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“Looks like some underground prison,” said Brutus as we all huddled together.

“Hey there,” suddenly spoke a cat we all knew very well.

“Clarice!” I cried. “What are you doing here?” Only now did I notice there were a lot more cats down there than had fit inside that van.

“Actually I came here looking for a nice rat to eat,” she said, ambling up to us. “What I found was some nasty human who grabbed me and threw me into this old dungeon.”

“So this is what a dungeon looks like,” said Dooley, glancing around with interest.

“But Clarice,” said Harriet. “If you’re here, that means…”

We were all silent as the thought entered our minds that if Clarice was here,the Clarice, most vigilant, self-sufficient and toughest cat Hampton Cove had ever known, that things looked very bad indeed.

“How come they took you?” asked Buster. “You’re not even chipped.”

He expressed one of those old prejudices some domesticated cats have against their feral brethren and sistren. As if being domesticated and chipped makes a cat superior to the non-chipped variety.

“Chipped or not chipped, we’re all in the same boat here,” said Clarice.

“And what boat would that be?” asked Dooley.

“I have no idea. But judging from that smell there’s a dog on the premises.”

I stuck my nose in the air and sniffed. Clarice was right. I clearly smelled a dog. And then I heard it: the low, menacing growl of a dog who smells cats. It seemed to be coming from outside, from the small window through which we’d been dumped down here. Yikes!

“I hope this isn’t some kind of cult,” said Shanille. “I hate cults.”

“You mean, like a cat-worshipping cult?” asked Dooley. “I saw a documentary about a cat-worshipping cult on the Discovery Channel once.”

“Enough with the Discovery Channel already, Dooley!” cried Harriet.

“No, let him finish,” said Clarice. “What did they say?”

“Oh, just that there are cults that worship cats, just like the Egyptians did. The Egyptians liked cats so much that they buried them along with them, to accompany them into the hereafter.” He slung a paw in front of his face when the meaning of his words came home to him. “Oh, no. Do you think they’re going to bury us with a pharaoh?”

“I don’t think they still have pharaohs,” said Brutus. “Not that I know of, at least.”

“No, pharaohs don’t exist anymore,” I said. “But maybe a cat-worshipping cult does exist, and they’ve decided to collect us for some kind of ritual. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” I quickly added as murmurs of panic spread through the dank and dingy dungeon. “Maybe it’s a nice cult, and they just want us around for our positive vibes.”

“Or maybe they’ll kill us all and bury us in some old creep’s coffin,” said Clarice.

Chapter 18

Odelia parked her car by the side of the road and got out, hiking her bag up her shoulder. She looked up at the towering gate that protected the property of the Duffer family and wondered how many of these mansions she would visit before her surprise at the opulence of some people’s residences would diminish. In all the years she’d been a reporter for theHampton Cove Gazette she’d interviewed so many of the super-rich and still she was in awe each time she entered another one of their palaces. And the palace that the Duffers had built promised to be another doozy. She felt a little sorry that Chase wasn’t there to accompany her, or her cats. Even Gran would have been welcome, but she was so busy being angry with the rest of the family she’d ceased to offer her unique services. At least until Tex finally caved and decided to buy her a foldable smartphone.

Gran was like a child. Once she had her mind set on some toy she couldn’t stop nagging and making everyone’s life miserable until she got what she wanted.

But weren’t most people like that, though? Kids wanted Playstations or Barbie dolls and grownups wanted the latest iPhone or a Netflix subscription or some Star Wars collectible. The principle was the same, only the price tag increased exponentially.

She rang the bell, and when a voice asked her to state her name and business she clearly spoke her name into the intercom, and said she wanted to ask about the recent Duffer dearth. Immediately the gate buzzed open and she pushed through and onto the drive. She wondered for a moment whether to take the car, but she could already see the house just around the corner, hidden from view if you stood in front of the gate. So she marched on and was soon greeted by a homely-looking woman at the door who invited her in and said she’d get Mr. Duffer for her and would she please wait in the sitting room.

The house was smaller than she’d anticipated, and looked more like an old mansion than a modern McMansion. On the outside it was all red brick and ivy, and the windows still had wooden shutters, which had recently been painted a vivid green. The roof and the gutters looked new, too, and once inside she was surprised by how cozy the house was. Exposed brick, modern stone floors and wood beam ceilings were all nicely done.