The Aldens had just finished dinner. Jessie and Grandfather were playing checkers, while Henry read one of Benny’s favorite stories to him. Violet had been listening, too, when the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” she said. “Maybe it’s another phone call about the signs we put up for Spotzie.”
Grandfather Alden nodded. “Too bad those other phone calls weren’t helpful.”
Violet picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“This the missing cat number?” growled a husky voice at the other end.
“Yes, it is,” said Violet.
“Did you find her?”
“Not yet,” Violet answered.
The husky voice went on, “Well, I’m missing a cat, too, see? And it looks like yours, see? So if you find my cat, like if someone calls you and says they’ve found a cat like mine, I’ll give a reward. A big reward.”
“What kind of cat?” asked Violet.
“You just let me know about any lost cats you hear about, okay? Write to, uh, Mr., uh, Jones, post office box ninety-three, Greenfield. Got that?”
“But . . .” Violet didn’t get to finish. Mr. Jones had hung up the phone!
“Who was it, Violet?” asked Grandfather Alden.
Violet told the Aldens about the strange phone call. Everyone was puzzled.
“It sounded as if Mr. Jones wasn’t his real name,” said Violet. “Something about the way he said it sounded funny.”
“But why would anyone call about a lost cat and use a phony name?” asked Jessie.
“It’s another mystery!” exclaimed Benny.
“Or part of the same mystery, Benny,” said Jessie.
Just then, the phone rang again. This time when Violet answered it, a brisk voice said, “I believe I’ve found your cat.”
“You have?” said Violet. Quickly she explained that they didn’t know exactly what Spotzie looked like. “We never met her. We’re helping find her for someone.”
“Oh,” said the woman. “Well, I’m Professor Madison. You should come to my house tomorrow morning and get your cat.”
Violet took Professor Madison’s address and told her that the Aldens would be over to see her as soon as possible the next morning.
“Hillside Drive,” said Henry. “That’s a long way from where Spotzie and Mr. Woods live. How could a cat have gone so far?”
Violet clasped her hands. “Do you think it’s Spotzie? I hope so.”
“We’ll find out tomorrow, first thing,” Henry promised.
The next morning, the Aldens rode their bicycles to the other side of Greenfield, where Professor Madison lived. She had a low, rambling house set back from the road in an old pecan orchard. The house was painted blue, with lots of windows that had dark blue shutters. The front yard was neatly trimmed, but in the orchard, wildflowers grew beneath the trees and the grass was tall.
“I like this place,” said Benny as the Aldens walked up the brick walk to Professor Madison’s front door. “Look.”
He pointed. In the window next to the door, a fat silver tabby cat sat, staring out at them.
Professor Madison opened the door immediately. “You must be the Aldens,” she said quickly, before they could introduce themselves. She was a small, wiry woman wearing big silver hoop earrings and a big shirt over jeans. Her long dark hair was in a single braid down her back. “Come in.”
She led the way down a wide hall to a sunny room at the back of the house. Behind them, the silver cat jumped down from the windowsill with a thump and followed.
When the Aldens reached the back room, they stopped and stared in amazement. Cats were everywhere. Cats were sleeping in the sun in the windows, cats were playing with toys on the floor, cats were sitting on bookshelves and chairs and on tops of cabinets. There seemed to be dozens of them.
“Wow,” gasped Violet.
“My cat collection,” said Professor Madison. She walked over to a big armchair and reached down and picked up a cat. “Here’s your cat. I found her hiding in the bushes by my door a few days ago.”
The Aldens looked at the cat in Professor Madison’s arms. She was a little cat with a white stomach and feet. She had a blanket of orange and black spots on her back and her face was orange and black, too, with one orange ear and one black ear. She gazed up at the Aldens with golden green eyes and began to purr.
“What a nice cat,” said Violet. “Spotzie?” Violet reached out and petted the cat’s head, and the cat purred even more loudly.
“Take her,” said Professor Madison. “Here. I have a cardboard cat carrier you can have.”
“But we’re not sure she’s the right cat,” said Jessie.
“Has anyone else found a spotted cat and called you?” demanded Professor Madison.
“No,” said Jessie.
“Then this is your cat.” Before anyone could answer, Professor Madison marched out. She returned a few minutes later with a small cardboard cat carrier with handles on top and airholes in the side.
“Here,” said the professor and thrust the carrier into Henry’s arms.
“But what if it isn’t Spotzie?” asked Benny.
The professor didn’t answer. Instead, she led them back down the hall. “Thank you for coming,” she said, and opened the front door.
The Aldens all looked at one another in surprise. At last Henry said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Professor Madison, still holding the door open.
The Aldens walked out and the professor closed the door firmly behind them.
“That was strange,” said Jessie.
“Maybe she was just very busy and didn’t want to waste any time,” Violet suggested.
“Spotzie?” asked Benny, bending down to look through one of the airholes in the cat carrier. The little cat inside meowed.
“Do you think it’s her?” asked Violet. “Do you think she knows her name?”
“There’s only one way to find out. We have to take her to Mr. Woods,” said Henry.
Henry put the cat carrier in the large basket on his bike and carefully held it with one hand as he and the others rode back to Mr. Woods’s house. As they walked up the front steps, Henry said softly, “Look! That curtain moved again.”
They stopped in front of the door. Violet stepped back shyly. Henry raised his hand to knock. But he didn’t get a chance. The door opened.
“Oh!” said Violet in surprise.
A man with shaggy brown hair, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, loose khaki pants, and a rumbled blue shirt stood there.
“Who are you?” he asked harshly.
The Aldens introduced themselves and explained that they had been looking for Spotzie. Mr. Woods listened without smiling.
Then Henry held up the cat carrier. “We think we might have found Spotzie,” he said.
For one moment, Mr. Woods’s whole face changed. He looked like a different person. A happy person. He grabbed the box from Henry and opened it.
His face changed back to its grumpy look. “No! That’s not Spotzie! Spotzie is much, much prettier! How could you make such a stupid mistake?”
Suddenly Violet spoke. “We didn’t know,” she told Mr. Woods. “How could we know if we don’t know what Spotzie looks like?”
“Much prettier!” Mr. Woods was almost shouting.
But Violet answered bravely, “If you could give us a picture of Spotzie, that would help.”
Mr. Woods looked at Violet and frowned. “Wait here,” he ordered rudely. Then he turned and walked back in the house.
He came back holding a small photograph. For a moment, he stood staring down at it. His grumpy expression changed to a sad one. “Smart,” he said softly. “A smart little cat.”
He looked up. “You know she could open any door, any latch? It was amazing to watch. And when I talked to her, she’d answer, just like she could understand what I was saying. She was special. Anyone could tell. Why, one day, when we were sitting on the porch, a complete stranger walked by and offered to buy her!”
Then Mr. Woods seemed to remember where he was. He shoved the photograph into Violet’s hand. “Here,” he said. “Not that I think it’ll help. And you had better give that photograph back unharmed!”
Without even saying good-bye, Mr. Woods turned and walked back into his house and slammed the door. |