The Case of the Crafty Christmas Crooks Read online

  The aroma of cookies baking filled the air in the comfy, warm kitchen. The countertop was covered with bowls and cookie sheets and cookie cutters. So I guessed Mrs. Mitchell really had been busy.

  My Mom touched Mrs. Mitchell's arm. "I know this must be upsetting for you, Mesmeralda. I can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through."

  Mrs. Mitchell sighed. "Yes, Abigail, it has been very upsetting for us. We'd spent all the money we could on those Christmas presents. We did our shopping early so we could relax and enjoy Christmas. Now I don't know what we'll do."

  My Mom reached over and gave her a hug. "Don't worry, Mesmeralda. St. Gertrude is a tight-knit community. Everyone will pull together to help."

  Mrs. Mitchell started to scoop cookies from a cookie sheet. I'd never seen so many cookies in so many shapes before in my whole life. There were cookies shaped like Christmas trees and Christmas ornaments. There were angels and bells and one that looked a lot like my Santa Claus ornament. Plus there were holly leaves and snowflakes and candy canes.

  On another plate, I saw cookies in those same shapes that had been decorated with icing in all different colors. There were cookies with red icing, green icing, white icing and blue icing. Some of them even had sprinkles on top of them.

  Holy Catnip! Each cookie was so pretty, it was almost like a work of art.

  If only there had been tuna-flavored cookies, too.

  I glanced around the counter, just in case there might be some fish-shaped cookies.

  But instead I spotted a sales receipt from Nunzio's Novelties and Knick-Knacks Shop. That was the store right next to my Mom's antique store! I'd even met Nunzio, the owner, a few times, when our Mom took us to work with her. Though I had to say, I always got a funny feeling around him. He would smile with his mouth, but his black eyes always looked really, really mad. He would look at us cats, but never, ever pet us. Bogey said the guy made his fur stand on end. And let me tell you, cats are pretty good when it comes to seeing a human's real character.

  I glanced at the receipt again, and suddenly I remembered something Bogey had taught me. When he trained me to be a cat detective, he told me I should always be observant. That meant I was supposed to take a close look at everything around me. I was supposed to notice the people and the animals and all the things nearby. He even told me to pretend I was taking a snapshot of all those things. Then I was supposed to put those things in my memory. Just in case I might need to remember them again later on.

  So now I had to wonder, was this one of those times when I should be really observant? Was it possible I had found some important clue? After all, it seemed like the hero in detective shows always found a sales receipt that led them to the criminal. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I had uncovered a big clue that led us to crack this case?

  Holy Mackerel!

  All of a sudden, I started to get excited. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching me. When I saw the coast was clear, I scooted closer to take a better look at the receipt. Could this be something the burglar had left behind? Maybe a receipt for buying break-in tools? With the burglar's name and address printed right at the top?

  A smile crossed my face. I could practically hear the praise from Bogey, as I imagined him patting me on the back. "Great job, kid," he would say. "You're becoming a first-rate detective!"

  Just thinking about it pushed me to finally move close enough to read the receipt. That's when I let out a sigh. It was nothing but a receipt for cookie cutters. It had Mrs. Mitchell's name and address at the top, and it was dated a week ago. In the lines below that, it said, "Christmas Cookie Cutter set #1" and "Christmas Cookie Cutter set #2." But then it looked like Nunzio had written in at the bottom, "If you don't bring me some cookies, I'll just have to steal some."

  Holy Mackerel!

  Had I read that receipt right?

  I glanced again at my Mom and Mrs. Mitchell. Thankfully, they were still talking and didn't even notice me. So I grabbed the receipt in my mouth. Then I quietly jumped down from the stool and tiptoed out of the kitchen. I needed to show this receipt to Bogey right away.

  But first I had to find him. I wondered if he had found the scene of the crime already. Maybe he'd found a few clues himself.

  In any case, one thing was for sure, I had to hurry. I had to figure out where he'd gone before anyone realized I was missing. And I had to be as stealthy as I could, so no one would spot me running around the house.

  Thanks to Bogey, I knew exactly how to be stealthy. I'd even had some experience being stealthy before. It meant I had to keep low to the ground and move along fast, so no one would notice me. Not exactly an easy thing for a big guy like me to do.

  Still, I slinked from room to room. First past the dining room, and then into the living room. There I found Gracie, trying to coax Bogey out from behind a huge Christmas tree. The tree was tucked into the corner, and Bogey was busy sniffing the ground.

  Gracie kneeled on the floor and turned to me. "Oh good, Buckley. Can you get Bogey to come out?"

  I rubbed up against Gracie and dropped the receipt into her coat pocket.

  Then I meowed to my brother. "Have you found anything?"

  He nodded to me. "Yup, kid. I found plenty."

  Right about then, my chin practically fell to the floor. "You did? What did you find?"

  I glanced from the bottom of the tree all the way up to the huge, gold star on the top. I sure didn't see any clues or anything important for this case.

  Bogey called out from behind the tree. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

  I blinked a couple of times and shook my head.

  Wait a minute. First he told me he found plenty, and then he told me he found nothing. What in the world was going on?

  Holy Catnip!

  CHAPTER_4

  __________________________

  Holy Mackerel! I took a look at my brother and wondered if he was okay. Because one thing was for sure — he wasn't making any sense. Maybe Bogey had been overdoing it with the cat treats.

  He sniffed the bottom branch of the tree and squinted his eyes. "Amazing," he said.

  It was? I padded across the bare, wooden floor and joined him behind the Christmas tree.

  "What is amazing?" I asked him. "And how you can find 'nothing' and 'plenty' at the same time?"

  Bogey grinned at me. "It's easy, kid. I'll show you. First, take a sniff of that branch."

  I did as he said. In fact, I took a really good sniff. And another one, just to be sure.

  Let me tell you, cats have a really good sense of smell. And when I say really good, well, I mean really good. In fact, a cat's sense of smell is about fourteen times better than a human's. With one sniff, I can tell if any people or cats have been in the area. Plus I can pick up lots and lots of other scents as well. Sometimes these are smells that have been there for a while. And sometimes these are smells that have been brought in from somewhere else, either by humans or animals.

  For instance, if a person walked in from a flower garden, believe me, a cat would know it. Because that person would bring the scent of flowers in with them, and a cat could smell it.

  Bogey turned to me. "So what did you pick up, kid?"

  "Well . . ." I started slowly. "It just smells like the rest of the house. And like Mrs. Mitchell. And maybe a man's scent, too."

  "You got it, kid. That man's scent is all over the house. So I'm guessing it belongs to Mr. Mitchell."

  I tilted my ears forward, so I could listen better. "Uh-huh. That makes sense."

  Bogey touched the branch with his paw. "Do you smell any other people on the branch or in this corner?"

  I shook my head. "Nope." Then I hesitated a minute. "Well, I think I might smell a little bit of Officer Phoebe Smiley. But no one else."

  Bogey nodded and glanced at the floor. "Okay, kid, now take a look around. Do you see anything out of place? Or any disturbance in the dust? Do you see any bits or clues left behind?"

  I did as Bogey told m
e. I looked around twice and couldn't find a thing except for our paw prints. Not a single clue. And not a single thing out of place.

  I turned to my brother. "I don't see anything."

  Bogey grinned at me. "Not a thing. In other words, nothing, right?"

  I nodded. "Right."

  Bogey leaned back and looked up into the tree. "So in finding absolutely nothing, we have learned plenty."

  I crinkled my brow. "We have?"

  Bogey stood on his hind legs and reached a little higher into the tree. "That's right, kid. We have learned that the burglar was a real mastermind. A criminal mastermind."

  Right about then, I'm sure my eyes went really wide. "They were? How can you tell?"

  He returned to the floor. "Because, kid, they broke into this house, and stole all the Christmas presents and some other things. Then they vanished and didn't leave a single trace behind. Not even so much as a scent. Only a criminal mastermind could do that."

  "Wow," I whispered.

  I could hardly believe my ears. A criminal mastermind. Why did the crook have to be a criminal mastermind? Why couldn't we have come across a crook who wasn't too bright? Or, as Lil Bits would say, a cat who was a few fish short of a whole can of tuna?

  I tried to cover my eyes with my paw, but I only ended up poking myself in the ear.

  "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" I asked Bogey.

  He shook his head. "Nope, kid. Not in all my years of being a cat detective. This might be our toughest case ever."

  Holy Catnip! Did he say the toughest case ever? I was really hoping to get a few more of the easy cases under my belt first. Like the time I solved the Mystery of the Missing Cat Toys. Turns out the Princess had stored them all in a closet and forgot to tell us. Then there was the Mystery of the Missing Cat Treats. I solved that right away when I learned Gracie had accidentally put them on the wrong shelf in the pantry. If only I could have practiced on a few more cases like those. Before I started in on the really tough cases.

  Gracie called to us from the other side of the tree again. "Please, please, please, Buckley and Bogey. Please come out. If you don't come out, I won't ever be allowed to take you to someone's house again."

  With those words, Bogey nodded toward Gracie. "Time to go, kid. Besides, we've learned all we needed to know here."

  He trotted out to Gracie and I followed him. Then we each climbed into one of Gracie's arms and let her pick us up.

  "Thank you, boys," she said as she hugged us tight. She kissed Bogey and then me on the head. "You two have got to stop running off when we go somewhere."

  Seconds later, she had us back in the kitchen. Our Mom and Mrs. Mitchell were still talking, and they were looking at some big, donut-shaped objects on the table. Those objects appeared to be made from pine tree branches. They had bows and ornaments and all kinds of decorations attached to them.

  "What are those?" I meowed to Bogey.

  "Christmas wreaths, kid," he meowed back. "People hang 'em on their front doors at Christmastime."

  Holy Mackerel. This whole Christmas thing was just getting bigger and bigger. I couldn't believe all the stuff I'd learned about Christmas in one short afternoon. Now I wondered what else there was to know about this holiday.

  Our Mom pointed to one of the wreaths. "This one is especially beautiful," she said. "I like the way it's tied with a big, red velvet bow. And I love all the little shiny ball ornaments attached."

  "Thank you," Mrs. Mitchell replied. "Did I tell you they're for sale? Would you like to buy one?"

  Our Mom blinked once or twice. Then she smiled and said, "Well, certainly. I'd be happy to." She pulled some money from her pocket and paid Mrs. Mitchell.

  It looked like we were going to have a Christmas wreath on our door, too.

  Our Mom picked up the wreath she'd just bought. "You know," she said, "the St. Gertrude Citywide Charity is hosting a gigantic craft fair at the St Gertrude Events Center this Saturday. People will be selling all kinds of homemade items. Maybe you'd like to sell your wreaths there, too."

  "Yes," Gracie chimed in. "I'm going to be selling cat Christmas collars that I made."

  Oh, boy. Did she say cat Christmas collars? Did that mean cats wore special collars for Christmas? My head was starting to spin with all the things I'd learned about Christmas.

  For the first time since we'd arrived, Mrs. Mitchell smiled. "Why, I'd love to sell my wreaths at the Craft Fair. I'll make up a whole bunch of them!"

  Our Mom smiled back. "Great! I'll make sure they reserve a booth for you. I'm sure you'll sell tons. And it'll help you make some money to replace all the Christmas presents that were stolen."

  Mrs. Mitchell didn't say a word, but merely nodded.

  "And don't worry," our Mom added. "The people of St. Gertrude are very generous. I'm sure everyone will chip in to help you out since you've been robbed."

  Mrs. Mitchell smiled again. But this time, her eyes weren't smiling along with her mouth. "That's very kind of you, Abigail. But I don't want to be a bother. My husband and I really don't want any special attention."

  Our Mom nodded. "I understand, Mesmeralda. I understand."

  Minutes later, we were walking back to our house again. By now it had gotten dark outside and the streetlamps shined from above. Snow still swirled around us while our Mom carried Bogey and the new wreath. I cuddled in with Gracie so the snowflakes would stay off my face.

  All the while I couldn't stop thinking about what Bogey had said earlier. Whoever had broken into the Mitchells' house was a criminal mastermind. A criminal mastermind who had been only five doors down from us.

  Was it possible this same crook might try to go after our house, too?

  I peeked my head out and glanced around. That's when I noticed the Christmas wreath on the front door of the Nelsons' house. The house next door to the Mitchells'. I wondered if they'd bought a wreath from Mrs. Mitchell, too. Since it looked a lot like the Christmas wreath we were going to have on our front door.

  For some reason, the thought of it made me smile. Especially when I wondered if the rest of the neighbors would have wreaths on their doors.

  I looked around the neighborhood again. And then suddenly, I had a creepy feeling that made my fur stand on end. I kind of felt like we were being watched by someone. But when I glanced around once more, I didn't see anyone at all.

  I meowed to my brother. "Bogey, I've sort of got this funny feeling that . . ."

  I didn't even have a chance to get the words out before he answered me. "Yup, kid. I know what you're going to say. It feels like someone is watching us."

  "You feel it, too?" I asked him.

  He nodded and kept looking around. "Yup, I do. Take it from me, kid. Always trust your gut instinct. If something doesn't feel right, it probably isn't."

  I gulped. "Uh . . . okay."

  I started to shake, even though I wasn't cold.

  Gracie laughed. "What's wrong, Buckley? You're acting like you're scared or something. Don't worry. We'll be home soon."

  Not soon enough, as far as I was concerned.

  I had to wonder, why would someone be watching us? And who would be watching us? Could it be the burglars? Were they thinking of breaking into our house next?

  I had seen how sad and quiet Mrs. Mitchell had acted. She looked like she was still pretty upset about the break-in and the burglary.

  And let me tell you, I sure didn't want my family to be sad or upset. I didn't want our Christmas presents to be stolen. I wanted to do everything I could to make sure the burglars didn't break into our house.

  Earlier Bogey had told me we'd have to run extra surveillance at night to keep our family safe. But he'd also said that our best option was to catch this crook and send him to jail. Before he broke into another house. And another house.

  But how would we catch this crook? Or crooks? Especially when this crook was a criminal mastermind? Bogey said this could be our toughest case ever, and well, he wasn't kidding.
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br />   Now the question was, were we smart enough to outsmart this very smart burglar?

  Holy Catnip!

  CHAPTER 5

  __________________________

  Holy Mackerel! That night, while our Mom and Dad and Gracie ate dinner, they talked about the break-in at the Mitchells. In fact, it seemed like that was all they talked about.

  Of course, Bogey and I sat on the floor nearby, where we could hear every word.

  "Let's make sure we keep the doors and windows locked," our Dad said. "Plus we should keep some lights on whenever we leave the house."

  Gracie nodded. "So people will think someone is home, right?"

  Our Dad smiled. "Exactly."

  "I've read where it's a good idea to leave a pair of boots at the front door," our Mom added. "So it looks like someone just got there and took their boots off."

  Gracie smiled. "And it makes it look like that person is still there."

  "You're right," our Mom told her. "Would you like to be in charge of putting some boots out front?"

  "I'll do it tonight," Gracie said.

  After dinner, our Mom went into the office and worked on the computer. Our Dad returned to his woodshop in the garage. Pretty soon I heard kind of a high-pitched buzzing sound.

  I tilted my ears away, so the noise wasn't so loud. I'd heard that sound before, and it usually sent me running to hide under a bed. I was just about to run again, but Bogey put his paw up.

  "Don't sweat it, kid," he told me. "Nothing to worry about."

  "What is that noise?" I asked him.

  "It's a power saw, kid. Our Dad makes Christmas lawn ornaments out of wood. Then he paints 'em. He'll be selling them at the Craft Fair."

  "He does?" I tried to smack myself in the forehead with my huge paw but I only poked myself in the mouth. "Lawn ornaments? People put out lawn ornaments for Christmas, too?"

  Bogey grinned. "Yup, you got it, kid. All part of the fun."

  I shook my head and wondered what kind of ornaments people put on their lawns. Before I could ask Bogey, Gracie came into the kitchen. She set her sewing machine on the table and dropped an armful of stuff beside it.