Myriah assembled her team in the backyard. She stood in front of Jamie and Gabbie and said once more, “We have a missing kitten. His name is Tigger. It’s our job to find him. Are you ready for that job, Private Eyes?”
“Yes!” shouted Gabbie and Jamie.
“Then let’s get going! Spread out, men!”
The kids searched the Perkinses’ backyard. R.C. was nowhere in sight.
“Hey, Private Eye Myriah, can I look in the house?” asked Jamie.
“Sure,” replied Myriah. “Good thinking!”
Claudia stood around on the porch, where she could keep an eye on both Jamie and the girls. After a few minutes, Jamie returned triumphantly to the porch, lugging R.C.
“Good work!” shouted Myriah. “Where did you find him, Private Eye?”
“In the bathroom! Napping!”
“What are you going to do with him now?” Claudia asked the private eyes.
“Give him back to Mary Anne,” said Myriah.
“Oh, okay. But Mary Anne isn’t home now. She’s baby-sitting.”
Myriah looked thoughtful. “If someone really found Tigger,” she said slowly, “and Mary Anne wasn’t home and neither was her daddy, what would happen?”
“I think the person would just wait until someone came home. Don’t you? I mean, if R.C. were Tigger — if you’d found Tigger — you’d wait until someone came home, right? You’d keeping calling the Spiers’ house, or ringing their doorbell. And when someone finally answered, you’d give Tigger back.”
“Right,” said Myriah. She and Jamie and Gabbie went back to their detective game.
Claudia sat on the porch and watched them. A funny feeling had washed over her. And that was due to the awful thought she was thinking. What if Tigger were dead? What if he were never coming back? What would I do? Claudia knew my mother had died when I was young. I don’t remember her dying, but it had happened, and Claudia didn’t want another death in my family. (Tigger definitely counts as family.)
Claudia worried and worried. No one she was close to had died. Mimi had gotten very sick when she’d had her stroke, but then she’d recovered, even if she was a little confused now.
But Tigger had been missing an awfully long time now, for a kitten. Five whole days.
Claudia had a bad feeling about things, overall. She wondered if it was too soon to ask me how I’d feel about getting another kitten, about getting a replacement for Tigger.
“Ah-choo! Ah-choo!”
Guess where I was? Back at the Brunos’. Poor Hunter’s allergies weren’t any better than before. In fact, I thought he sounded worse.
“Thank you for coming on short notice, Mary Anne,” Mrs. Bruno said to me. “Hunter was supposed to see the dentist today, too, but as you can hear, it probably wouldn’t be a very good idea. He can have his teeth checked some other time.”
“Yeah, but us lucky ones still get to go today,” said Logan, taking Kerry’s hand. “Ah. I just love the dentist.”
Mrs. Bruno and I laughed, but Kerry shook her brother’s hand away. “Mom,” she said crossly, “do I have to go the dentist today? I’d rather stay at home.”
“Honey, you’ve barely left the house the last few days. Besides, we have an appointment, and there’s no reason to miss it.”
“Hunter’s missing it.”
“Hunter has a reason. He would probably sneeze and bite the dentist.”
Kerry managed a smile.
“Okay, Mary Anne, you’re on your own,” said Mrs. Bruno, heading for the door. “We should be back in a couple of hours.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry about us. Hunter and I will be fine.”
“Yeah,” said Hunter. “Just … fide. Ah-choo! Ah-CHOO!”
Mrs. Bruno shook her head. Then she and Kerry and Logan left.
“Well,” I said to Hunter, “what do you feel like doing this afternoon?”
“Ridig by bike? Doe, that’s probably dot — ah-choo! — a very good idea. Ub, we could go up to by roob ad play with by erector set. It’s really deat. It has all this space stuff — a ludar bodule ad a bood-bobile.”
It took me a moment to figure those last two things out, but finally I said, “Oh, a lunar module and a moon-mobile!”
“Right.” Hunter nodded.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Hunter led me upstairs to his bare room. He pulled his erector set out of the closet. We began planning our space station, but right away, Hunter’s sneezing grew worse.
Maybe he’s sneezing because of my perfume, I thought. I hardly ever wear perfume, but at school that day, Claudia had dabbed some of hers onto my neck and wrists. I could still smell it. “Be right back,” I said. I ran into the bathroom, ripped off a sheet of paper towel, wet it, and scrubbed at my wrists and neck. When I couldn’t smell the perfume anymore, I went back to Hunter’s room. But before I even entered it, I could hear him sneezing.
“Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Look, here’s the door to the space statiod, Bary Adde,” he said when he saw me.
“Hunter, that’s great, but … just a sec.” I was looking around his room. What could be making him sneeze so much? I closed his windows. Then I closed his door. I laid my sweat shirt against the crack at the bottom of the door to keep dust from coming in. Then it occurred to me that maybe Hunter was allergic to my sweat shirt, so I opened the door and tossed it into the hallway. I thought for a few moments, then took off my socks and shoes and tossed them into the hallway. That ought to do it.
“Ah-choo! Ah-choo!”
Nope.
“Hunter,” I said, “subthig, I mean something, is making you sneeze extra sneezes. I think maybe it’s your erector set. You’d just gotten it out when you began sneezing. Maybe the pieces are dusty. Or maybe the box is dusty.”
“Doe,” said Hunter, and he grabbed for a tissue. “Do’t bother puttig it away. Ah-choo! It’s dot the erector set. I doe what’s bakig be sdeeze. Ah-choo! Cub od. I’ll show you.”
Hunter led me into Kerry’s room. What was he going to show me? A little dust bunny under her bed? No, he opened Kerry’s closet. He motioned to me.
“Ah-ah-ah-ah-AH-AH-CHOOOO!” Hunter sneezed the biggest sneeze I’ve ever heard from a five-year-old. “Look id the box,” he managed to say.
Then Hunter backed away and I stepped into the closet. On the floor was a large cardboard carton. I peered inside. Down at the bottom was … Tigger!
I gasped. “Tigger!” I cried. “Oh, Tigger!” I lifted him out of the box gently, as if he would break, and cradled him in my arms. Then I held him up to my face and felt the start of his Tigger-purr against my cheek. “Have you been here all along?” I whispered to him. I turned to Hunter. “Has he been here all this time?” But before Hunter could say a word, I turned back to Tigger. “Oh, I missed you so much. I really did. I thought you were, um,” (I glanced at Hunter) “I thought you were … hurt. But, oh, it doesn’t matter. I missed you!”
Tigger was nuzzling my arm, and I felt as if I never wanted to put him down, but then I noticed Hunter. He was sitting on Kerry’s bed, sneezing practically nonstop, a raggedy tissue in his hands.
“Oops,” I said. “Tigger, I really hate to do this, but I’m going to have to put you back in the box. Later this afternoon, though, you’re going to come home with me.”
“Is he yours?” asked Hunter as we left Kerry’s room.
“Yes,” I replied. For good measure, I closed her door behind us. Then I went to the bathroom and washed my hands and arms and face. I couldn’t believe that I was abandoning Tigger, even if it was only temporarily, but he looked fine, and Hunter came first. After all, I was baby-sitting.
As you might imagine, I had an awful lot of questions. So I decided to talk to Hunter. The two of us sat at the kitchen table. (I thought the kitchen was probably the most dust-free room on the first floor.)
Hunter wasn’t much help, though.
“How long have you known Tigger was here?” I asked him.
“Just sidce this bord
ig. I foud him by accidet. Kerry said dot to tell iddybody she has hib. She says they’ll be bad because of by allergies. But I just had to tell subbody.”
“You did the right thing,” I told Hunter. “Does anyone else know Tigger’s here?”
Hunter shrugged. “Do’t doe.”
“How did Kerry get Tigger?”
“Do’t doe.”
“Did you know Tigger’s my kitten?” I asked.
“Doe. Dot till you picked hib up ad everythig.”
“Does Kerry know he’s my kitten?”
Hunter shrugged again.
“Well, Logan certainly knows he’s my kitten,” I said.
“But I do’t doe if Logad dows he’s here.”
“Oh. Right…. Hunter, you know I’ll have to tell your mom about Tigger, don’t you?” I added. “Even though Kerry might get in trouble.”
Hunter nodded. “I doe.” He looked worried and relieved at the same time.
It seemed like hours, of course, before the Brunos came home. That always happens when you’re waiting desperately for something. But at last they arrived. And they were in pretty good moods. Nobody, it turned out, had had a single cavity, so they were going to celebrate. But they were waiting for a day when Hunter was feeling better, and when Mr. Bruno could join them.
“How did everything go, Mary Anne?” Mrs. Bruno finally asked.
I couldn’t see anything to do but to come right out with the truth. Hunter and I glanced at each other nervously. He knew what was coming.
“Mrs. Bruno,” I began, and suddenly I found that I couldn’t look at Logan. If he had known about Tigger all this time, then … then we couldn’t be friends anymore. We just couldn’t. “Mrs. Bruno, today Hunter couldn’t stop sneezing, so I went looking for whatever was making him sneeze so much and — and there’s a kitten in Kerry’s closet!” This wasn’t a lie, but it didn’t point the finger at poor Hunter. He’d been right to show me Tigger, and I didn’t want Kerry calling him a tattletale.
“A kitten!” cried Mrs. Bruno.
I finally glanced at Logan. He looked surprised. But was he surprised that a kitten had been found in Kerry’s closet, or just surprised that Kerry had been found out?
“Yes,” I said, “a kitten. And — and he’s my kitten. He’s been missing for five days. We’ve been searching for him everywhere.”
“Tigger is in Kerry’s closet?” Logan exclaimed.
All Mrs. Bruno could do was cry, “What?” and head for the stairs. Logan, Kerry, Hunter, and I followed her. When she reached Kerry’s room, she flung open the door, raced for the closet, slid the box out, and exclaimed, “There is a kitten!”
“And it is Tigger,” added Logan.
As if he didn’t know, I thought.
Hunter began sneezing again, so Mrs. Bruno told him to go downstairs. Then she looked at Kerry. “Well,” she said, “I think we have a little talking to do.”
Kerry nodded miserably, her eyes on the ground. She sat on her bed and Mrs. Bruno sat next to her. Logan and I kind of stood around, unable to look at each other.
“How did you get Tigger?” Mrs. Bruno asked.
“I — I just found him,” replied Kerry. “And I didn’t know he was Tigger then. Honest. I was riding my bike home last Friday and it was getting dark. Remember? The weather wasn’t very nice that day. And I was a few houses away from Mary Anne’s and I thought I saw something shiny by the side of the road. So I stopped. And it was this kitten. Its eyes were shining. I thought, Poor kitty, no one’s taking care of you. So I just put him in my bike basket and rode him home. I wanted to have a friend. And I wanted to show you and Daddy that I could care for a pet. I really am responsible enough to do that. Look how well I cared for Tigger.”
Kerry jumped up. She began pulling things out of the closet. “See? With my own money I bought this food and this toy and these dishes and I never once forgot to feed Tigger. Or change his water. He’s my friend.”
Even I had to admit that Tigger looked well cared for.
“But honey,” said Mrs. Bruno, “you know we can’t have a cat, no matter how responsible you are. Hunter’s just too allergic.”
Kerry put Tigger’s things back in the closet. Then she faced us, biting at one of her nails. “Um, I was also hoping to prove that Hunter would be okay as long as the cat stayed in my room. But — but I guess it didn’t work.”
Mrs. Bruno closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she said, “Kerry, I’m a little confused. Did you know the kitten belonged to Mary Anne?”
“Not at first,” said Kerry. “I really didn’t. I thought he was lost or that somebody had dumped him by the side of the road. Then Logan told us about Tigger and I figured it out, only I thought, well, Mary Anne isn’t taking very good care of him if she lets him wander away. I decided he’d be better off with me.”
Mrs. Bruno didn’t agree with that, of course, so she and Kerry kept talking. My mind began to wander. I thought of how different Logan had seemed lately, of how he’d sounded kind of irritated that us baby-sitters wanted him to come to our meetings about Tigger, and how he’d jumped right in and been so helpful when I got the ransom note. He must have known all along that Kerry had Tigger, so he was trying to protect her. The ransom note was perfect. Kerry hadn’t sent it. Logan could help with the Tigger-napping all he wanted, look like a hero, and keep Kerry’s secret.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. “I have to go,” I said huskily. I grabbed Tigger and headed down the hallway.
“But I haven’t paid you yet!” Mrs. Bruno called after me.
“I’ll get it tomorrow!” I shouted back.
Logan was at my heels. “Mary Anne, what’s wrong?” he cried as I barged through the front door.
“You know what’s wrong,” I answered icily. “You knew about Tigger all along — and you didn’t tell me.”
I placed Tigger in the basket on my bicycle and sped down the Brunos’ driveway, without giving Logan a chance to answer me.
Wednesday afternoon — late.
Things happened fast. Everyone found out about Tigger quickly. (Of course, I made a lot of phone calls, carefully leaving out the part about Logan.) Then, instead of holding a club meeting, Claudia and Mallory and I walked through the neighborhood and took down as many of the Tigger posters as we could find. Dawn gave back everyone’s portion of the reward money and returned the remainder to the treasury envelope. Later, I spent as much time with Tigger as possible — talking to him, cuddling him, playing with him. That night, he slept with me.
I did not let Tigger outside.
* * *
Thursday.
I did not talk to Logan. In school, we avoided each other. He sat with his guy friends at lunchtime.
“Is anything wrong between you and Logan?” Kristy asked me as we sat down in the cafeteria.
I nodded.
“But you don’t want to talk about it?” said Dawn.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to speak. I was afraid I’d cry. Logan and I had had fights before, but this one was different. I’d never accused him of anything so awful. And I’d never felt so unsure about us. If Logan could keep Tigger from me, what did that say about our relationship? By the end of the day, I just had to know.
I waited for Logan at his locker.
“Hi,” he said shortly when he saw me.
“Hi,” I replied. I stepped aside so he could work his combination lock.
When his locker was open, I said, “Can I talk to you?”
“Not now. I’ve got baseball practice.”
“Later? I’m not baby-sitting this afternoon. I’ll be at home.”
“Will we have to sit outside?”
“Yup.” (Logan knew that.)
He sighed.
“Come on. It’s a beautiful day,” I told him. “And I really do want to talk.”
“Okay. I’ll be there. See you later.”
Logan closed his locker, turned, and strode down the hall.
Wel
l, I thought, this is better than nothing.
I walked home with Claudia. When I reached my house, the first thing I did was pick up Tigger. “Oh, it’s so nice to find you here when I get home from school,” I told him. I lifted him up so we were eye to eye.
“Mrow?” asked Tigger.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Logan’s coming over this afternoon. He’ll explain everything then, I hope.”
I made sure that a bottle of Logan’s favorite soda was in the refrigerator. I made sure we had ice cubes. Soda over ice in a glass is much nicer than warmish soda in a can.
At five o’clock, our bell rang. I ran to the front door and threw it open. Logan stood on our steps, mitt in one hand, books under one arm.
“Sit down,” I told him. “I’ll be right back. I’m getting you something to drink.”
Actually, I was getting more than that. By the time Logan rang the bell, I’d fixed up a tray. I’d put a plate of cookies in the middle and next to it a couple of napkins. Now I set the glasses on it, added the ice and soda, and carried the tray to the front door, which I managed to open as I rested the tray against the wall. When the tray and I were safely outside, Logan looked at us in surprise.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I replied. (What a dumb answer. It was cookies and soda. And I’d fixed them because I hoped to make up with Logan.)
Logan took a soda and drank about half the glass in one gulp. How do boys do that? I mean, without exploding from the carbonation. Then he looked at me as if to say, “Well?”
I breathed in deeply, then exhaled. “Logan,” I began, “just answer one question for me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Did you know that Kerry was hiding Tigger in her room?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“That’s two questions. And Mary Anne, I don’t lie. To be honest, I’m really hurt that you could even think I’d do such a thing. Why would you think that, anyway?”
“Because … because …” Don’t fall apart, I told myself. Sometimes when people accuse me of things, or sound like they’re accusing me of things, I just crumple up and start to cry. So I took another deep breath (this is very relaxing, by the way) and said slowly, “Because of the way you’ve been acting lately. You snap at me, and you didn’t seem to be very sympathetic when Tigger was missing. I know you helped with the search — the posters and everything — but it seemed like a huge chore for you. So I thought you knew about Kerry and Tigger and were just trying to protect Kerry. After all, she’s your sister.”