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“Well, that’s great,” she said. He looked as happy as a kid on Christmas morning, and she thought it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

“And the strange thing is,” said Dan as he got up, “that that woman predicted this would happen, and then it did!”

“What woman?”

“Well, Madame Solange, of course. Didn’t I tell you I went to see her a couple of days ago? I told her about this hobby of mine, and she said I was going to come into possession of the locomotive very soon now. I didn’t believe her at the time, of course,” he said, patting the doorjamb as he walked out. “But now I definitely do!”

Odelia stared after her boss as he turned into his own office, whistling a merry tune as he did, and blinked. Madame Solange. First she predicted Mom and Dad’s lottery win, and now Dan’s locomotive. Maybe it was time she paid a visit to this mysterious fortune teller, and asked her if she knew where Uncle Alec was. She wasn’t a big believer in that sort of thing, but frankly she was willing to try anything to get her beloved uncle back.

Chapter 25

“I like this espionage business, Max,” said Norm as he buzzed along over our heads. “I think maybe I missed my calling in life. I should have been a spy.”

“That’s great, Norm,” I said as we pranced along the sidewalk in search of a potential witness who could tell us what had happened to Odelia’s uncle.

“So is it true that flies feed on the kind of stuff that us cats think is a little gross?” asked Dooley.

“What do you mean, gross?” asked Norm.

“Well, things like garbage, and, um, horse manure?”

“And pig shit,” I said. “And cow dung.”

“Oh, sure. I love me a good helping of cow dung,” said Norm, showing no shame at his choice of nourishment whatsoever, and nor he should, as far as I was concerned. “Though what I like most, of course, is a good, thick pile of elephant dung.”

“Elephant dung?” I asked with a laugh. “Where do you find elephants around here?” And then I remembered the parade from the day before. “Oh, you mean the fairground?”

“Sure. I’ve been spending a lot of time over there, and the food they’ve got at that place is simply to die for. Yum-my!”

“Better you than me, Norm,” I said, the thought of elephant dung not exactly filling me with relish.

We’d arrived at the General Store, where one of our main sources of information was lazily lounging on his owner’s checkout counter, not a care in the world.

Wilbur Vickery, meanwhile, sat ringing up the wares his customers were dumping on the conveyor belt. He was looking pretty chipper, I thought.

Kingman opened a lazy eye when we approached and then closed it again.“Come back later, fellas,” he said. “I’m just having the best dream of my life and you’re ruining it.” Then, moments later, he opened his eyes again with a sigh. “Yeah, it’s gone. What do you want? And can you please get rid of this horrible fly?”

“Oh, this is Norm, Kingman,” said Dooley. “He’s our friend.”

Kingman gave Dooley a critical look.“I think I must have misheard you, buddy. For a moment there I thought you said you’re friends with a fly. But that’s impossible, because as we all know flies are the harbingers of death and decay. They feed on crap and then carry that same crap onto our shiny coats of fur, which is a very rude thing to do indeed.”

“I promise I’ll never carry any dung onto your fur, good sir,” said Norm now.

“And it speaks,” said Kingman with a sigh. “Of course it does.”

“Our human has gone missing, Kingman,” I said, deciding to cut right to the chase and develop the theme I’d come to discuss. “Uncle Alec? He was taken from the home of his girlfriend two nights ago and hasn’t been seen since.”

“I thought he was getting married? Wasn’t there something in the paper yesterday? It’s gotten a big buzz all around town. Even Wilbur couldn’t shut up about it. I think he’s got a thing for the Mayor himself, so the announcement hit him pretty hard.”

“Yeah, that announcement was bogus,” I said. “One of the demands the kidnappers made was to print it in the Gazette. We have no idea why.”

“The weirdest thing,” Kingman agreed. “But then things have gotten a little weird around here lately. Did you know that Wilbur received a wedding proposal from an English princess? Girl named Frances. She’s supposed to be Prince Charles’s third child, though as far as I’m aware Prince Charles only has two kids, both boys. But this Princess Frances wrote a long letter, saying how she saw Wilbur’s picture on his Facebook page and immediately fell head over heels in love with him and now she wants to marry him.”

We glanced up at Wilbur, whose stubbled jaw was working furiously as he watched a Droopy cartoon on the small television he keeps next to his cash register, and abruptly burst into raucous laughter, spitting out a piece of beef jerky he’d been chewing on.

“Why anyone would want to marry that guy is beyond me,” said Norm, and I think he spoke for all of us.

“An English princess?” I said, figuring I hadn’t heard right.

“Yah,” said Kingman.