“What were you doing hanging around the stage?” Norb hissed as he led Harry to the opera entrance.
“I was…” Harry stopped. He’d promised Roxanne not to tell a soul about her teacher, but he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that there was a connection between her teacher and Stripe’s murder. If his theory proved correct, and her teacher did have a paw in the recent opera incidents, then telling Norb might be detrimental to catching the killer. Norb would want to be in charge of locating Roxanne’s teacher, and doing things Norb’s way outside of opera functions usually didn’t yield positive results. Harry would have to be smart about what he said. “I was looking for Roxanne,” he mumbled.
“Forget about her!” Norb snapped. He trotted ahead, his tail high above his head. “Detective Clovis is waiting for us. I hope this isn’t a waste of my time. I’m needed elsewhere.”
Harry quickened his step. He resisted the urge to tell Norb that he should at least pretend to care about what happened to one of the Opera Cats, but arguing with Norb would be pointless. Instead, Harry went over Spot's story in his mind, mentally preparing himself for any questions Clovis might ask.
The two cats walked beside the foyer wall, where one or two humans passed them by, too absorbed in their own worlds to notice the cats. Norb pushed his way through the golden revolving door, and Harry snaked his way through after him. Once outside, they saw a black and white cat sitting under the opera ticket window, a smile printed on his face.
“Nice to see you again, Harry.” Clovis dipped his head at the silver tabby. To Norb, he said, “Norb. It’s been a long time.”
“You could see one of our performances now and again, you know,” Norb grumbled.
Clovis rose to his paws. “I have no interest in operas, be they performed by cats or humans," he meowed. "We've no time for idle chit-chat. Take me to where the incident occurred.”
Along the way, Harry explained to Clovis about the group of cats sent to recover Stripe’s body. When they reached the location where the body had been, they discovered it was gone. Instead, they found a hole in the passage floor. The cats surmised that Stripe had fallen out of the passage and into the dressing room below. No one knew how the ceiling had given way, but it had. Evidently, according to one witness, one of the humans had taken Stripe’s body out of the opera house to who knew where.
“That’s not good for us.” Clovis pursed his lips. “The body might have had clues regarding the culprit.”
The trio waited in a dark corner until a group of humans walked by. The cats sneaked down hallways and hid underneath props, pausing whenever a human came near. When they reached the stairs leading down to the third floor, Norb puffed his chest out and pushed his way to the front of the procession.
“I think I should lead us the rest of the way. It’s only fitting,” Norb proclaimed.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, sir,” he muttered. Norb hadn’t wanted to talk with Clovis in the first place. Now that the detective was here, Norb had to be the one in charge. It irritated Harry, but there was nothing to be done about it. He shook his head as he followed Norb down to the fifth floor.
Norb led the way, twisting and turning between old props and broken set pieces no human had the heart to throw out. They approached a heavy wooden door, an old ladder propped up next to it. Norb leaped onto the ladder and then jumped to the transom window above the door, which had been left open. Grunting, Norb squeezed himself through the dusty window. A thump followed from the other side of the door.
Harry waved a paw out, indicating for Clovis to go next. Clovis bounded up the same way Norb had, albeit quicker and with less noise. Once he disappeared through the window and into the room, Harry followed, climbing up the ladder and squeezing through the window even faster and quieter than Clovis had, despite his limp.
The three cats glanced around the room where practice had been held the day of Stripe’s death. Now the room stood empty. Norb, his stubby nose held high, made his way to the passage Stripe and Spot had taken, where Stripe had met her dismal end. Once they reached the opening, Norb hesitated.
“Something the matter?” Clovis asked, sounding bored.
“No.” Norb nervously itched an ear. “I just… well, you know, the killer could be in there. We need to be safe, right? Perhaps the detective—”
“Will go first?” Clovis raised an eyebrow. “I would if I knew where I was going in this labyrinth. Seems to me it’s your duty to lead the way.”
Flicking his tail, Harry stood and said, “I know the general area where the body was found. There’s no time to waste, so I’ll lead us.”
“And I’ll bring up the rear!” Norb exclaimed.
Harry, rolling his eyes, ducked into the tight passage. He snaked his way forward, cobwebs muffling his paw steps and spiders falling on his fur, their legs tickling his skin. He shuddered but pressed on, curious as to how Norb would react to the tiny arachnids that would soon be burrowing under his long fur. Clovis darted in after Harry, followed by a nervous Norb.
“And you saw the human take the body, correct?” Clovis asked, his voice reverberating in the cramped space.
“Not me personally. Someone else witnessed it. I told you that,” Harry answered.
“Just being thorough. But you have no idea where the body was taken?”
“No. I know the man who took Stripe’s body spends a lot of time with Lady. That’s Roxanne’s human. If he left the body near the opera house or if he took it far away, I have no idea,” Harry said with a sigh. Thinking about Roxanne brought thoughts of private lessons and invisible teachers to his mind. He wondered where Roxanne happened to be while he was cramped in the passageway, trying to find the scene of a murder.
“Who’s Lady to the human opera house?” Clovis asked.
“One of their screechers. Scratchy voice, no ambition. She’s best left to the human chorus if you ask me,” Norb said, snorting.
Harry wondered how Norb became such an expert at human screeching and fought the urge to snap at him. Instead, he sniffed the musty air; the passage had split into two paths, and since it had been a long time since he’d used this particular route, he tried remembering which way to go to reach the area where Stripe had died. Fortunately for him, the recent smell of cat lingered. He took the path to his right.
Tilting his head, Harry asked, “Clovis, do you suspect a human’s involvement in Stripe’s death?”
“I can’t say for certain,” Clovis said. He sneezed from the swirling dust. After clearing his throat, he continued speaking. “But I need to keep the options open. No one—human or cat—can be discounted until I’ve assessed the scene.”
Harry grunted. They continued snaking their way through the passage in silence. After several paw steps, a hot iron smell invaded their nostrils.
“Aha!” Clovis exclaimed. “We’ve reached the scene of the crime. The smell of blood is quite pervasive here. Harry, if you please…”
Harry stared through the gloom at the scene before him. Wooden boards had been nailed to cover the hole in the passage floor where Stripe’s body had fallen through. From the pale slits of light that filtered through the cracks in the boards, Harry saw rust-colored spots dotting the floor and passage walls. On the other side of the boards, a large hook sat with the same rust color on it. Harry gulped. Breathing slowly, avoiding the red spots as best he could, he tiptoed across the boards. Once he made his way past the hook, he squeezed himself around to face Clovis and Norb.
“If we can hurry—” Norb’s plea was cut off by an exasperated cough from Clovis.
“These things take time, Norb,” Clovis said, his attention solely on the scene before him. He pawed the hook, stared at the bloodstains, and sniffed the boards, all while muttering to himself.
Harry sheathed and unsheathed his claws. He, too, wished this ordeal was over and in the past.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Clovis asked, looking from Harry to Norb, then Harry again.
Tilting his head, Harry asked, “What is?”
“How Stripe died.” Clovis padded over the wooden boards to Harry, who scooted backward to make room for the other cat.
Norb raised his chin. “Of course it’s obvious. It’s clear to me, at any rate.”
“Then elaborate, please,” Clovis said, staring down his snout at the Persian cat.
Norb let a puff of air out between his lips. “Well, I don’t want to take the credit for solving the case—”
“Then be quiet,” Clovis said. Norb gasped. Clovis turned to Harry and asked, “Stripe led the way through the passage, correct?”
Harry nodded.
Clovis cleared his throat before speaking. “This hook was hidden in the dark. When the passage still had its original floor, it made things harder to see in here. The victim most likely mistook the hook for a cat—"
“I find it hard to believe Stripe would have mistaken a hook for a cat, even in the dark,” Harry countered.
“But for a cat in pursuit of an unknown individual in such a confining space, I’m sure she wasn’t thinking clearly,” Clovis said, glaring at Harry. “Don’t interrupt me again, either of you. Maybe Stripe saw the hook, and maybe she didn’t. Either way, she ran down the passage, and when she came to this spot, she tripped over her paws and fell on the hook. The sudden crash on the passage floor proved too great for the old structure, and Stripe’s dead weight made the ceiling give way. Case closed.”
“But Spot said Stripe saw a cat! The whole mistaking-a-hook-for-a-cat scenario doesn’t seem plausible to me!” Harry reiterated. His fur bristled. The iron smell made him dizzy. He wanted to get out of the passage, but he wanted to argue with Clovis. The detective’s theory couldn’t be right.
“Spot just witnessed his sister’s untimely death. He misremembered, or he was trying to find a reason, no matter what, to explain such an unfortunate accident,” Clovis said as he squeezed himself around to face Norb, whose mouth still hung open from being snapped at.
Harry’s mind raced. He had to make Clovis see Stripe’s death hadn’t been an accident. He raised a paw, grazing it against the cold iron hook.
“The hook!” Harry exclaimed. Clovis craned his head back to stare at Harry. “How did it get here in the first place?”
Clovis shrugged. “How should I know? It could have been here for years. The humans probably tossed it in here when they built the opera house. Humans always do strange things for reasons unapparent to us cats. It could have been put there for a number of reasons.”
“Perhaps there’s a hair stuck to it—or a paw print on it. Something to identify who brought it here!” Harry meowed.
“You’re suggesting some cat dragged this heavy hook up here with the intent of killing a random cat from the Opera Cat Company?” Clovis asked, his voice rising with each word.
“Maybe—”
“That’s enough, Harry,” Norb interjected. The angry glint in Norb’s eyes silenced Harry. To Clovis, Norb said, “Thank you for your time and for providing us with a solution. The solution, I should say. This has lifted a massive weight off my shoulders. A simple accident, nothing more. I shall share your findings with the Opera Cats as soon as possible.”
Clovis’ lips turned upward in a sneering smile. “As you see fit. If you please, I’d like to return to my post.”
“Of course,” Norb replied. He led the way back through the passage to the main room, Clovis right behind him.
His mind muddled and his heart heavy, Harry remained where he sat, frustrated at what Clovis had refused to see: that a murder had taken place. And Norb! Norb simply wanted to put all this behind him and move on rather than find out what really happened. Why didn't either cat want to delve deeper into this mystery?
“Harry? Are you coming? We’ve work to do!” Norb called.
Silently, Harry followed the other cats. He thought about why a hook would’ve been left in the passage, if not to hurt or kill someone.