Page 149 of Sextuplet and the City

I must speak with him now. I’ll burst if I don’t.

I type out a message to Blue to ask if she can locate him using her spy juju. Thanks to auto-correct, the text reads as:

Can you citrate Art musing his lumber?

Somehow, she understands me because she replies with:

I’ll need some time.

Grunting in frustration, I call Mom.

“Namaste, sunshine,” she says. “Are you—”

“Mom, where is Art?” I demand.

“I have no idea,” she says. “After you left, your father and I booked a hotel and moved into it before Art came home. We didn’t want to be in the middle of a—”

“Thank you. Talk soon.” I hang up.

Well, that was a dead end, and Blue hasn’t come through.

Leaping to my feet, I say, “I’m going home. He’s probably there.”

“I’m coming with,” Honey says.

I shake my head. “I’ve got this. I’ll let you know what happens after it happens.”

She gives me a crisp salute. “Go get him.”

I stick my nose filters back in. “I plan to.”

* * *

When I rush into our place, there’s no sign of Art anywhere.

I walk over to Fluffer’s mansion, and the little guy looks at me warily.

Why do you look and smell like a grumpy cat? Are you finally going to eat me?

The good news is that the chinchilla has been fed recently, so Art did get home last night.

I grab my phone off the charger and call him.

Voicemail.

I text him.

Nothing.

I text Blue to see if she finally knows where he is.

No reply.

I sprint into Art’s office and use the “Baryshnikov” password again.

Okay, I’m in. Now what?

Oh, I know. I type in “find my phone” and click the first link that pops up.

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