Mr Bigelow Smells a Rat Page 3

  “Dammit, she’s come for you.” He pauses to listen again. “And she’s planning on coming back tomorrow. Can’t let that happen.” He paces. “Maybe she should find your body tomorrow on the front curb in front of her house. She’ll think you were killed by a car. Then I could come over and comfort her.”

  At this horrible idea I scratch and hiss some more.

  Then everything goes black.

  PENELOPE

  Out front of the building I look up one more time. I don’t see any sign of Mr. Bigelow and Choxie is busy sniffing a high-heeled woman’s boot that someone’s dropped onto the street.

  Choxie paws at it for a while, then he picks it up and brings it over to Ben who tries to take it out of his mouth. Choxie refuses to let it go, so Ben lets him keep it.

  “I guess we ought to get back,” I say miserably.

  “Yeah,” Ben says. “Mr. Bigelow’s probably already returned home by now. He’s probably gone out looking for you.”

  “Ha, ha,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

  We make it back to my house and stop at the front door. Before I go inside, I turn to Ben. “Thanks for looking with me,” I say. “And I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Or our pleasure, I should say.” He reaches down to pet the top of Choxie’s head.

  At that point, Choxie drops the ladies’ ankle boot he’s been carrying around and noses it around on the sidewalk.

  Ben stares at it with distaste. “Yikes. Maybe we should just throw the thing away.”

  He bravely reaches for the slobbery boot and looks inside it. “Huh,” he says. “What’s this? It looks like there’s something in here…”

  He’s about to reach in when a car pulls up, and we look over. It’s Rafe. He opens his car door and steps out. And who should jump out after him…but Mr. Bigelow.

  “Mr. Bigelow!” I say, running towards him and bundling him up into my arms. “Where have you been, you bad cat!”

  MR. BIGELOW

  She snuggles me and calls me a bad cat, but I can tell how happy she is to see me. Not half as happy as I am to see her, I’ll admit.

  “Your cat must’ve snuck in the car when I dropped you off,” Rafe says, with a big phony smile. “But here he is – the furry little devil. Back safe and sound.”

  “Thank you! I’ve been so worried.” She squeezes me tightly then gives Rafe a hug. I reach up to scratch his face, but he pulls away before I can accomplish it. Unfortunately.

  She seems to be falling for his ‘nice guy’ act. Again.

  “Well, I’m going to take off,” Ben says, pulling Choxie away towards his house. “Glad everything worked out.”

  Penelope looks over at him, a smile lighting up her face. “Thanks again for helping me look for Mr. Bigelow,” she says as Ben and Choxie walk away.

  At that point, I notice the boot I dropped over the balcony is in Choxie’s mouth and he’s carrying it towards his house. I have to get that thing – it has important evidence of some kind inside it – but she’s holding me too tightly.

  She looks down and buries her nose in my fur. “I was so worried about you,” she says, and I can hear the relief in her voice.

  I guess she really does care about me. Who knew?

  Rafe gives her what is supposed to be a charming shrug. “Yeah, imagine my surprise when I saw him in the back of my car.”

  Yeah, imagine that. After he wrapped me in that blanket and threw me in there.

  But at least I managed to get in a few good scratches.

  “Oh no, did he scratch your arm?” she asks him. She sees the red welts which are nice and angry-looking by now. “Come on in. I’ll put something on them.”

  Rafe shoots me a look of triumph, then he heads inside.

  Just what is he up to?

  PENELOPE

  I feel a renewed sense of hope in my life. Mr. Bigelow is back!

  I didn’t realize how much I missed him until he disappeared. It’s like the house just wasn’t the same without him.

  I swoop him up into my arms again and hug him, but Mr. Bigelow doesn’t seem happy. He’s too busy giving Rafe the evil eye. I know I should scold him – for that and for scratching poor Rafe’s arm. But I just can’t. I’m just so relieved to have him back.

  “I’ll go get you some alcohol and a band aid,” I say to Rafe as I head upstairs, a squirming Mr. Bigelow still in my arms.

  “Thanks,” he says absentmindedly, looking at the painting hanging over the entryway table. “Uh…maybe while you’re at it, you should lock the cat upstairs. Just until he gets used to the idea of having another guy in the house.”

  “Sure,” I say with a smile. “Sorry again about your arm. I never realized Mr. Bigelow was so jealous before.”

  I carry Mr. Bigelow upstairs.

  MR. BIGELOW

  “Okay Mr. Bigelow,” she says. “This is just for a little while. Just until I get Rafe’s arm all bandaged. Then I’ll let you out for dinner.”

  She’s carrying towards her bedroom getting ready to lock me in. I try to squirm out of her arms but she’s holding me too tightly.

  I meow – trying to tell her not to do it. But she just looks at me with an expression that tells me that she’s not even trying to figure out what I’m saying to her.

  Oh well – I clearly can’t make her any brighter than she is. If she refuses to see what’s right in front of her whiskers, what can I do?

  I relax. I let her carry me to the room. And just as she opens the door to put me in, I leap from her arms and tear down the stairs – ready to pounce on Rafe – who unfortunately, sees me coming.

  He ducks behind the Christmas tree but I’m not going to let that stop me. I stalk him until he’s cornered between the tree and the wall... and I pounce!

  He reaches out and pushes me away – batting my body back towards the tree. I spin and, trying not to fall, I grasp onto the branches of the evergreen.

  Which is when the entire tree comes down on top of me. And on top of Rafe – so there’s a silver lining.

  “Mr. Bigelow!” I hear her calling out as she rushes towards us.

  I look in her direction as she heads down the stairs. As she does, Rafe grabs me by the neck and whispers into my ear. “I’m going kill you, cat. As soon as I get what I want –you’re dead.”

  I hiss. I bat at his face. I’m just about to get a good full-paw scratch right down his cheek when I feel myself being lifted into the air backwards.

  “Mr. Bigelow! Bad cat!” she says, carrying me towards the den. She opens the door and puts me down. “Bad cat!” she scolds. Then she closes the door and I hear her heading towards him, her voice apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I have no idea what’s wrong with him.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” he answers. “Though I could use that band-aid.”

  As I hear her footsteps heading up the stairs, I paw furiously under the door, trying to get her attention. To get the door open. But I realize it’s hopeless.

  PENELOPE

  I head back upstairs to GAA’s bathroom to look for some hydrogen peroxide and band-aids. I really don’t know what’s gotten into Mr. Bigelow tonight – but I’m relieved that Rafe is being so nice about it.

  Searching the bathroom, I can’t find anything resembling hydrogen peroxide. Or alcohol or even a bandage. I open every cabinet in the hall bathroom then head into the master suite.

  With everything else in the house, I find it hard to believe that GAA doesn’t have a first aid kit of some kind. But so far, there’s nothing.

  I head back downstairs and look for Rafe, ready to apologize – but he’s nowhere to be found. Mr. Bigelow, however, hears my footsteps and starts furiously scratching under the door in fast motion. Which would be funny and adorable if I weren’t so upset with him.

  I pass him, ignoring his attempts to get my attention. I call out, “Rafe?” but he’s nowhere to be found, at least not on the first floor. He’s not in the sitting room or the living or dining room
or kitchen either. I’m wondering if he’s taken off.

  But when I look outside, I see that his car is still there. Confused, I look up at the second floor and see him coming out of one of the guest bedrooms.

  “Rafe?” I say, surprised.

  He slowly heads down the staircase toward me. “Sorry. Needed to use the bathroom.”

  “There’s one on this floor,” I say.

  “Oh, is there? I didn’t know.”

  I nod towards the doorway where Mr. Bigelow is scratching so maniacally that I can’t ignore him anymore. “I guess I should let him out before he totally destroys the wood,” I say.

  “Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Rafe smiles.

  “Thanks again for rescuing Mr. Bigelow.” I open the door for him. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, I’ll call you.” He gives me a peck on the cheek and heads out to his car. I watch him drive away, then I go and release Mr. Bigelow from his confinement. He darts out of the room and sniffs under the front door as if to make sure Rafe really is gone.

  “You really don’t like Rafe, do you?” I say to him. He looks up at me and blinks – that same disappointed expression on his face.

  MR. BIGELOW

  Finally. She’s going to sleep.

  I’m lying on the edge of the bed waiting for her to finish her moisturizing and tooth-brushing and makeup-removing and everything else that seems to take hours before she can actually get into bed and close her eyes.

  I watch her, yawning, reminded yet again of the superiority of the feline race – we don’t need to spend hours before bed or hours when we wake up in order to perfect ourselves. We’re perfect just as we are.

  Finally, she finishes, gets into bed and falls asleep.

  I get up and tiptoe over to make sure she’s really out for the night. She mumbles something and rolls over and I know I’m good. Now I just have to get over and rescue that boot – before Choxie totally destroys it in a pool of dog slobber.

  I jump off the bed with an easy grace and head down the hall, sniffing the air on the way…I can tell Rafe was up here earlier. And it wasn’t to use the bathroom like he claimed. He was clearly in one of the furniture-stuffed guest rooms as his scent is quite strong in that area.

  I think about making my way inside, but I figure that can wait. What I really need to do is to go next door to Ben and Choxie’s.

  After making my way outside – luckily, she hasn’t discovered my main escape route – I head over to Ben’s and crawl in through Choxie’s doggie door. The house is alive with the sound of a football game blaring from the TV in the family room.

  Ben is lying back on the sofa, munching loudly on corn chips. He pauses and sips a beer then puts it down on the floor nearby.

  I tiptoe around, giving him a wide berth, when I see Choxie, lying on his doggie bed, sound asleep.

  The red boot is between him and the wall and his paw is lying on top of it.

  Careful not to wake him, I creep onto his bed and grab the top of the boot with my teeth and slowly tug at it...

  I’ve almost got it away from Choxie, when unfortunately, someone yells, Touchdown! on TV.

  Ben grunts out “Yes!” and suddenly Choxie’s awake! He flips over and with a speed that’s surprising for such a big, graceless hulk, he clamps his paw down on the boot in one swift motion. Then he grabs it in his slobbery mouth and pulls it away from me.

  Startled, I hiss. I bat out at him but he turns his face aside before I can get him.

  He runs across the room, carrying the boot. I chase him, knocking over Ben’s beer as I go, which alerts him to my presence.

  Ben’s up off the couch – towering over us, telling us to cool it. Of course, neither of us listen to him, we’re too busy fighting over the boot.

  I reach out with my paw to bat it out of Choxie’s mouth, but the dog is busy flinging it backwards and forwards, so I miss.

  I give a powerful hiss. And just then the doorbell rings.

  Ben sighs in irritation as he goes to answer it and I hear the sound of her voice, telling Ben that I’ve escaped again.

  But I don’t have time to think about that as I arch my back to its highest height to scare Choxie who drools dumbly and stares at me.

  I bat out at the boot and it falls. And this time…all the papers that I stuck inside fall out– as does that little metal thing that once belonged to Agnes.

  At just that moment, she and Ben come into the room. They both look down at us and at the red boot and the items that have fallen out of it.

  She goes quiet, then says, “What’s that?” Bending over, she picks up the little metal thing.

  “It looks like a flashdrive,” Ben says. “And those photos…” He frowns and studies them. “They’re of you.”

  Finally.

  PENELOPE

  I look at Ben, feeling panicky. “Where did all this stuff come from?”

  He shrugs. “I guess it was in the boot Choxie found outside that apartment building.” We look through the photos – they’re all pictures of me coming out of the Pet Oasis or going into my house. Photos that were taken of me when I didn’t realize anyone was watching. “What does it all mean?” I say, feeling majorly creeped out.

  “I don’t know,” Ben frowns. “But maybe the answer is on this flashdrive. Let’s plug it in and see what’s on it.” He goes over and inserts the flashdrive into his computer. A video starts playing of an old woman with grey hair and a French accent.

  She’s looking right into the camera, saying, “Now zhat I have found my long-lost niece, zhere is something very important I must do before I forget…”

  “Who is that?” I say to Ben. “Is that…”

  “That’s your Great-Aunt Agnes.”

  I look at him in amazement. Then I look back at the screen and watch as the old woman continues to talk:

  “I must not only update my weel, but I must also write her zhe letter and let her know about zhe valuable Monet that I have on zee wall. She must make sure not to think eet ees fake and to throw it away.”

  Just then, on the video, Mr. Bigelow jumps up in front of the camera and meows loudly until the old lady laughs and pulls him onto her lap. “Okay, Meester Beeg,” she says to him. “I shall ignore the computer and focus on what’s important. On you…” she laughs and pets the cat who purrs contentedly in her lap. Then she reaches out and turns off the tape.

  “Wow,” I say in surprise. I’m flabbergasted. And not just at how affectionate Mr. Bigelow was to the old woman on the tape. But at the old woman herself. “That was my great aunt? That was Agnes?”

  “In the flesh,” Ben nods. “Or at least on video.”

  I look at him mystified. Then we both look down at the red boot. “But how did all that stuff get inside there?” I say.

  “I don’t know,” Ben shrugs, “but clearly Choxie wasn’t so useless after all.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” I say as I pet Choxie, and scratch his neck. “I never said he was useless. Still, I had no idea he was so talented at solving mysteries.”

  Choxie looks up at me with obvious pleasure as I bend down to hug him.

  As I do Mr. Bigelow hisses wildly at him and reaches out to try to scratch him.

  “Mr. Bigelow! No! Be nice!” I scold. Then I turn to Ben. “Mr. Bigelow’s just jealous because Choxie’s such a genius.”

  Ben nods.

  “You know, I’m thinking, maybe we should walk back down to the building.”

  “Sure. Uh…you mean right now?” Ben asks.

  “Yeah unless you’re tired.”

  “No. Please. I can walk for miles.”

  “Or we could drive.”

  “Okay,” Ben grabs his keys. “Let’s go check it out.”

  MR. BIGELOW

  Finally.

  Finally we can go back to that building and I can expose Rafe for the evil con artist he is. But when we all pile into the car and drive down to the building, I realize they’re not even sure what they’re look
ing for. I know this because she says, “So what exactly are we looking for?”

  “A one-shoe’d woman, I guess,” Ben says with a smile. She smiles back at this though I don’t quite get why. Then we head up to look at the names on the buzzer.

  “I still don’t see anyone familiar here,” she sighs. “Oh, Choxie, if only you could talk. You could tell us how you got that boot and what it all means.”

  Choxie drools inanely as I look down at him from my perch in her arms. Then I start purring loudly, to lull her into a false sense of security. It does the trick. She loosens her hold, letting go of the fear that I might jump out of her arms.

  “Aw, look at Mr. Bigelow,” she says. “He’s oblivious to the world.”

  Ben smiles and reaches out and scratches me behind the ears.

  At which point I leap out of her arms and run! I speed around to the parking lot in back where Rafe and a tall blonde woman are heading towards the stairwell.

  I look back at her and Ben to make sure they see. You never know with humans - they’re a pretty unobservant bunch on the whole.

  But this time they definitely do see. “It’s Rafe!” she whispers loudly.

  “Your date?” Ben asks.

  “Yes,” she whispers back. “But who’s that lady he’s with?”

  Ben shrugs. “I don’t know. But she seems to be wearing both shoes.”

  Penelope nods and studies the woman’s shoes. “Yeah, but look at them. They’re similar to that one Choxie found. They’re high-heeled and red. And gaudy.”

  “Yeah,” Ben nods. “They’re trashy looking really. Totally, stripper-trashy. Now that I look at them closely.”

  She nods but she’s not looking at the shoes any more. She’s looking down, and she looks sad.

  Then she looks up, blushing “So I guess I’ve been a fool. Rafe didn’t want to go out with me. He obviously wanted that painting from my house. The Monet that Agnes mentioned on that video. He was just using me.”