The Case of the Missing Cats (7 page)

Dirk awoke from a terrible dream. He couldn't remember the details but he was left with a feeling of cold dread. He forced his heavy eyelids open and found himself staring up at his own ceiling.

He looked around. He was slumped in the corner of his office on the mattress where he normally slept. How had he got there? Waking up with no memory of the previous night was not entirely unheard of but it usually coincided with having drunk three bottles of pure, undiluted orange squash. He didn't recall having hit the concentrate last night, though.

Last night
, he thought,
what happened last night?

His office door swung open and Holly strode in,
her arms piled high with newspapers. Seeing Dirk she squealed, ‘Dirk, you're all right,' dropped the newspapers and threw her arms round the dragon's neck. Never having been hugged before Dirk wasn't sure how to react. He reached out his forepaw and awkwardly patted Holly's back. Sensing his embarrassment, Holly withdrew and knelt down to pick up the newspapers.

‘I'm so glad you're OK,' she said. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up.'

‘Why? How long have I been out?'

‘Three days,' replied Holly.

Dirk crawled on all fours across the room and settled behind his desk. ‘What happened to me?' he asked.

‘Don't you remember?' replied Holly. ‘You rescued the cats then you passed out.'

‘The cats, yes, that's right. I swam out, something was holding on to the crate. I bit into it then it all went black.'

‘What do you mean, something was holding on to it? Like what?' asked Holly.

‘I don't know, but whatever it was tasted pretty bad. Was your cat in the crate?'

‘Yes, you saved Willow. Thank you so much. She
means more to me than anything. I can pay you. I've got some money saved.'

‘That's great, kiddo, but right now I'm more interested in how I got myself across London unconscious? That sounds pretty impressive even for me.'

‘I got Mrs Klingerflim to come and pick us up.'

‘Mrs Klingerflim . . .' started Dirk anxiously.

‘Don't worry. She doesn't know,' interrupted Holly. ‘She really is blind. The scariest roller coaster in the world has nothing on a short road trip with that woman. I told her you were ill and she gave me this home-made medicine.' Holly held up a bottle of distinctly dubious-looking brown liquid and handed it to Dirk.

Dirk opened the bottle and sniffed cautiously.

‘Apparently it used to work wonders on her poor Ivor,' said Holly.

Dirk lifted it to his mouth and sipped. It tasted revolting, like boiled cabbage and sewage.

‘Eurgh!' he said. ‘It's no wonder the poor man died.'

Holly laughed.

‘Well,' he said, putting the bottle down. ‘I guess I owe you one. Thanks. But, if you've got your cat then the case is closed. Why are you still around?'

‘Closed? It's far from closed. Look at these.' She slammed the pile of the papers on the desk between them.

Dirk reached out a paw, twisted the top paper round and read out loud, ‘“Allotment owners complain of stolen vegetables. ‘It's a case of bean and gone,' said allotment owner, Len Cooper”'

‘The story above that,' said Holly impatiently. Dirk read:

CAT-ASTROPHE

Police flummoxed by the mass disappearance of pet cats in London.

The second paper read:

CAT BURGLARS STRIKE AGAIN

Londoners board up their cat flaps as cat theft increases by 340%.

And another:

CAT-CH ME IF YOU CAN

Cat thieves continue to evade the authorities as more moggies go missing.

‘We rescued those cats, but there's loads more still missing. I heard those two crooks say it was their fourth time down to the river. What's happened to the poor cats in the other three crates? What are they doing with them?'

‘I don't know,' replied Dirk. ‘Have you gone to the police?'

‘The police? No way. This is our case,' replied Holly. ‘Look, I'll tell you what I've found out . . .'

‘No,' interrupted Dirk, remembering the resolution he had made while swimming in the Thames. ‘This isn't our case. It's my case. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, kiddo, I really am . . .'

‘What? For saving your life?'

‘Yeah, for that,' said Dirk. ‘But I can't let you get involved. You're only a kid and you're only a human. I suggest you go home, board up your cat flap and hold on to Willow, but this isn't your case any more.'

Holly stared angrily at Dirk. ‘Not my case? If it wasn't for me you'd still be lying by the Thames or possibly in it.'

‘It's for your own good.'

‘How do you know anything about my own good?' Holly stared intently into his large, yellow eyes.

Dirk glanced around his office. There was something odd about it. It took him a moment to work out what. It was tidy. In fact, it was more than tidy. It was clean. All the empty baked-bean tins and bottles of orange squash had been thrown away, the newspapers piled neatly into a corner and the details of previous cases had been picked up and actually filed in the filing cabinet. The broken desk had been propped up on old phone directories. Tentatively he pulled open a desk drawer. The paperclips, pens and pencils had all been sorted into different colours. The drawer had even been lined with floral paper. He lowered his nose and sniffed. It was even worse than he had thought. It was scented paper.

‘How much time have you spent here?' he asked.

‘I've been here every day,' replied Holly, ‘working on the case.'

‘And what about school? What about your parents?'

‘Oh, don't worry about them,' said Holly casually.

‘And yet I find I am worried. Look, kiddo, I don't want any trouble and if you keep sneaking off here instead of going to school that's exactly what you'll attract.'

‘My parents think I am going to school.'

‘And what about your school?'

‘They think I'm at home with the flu. I do an amazing impression of my dad's wife, if I do say so myself.'

‘And they don't suspect a thing?'

‘I've done it before. I've been to quite a few schools in my time. I know the systems.'

‘How many schools?'

‘One . . . two . . . three . . .' Holly counted out on her fingers. ‘Four . . . five schools,' she announced proudly.

‘Right,' said Dirk. ‘And if you're so good at this, why do you keep getting expelled?'

‘I wasn't expelled from all of them. The first one I had to leave because we moved down to London. Dad was working here a lot. He's a politician. He works in the Ministry of Defence, and his big-haired wife was worried that he might start playing up if left to his own devices. So we moved down to join him. That was the only school I liked.'

‘But you were expelled from the other four?'

‘Three. This is my fifth now. Anyway, they're bound to find out some time, but I've only just started this one, so I reckon I've got a good few months before either of them figure it out. Honestly, my parents don't really care what I do as long as I stay out of
their way.'

‘Listen, I'm not a child counsellor and I'm not an educational psychologist and if you want to mess up your own education and never learn to read or write . . .'

‘I can read and write very well, thanks, and do maths and art and science and I'm teaching myself the trumpet. I just get my education from places other than school.'

‘Again, you're confusing me with someone who gives a rat's bandana. I really don't care what you do with your life, but you're not getting involved with this case.'

Holly looked down and placed her head in her hands and began to wail, but Dirk instantly interrupted her. ‘And don't think that's going to work again,' he said sternly.

Holly stopped dead, looked up, her eyes dry and clear, and said, ‘I've got information.'

‘What information?'

‘Like who owns the warehouse.'

‘The warehouse? How did you . . .'

‘I told you, I get my education from places other than school. I heard those crooks talking about a Mr G. I did a little research and I think I know what the
G stands for.'

‘And?'

‘Are we partners, then?' asked Holly pulling out a piece of paper.

‘Give me that,' said Dirk, reaching out to grab it. Holly whipped it away quickly.

‘Partners?' she said, maintaining eye contact.

Dirk stared into the girl's brown eyes. He could easily take the paper from her by force, but it just didn't seem right. She had saved his life. She had been both brave and resourceful back at the river and now she had found a vital clue. And he was already too far behind with the case, having spent the last three days unconscious. He bowed his head and muttered, ‘OK.'

‘I'm sorry?' smiled Holly. ‘I can't hear you?'

‘OK,' said Dirk louder, ‘but just this case. And you do what I say, all right?'

‘Absolutely,' said Holly.

‘And you're still the most annoying human I've ever met.'

Holly stretched out her spare hand and Dirk met her with his paw. They shook and, with a triumphant look upon her face, Holly passed over the document.

Dirk grabbed the piece of paper and read. The property was owned by a Mr V. Grandin. The name rang a bell, but it wasn't a big bell like the one you heard before the news at ten. It was softer, like the sort of bell an old lady might have on a bicycle, quiet but persistent enough to nag at you.

‘The warehouse is registered under the company name of Gronkong Shinard Plc,' said Holly. ‘I checked your previous cases while I was filing them. You haven't got any record of a Gronkong Shinard. I called Company House, where they keep a record of all registered companies in the country, but they didn't have any other information on it. Grandin is also a bit
of a mystery. He's not listed in the phone book. And there's no mention of him on the Internet.'

‘Good research,' said Dirk, trying not to sound too impressed, ‘But this case calls for some good old-fashioned groundwork.' He grabbed a large coat and hat from the hat stand behind the door. ‘Sorry, kiddo, can't take you on this one.'

‘But we're partners,' said Holly. ‘That means doing everything together.'

‘Sorry,' replied Dirk. ‘There are some places I just can't take you.'

‘That's fine,' said Holly, picking up a phone directory, opening it up and lifting the receiver.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Hiring a detective to follow you,' she replied, dialling a number.

Dirk whipped out his tail and knocked the phone off the table, yanking the receiver out of Holly's hand. It landed heavily on the floor.

Holly pulled out some change from her pocket. ‘I'll just go and use the phone box,' she said.

Dirk scowled at her. He growled at her. Black smoke billowed from his nostrils but the brown-haired, brown-eyed girl just smiled back at him defiantly. He looked away in frustration then up in
thought. The trail of smoke from his nose turned light grey and took shape, forming into a dragon's head.

‘I guess as long as no one else sees her . . .' Dirk muttered to himself. ‘The Shade-Hugger isn't stupid enough to say anything . . . not with everything that I've got on him . . .' The smoke dragon dissipated and Dirk said to Holly, ‘All right, but it's at your own risk.'

Holly put the phone back on the desk. ‘Great,' she said, grinning.

Dirk looked at the clock. The big hand was pointing to the right, the small hand, downwards. He scratched his head.

‘It's a quarter past six,' said Holly helpfully.

‘I knew that,' he snapped. ‘Here,' he said, throwing the hat and coat at Holly.