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“Miss Muffy is a fat fluffy white cat with a pink collar. You have the wrong cat. You have a fluffy orange cat.”
“Maybe it turned orange while it was away,” Lula said. “Maybe someone took it to Lateesha for beautification.”
“Is it possible that the scumbag has two cats?” I said to Annie.
“I suppose, but I didn’t see a second cat when I was snooping around. I just saw Muffy and her carrier.”
“I couldn’t find the carrier,” I said. “It wasn’t by the door.”
The was a moment of silence. “Are you sure you were in the right house?” Annie said. “3635 Freestone?”
“You told me 3625 Freestone. You texted it to me.”
“My finger must have hit the wrong key,” Annie said. “I’ve had a lot of stress in my life lately. Sometimes my hand shakes.”
“Maybe it’s from all that orange juice,” Lula said. “Maybe you should get your liver enzymes checked.”
“And now, as if I don’t have enough stress, I still don’t have my Miss Muffy,” Annie said.
“You can have this cat,” I said. “It’s a really nice cat.” Only a couple of the scratches on my arm were still bleeding.
“No! I want Miss Muffy.”
“I’ll get back to you,” I told Annie.
“I’m not liking the way that conversation went,” Lula said.
“We have to return this cat.”
“No way,” Lula said.
Eugene was watching me in the rearview mirror. I think he was smiling. “Are we going back to Freestone?” he asked.
I blew out a sigh. “Yes.”
A solitary police car was parked in front of 3625. The interior light was on in the car, and the cop looked like he was writing a report. The light went off, and the car drove away.
I got out of the Rangeman SUV with the cat and walked to the back of 3625. I opened the back door and set the cat down in the kitchen. It hissed and tried to slash me one last time, but I jumped away. I closed the door as best as I could and returned to the SUV.
“How’d that go?” Lula asked.
“Great,” I said. “The cat thanked me, and said it was sorry it scratched me.”
“We still going to try to get Miss Muffy?”
“Yes.”
Eugene drove to the next block and parked in front of 3635.
“Do you need help?” he asked me.
“Are you any good at opening doors?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Then I need help.”
We all walked around to the back of the house and tried the back door. Locked. Eugene took a slim tool from a pocket on his cargo pants and unlocked the door. Everyone held their breath when I opened it. No beeping. No wailing sirens. I looked down and found the cat carrier exactly where it was supposed to be.
