Catscape (10 page)

It was Sunday morning when Fergus woke earlier than usual with the sun streaming through his curtains. It had turned into a summer of blue-sky days. He got up and went to the kitchen, pouring himself some cereal while still only half awake. Yawning and bleary-eyed he went to the fridge to find that there was no milk. As he weighed up whether he would be able to swallow dry cereal there was a call from his mum’s bedroom.

“Fergus, I forgot to get milk yesterday.”

“I was hoping that you’d just decided to hide it somewhere new,” said Fergus.

“Be a love and nip out and get some would you? There’s some change on the hall table.”

“What’s in it for me?” called Fergus.

“Cornflakes,” said his mum as the noise of a hairdryer started.

The wind blew into Fergus’s sleepy eyes as he free-wheeled down Comely Bank Avenue on his bike. He began to wonder how far up the long slow hill he would manage on his way back home. His record was to number 67, but he didn’t feel like setting a new personal best today.

The streets were slowly coming to life as Fergus pedalled towards Raeburn Place. Some early birds were heading home from the few shops that were open, clutching pints of milk or reading the newspaper headlines as they walked. Fergus was almost past Stein’s when a sideways glance at the fish shop made him swerve, hit the kerb heavily, veer wildly into the middle of the road and just manage to steady himself again. A man reading his paper as he walked along the pavement looked up in surprise at the sight of a boy out of control on his bike for no apparent reason. Fergus was oblivious to the fact that he had nearly crashed. The only thing occupying his mind as he U-turned and cycled back was what he thought he had just seen in the window of Stein’s Fish Shop. He braked sharply outside the shop and saw immediately that, although he had been half-asleep as he cycled past, he certainly hadn’t been dreaming. There behind the window on the marble shelf, which was covered with fish during the day but had been washed down for the night, sat … a cat!

Fergus approached the window cautiously feeling as though the cat might vanish if he wasn’t careful enough. The cat reacted as soon as it saw him and he could just hear its “meows” through the glass. He put his hand to the window almost expecting to be able to touch it. The cat rubbed up to the glass as if wanting to be stroked. Fergus wondered if it had been a long time since it had been petted. Could this be one of the missing cats sitting in the middle of their prime suspect’s shop?

“Don’t worry,” said Fergus, with both his hands and face now pressed to the glass. “I’ll get you out.”

He looked around but there was no way in. The shop was well and truly closed until the start of business the next day. Fergus rattled the glass door just to make sure. The cat jumped on to the floor as if in anticipation of being freed.

“I’m sorry. It’s locked,” said Fergus through the door, as if the cat would understand him.

Fergus looked to the end of the row of shops and remembered the archway from where they’d seen Beanface come and go in his white van.

“I’m going round the back,” he said to the cat. The cat looked blankly back and meowed.

Leaving his bike propped up against the shop window Fergus sprinted past a few shops, under the archway and round the corner to the back of the shop. He found it was even more secure than the front. There were bars on the only window, which had frosted glass, and there was a solid door with three padlocks and a firmly-closed metal shutter, giving absolutely no opportunity for rescuing cats.

“What can I do, what can I do?” muttered Fergus, his mind working overtime as he returned to the shop window where the cat still sat waiting for something to happen. Suddenly Fergus knew what he had to do.

“I’m going to get help,” he said through the window to the cat, and with that he sped off on his bike. A few minutes before he had only been semi-conscious as he cycled through the early morning streets. Now he was fully awake and his legs were pumping like pistons to get him to Murdo’s as quickly as possible.

Fergus made it to Orchard Brae Gardens in record time and hammered on the caravan door. There was silence so he tried again. And again.

“Oi! Dr. Watson! What do you think you’re doing?”

Fergus spun around, confused by the location of the voice.

“Up here, Investigator Boy!” said the voice. “You won’t solve many cases if you can’t even work out where I am.”

Fergus looked up to find Heather leaning out of her bedroom window.

“What are you doing waking us all up at this time on a Sunday morning? Big breakthrough in the case is it?”

Fergus smiled and mumbled a bit, desperate to speak to Murdo and not to his sister about what had just happened.

“Yeah something important has come up,” he said vaguely. “I need to let your brother know.”

“Send Sherlock my love, but keep the noise down while you’re doing it,” said Heather, closing the window with a thud.

“Go away,” groaned Murdo, “it’s too early,” as Fergus thumped on the caravan door again. Fergus could hear Jock growling sleepily too.

“Get up, you lazy lump,” said Fergus urgently, “This is important. This is … this is … this is
it!
” he shouted. There was a loud crash and Fergus heard “Ouch ouch ooya ooya ooya,” followed by a muffled string of words. The caravan door flew open. Murdo, wild-eyed
and even wilder-haired, was clutching the toes on one foot. Despite his dishevelled state he looked as though he had come to his senses almost as quickly as Fergus had when passing the fish shop a few minutes earlier. Jock bounced up and down beside and around Murdo trying to lick his sore foot.

“Come in, come in … what is it? What
is
it?” asked Murdo glancing out of the caravan into the bright sunlight to check that Fergus wasn’t being followed.

“Get the file — the file of all the cats!” said Fergus bursting to tell Murdo what had just happened. “Find a large ginger and white tom, with one white paw and three ginger ones and half of its left ear missing.”

“I see your powers of observation are not deserting you,” muttered Murdo as he rifled for the folder in his rucksack and began leafing through it, scanning each page systematically to match Fergus’s description.

“So where did you see this cat?” asked Murdo, concentrating on the pages as he turned them.

“In the window of Stein’s Fish Shop,” said Fergus.

Murdo stopped as if he had been switched off. He stared, his jaw sagging in disbelief at Fergus and the folder slipped out of his hands. Anticipating Murdo’s next words, Fergus took command. “Yes it’s true … and yes, I’m serious … before you ask any of those questions … just check the folder! We’ve got to track it down and find the owner and get them to the shop before that cat disappears again!”

Murdo shook his head violently as if to clear it and re-focus. He grabbed the folder back off the floor and quickly regained his composure. “Black and white … tabby … Persian …” he muttered, dismissing the descriptions of each cat as they failed to match the one that Fergus had seen in the window.

“Please be there, please be there, please be there,” Fergus said quietly under his breath. He was just beginning to realize that there was a chance it was a cat whose owner hadn’t
even declared it missing, or that there could be some other explanation altogether for a cat being in a fish shop window on a Sunday morning.

“Buster!” said Murdo, as his page turning came to a sudden stop. “Buster is a ginger and white tom, a large cat with one white paw and three ginger ones and half of its left ear missing. Welcome back, Buster!”

“Who are you phoning at this time on a Sunday morning?” asked Mrs. Fraser firmly, as the excited boys huddled over the phone in the house a few minutes later. Fortunately for Murdo his call was answered just before he had to launch into an explanation to his suspicious mother.

“Is that Mrs. Peacock? Hi there … sorry to call so early … it’s Murdo Fraser here. You may not remember me but I interviewed you a few weeks ago. June 14 to be precise. It was about Buster your missing cat. Well, I think we might have found him. Could you meet me at Stein’s Fish Shop at 11am on Raeburn Place? I’ll explain when I see you … yeah, it’s good news, he seems to be okay,” said Murdo looking at Fergus who nodded.

“So, all your work is finally paying off, is it?” said Mrs. Fraser as Murdo hung up.

“It’s a pivotal moment in the case, Mother,” said Murdo. “Right, it’s your turn,” he said handing the phone to Fergus and scrolling through the functions on his DataBoy to retrieve the number that they needed next.

“It’s the only way that we might get access to the shop,” said Murdo brusquely. “Come on! You spoke to her for longer than I did.”

Fergus looked cautiously at Murdo, very nervous about what his friend wanted him to do next. It wasn’t really his style. He felt like he was taking his life in his hands, but with a deep breath he dialled the number they’d been given ten days before.

“Can I speak to PC Hall, please?”

There was a long pause, which gave Fergus time to get even more nervous.

“Good morning, PC Hall speaking,” said a woman’s voice.

“Er … hallo. It’s Fergus Speight here. I don’t know if you’ll remember me …”

“Fergus Speight? Oh, Fergus! Hi there. You’re not calling from the top of a wall, I hope?”

Fergus went pink and smiled, “No. But do you remember that we were looking for a cat? Well we’ve found another one that was missing. But it’s stuck inside a locked shop.”

“Sounds like an unusual start to my Sunday morning shift. Tell me what’s been happening and I’ll see if I can help,” said Gill.

Fergus left the details and Gill promised to do what she could to help. He left a hurried message on Jessie’s answermachine to let her know the latest development. The boys then cycled as fast as they could, first to Mrs. Speight’s to give her an excited explanation of their plans for Sunday morning, then downhill to the fish shop for their appointment with Mrs. Peacock. Jock’s little legs scampered faster than they had ever done before in his efforts to keep up. The boys powered along with the wind whistling in their ears, full of excitement and anticipation that this might be the breakthrough that they needed.

It wasn’t long before they came firmly back down to earth. The fish shop looked exactly like most closed fish shops would: locked, spotlessly clean and feline-free.

With no sign of any cat Fergus began to feel the heat rise in prickles at the back of his neck. Murdo glanced over at him but didn’t say anything. “It was there,” Fergus said firmly. Murdo nodded quietly showing belief and disappointment at the same time.

“We’ve got company,” said Murdo. A police car was pulling up with the familiar face of Gill behind the wheel.

“From both directions,” said Fergus looking the other way
and watching a large estate car approaching. The woman behind the wheel and a girl about the same age as the boys were both peering out and pointing as they slowed to a halt.

“Hallo again, boys,” said Gill. “We must stop meeting like this. So where’s this cat then?”

“I saw it in the shop window,” said Fergus.

Gill looked at the empty shop window. “Have you been imagining things, Fergus? I hope not because I’ve managed to get someone to come out and open up the shop, although he didn’t sound too happy about it.”

The woman from the estate car joined them on the pavement. “Is it true? Have you really found Buster?” The introductions were made with Mrs. Peacock and her daughter, Gemma, while Murdo opened the file on Buster, and Fergus confirmed the description of the cat he had seen, much to the delight of its owners.

“We’ve got more company,” said Murdo nodding towards an approaching white van with the unmistakable figure of Beanface at the wheel.

“Oh no,” groaned Fergus. “I’m beginning to have a bad feeling about this.”

The white van pulled up and Beanface slid out of the driver’s seat, his face so scrunched up with displeasure that he looked like he had just taken a huge bite out of a giant lemon.

“I don’t have keys for the front,” he grumbled to the small crowd gathered in front of the shop. The motley crew followed him through the archway to the courtyard at the back, stopping at the heavily secured back doors that Fergus had been outside an hour before. The security measures at the fish shop even forced a comment from Gill.

“That must be some fish that you have stored in there,” she said lightly.

“You can never be too careful these days,” snapped Beanface unlocking the first in a series of padlocks on the door. “You never
know who might want to try and get in for a look around,” he said with a sideways glance at the boys.

“Or what might be trying to get out,” said Murdo feeling aggrieved.

Gill shot him a warning glance as if to say, “That’ll do, Murdo.”

With a click and a clunk the third padlock was removed and Beanface heaved open the heavy back door. There was silence.

“Well, what did you expect?” said Beanface turning to face them with a crooked smile.

There was a long pause, as the Peacocks looked disappointed, Gill looked annoyed and Fergus and Murdo looked crestfallen.

It was then that a cat shot out of the open door, between Beanface’s legs.

“BUSTER!” squealed Gemma in delight as Jock barked and promptly gave chase to the speeding cat.

It was the next day before they had a chance to see Jessie, as she had been away for a few days. The boys laughed when they told Jessie of Beanface’s shocked expression when the cat ran out between his legs.

“It nearly tripped him up,” said Fergus laughing through a mouthful of warm jammy pancake.

“He would have deserved that and more,” said Jessie feeling significantly more upbeat than the last time the boys had seen her. “What did your policewoman friend say?”

“Gill just grinned and said ‘Well done,’” said Fergus. “There wasn’t a lot more she could do, I suppose. Beanface said that the cat must have sneaked in there during the day some time, so it wasn’t like she could search the place for more cats.”

“… and the Peacocks didn’t seem too interested in how the cat had got there. They were just relieved to have their cat back and we’re going to get a £30 reward!” said Murdo.

“Are you going to put it in the kitty?” asked Jessie.

“Ha, ha, very witty,” said Fergus.

At that moment the doorbell rang and Jessie disappeared for a minute. She arrived back in the room clutching a package. “I think this is my order from the bookshop,” she said starting to tear into the padded envelope.

“Is it
Karate for OAPs
?” asked Murdo mischievously.

Jessie let his comment pass as she held the book in front of her.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Our ‘MM’ appears to be rather highly qualified. She’s
Doctor
Maxine McDermott,” said Jessie, peering over her glasses and reading the cover. She held the book up so that the boys could see it. “I decided to see where her interests lay, in case it helped us at all so I ordered this the other day.”

“Is it a medical book?” asked Murdo.

“Mmm … not really,” said Jessie reading off the inside cover. “
Total Recall
looks at the areas of the brain relating to memory and reports on new technology that can identify individual cells that contain information relating to particular functions.”

Flicking through the book, it soon became clear that it would take some time to find out just what “MM” had written about and what practical use any of her ideas had for fish shops. The only page that the three of them tried to make sense of, without success, was one of very few pictures in the book, which showed a machine called the Recall Processor. It looked like a dentist’s chair with a helmet and a set of headphones attached to it.

“I suggest that I become our official researcher,” said Jessie. “I’ll take a day or two to plough through this and I’ll get in touch once I’ve got something useful from it.”

“Once you do? More like
if
you do,” said Murdo, not holding out much hope of it being a productive lead.