The No. 2 Feline Detective Agency Read Free

our strict rodent control policy, she decided to get off the bus, as she put it, before things got any worse.She was a top model before she embraced the bottling plant, I believe.’
    Hettie found herself dozing off in the September sunshine, and only the thought of Poppa waiting patiently in Sheba Gardens kept her sufficiently alert to make the correct noises. Marcia Woolcoat battled on with her story. ‘Once the procedure was complete, the bodies were prepared for burial by Nurse Mogadon. As they had signed up for our five-star service, Oralia Claw, our local beautician, gave them a final makeover – hair, nails, jewellery, etcetera. The clients were then laid to rest in their bespoke caskets, surrounded by the little treasures that had meant so much to them in life. That, I might add, was an idea I came up with after visiting a Pharaoh cat’s tomb on one of my educational forays into the unknown, and it serves the practical purpose of clearing away the old to make way for the new.’ Hettie was getting used to Marcia Woolcoat’s logic, and she had to admire her creative approach to getting rid of unwanted personal effects in readiness for new clients and their clutter. ‘The open caskets were displayed in the dining room during lunch, when residents added small tokens of sustenance to equip the departed for their journey to the Elysian Fields. Then they were taken back to the departure suite, where they were screwed down and borne gently to the burial ground. The staff and residents gathered for a final farewell before Digger Patch filled them in, so to speak.’
    ‘Digger Patch? Isn’t he that old TV gardener turned romantic novelist?’ interrupted Hettie, knowing he had been on Tilly’s reading list for years.
    ‘Yes, that’s right. His publisher turned the last book down on grounds of obscenity, so he booked himself into Furcross on the understanding that he would be in charge of the gardens. He helps out with all the burials, digs the graves and fills them in. He’s marvellous for his age. Anyway, where did I get to? Oh yes, after the graveside farewells we all trooped back to the dining room for tea, leaving Mr Patch to do the final interments. Marley had put on a lovely spread in accordance with Vita and Virginia’s final wishes, and Marilyn Repel – one of the residents – gave a medley of show tunes on the piano. We were all cleared away and settled to the TV news by six.’
    Hettie wondered if a blow-by-blow account of the average evening at Furcross was about to unfold, and headed Marcia Woolcoat off at the pass. ‘Who discovered the bodies were missing, and when?’
    ‘It was Tuesday lunchtime. Nola – that’s Nola Ledge, our retired schoolmistress – was taking flowers to her sister Dolly’s grave when she noticed the mounds of earth beside the new plots. It gave her such a turn that she ran slap bang into Digger Patch’s wheelbarrow. I was summoned immediately, and after seeing for myself that the new graves were empty, I called the residents and staff together and ordered Marley Toketo serve lunch to give me time to decide what to do. By tea, one of our clients had left and two more were making arrangements to go, and Marley – seeing my distress – suggested I call you in.’
    With all the talk of lunches and teas, Hettie realised that it was some time since she had put away the Butters’ pie of the day. As the missing cats were already dead and tomorrow was another day, she could afford time to think before making her next move. Her head was full of questions, mostly about what Tilly had planned for their supper, and she took leave of Marcia Woolcoat, promising to return in the morning to talk to the residents. She collected her best work mac from the peg in the hallway, then made her way out to Sheba Gardens and the safe haven of the transit van.
    Poppa listened as Hettie brought him up to speed on the first ever No. 2 Feline Detective Agency case, this time with the handbrake off.