Mr. and Mrs. Bunny—Detectives Extraordinaire! (18 page)

“I think I can assure you, I will always call you stupid marmot,” said Mr. Bunny.

“But how did you find me?” asked Madeline to Mr. and Mrs. Bunny.

“AND,” The Marmot interrupted, “I got hundreds of friends to help me capture you and carry you here. That's a marmot
community for you. Won't find that kind of community spirit with rabbits.”

“Hundreds?” said Mr. Bunny skeptically.

“Well, sixteen,” said The Marmot, starting in on another piece of garlic bread.

“Oh, shut up, you ridiculous Marmot,” said Mr. Bunny, who had had enough. “Mrs. Bunny and I got to the pit, and when we saw all the branches about, we realized that they had covered it and used it to trap you, Madeline. We were looking for foxes, of course, but what we found was an unusually high concentration of marmot fur. Marmots are always shedding.”

“Aren't,” said The Marmot.

“We knew that if The Marmot was hiding you, it would have to be somewhere you could fit, which would rule out their holes.”

“We thought you might still be down in the deep snake-pitty hole,” said Mrs. Bunny. “I was all set to leap down and stomp those snakes with my floppy feet when Mr. Bunny had an
idea
!”

“Yes,” said Mr. Bunny. “I
looked
in the hole. It was quite deep but not so deep you could not see to the bottom. There
was no Madeline to be seen. And no snakes either.” He paused a second and gave Mrs. Bunny a look.

“There very well might have been,” said Mrs. Bunny primly.

Mr. Bunny gave her another look as if to suggest that it was a great trial to be on constant idiot patrol and then went on. “Then I thought, where would The Marmot go? What is The Marmot's favorite place on earth?”

“The Olde Spaghetti Factory,” said Madeline.

“Precisely. We circled the building. They happened to be delivering cans of sauce as we arrived. They were sending cartons down this big chute, and we figured that was how The Marmot got you in, so we slid down the chute and hopped about until we found the room where they store the garlic bread. There sat The Marmot and a couple of pals chewing their way through a carton of it. It was the work of a moment to persuade them to show us where they had hidden you.”

“Poor dear,” said Mrs. Bunny. “You must have been so frightened. Don't you ever go off on your own like that again.”

“Well, anyhow, you're safe now,” said Mr. Bunny, leading Madeline toward the door. “They've all eaten so much garlic bread they couldn't defend their fortress of carbohydrates even if they wanted to.”

“But where are Flo and Mildred?”

“Who's that? Who's that?” asked The Marmot.

Madeline's heart sank. If the note to meet the enemy by the cliff edge had nothing to do with Flo and Mildred, she was no closer to finding them than she'd ever been, and yet more time had been wasted.

“I suggest we all go home. And YOU!” said Mr. Bunny, turning to The Marmot and shaking his fist. “What do you have to say about
that
?”

“I was only kidding anyway,” said The Marmot, who had finished his garlic bread and was now embroiled in a fight over which button to push next on the voice-disguising box and didn't even notice when the Bunnys and Madeline left.

When they got back to the hutch, it was dark. Madeline had had very little sleep the night before, and despite the fact that she wanted to set right out again to find Flo and Mildred, Mrs. Bunny made her go to bed.

“Listen, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny gently, tucking her in, “tomorrow is another day. Get some sleep. As long as the foxes don't know where your uncle lives, your parents should still be safe.”

Madeline wanted to stay awake, but her eyes kept drooping.
She was fast asleep before Mrs. Bunny could turn off the light.

Mrs. Bunny tiptoed out. Mr. Bunny was waiting for her.

“It does not look good for Flo and Mildred,” he whispered.

“At least as long as Madeline is with us,
she
will be safe,” Mrs. Bunny whispered back.

“Tomorrow is her graduation,” said Mr. Bunny.

“I very much fear she will want to skip it in order to look for her parents,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“Dear, dear,” said Mr. Bunny. “Let's go inside and give our brains a rest. There must be a clue we have somehow missed. In books there always is. I feel sure that if we turn our attention to soothing pursuits, this clue will suddenly leap out at us!”

“We still have the word
rubber
,” Mrs. Bunny reminded him.

“Ah!” said Mr. Bunny.

Mr. and Mrs. Bunny went inside and settled in front of the fire. Mr. Bunny picked up his article on things that explode, and Mrs. Bunny began lining a bonnet with rubber. She had a box of them she had brought home from the meeting and she hadn't had time to get to any of them yet.

“Oh my goodness, I am tired,” she said. “Between the bonnet trimming and the detecting, I am quite done in, and I need
to finish these before bed. I hope Mrs. Treaclebunny doesn't show up at our door tonight. I would like to put on my jammies, have a quiet supper and go to bed without speaking to any other bunnies.”

“Excepting myself,” said Mr. Bunny.

“Always excepting yourself.”

“Ah, well, I have been thinking about that, Mrs. Bunny, and here is my idea. We put a pile of everything that Mrs. Treaclebunny could possibly ever want to borrow outside our door along with a plate of dinner and then we post a sign saying ‘Help yourself.' She need never ring the bell and we can have a peaceful uninterrupted evening. And maybe
then
I can solve the rubber clue.”

“Mr. Bunny, sometimes I think you are a genius!” said Mrs. Bunny, clasping her paws over her heart.

“When do you not think I'm a genius?” asked Mr. Bunny in dismay.

And that is what they did. They piled lawn mowers, Kleenex, left-handed corkscrews, saltines, Ping-Pong balls, snow cones, DVDs, soy hot dogs, small bars of shell-shaped guest soaps and many more things outside the door in one glorious pile. Mrs Bunny put a foil-wrapped paper plate of carrot
and onion loaf next to it. She worried that it wouldn't stay warm, but Mr. Bunny suggested that Mrs. Treaclebunny probably had a microwave like everyone else. Mrs. Bunny said but what if she didn't and worried and worried until finally she wrote a little Post-it that said,
Place in 325 degree oven for half an hour. A tablespoon of water in the pan will keep it moist
.

Then they settled back in their chairs and Mr. Bunny continued reading aloud:

“ ‘Many new exploding things can be found in common household materials, although some, such as the following, are for industrial, not common household exploding: industrial plastics, industrial fiberglasses, industrial laminates …' ”

“They certainly like the word
industrial
,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“How else would you describe something from industry?”

“I don't know, but I can't help thinking they could find a less tiresome word.”

“ ‘… And industrial rubber.' ” And here Mr. Bunny stopped. He put the magazine down. Mrs. Bunny looked up. He wasn't moving. She stopped sewing and watched him interestedly to see if he was perhaps going to have a fit of some kind. His mouth was a perfect O.

Finally, when it became clear that he wasn't going to do
anything conclusively sensational, she sighed disappointedly and said, “Mr. Bunny, spit it out.”

“I had a thought, but now it's gone. But never mind, because, oh, my ears and whiskers, what is that horrible smell exuding from your direction? Have you begun to rot, Mrs. Bunny?”

“Oh no, Mr. Bunny, I'm afraid it's just the rubber lining I've brought home to put in these bonnets. You see, we were left with bolts of it by some anonymous donor. It was a generous if smelly gesture. It will keep everyone's head dry if it rains. I wouldn't bother with the linings myself, but our hat club president insists.”

“Well, it's going to be a smelly parade, is all I can say. I hope the prince brought nose plugs.”

“Speaking of which, could you drive to the hat shoppe in the morning while I make breakfast and let Mrs. Ruskeebunny know that I will not be with them on one of the Greyhound buses? Could you take her the finished bonnets as well? Tell her we will meet the other bunnies there if we are able to find Flo and Mildred first.”

“Of course. In the meantime, let's go to bed. I'm sure the Case of the Word
Rubber
will solve itself in my dreams.”

“In your dreams, is right,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“Mrs. Bunny, if I did not know you better, I would think you were being unkind.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Bunny, I'm so excited that you're about to crack the case that I can hardly concentrate.”

“You can hardly concentrate anyway, Mrs. Bunny. Now let's go to bed.”

But once in bed, Mr. Bunny was kept awake by Mrs. Bunny's twitching feet.

“What in the world is the matter with you?” asked Mr. Bunny.

“I am worried about Mrs. Treaclebunny. She has not knocked on the door, and I am afraid she is sitting all alone in her hutch, unsuppered, unlended and unloved. She probably never has any real meals. Maybe she doesn't even have a stove, just a few crackers by the bed.”

“She has an
ocean view
,” said Mr. Bunny, and promptly fell asleep.

 PUSHING THE PANIC BUTTON 

M
r. Bunny hopped out the door early.

“Where is he going?” asked Madeline.

“Um, he needs a furcut,” said Mrs. Bunny. “In the midst of detecting and other, um, important things, it is important to remember to stay well groomed.”

The Bunnys had agreed not to tell Madeline that Mrs. Bunny might miss her parade in order to find Flo and Mildred. Madeline had obviously forgotten that today was the graduation and the parade of bonnets in front of Prince Charles. The Bunnys felt it better not to mention that either.

“Let's make pancakes outside on the barbecue!” said Mrs. Bunny, trying to distract her.

“But won't they fall through the grill?” asked Madeline.

“That's just what makes it so challenging!” said Mrs. Bunny, and went inside to whip up some batter.

Mr. Bunny sped down the road. He didn't even bother to find parking but abandoned the car on Main Street and ran to the hat shoppe. He couldn't wait to drop off the bonnets and go back to find Flo and Mildred. Today was sure to be the day, and afterward they could watch Madeline win her awards!

The shoppe was locked, and while he waited for Mrs. Ruskeebunny to come and open it, he peered in the window. All those rubber-lined bonnets. Something that had been niggling at the back of his brain suddenly came to the forefront. Rubber! The word from the file card that The Marmot remembered.
Exploding
rubber! The article! Little bunny heads exploding all over the place. Could this be the work of foxes? Perhaps the very foxes who had kidnapped Flo and Mildred?
There was no time to puzzle this out. Action was called for! Mrs. Bunny never put two and two together, but she did not have his big detecting brain. Her own was the size of a kidney bean. Wasn't this smelly rubber they were lining the bonnets with
industrial
? The same kind of rubber that
The Scientific Bunny
claimed exploded? Someone was going to have to save all these bunnies from unsuspected carnage. It was HE! No mere detective he, but
SUPERbunny
! How he wished he had time to put on a cape. But there was not a moment to lose!

Mr. Bunny found a rock and broke the glass in the front door, reached in and unlocked it from the inside. Once inside, he began ripping bonnets to pieces as quickly as he could. Sequins and ribbons flew everywhere. It was the only way! Those lovely lady bunnies wouldn't become furry fireworks. Not on his watch!

Using scissors and his teeth and claws, he destroyed nearly every bonnet in the shoppe. It was necessary work at first, and then he discovered he rather liked it. Perhaps someday he would teach a course in it.