He shouldn’t have let her go. He shouldn’t have let her go!
As evening fell, the opera house’s lights illuminated the New York City skyline in a bright blaze. Harry paced on the opera’s rooftop, the wind buffeting him and making it difficult to keep his balance. The sharp smell of impending rain hung in the air. Usually, he enjoyed the enticing aroma, but at such a dire moment it made him anxious. He hated himself for letting Roxanne slip away at the party. There was nothing to be done about the past. At present, he needed to figure out Roxanne’s current location and how he could rescue her. He needed to think fast.
Harry’s thoughts drifted to the cat who called himself Kip. Kip claimed he knew Roxanne’s teacher, and that Roxanne was in danger. If that cat knew about Roxanne and her relationship with her teacher, certainly he’d know their general location. But Kip had claimed he didn’t know where they were, but that he was instead searching for the secret entrance. Even so, Kip knew more than any other cat about Roxanne’s dire situation.
That was what Harry had to do. He needed to find Kip.
With a flick of his tail, Harry leaped off the railing and darted for the rooftop access door that led into the opera house. The door had been left slightly ajar, and Harry squeezed himself through the small opening and into darkness.
Sounds of pounding feet and human screeching echoed throughout the building. Harry, hunkered down to avoid detection from the humans, padded along a narrow catwalk high above the stage. He passed sandbags and ropes, shivering at the memory of almost being flattened by a sandbag. He scurried past swaying backdrops, ignoring the occasional mouse creeping up or down a rope. On any other day, he would’ve stalked the mice and done the humans a favor, but Roxanne occupied every crevice in his mind. He needed to find her, he needed to find her…
Down a thick rope Harry slid, and a foot from the floor, he jumped off the rope and landed on all four paws in silence. He flicked his ears every which way, and once he was satisfied no human had noticed him, he darted off stage under the cover of shadows.
Once Harry left the auditorium, he ran through the backstage hallways leading to the stairs. When a human walked by, Harry hopped behind a crate or slipped under a heavy costume. The humans seemed quite preoccupied with their own operetta, so Harry was able to get to the end of the hall unnoticed.
“Where should I search for that cat?” Harry muttered to himself, staring at his paws as he walked down the stairs to the dressing rooms.
At the bottom of the stairs, Harry bumped into a fluffy object.
“Hey!” the thing wailed.
Sneezing, Harry peeled himself off whatever he’d bumped into. “Norb?” he cried upon seeing who he’d encountered.
“Who’d you expect, the Ghost Cat?” Norb asked, smoothing his long fur with his tongue. Once he was satisfied with his job, he glared at Harry. “Come with me, Harry. I’m on my way to the costume shop. I haven’t searched there yet.”
“Searched for what?” Harry hoped Norb hadn’t noticed how unenthusiastic he sounded about accompanying him.
“Roxanne!” Norb snapped as he led the way down the hall to more stairs leading to the sixth floor.
Before they reached the costume department, the thrum of sewing machines and the shrill voices of seamstresses shouting reached them. Norb winked at Harry before resuming their trek. The seamstresses were usually too engrossed in their fabrics and threads to notice the cats whenever they were in the costume department.
“Roxanne?” Harry repeated, his skin growing cold. Should he feign ignorance or tell Norb everything he knew, which admittedly wasn’t much? He decided to act surprised. If Norb became entangled in this strange mystery, he might want to take charge, and then Roxanne would never be found. “Why are you looking for her?”
Norb grunted. “She can’t be found, that’s why! No cat has seen her, and no one knows where she is, even that little pipsqueak Maggie. In light of Olga’s accusations against her, this is extremely strange.” Norb’s eyes took on a suspicious glare.
Bristling, Harry said, “You can’t take Olga’s word as fact. You know full well that she exaggerates the truth and flat-out lies.”
“While I don’t disagree with you, I still find it odd,” Norb muttered. “Do you happen to know where Roxanne is, then? You’ve been spending a lot of time with her as of late.”
“No, I don’t know where she is,” Harry admitted, shaking his head. He tried to look and sound as surprised at this “new” development as possible. He knew Norb’s concern wasn’t unfounded; Roxanne never missed a practice or rehearsal, even when she wasn’t needed for whatever scenes they were practicing. An idea came to Harry’s mind. Perhaps if he accompanied Norb, he’d be able to use the excuse to conduct his own search. “I’ll help you look for her, though.”
During their discussion, they had reached the sixth floor. Sewing machines buzzed from various rooms. Several women darted from one room to another, some dragging dresses, some hauling heaps of shoes, others lugging piles of feathers, boas, and hats. One woman carried an armful of wigs, the luxurious hair trailing behind her like a golden river. In the chaos, no one noticed the two cats.
Norb led the way to the first room, which no humans were in at the moment, and compared to the rest of the floor, was relatively silent. Racks and racks of colorful clothes hung from wooden hangers. Garments also hung from the ceiling, making Harry think of oversized bats. He wanted to leave.
“Roxanne? Are you in here?” Norb meowed. No answer. “I’m telling you, Harry, I think she’s run off. Too much pressure here. To where, I don’t know, but she’s nowhere to be found.”
“She would never run away,” Harry interjected. He slipped on clippings of fabric that had escaped the sweep of brooms, and once or twice his paws sent a bead skittering across the floor.
“How can you be sure?” Norb growled, his swishing tail sending scraps of torn paper across the room.
Harry cowered under Norb’s glare. His tail trembled. Now and then, Norb could be imposing. This was one of those times. As an answer to Norb’s question, Harry shrugged.
“Well, never mind,” Norb mumbled. His tail held high above him, he trotted under the costumes, sniffing the sleeves and inspecting the many layers of the dresses. Loose feathers from headpieces drifted down, making him sneeze.
Harry shuffled after him. Every second he spent searching with Norb seemed to stretch into an hour. He needed to expedite this task.
“I suppose you should continue looking for her without me,” Norb said. “I have no more time to waste on Roxanne. I must return to the Opera Cats.”
What luck! Harry straightened up. “Very well.”
As Norb trotted to the door, he said over his shoulder, “If you happen to find Roxanne, tell her that Lady has been dismissed from the humans’ operetta.”
Harry tilted his head. “What do you mean, she’s been dismissed?”
“Bellows has instructed her not to sing in their current operetta,” Norb explained, as simply as if he’d told Harry the weather.
“How can you possibly know that information?” Harry snapped. “Did your ears suddenly open to human speech?”
“Don’t act smart with me!” Norb snarled. “I know more about human speech than any of you. How else could I figure out the operas we produce, what the proper lines are, and such? Besides, I saw Lady run to her dressing room in tears. Sad tears, not the happy ones humans sometimes shed. She’s been in her room for quite a long time, weeping and muttering to herself. Do you think her reaction indicates she’s the new prima donna?”
Clenching his teeth together to not snap an angry retort, Harry remained silent.
Norb smirked. “I suppose I should leave you to your task. Escort Roxanne to me the moment you find her. I’ll give that feline a good talking to—I’ll have her sobbing worse than Lady, that’s for sure!” Norb exclaimed as he trotted toward the door, his head held high. “There’s an operetta to prepare, you know, and I should be present for the cats who care enough to show up for practice, regardless of whether they’ve been dirty little thieves or not.”
“Roxanne is not a thief,” Harry snarled.
If he had heard the remark, Norb made no indication. He left the room, his paws whispering over the fabric strewn on the floor.
After a few seconds passed, Harry growled, “Of course you need to be there, Norb. The whole company would perish without you.”
Now that Harry was alone in the room, he felt invisible eyes watching him. The eerie masks hiding in dark corners didn’t assuage the panic clouding his mind. His fur stood on end and his whiskers twitched. Unable to control his anxiety any longer, he craned his head around, half expecting to find a cat behind him, glaring at him with blazing yellow eyes. But when he glanced at the costumes, he realized he was, indeed, alone.
“Ghost cats and mysterious teachers getting to you, eh?” Harry meowed to himself as he skipped over scraps of fabric and out of the room, this time managing to slip only once. His shoulders tightened as a cool draft wafted over him, and he quickened his pace. He’d look elsewhere for Roxanne and Kip, but not in that room. Too many empty costumes and eyeless masks made it quite uncomfortable in there.
#
Norb hurried off to the fifth floor. The sixth floor was his least favorite since it contained all those strange human costumes. The faceless dummy heads displaying fake human hair sent shivers up and down his spine, a sensation he hated. Another aspect to detest about the sixth floor was its proximity to the unused (and unknown, as far as the other cats were concerned) seventh floor. Besides, as Norb had told Harry, he was needed elsewhere.
The door leading to one of the many rooms on the fifth floor had been left open just enough for a cat to slip through, which Norb did. His long fur became stuck on some splintered wood, and grunting, he pulled himself free. He patted his now-ragged fur flat, hoping it didn’t look too horrible.
Olga’s voice boomed from behind a large bureau that hid the rest of the room from view. Flattening his ears, Norb peeked around the wooden piece of furniture.
The Opera Cat singers sat on dusty wicker chairs and various sofas. The dancers pranced under old statues and around tall vases. Alfredo and Olga sat on top of a large bronze stag, its face bent upward so far its antlers grazed its strong shoulders. On the antlers dangled Maggie, pawing at what Norb assumed to be a fly.
Cecil flicked his tail against the floor to keep time for Alfredo and Olga. Norb sidled beside the cat and sat quietly, watching the proceedings.
Alfredo leaned against Olga, who sat closer to the stag’s tail. His weight proved too much for Olga, resulting in her sliding off the stag and falling to the floor with a yelp.
“Eek!” Olga wailed. Several cats turned to look at her. After Olga shook her fur, she glared at Alfredo and hissed, “You did that on purpose!”
“It wasn’t my idea to practice on this thing,” Alfredo meowed, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
From above his head, Maggie snickered.
“Shut up, you little troll!” Olga hissed.
Maggie bit her lip, but her eyes shone with amusement.
“Are you all right, Olga?” Norb asked.
Cecil jumped. Glancing at Norb, he exclaimed, “Norb! I never noticed you sitting beside me.”
“I just came in,” Norb explained. “How is rehearsal proceeding, Cecil?”
“Horrid!” Olga snapped, shaking her fur again. “I tell you, Norb, ever since I saw Roxanne with Star’s stolen necklace, I can’t concentrate. You should fire her! Call Detective Clovis to arrest her! Send her to the deepest part of the opera house to fend for herself! I tell you—”
Cecil and Norb exchanged a glance. As Olga continued her tirade, Cecil muttered, “Fine, I suppose. Olga won’t stop fretting over that necklace, and the rest of us are a little worried.”
“About what, pray tell? Certainly not that necklace,” Norb said, his stomach churning. He hoped there hadn’t been another incident involving the Ghost Cat. What more could go wrong that hadn’t already?
“Haven’t you noticed?” Alfredo meowed from above. Olga snapped her snout shut. Norb and Cecil stared at him. Alfredo continued, “Roxanne still isn’t here. She hasn’t been seen all day, as a matter of fact, and no one knows where she is.”
“I’m worried about her,” Maggie said, struggling to clamber to the top of the stag’s antlers.
“I’m—I’m sure she’s gone home. Maybe she’s with Lady,” Norb said weakly.
“Wow, you sound so convincing,” Olga sneered. She wiggled her stub of a tail. “I wish you lot showed as much concern over my troubles. Besides, shouldn’t you know the whereabouts of your own Opera Cats?”
Norb sighed. He didn’t want the cats to think he’d lost control over the situation. Then again, perhaps one of them knew something. “I’ve sent Harry to search for her.” Gasps and whispers followed this statement. “Truth be told, I don’t know where Roxanne is, either.”
Olga smirked. Alfredo shot Olga an exasperated glare. Several cats murmured amongst themselves. Maggie fell from the antlers to the stag’s shoulders. She clawed her way down the stag to stand in front of Norb.
“You don’t know where she is?” Maggie demanded, her tiny tail sticking straight up.
It was one thing to be accosted by adults; it was quite another to be subjected to scrutiny from a kitten. Norb narrowed his eyes and growled, “I will find out soon, you impertinent creature. If anyone does know where Roxanne is—perhaps she said something or was seen going somewhere—now would be the time to share your information.”
When no one moved or said a word, Olga lifted her chin high in the air and said, “Obviously Roxanne’s location is unknown to all of us. So who cares where she is? She has a small part anyway. She’s probably sulking in a dark corner because she’s not the center of attention. Or she ran off due to guilt at stealing Star’s necklace and, most likely, my collar as well!”
“Olga, you’ve been spewing that nonsense all day. You know as well as the rest of us that Roxanne isn’t that kind of cat. And she’d never miss practices, either,” Alfredo interjected.
Olga raised her fur and spat, “If we’re not going to discuss my stolen property, then let’s stop talking about Roxanne altogether! If she’s not skulking in a corner, sleeping in a patch of sunlight, or stealing more items from me, then perhaps she has been run over by an automobile or she’s fallen off the roof. I really don’t care.”
“No! She isn’t hurt!” Maggie wailed, her eyes brimming with tears at the mention of Roxanne being injured, or worse.
“All right, everyone. Let’s resume our practice!” Norb exclaimed. The more time they spent discussing Roxanne, the less time they had for practicing. Besides, the cats were all riled up now, and not in a way benefitting their operetta. Order needed to be restored.
The Opera Cats returned to their duties, albeit not with as much enthusiasm as before. Olga sniffed before leaping back on the stag to sing.
“A prima donna is the toughest cat to work with,” Cecil muttered.
Norb gave Cecil a sideways glance. “I don’t know about that. I think it’s just Olga,” he said.
“Do you think she stole that necklace? I, of course, do not believe it. What would a cat do with such an item?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Norb admitted. “I don’t think Roxanne stole it. Of course, she did arrive at the party wearing an emerald necklace…”
“As Harry pointed out, there are many emerald necklaces. Why, at the last human opera, I spied three humans wearing such things…”
As Cecil droned on about necklaces and other matters, Norb’s thoughts drifted to Harry and his search for Roxanne. He hoped Harry would burst through the door soon, with Roxanne in tow. Norb would yell at Roxanne for how foolish and selfish she’d been, question her about the necklace (more for Olga’s sake than his own; he had his doubts regarding that ordeal), and then they’d commence practice as if nothing had happened.
But there was no sign of Roxanne for the rest of the day.