Page 1 of The Case of the Vanishing Valuables

Chapter

One

There were two things you could always count on: humans making messes and me, Earl Clawson, cleaning them up. Not that they realized it, of course. They never did.

Take Ray, for instance. My so-called partner. Right then, he was hunched over his desk, scowling at the crossword puzzle like it owed him money.

“Seven across: ‘Sharp-witted detective,’” he muttered, scratching his head. “Six letters...”

I rolled my eyes from my spot on the windowsill.Come on, Ray, there are a lot of options. Holmes, Poirot...

He muttered under his breath, scribbled something down, then paused to rub his chin like he was deep in thought. “Marple?”

The phone rang, and Ray jumped like someone had slapped him. He fumbled with the receiver before finally picking it up.

“Ray Leonard, private investigator,” he said, putting on his professional voice, which always sounded like he was trying too hard. “Yeah, that’s me.”

I tilted my head, curious. Not much happened in this sleepy town, but occasionally, something interesting popped up.

Ray’s expression changed. “Uh-huh... missing valuables? A bunch of ’em, you say?”

I hopped down from the window and sat beside Ray’s desk, eyeing the receiver with more interest. Missing valuables? Well, well. This might have been worth staying awake for.

He scratched his head again. “Yeah, I mean, we can definitely help with that. Where’d you say this is?”

His face brightened, and he looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Tranquility Terrace Retirement Home? Yeah, we can be there this afternoon. No problem. What’s your name again? Mrs. Hargrove? Right. Got it.”

I blinked. Tranquility Terrace? A retirement home? My tail flicked. I had hoped for something with more intrigue—maybe a jewel heist. Instead, we got stolen dentures.

Ray hung up the phone and turned to me, grinning like he had just solved the case of the century.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a job, Earl,” he said, stretching out in his chair. “Apparently, someone’s been swiping valuables from the residents at Tranquility Terrace. Jewelry, heirlooms, that sort of thing. And get this—they have no idea how the thief’s getting into the rooms. Doors locked, windows sealed. No sign of forced entry.”

I arched an eyebrow of my own. That did sound interesting. And suspect.

Ray continued, oblivious to my deep thoughts. “Could be an inside job. Or a ghost,” he added with a laugh.

Or maybe the residents are just forgetful, and there’s nothing going on at all, I thought as I leapt onto his desk and sat, fixing him with my most unimpressed stare.

He grinned like we were on the same page. “All right, partner. Let’s head out. Tranquility Terrace awaits.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.Sure, Ray. Like you even knew what page we were on.

I hopped down and headed for the door, tail held high. Whether it was at a retirement home or not, I was ready for this case. If someone was pulling a fast one on a bunch of old folks, we were going to find out who—and I was going to leave a hairball in their favorite shoes. Or, at least, I’d do the heavy lifting while Ray fumbled around, pretending he was Sherlock.

Typical.

Chapter

Two

You know what’s even more boring than a retirement home? A retirement home in broad daylight. No creaky floors, no flickering lights. Just the smell of old carpet and faint echoes of soap operas.

Ray pulled into the parking lot, humming along to some tune on the radio like he wasn’t about to spend the afternoon investigating missing valuables. Me? I was already three steps ahead, trying to figure out how I’d stay awake through this one.

“Here we are,” Ray announced, much too enthusiastically. “Tranquility Terrace. Looks… uh, cozy, right?”

“Cozy” wasn’t the word. The place was an old Victorian, with chipped paint and creaky charm. If you squinted, you could almost see the building’s former grandeur peeking through the wear. I hopped out of the car, stretched, and took in the scene. Neatly trimmed hedges. Rows of white rocking chairs on the porch. A suspicious lack of life.

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