Page 7 of The Case of the Vanishing Valuables

Ray followed Martha’s gaze to Gina, his brow furrowing, but before he could say anything, Martha seized the moment and leaned in closer, lowering her voice even further. “Now, why don’t you come inspect my room? Maybe there’s a clue in there.” She gave a knowing nod as if she were letting Ray in on some great secret.

“All right, lead the way,” Ray said.

Martha wasted no time, turning on her heel and gliding down the hallway with Ray and me in tow.

Chapter

Six

The rest of the afternoon was spent looking in the rooms of those who had items stolen. Each room seemed to carry its own story—a faint scent of old cologne here, a carefully arranged stack of books there, and the lingering unease of violated privacy. We left Tranquility Terrace with more questions than answers. Ray was lost in his own thoughts, eyes narrowed in concentration as he drove us back to his place. I, on the other hand, had only one thought—food.

The moment we walked through the front door of Ray’s small ranch-style house, I made a beeline for the kitchen. The place was a typical bachelor pad—just the basics: a beat-up sofa, a TV that looked like it had survived the nineties, and a kitchen table that wobbled if you so much as looked at it funny.

Ray tossed his notebook onto the counter, oblivious to my attempts to get his attention with increasingly exaggerated head bumps and vocal protests. I sat by my empty food bowl, looking up at him with the kind of deep, soulful gaze that would guilt anyone into action. Well, anyone except Ray when he was deep in thought.

“This place is full of suspects, but I can’t figure out who did it,” he muttered, pacing the small kitchen. “It could be prettymuch anyone... I guess I should look for a motive. Who needed the money?”

I flicked my tail.Ray. Focus. The bowl’s not going to fill itself.

He didn’t notice. Instead, he grabbed a leftover sandwich from the fridge, plopped down at the kitchen table, and chewed thoughtfully as he stared at his notebook. I sat in front of him, waiting for him to realize he wasn’t the only one in this house who needed to eat.

This is it, I thought, sitting up straighter, staring directly at him. The eyes of desperation. The silent plea.Look at me, Ray. Come on. Just look down and see the face of a starving?—

Ray sighed, his shoulders slumping as he scratched his head. His brow furrowed in frustration. “No forced entry, no witnesses… How are they getting in?”

I leapt onto the table, plopped down in front of his notebook, and gave him an annoyed meow, staring pointedly at my empty bowl. Finally, Ray blinked at me like he was seeing me for the first time all night.

“Oh. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.

He grinned sheepishly and stood up. “Sorry, Earl. I’ll get your dinner.”

About time.I hopped off the table and followed him as he opened a can of wet food. The savory aroma filled the kitchen. Right after Ray set the bowl down, I dug in, the case momentarily forgotten. Let Ray chew over his theories for now. I had more important matters to attend to.

While I ate, Ray went back to pacing. “There’s something I’m missing. It’s right there, but I can’t figure it out. Maybe a change of scenery will help clear my head. I know what I need. I need some strong coffee. Let’s go to Purr & Pour.”

I paused mid-bite, my ears perking up at the name. Purr & Pour was the local cat cafe. Now, that was a place I could get behind—good coffee for Ray and maybe some extra treats for me. Tonight might not be so bad after all.

Chapter

Seven

Iloved Purr & Pour. The humans thought it was a place for bonding over coffee and treats, but really, it was where we cats came to socialize. Ray could think what he liked, but this cafe was my spot, and I was the one running the show around here.

Ray ordered his usual black coffee with enough sugar to send anyone into a coma. I strolled over to my favorite perch on the windowsill and let the sunlight warm my fur. The place was buzzing today—cats lounging everywhere, pretending they had important lives to attend to.

From my spot, I surveyed the room. Delilah, a Siamese who thought she was Cleopatra reincarnated, was sprawled across her human’s lap like royalty, barely flicking an ear in acknowledgment of the world around her. Muffin, the chubby Persian, was already half asleep, no doubt dreaming of schemes she’d never have the energy to pull off. And Ella—well, she was batting at a toy mouse like it was a deadly weapon. Cute but not the sharpest claw in the paw.

Ray finally sat down with his coffee, the aroma of which mixed with the rustle of notebook pages as he flipped through them, grumbling like an old radiator. “Locked doors, no forcedentry... How’s someone getting in, Earl? I need to solve this before Mrs. Hargrove calls the cops.”

Oh, she was going to call the cops, Ray. It was just a matter of when. And we both knew who was going to walk through that door when she did—Viv. This wasn’t just about the case, and you knew it. You didn’t want to look like you needed Viv to solve it.

The cafe door jingled, and I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The air shifted, and sure enough, in strutted Bart. He had that swagger, all puffed-up ginger fur and too much confidence for someone whose human was too busy scrolling on his phone to notice him.

Bart made a beeline for me, his green eyes darting around like he was casing the joint. “Earl!” he chirped, hopping onto the windowsill beside me. “Didn’t expect to see you here—meow. What’s new in detective land? Heard you and your human are working on something big—meow.”

I flicked my tail, pretending not to care. “Still on that case at Tranquility Terrace. Missing valuables. Not exactly a jewel heist, but it keeps Ray busy.”

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