Raccoon Racketeer (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 7) by Molly Fitz & Blueberry Bay

Author:Molly Fitz & Blueberry Bay [Fitz, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sweet Promise Press
Published: 2019-10-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

My deal with the sometimes downright devilish raccoon made, I opened the front door wide and invited him to join us inside.

“I’ve never been so insulted in all my life,” Octo-Cat grumbled, apparently having overhead our entire conversation from the other side of the blocked pet door. “And don’t you know better than to make an open-ended bargain with a crook?”

Pringle bared his teeth. “You know, I used to like you,” he spat at the cat. “Idolize you, even. Pffft. Pathetic.”

“Oh, and now you don’t? I’m so hurt,” my cat snarked right back. These two were pretty well-matched when it came to conversational gymnastics. It was a shame the only thing they wanted to do was fight each other rather than work together.

I had to do something to get everyone back on track. Perhaps asking nicely would do the trick?

“Guys, that’s enough,” I said with a stern look. “Like it or not, we need to work together on this one. I need you to put your differences aside and recognize that we’re all the same team here.”

“At least one of you has a bit of sense,” Pringle said, shooting a dirty look toward Octo-Cat. Sigh.

Much to my surprise and delight, the tabby stayed quiet. His wildly flicking tail belied his true feelings, though.

I offered him an appreciative smile before moving forward with the plan. “Let’s get started in the attic. Pringle, can you show me the hiding place you mentioned the other night? The one in the baseboards?”

He nodded and gave me the thumbs up sign. I swear he was becoming more human by the day. “Sure. I’ll meet you up there,” he said.

“Um, can’t we just go up together?” I stood and pointed toward the stairs. “I mean, it’s just up there.”

He raised both eyebrows and shot me a goofy grin. “We could, but I prefer to use my private entrance. Remember, I’m VIP, honey. Very Important Pringle.”

“Gag me on my own hairball,” Octo-Cat grumbled. I wouldn’t just owe Pringle after this. I was starting to think my cat would deserve a medal for his restraint in dealing with the obnoxious forest animal.

“Fine,” I said even though I was already beyond irritated. I opened the front door for the raccoon so that he could sashay his way outside, then grabbed a folding chair from the storage closet and marched upstairs to the guest room where I’d found Nan Marie Kondo-ing the other day.

“Let me help you,” I told the tabby in light of the nasty spill he’d taken last time we were up here.

“Don’t insult me.” He jumped onto the chair, wiggled his butt, and leaped through the hatch flawlessly.

I followed shortly after, also using the chair to help me gain an adequate amount of leverage before pulling myself up by my throbbing arms.

Once I was seated securely on the attic floor, I glanced around the space, surprised by the high ceilings—although I probably shouldn’t have been given the general grandeur of the estate. Even in the rarely

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