CharlesEBrown

  Pickles was on patrol.

  Things had been odd with her two-legs recently - she was probably experiencing the mating urge again.

  She should probably have that painful thing done to her so it would stop distracting her from her duties like it used to with Pickles. Yeah, she had felt a little empty since then, but had far fewer distractions. Since she had known her two-legs, she had prevented five mice, a bird (which her two legs seemed upset about for some reason), thousands of bugs and one bad smelling two legs from invading their home. There had been other two legs that Pickles had liked but they never stuck around long.

  At least her two-legs had turned up to feed her twice, though she had not given her enough snuggles. She liked snuggling her two legs, especially after her two-legs had washed her long fur.

  The bedroom was clear, though the sand box needed changing. The other bedroom where Pickles had first seen the world was also clear. The room where her two legs washed and used water instead of sand was clear. The other room was locked, like always, so she went down the stairs, pying with a small bug she found for a moment, before it gave a satisfying “crunch” and stopped being interesting.

  Downstairs, she felt a slight draft and smelled something unpleasant so headed to the rger room to investigate. A window was open slightly.

  Her two-legs usually did not do that.

  Her keen eyes scanned the room as her whiskers twitched in annoyance over the unpleasant smell. A sound like cws scratching wood drew her attention to the wall beside the window, and there she saw what looked like a miniature two legs, though it was cold, as cold as the rest of the room, and the source of the nasty smell. Silently she approached the stinky intruder as it walked along the wall, stopping every few seconds as if looking for something.

  The moment Pickles was close enough to pounce, it saw her and let out an obnoxious noise then tried to run up and away.

  Pickles knew from the bird incident that striking a target above where it was when she unched was a good strategy, so she had aimed high. She judged well and had not aimed to kill so she just knocked the creature off the wall. It skidded to the floor and tried to run under the rge ft thing Pickles sat on with her two legs to watch the glowing box that made weird noises, but Pickles was faster. The small creature she was pursuing pulled itself to a halt and throw some vile smelling fluid at Pickles, who got angry. She did not like to smell bad. Py time was over.

  The cws came out and she hissed. The small creature hurled another glob of liquid at her, and this time it hurt a little. She was furious.

  A snarling, hissing slightly over eight-pound ball of fury erupted on the small creature, and it … exploded, spreading its nasty smell around.

  Pickles nded on all fours, her hackles raised, expecting a trick of some sort, but it was gone. All that remained was a wet patch and the strange smell. Grooming herself was difficult, and she wished her two legs were here to help but she was alone. She gagged a few times at the smell and left a ball of fur where the creature had burst apart, but finally got the smell off of her fur.

  She settled down on the long ft thing for a well-deserved rest.

  Her rest was disrupted but a sound at the door - someone who was not her two-legs was trying to get in! She heard a metallic sound and sought a high vantage point to watch the entryway.

  A voice made some strange sounds, but they included the words “Kitty” and “Pickles” so she thought it might be a friendly two-legs. It had a lot less fur than her two legs, and was much taller, but it smelled more like her two-legs than many others, was moving slowly and carrying something

  She decided to pounce…

  Malcolm took two wrong turns before he finally found the small two-level home Audrey owned. He had spent a lot of time there as a teen but had not been back in a while and had never driven there. He parked her car on the driveway, hefted the bag of groceries, and walked to the front door. It unlocked on his second try, and he walked in slowly: “Pickles? I am a friend. Kitty? No need to ... gyah!” - he had just closed the door and taken a step into the house when nearly nine pounds of cat suddenly deposited itself on his shoulders.

  “Hi Pickles, I’m Malcolm. Don’t move, you have cws,” he said as he carefully moved into the house and towards the kitchen. “I hope we can get along, kitty, because I really like Audrey and want to be a part of her life but if she has to choose between you and me,” he said, reaching the kitchen and setting the bag on the table. He reached up slowly and scratched the side of Pickles's neck, as he continued: “frankly, if she had to pick, she would pick you. To be honest, kitty, if I had to pick between you and me, I would probably pick you too.”

  “Mrowf?” The cat draped across his shoulders asked.

  “Right. Let us see if we can find you some food before I make some food for Audrey and me, okay?”

  “Mmrow.”

  “Exactly,” he replied, opening a few cabinets. In the third he found some cans of cat food. Pickles began to purr faintly as he took a can out, found her bowl, and filled it. The cat jumped off of him and started eating.

  “Good kitty,” Malcolm said, petting her briefly then moving off to begin cooking. Pickles was a very pretty cat - mostly white with a bck tip on her tail, one bck paw, one bck ear, an orange ring around one eye, and an orange patch at the base of her tail on the left side.

  He started cooking and felt a pressure around his legs. Pickles was wrapping herself around him. He bent down, petted her, then noticed her water dish looked empty. He refilled it, she went over to drink, and he resumed cooking. The cat soon jumped up on the counter and y there, watching him until she suddenly sat up, alert, and ran out of the room.

  From the other room he heard: “hey, baby! Mommy missed you too. Are you and Malcolm getting along? What is this mess?”

  Malcolm reduced the heat and headed out to the living room. Audrey smiled at him, then asked: “did you see this? Looks like a lot of bile for just a hairball?"

  “Sorry, I have not been over in this half of the room. Maybe it has something to do with that partially open window?” He replied, moving closer to her.

  She turned, saw the window, and walked over puzzled. “Strange. Looks like it was forced open from outside but only two inches. Are those tiny hand prints?”

  Malcolm moved closer and said: “kind of, yeah - and is this a scratch mark above one of them?”

  Audrey bent closer, her hair brushing his hand as she did so. He felt a pleasant shiver at the contact. She touched the wall, and looked down at the floor. “Mewrrr?”

  “Did you do this, Pickles? What were you hunting?”

  The cat just rubbed against her legs and purred. Audrey reached down, petted the cat, then turned her head and saw Malcolm standing right there. She gave him a very quick kiss then said: “Well, I have no idea what this sweet kitty saved us from but I thought Dave and Sandra fought something that burst into water?”

  “Yeah, they did, now that you mention it. I’d better go check on dinner.”

  “I will clean this up and then join you. Since she seems rexed, I suspect you fed my baby?”

  “She did not give me much choice. Either feed her or cook dinner wearing a cat stole around my neck.”

  He heard a ugh, a “that’s my baby kitty,” and a “meowff” as he returned to his cooking.

  Pickles helped him make his pael by testing some of the seafood, then curling up under the table while Malcolm and Audrey ate. They were almost finished with their meal when Audrey’s phone rang. She did not recognize the number so answered cautiously: “Hello?”

  “Detective Audrey - or is that Aubrey? Ross? This is Special Agent Miles Langford of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Sorry to be intruding on your evening like this, but you were involved in an MVA recently?”

  “I already went through this with another agent, and I do not know where the weapon…”

  “No, that is not why we are reaching out. The other driver, the one you probably knew as Johnathan Daniels? Do you know anything further about him?”

  “Um, no, just the name and that he seemed to be chasing us for no clear reason. I think maybe my friend Carol was driving too slow for him earlier or something?”

  “The local authorities were about to cut him loose when his fingerprints triggered some arms both with our local office and Interpol. It appears he is a known fence who deals in antiquities and rare artifacts. We have him listed under five different names and Interpol has three more. We believe you had contact with one of those aliases, a Jeremiah Donahue?”

  “Jeremiah?” she considered for a few seconds, and then it clicked: “Ah, Jerry, yeah. Oh wow, I did not recognize him without the beard and mustache, but yeah that could have been him, why?”

  “Just that your name came up on a search of his computer. Apparently he found you through a dating site?”

  “About a year ago, I think, yes. Strange thing, seemed nice enough but my cat hated the man. I have never seen her go after someone like that. We met for coffee, decided to go out to dinner, but when he came to pick me up, and Pickles freaked out like that, I just called it off. Never heard from him again. Had no idea that it was the same guy.”

  “I take it Pickles is your cat?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hmm. He did not happen to give you anything, or leave anything behind?”

  “Not that I can recall, why?”

  “We are just trying to be thorough. Strangest thing the guy keeps ciming we have no jurisdiction because - get this - nothing he sells comes from this world.”

  Audrey blinked in surprise at this. “Is he still in custody?”

  “Well, yes, but he’s being extradited to somewhere in Europe first thing in the morning. They have a lot more on him than we do, including one possible homicide.”

  “Wow. Then I guess I got off lucky once and we all did that st time. Is there anything I can help with?”

  “Not unless you recall anything he gave you or may have left behind. Yeah, I know two years is a long way to dredge up, but if something does come to you, reach out to me at the number that should now be in your phone, or if you prefer, I can text over the information for our contact with Interpol.”

  “Your number should be fine, or, I have a card from a Special Agent Amanda Prescher - could I contact her instead?”

  “Amanda? I suppose. She’s a bit odd but a good agent. If you do, just give her my name so she can copy me on any reports.”

  “Oh, and the other day, an agent by the name of Ernest Benton got in contact with me about the same case, looking for a specific weapon that Daniels was supposedly carrying?”

  “Benton? Guy was under investigation for taking bribes and disappeared st week. Supposedly was working some kind of strong arm thing with a guy from Homend who turned up dead. Maybe we should meet in person to compare notes tomorrow afternoon, perhaps at your station?”

  Audrey hesitated before answering: “Yeah, that might be a good idea. See you then.”

  Malcolm had been close enough to hear about half of what Langford had said. When she hung up he said: “Man, that guy is the gift that keeps on giving.”

  “Wonder what he thought … wait, you don’t think he was after the modules?”

  “Hmm. That might track. If Elgarin, or whoever this guy works for, if they are not the same, only have broad details about the Lost Arch Mage and the rest of it, they might want those books for more specifics. Hmm. Guess we got off lucky.”

  “And the fact that I ran into him long before I knew you were still in the area, or any of this stuff, that might be just coincidence, but I’m starting to doubt it. Maybe I need to talk to Daniels, or Donahue or whatever his name is…”

  “But if he is in Federal custody…” Malcolm began.

  “I think I would need the help of a certain lost mage to track him…”