Page 3 of Catnapped

The man’s size alone is intimidating. Now add in the grumpy expression and his irritation and it makes him more so. I’m not sure what to make of him, but I’ve never been great at reading people. Cats, sure. I even get along okay with dogs, but not with people. I perform even worse with people of the opposite sex. They aren’t typically cat people.

“Yes, my cat!” Mrs. Farrol pulls out a silk-embroidered handkerchief to blot under her eyes. I don’t see any tears, but I can tell she’s distressed. I can’t blame her. I would feel the same exact way if I had a furbaby who went missing.

“That cat?” Carson snaps again, pointing his broken pen at the painting. A drop of ink falls onto the rug, which likely cost morethan my life. Mrs. Farrol is too upset to notice. I just hope he doesn’t point out that it's not the cutest cat. That would be rude.

Sadly, it’s not even the kind that is so ugly that it ends up cute. It really only has a face that a mother can love. I keep all those thoughts to myself. I learned early on to keep things to myself. Or try to soften them for pet owners. They can be quite irrational.

“Of course, my cat! Who else?” Mrs. Farrol clutches the handkerchief to her chest. Her face starts to flush. Carson stands up. I quickly realize he’s not worried about the cat. By the looks of it, I would say he’s about to leave. I am equally certain that Mrs. Farrol is on the brink of a stroke.

“It’s going to be okay.” I try to reassure her. I reach out and grab Carson’s forearm. I can’t even wrap my fingers all the way around it. The man really is a freaking beast. He’s going to scare off every cat within miles. We’ll need to get some catnip and put it in his pockets. Not that I think he’ll voluntarily let me. I’ll have to find a way to sneak it in.

Carson’s eyes drop to where my hand is trying to wrap around his arm. I give him a squeeze. He flicks his gaze at me. I give him a pleading look. I need this job. It alone could save the shelter. There’s no way I can turn it down. Even if I had to take a plane to get here, not that I’m complaining. It was a fancy, private one that Mrs. Farrol sent for me. She’d found me on TikTok. She was pleading with me to come and help her find her missing cat. At first, I was skeptical of the whole thing but also desperate enough to take her up on her offer.

Please, I mouth to Carson. He slowly sits back down. “See, Mrs. Farrol? He’s only worked up. I mean, a cat is missing, after all.” Ilet go of his arm to pat his thigh. I stop and feel it, rubbing it. It’s hard as a rock. I give it a poke.

“May.” He growls my name, making me jerk my hand back.

“Sorry.” Heat rushes to my face. What is wrong with me? Was I petting him? I’ve been hanging out with cats too much. I’m losing it.

“I know. Seeing how adorable he is.” Mrs. Farrol motions toward the painting. "And knowing such a gorgeous cat is missing must be hard for you, too." She sniffles. “I’m being selfish. That’s the thing about my darling baby; he’s a joy to be shared with the world, you know?”

“Of course.” I shake my head, but I stop when I realize I'm shaking it no and not yes. Did I mention that I’m a terrible liar? It makes a lot of situations really awkward for me. Carson’s lips twitch, and I know he’s busted my lie. I try to shoot a glare at him. It does nothing.

“I want to be clear. This is all over a cat?” His deep voice sends a shiver through my body.

“As in, another isn’t missing. Just the one, right?” I quickly add to Carson's question so Mrs. Farrol doesn't catch on to how uninterested and annoyed he is. She’d spoken so highly of the man she was hiring to assist me. That we must work together. If she gives him the boot, she might do the same to me.

“Oh gosh, no. Just my sweet baby.” She tucks her handkerchief back in. “Not that it matters. Mousey is the only other cat around here. She’s harder to get rid of than a case of the clap." Mrs. Farrol scrunches her nose at the mention of said cat.

“Mousey?” I repeat. One cat is named His Royal Highness Fitzroy Windsor St. John FuzzyBottom IV, while the other is called plain old Mousey? You don’t have to be psychic to see there’s some favoritism going on around here.

“Yes, she showed up a few months ago.” She waves her hand dismissively. "Fitzroy Windsor was enamored with her. She’d stretch out on the back patio like a harlot. Fitzroy Windsor would sit at the back door and watch her. He wouldn’t come to bed. I had to let her in. She’s always catching and killing mice. Hmm.” Mrs. Farrol smiles for the first time. “Maybe this would be a good time to get rid of her. Send her packing to the pound like the hussy deserves.”

“No! Don’t do that!” I jump up. “I’ll take her. Maybe she could be of help.” It’s not a total lie. I’m not going to let Miss Princess Mousey be tossed to the curb. Yes, I named her princess. If Mrs. Farrol’s other cat gets to be His Royal Highness Fitzroy Windsor St. John FuzzyBottom IV, she gets to be Miss Princess Mousey.

“She could help you find my precious darling? All right. We might finally get something of use out of that floozy.” That perks her up.

“The other cat can be helpful?” Carson's expression is skeptical, one dark eyebrow raised as he looks at me sidelong. I’m used to it. People always doubt my skills, but in time, he will see what I mean.

“Yes.” As if she knows we’re talking about her, the princess comes trotting into the room. She’s beautiful. A pure white fluffy ball with a mouse in her mouth. She drops it. When the mouse makes a dead run across the room, I lift up my feet. Mrs. Farrol lets out a scream.

Mousey plops down. Her job–terrorizing Mrs. Farrol–is complete for the day. She’s going to be a handful.

Purrfect.

3

CARSON

“What is this?” I hold my hands up as a cat jumps into my lap. She’s a fluffy white thing with just the smallest hint of blood in her whiskers.

“A terror.” Mrs. Farrol sniffs, her gaze on the floor where the mouse disappeared under some furniture. “That’s what.”

“Oh, she likes you.” May scratches the cat behind its ears.

It starts purring and settles more fully onto my lap.

“Down,” I tell it. “Get down.”

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