she really had no idea that we were actually the ones who had solved the cases.

  Probably because cats always switch to cat language whenever humans are around. Plus, some humans have no clue what cats are capable of.

  Now our Mom woke up. “What's going on, honey?”

  “It's your store,” our Dad told her. “The burglar alarm went off.”

  Her dark eyes went wide. “Oh no!”

  Our Mom owns Abigail's Antiques, the best antique store in downtown St. Gertrude. She loves her store, and she works very hard running it. Sometimes she even takes us to work with her, but only if she has time. Then she loads us up in our pet carriers, and we go spend the day at her shop. Bogey and I always enjoy our time there.

  Our Dad slid out of bed. “Phoebe wants one of us to head down there and take a look. To make sure nothing was stolen.”

  Our Mom jumped up and stretched. “Better let me go.”

  Our Dad frowned. “I don't want you alone out there if burglars are running around.” His blue eyes were full of worry.