The Case of the Crafty Christmas Crooks Read online

  Though to tell you the truth, I wasn't really sure what we were looking for.

  I glanced at my brother. "Um . . . Bogey . . . is there anything special we should watch for?"

  "Yup, kid," Bogey said without averting his gaze. "Keep your eyes peeled for anything that seems out of place. Or anyone."

  I swallowed hard. "What do you mean, 'out of place'?"

  Bogey nodded at the window. "Someone or something that doesn't belong. Someone who doesn't fit somehow."

  I looked outside just as hard as I could. "Um, okay."

  I saw trees and grass and birds flying by. I saw neighbor kids playing and grown-ups out walking their dogs.

  "Is there any reason we're doing this?" I asked Bogey.

  He turned to me. "Yup, kid. You heard what the officer said. We've got a burglar on the loose. Someone who wants to break into houses and steal stuff. Our family would be pretty shook up if someone broke in here."

  Boy, he sure had that right! If a burglar showed up at our house, I knew I'd be pretty scared. Terrified, even. And sometimes when I got really scared I forgot everything I'd learned about being a cat detective. The things that Bogey had taught me went right out the window. And I don't mean the front window, either.

  The problem was, cat detectives were supposed to be brave and fearless. Like Bogey. Unfortunately, I was still working on the brave and fearless part. And so far, it wasn't exactly going well.

  "I'll do my very best," I promised him.

  He touched his forehead like he was tipping a hat. "I knew I could count on you, kid. With a burglar running around out there, we've gotta run a tight ship. Burglars don't usually stop with just one house. Once they get a taste for crime, they usually develop an appetite for more. So we've gotta run surveillance every few hours and step up on security."

  "Aye, aye," I said. I tried to salute him but I only ended up poking myself in the nose with my huge paw. "Is there anything else we can do?"

  Bogey sat up straight and tall. "Yup, kid. Our best bet is to solve this case. We need to catch this burglar and send them up the river."

  I gulped. "Up the river?"

  Bogey put his paw on my shoulder. "To jail, kid. Jail."

  "Wow," I breathed. "You mean the Buckley and Bogey Cat Detective Agency has a new case?"

  Bogey turned an ear in my direction. "You got it, kid. And we're the clients. Or maybe I should say, our family is. Only, they don't know it."

  Right about then, I'm sure my eyes went really, really wide. Holy Catnip! A new case? I sat up nice and tall just like Bogey did. If we had a case to solve, that meant I had to work extra hard and be the best cat detective I could be.

  I glanced into the hallway at our Mom for a second. "So where do we start?"

  Bogey shook his head. "That's a tough one, kid. We really need to see the scene of the crime. It'll give us a better picture of what happened. We've gotta get over to the Mitchells' house somehow."

  Bogey was right. That was a tough one. Especially since the cats in our house were all housecats. We weren't exactly supposed to go outside.

  Now Gracie skipped into the hallway and joined our Mom again. She brought the extra heavy-duty tree stand with her. Then she helped our Mom put the main pole of the tree into the stand. Thankfully, this stand looked like it was really strong, and I was pretty sure the tree wouldn't tip over again.

  Not even if the Princess ran straight up the tree and danced the Hokey Pokey.

  I turned back to Bogey. "But how will we get to the Mitchells'?"

  Bogey rubbed his whiskers. "I don't know yet, kid. I'm working on it. I'll let you know just as soon as I figure it out. But be ready in case we have to move fast."

  "I'll be ready," I said. Though to tell you the truth, I wasn't really sure if I would ever be ready.

  Behind us, our Mom told Gracie about the burglary while they finished attaching the last branches to the Christmas tree.

  Gracie gasped. "Oh no! That's so sad. To have somebody steal all the Christmas presents!"

  My ears perked up again. That was the second time I'd heard someone mention presents. And boy did I like presents! Then again, what cat didn't love a nice present every now and then? Clearly, it was high time I investigated and found out more about these presents. But only so that I could be a good cat detective, of course. And because it might help me solve the case.

  I turned back to Bogey. "Why does everyone keep talking about presents? Are there presents at Christmas?"

  Bogey grabbed a bag of cat treats he kept hidden behind a potted palm. "Yup, kid. There are presents, all right. Lots of 'em. For everybody. They're all wrapped up in bright paper and put under the tree. Then everybody opens their presents on Christmas morning."

  Wow, this Christmas thing was sounding better and better.

  "But where do the presents come from?" I asked him.

  He grabbed a treat from the bag and passed the bag to me. "Lots of places, kid. Some from our Mom and Dad and Gracie. Others come from friends. And some of them come from Santa Claus."

  I used a claw to pull a treat out of the bag. "Santa Claus? Who is Santa Claus?"

  Bogey polished off his first treat and took another. "He's a big guy. Dressed in a red fuzzy suit. He's got a long white beard and he comes down the chimney. But he only brings presents to good boys and girls. And good cats, too. I'm guessing he might even bring presents to good dogs. But that one I don't know for sure."

  By now I felt like the room was spinning again. "He comes down the chimney? Why does he do that?"

  Bogey inched closer to the window. "It's quicker, kid. He rides through the sky in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer. Then he comes down the chimney and drops off the presents and takes off again."

  I blinked hard a few times. "Wow. He must be some guy."

  Bogey nodded. "You got it, kid. He is. Us cats have met Santa a time or two. The people never see him though. They're always in bed."

  I tried to rub my forehead with my paw. But I only ended up poking myself in the ear. "Amazing. I sure hope I get to see him."

  Bogey grinned at me. "Maybe you will, kid. Maybe you will. He'll be here on Christmas Eve. Late. Very late."

  Now it was my turn to grin. Bogey and I were always up late at night since that's when we ran surveillance on our house. That meant I would be awake when Santa showed up. And after what Bogey had told me, I really wanted to meet this guy.

  I heard a strange brrrrrp, rrrrrrp kind of noise behind me. I looked back to see our Mom and Gracie pulling lots and lots of green strands from another big box. Each of those strands had tiny colored lights attached from one end to the other.

  Holy Mackerel!

  Now what were they doing? Was this more stuff for Christmas? I closed my eyes for a moment. I'd seen and learned so many new things in one short afternoon that I could hardly believe it. It was almost more than a two-year-old cat could take.

  I felt Bogey touch my paw and hand me another treat. "Don't sweat it, kid. Those are just the lights. They put lights all over that tree to make it sparkle and shine."

  This time I just took the treat without saying a word. I wondered how much more new stuff I was going to learn today.

  Before long, our Mom and Gracie had those lights wrapped around and around the tree. They plugged the strands in and suddenly the whole thing lit up. There were white lights and green lights and red lights. There were blue lights and yellow lights and pink lights. Some lights flashed on and off. And some danced up and down the strands.

  Gracie stepped back to admire it, and I just sat there with my mouth hanging open.

  She knelt down to pet me. "Isn't it pretty, Buckley?"

  Boy, she sure had that right. "Pretty" was the word. I stood up and gave her a little rub with my head.

  All the while I couldn't take my eyes off that tree. The colors kept flashing before my eyes, and I couldn't stop watching them. When I finally did look away, I kept on seeing colors and lights flashing.

  I could
barely make out Bogey sitting in front of the window.

  He grinned. "Seeing spots, kid? Happens if you stare at those lights too long. Rookie mistake. But they'll go away."

  I sure hoped so.

  Our Mom placed a big, shiny star on the top of the tree. Then she and Gracie started to hang the ornaments on the branches. I could hardly believe all the stuff they were going to put on that one big tree. Before long, we wouldn't even be able to see the branches anymore.

  Gracie pulled a plastic ornament from the bunch and knelt down next to me. "See, Buckley? This ornament is for the cats in the family. We'll put a few on the bottom just for you."

  Holy Catnip! The cats in our house even got their own ornaments?

  I leaned in to take a good look at the ornament. It was a figure of a big guy in a red suit with a long white beard. He had a sack of presents slung over his shoulder.

  Right about then, I think my eyes were about to pop out of my head. "Bogey . . . is this . . . is this . . .?"

  Bogey didn't even wait for me to finish. "That's the guy, kid. That's Santa."

  I followed Gracie over to the tree. Seconds later, she had the ornament hanging from one of the lowest branches. I sat up tall so I was almost eye level with this little Santa. I'd never had my own ornament before. I vowed to look at it every single day.

  Our Mom and Gracie had just finished decorating the tree when the kitchen oven timer went off. I could smell the casserole our Mom had cooking in the oven.

  "Good thing I made two," our Mom said to Gracie. "Let's take one down to the Mitchells to cheer them up. We'll be back before your Dad finishes up in his woodshop."

  "Good idea, Mom," Gracie told her. "I'll get our coats."

  I smiled over at Bogey. Our Mom was famous for doing nice things for people. And cats. She did nice things for us every day.

  Bogey suddenly jumped to his feet. "This is it, kid!"

  I looked around the room. "It is? What is?"

  Bogey raced to the front door. "This is our chance, kid. This is how we'll see the scene of the crime. We're going to the Mitchells' house."

  For a moment I wondered if Bogey had been hitting the cat treats a little too hard. "We are?"

  Bogey grinned. "You got it, kid. Just follow my lead."

  Minutes later, our Mom had one of the casseroles wrapped up in a bag with handles. She and Gracie both put on their coats, and they were almost ready to go.

  That's when Bogey meowed and waved at me. "C'mon, kid. Time to be as cute as you can be."

  "Huh . . . what?" I barely managed to squeak out before Bogey stretched up my Mom's leg.

  Our Mom laughed. "Do you want to go with us, Bogey? Okay, you can come. I can't think of anyone who could cheer someone up better than you could."

  She picked up Bogey and he stretched up to her shoulder. She carried the casserole bag with her other hand.

  "Hurry, kid," Bogey hollered to me.

  "Hurry?" For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what Bogey wanted me to do.

  Bogey nodded toward Gracie. "Get Gracie to bring you. Put up a real fuss if you have to."

  I blinked hard. "Oh, okay."

  Then I raced over to Gracie and began to rub around her legs. She petted me, but she just kept on fastening her coat.

  "Don't worry, Buckley," she said. "We'll bring Bogey back soon."

  Did she say she'd bring Bogey back soon? That sounded like she didn't plan to take me, too!

  So I moved around her legs even faster. I kept meowing and purring as loud as I could.

  She giggled and stepped forward. "Oh, Buckley. I love you, too. I'll see you in a little bit."

  "C'mon, kid!" Bogey meowed. "You can do this! Get into her arms. You've gotta come see this crime scene, too!"

  Suddenly my heart started to pound really loud inside my chest. I knew I had to convince Gracie to take me. But how?

  Then I remembered a trick I'd learned from Lil Bits, another cat who lived in our house. Lil had been a cat detective for years. And after retiring from the job for a while, she had recently decided to come back.

  Before then, she'd taught me everything she knew about looking cute.

  So I jumped in front of the door, stood up on my hind legs and tilted my head to the side. I looked right at Gracie and meowed.

  Gracie laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, Buckley, you are the cutest cat ever."

  Then she knelt down to pet me.

  Just as soon as she did, I gave her a big wet kiss on the nose. While she was still giggling, I jumped into her arms and dug my claws firmly into her wool coat. I hung on so tight it would have taken a pry bar to pull me off.

  She hugged me close. "Okay, Buckley. You win. You can come with us."

  Across from me, Bogey leaned over our Mom's shoulder. He gave me a "paws up." "Way to go, kid."

  And to tell you the truth, I was kind of proud of myself. But I figured I'd better not get too smug. After all, we hadn't even gotten to the scene of the crime yet. For all I knew, that could be one big, scary adventure just waiting to happen.

  Gracie opened the door and we all went outside. A cold wind suddenly whipped around us. I was pretty sure I even saw a snowflake or two fly by.

  I snuggled in tight against Gracie. That's when I wondered if going to the Mitchells' house to see the crime scene was such a good idea.

  Who knew what we might find?

  Holy Mackerel!

  CHAPTER_3

  __________________________

  Holy Mackerel! Snowflakes started to fly all around us as our Mom and Gracie carried Bogey and me down the street. A few of the wet flakes landed on my face and my ears. I tried to wipe them off with my huge paw but I nearly poked myself in the eye. So I just tucked my head under Gracie's chin instead. Funny, but even though it was chilly outside, I really wasn't too cold. Probably thanks to the extra layers in my fur coat. Maine Coon cats are geared for cold weather and snow. After all, my cat ancestors came from Maine, a state that has lots of harsh winters. Our fur coats keep us warm and our big paws make it easier for us to run through snow.

  Even so, it was still nice to cuddle up with Gracie. A cat can never get too much cuddling.

  Especially since I was already kind of nervous about going to investigate a crime scene. Because, to tell you the truth, I hadn't exactly investigated very many crime scenes.

  Bogey, on the other hand, had investigated lots of crime scenes. He was an expert and knew exactly what to do.

  I peeked around Gracie's shoulder to see how he was holding up in the chilly weather. I noticed he was shivering a little while our Mom carried him. That was the problem with being such a lean cat like Bogey. Even though his size made him lightning fast, he didn't have enough fat or fur to keep him warm.

  We arrived at the Mitchells' house just a few minutes later. The Mitchells lived at the end of our block, five doors down from us. Their house was a really old place, kind of like ours. But their house had a huge porch that wrapped all the way around the front and sides.

  Gracie carried me up the rickety old steps, and I held on tight. I could hardly believe I was about to set paw inside the very place where someone had committed a crime. Holy Catnip! And so close to our own house, too. The idea of it made me start to shake just a little bit myself.

  My Mom rang the doorbell, and then we waited for someone to answer the door. When no one answered, we waited and waited some more. But still no one came to the door. So she rang the bell again.

  Finally, we heard some shuffling inside the house. A few seconds later, the door opened just a crack.

  "Yes?" said a woman's voice.

  "Hello, Mesmeralda," our Mom said with a cheerful voice. "It's us, your neighbors from down the street. Abigail and Gracie Abernathy."

  Mrs. Mitchell opened the door a little wider. "Oh, hello. What do you want?"

  Our Mom nodded at her. "We just heard what happened. And we wanted to tell you how sorry we were to hear you'd been robbed."

  Gracie smile
d up at her. "And we brought you a casserole for dinner."

  Mrs. Mitchell shook her head, and her straight, brown hair flopped on her forehead. "You sure didn't need to do that. But it's very thoughtful of you."

  "Not a problem," our Mom assured her. "I made one for us as well. Would you please open the door so I can hand this to you? We won't come in and bother you if you're busy."

  That's when I saw Bogey glance in my direction. "This isn't looking good, kid," he meowed. "If she doesn't let us in, we'll never get to that crime scene."

  Holy Mackerel! Bogey was right. It would be pretty bad if we came all this way in the cold and didn't get to investigate!

  Mrs. Mitchell frowned and pulled the door open a few more inches. "Well, this isn't the best time. I am rather busy at the moment."

  "Okay, kid," Bogey meowed back to me. "It's now or never. I'm going in!"

  What? Did Bogey just say he was going in? But how? Mrs. Mitchell clearly wasn't about to welcome us inside her house. In fact, she didn't seem like she wanted visitors at all. Maybe that's what happens to people after someone breaks into their home.

  She sighed and reached out to take the casserole from our Mom.

  Just as she did, Bogey made his move.

  In one quick, black streak, he dove between Mrs. Mitchell's legs and landed inside the entryway. Then he pushed off with his back legs and went racing down the hall.

  I could hardly believe it! Mrs. Mitchell gasped and Gracie squealed. And I'm sure my eyes went as wide as the casserole dish.

  "Bogey," Gracie hollered. "Bogey! Come back here."

  But he was out of sight.

  Mrs. Mitchell squinted at me with gray eyes. "You brought your cats with you?"

  Gracie held me up so my face was just a few inches from Mrs. Mitchell's. "We thought they might cheer you up."

  I tried to look as adorable as I could, while Mrs. Mitchell just stared at me.

  "I'm so sorry, Mesmeralda," my Mom said. "Bogey's usually a perfect gentleman. I don't know what's gotten into him."

  Mrs. Mitchell sighed. "Well, I guess you'll have to come in and catch him, then."

  With those words, she opened the door for all of us. Then she led us to the kitchen without saying anything. Gracie put me on a stool in front of the counter while she went to look for Bogey.