Suddenly, the world seemed to shrink away from him. The jewels became smaller and smaller, save the one he had clamped his paws unto out of desperation, and the darkness faded into the distance. Light enveloped him, and Parsley wondered if each and every spider had bitten him at the same time, and if this was death…

And he was in Fruitloop’s arms.

“Oh, thank you so much Detective Churchill! I don’t know how he got stuck in there but thank you so much!”

Detective Churchill released the poor, paralyzed and shivering munchkin cat from the fireplace tongs as Fruitloop gently lifted the cat into her own arms. “It’s all in a day’s duty, I guess. I’ve just never pulled a cat out of a vent before…”

“I’m just glad your okay!” Fruitloop cooed, pressing her face into Parsley’s fur. “My poor kitty’s ‘fraid of tha little spiders!”

“Mrrrowrrr…!”

“He does not sound happy, Ms Ann.”

“He’s just grumpy. Thanks again so much!”

The detective just nodded. “I’m just curious how you knew the jewels would be in there.”

Fruitloop feigned innocence. “Jewels…? PARSLEY! What in the world have you got there?!”

Detective Churchill snickered at the loose grammar of the supposedly high-class female. “It seems your cat may have been smarter than you…”

Fruitloop barely touched the jewel in Parsley’s paws, but he was so sensitive he dropped it immediately. Fruitloop could not help but stare in awe at the fire and sparkle of the pale-blue gem.

“It’s…beautiful…”

“No, sir! You can’t—”

“Miss Ann!”

Fruitloop turned to see Sir Markus pushing his way into the room past the maid, who was looking thoroughly peeved at the man’s entrance. “Miss Ann!”

Again, Fruitloop feigned surprise as Parsley moved to her shoulder. “Sir Markus! What are you doing here?”

“Well, m’lady, I found a very interesting item outside the window!” and he held up a beautiful, gemmed brooch a little smaller than his hand.

“All that damage by that litt’l thing?!” the detective huffed, barely able to catch his breath over the object.

“Yes, and I can tell you why!” the appraiser beamed. “It’s—”

“Fake.”

Every set of eyes within the room turned to Fruitloop and Parsley, comfortably on display in the middle of the room. “It’s a bit of a pattern, and I’d like—”

“Miss Ann?”

“Is anyone going to finish anything around here?” Fruitloop sighed as she turned to the door. “What?”

The older butler held open the door and motioned toward the hallway. “The master wishes to speak with you.”

Fruitloop grabbed Parsley and sighed. “Actually, that’s what I had in mind, but anyway…”

The detective and appraiser only stared.

The butler refused to say anything along the way, but he did mention one last thing; do not, under any circumstance, be rude to the Lord Bartholomew.

Fruitloop took a deep breath and gulped as the butler announced her. “Okay, Parsley. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, kiddo.”

The door creaked open. The butler mumbled, “You have been announced.” The air was dusty and thick, hanging upon the beams of light penetrating through the curtains. Fruitloop could hear the echoing hush of each footstep strike against the floor.

“Um, Mi-Lord, Bartholomew?”

The bed almost seemed like a decorated coffin.

“Lord, Barth—”

“Open the bloody windows, will you?! It’s pitch black in here!”

To see the old man sit up so suddenly made even Parsley jump.

“Of-of course, sir!” Fruitloop yipped, shuffling over to the windows on her high-heels. The heavy curtains did block a lot of the light, and Fruitloop thought she would go blind as she opened them.

“‘Some dark will do you good, sir!’ Ta bloody hell with that!”

Fruitloop only looked over her shoulder in curiosity.

Lord Bartholomew was not only sitting up in bed, he was holding a cold compress to his head and grumbling curses under his breath.

“Are you—”

“Fine?! You know bloody well I am not bloody fine! I’m as happy as the day on Wimbledon!”

“Um…What happened then?”

“It rained.”

Fruitloop winced and rolled her eyes. Of course: It always rains on Wimbledon.

“Um…Lord Bartholomew?”

“Yes, Miss Ann?”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

Lord Bartholomew grunted in pain before answering. “Yes, Miss Ann. I heard you were looking into my attack?”

“Yes.”

“And you were coming close to a conclusion?”

“Yes…”

“Well?!”

Fruitloop scrambled over to the bed before she answered. “Um, yeah, Lord Bartholomew, I do have a couple of suspects, but the final score depends on what you say.”

“Well, I can’t tell you who attacked me, because I do not remember for the life of me.”

“Make it easy, why don’t you?” Fruitloop grumbled under her breath.

“I can tell you he was pretty upset when I told him the piece he was holding was a fake!”

“Really?!”

“Yes. He…had just told me the item was an exquisite masterpiece, but then I revealed the true value after he handed me the check!”

Like a little girl and an interesting story, Fruitloop begged him to continue. Apparently, just a few seconds earlier, the man threatened the lord not to sell him any fakes because he could tell the difference. Lord Bartholomew could not help but rub the truth in his face so early on in the game.

“But why were you so eager, my lord?”

“Why, because I hated the man’s guts, that’s why! He was the same age as my grandson and they were always fighting in school!”

“So you do know who it is!”

“Not for the life of me, no, but I would recognize that smug look anywhere!”

Fruitloop sighed and slumped back into the chair she had pulled up for herself. What a day!

“Sir, first you say you know who it is, and then you say you don’t. Do you or don’t you?”

“I say I know his face, but his name escapes me.”

“Thank you for clearing that up, sir. But it wasn’t Edmond?”

“No. It wasn’t Edmond at all. A little earlier, I caught him in the hall outside the loo, and he asked me about the gems. I just told him about my sweet revenge and moved on.”

Fruitloop nodded. That checked out Edmond’s story. Now, the only one left was…

“Thank you so much, Lord Bartholomew! I can tell you who the culprit is, but it will have to be in the common room in front of all the guests. We can’t risk ‘im runnin’ if he knows we’re onto him!”

“Such impudence! Have you no manners before a lord?!”

Fruitloop slapped a hand over her mouth. She could probably guess what made him upset.

“Did your great aunt not teach you how to speak?!”

“I-I’m sorry, sir! It’s a habit! It’s called talking ‘a mile a minute.’ Chicagoans do it all the time.”

“Well, you will not! Out! I’ll see you in the common room in twenty minutes!”

Fruitloop did her best to resist the urge to salute and rap out, “Yes, sir!” in her thickest voice possible. She did, however, curtsy politely and leave the room as quickly, but as mannerly, as possible.

“Well, Fruitloop, twenty minutes isn’t a lot of time.”

“But it is enough time for a few things. I have to talk to Sir Markus and Detective Churchill about the collection before we go any further. I need to make sure everything is fake.”

“And, if they’re fake, were they switched out or have they been that way?”

“Parsley, they’ve been that way, believe me. When he said, ‘but then I revealed the true value,’ he said it with a confidence loaded with security.”

“Please explain to the little lost kitty.”

“We’re in the hallway, and the kitchen is over there…”

“Ha ha! Very funny! I meant about your analysis.”

“Well, the intruder had wanted to buy most of the items, right?”

“Right…”

“As far as we can tell, anyway. Lord Bartholomew would not have been so eager to rub it in his buyer’s face if he had anything of real value that could have been broken in an outrage.”

“So the buyer’s unstable?”

“Well, at least has a temper. And he was obviously young, as is Edmond, so we just need to round up the remaining young males, interrogate them, and pick out the burglar!”

“Okay, back it up a sec. It was Edmond in the garden that slugged Richard!”

“And every man’s attracted to a fight, so that’s why I need to talk to them.”

Parsley only gave Fruitloop a confused look as the young woman smiled and winked.

“Thanks for coming!” Fruitloop beamed, greeting Sir Markus at the common room door. “We just have a few more questions about the items.”

Sir Markus returned the smile. “Anything for you, young miss. Now, what do you need me to look at?”

Detective Churchill, hands clad in latex gloves, held over some of the more expensive jewelry. “We need you to appraise these, and—”

“Fakes.”

Detective Churchill almost jumped back. “What?! All of them?”

“Young sir, when you’ve been in the appraising business as long as I have, you tend to pick out the flaws a little faster, despite some of these being masterpieces of their own kind. Some of them, however, are only cheap knockoffs, like that one, which is sparkling with the consistency of glass…that one isn’t bending right, so it has to be plastic, and that one is—”

“Thank you, Sir Markus! Can you look at the other items now?”

Both men looked at Fruitloop while Parsley only piteously mewed.

“Please?”

Sir Markus sighed. “As you wish, m’lady. Please wait a moment.”

And a moment later, he was finished.

Detective Churchill whistled. “I had no idea the whole display was fake! What happened to them?”

“We can figure that out later, but right now I have to go talk to some of the other guests. I’ll be back later!”

Again, Fruitloop received stares she could only be blind too as she fled the room, her cat nestled snuggly in her arms.

Most of the guests continued to stay in the garden, despite the fading glow of the sun. Still more of them were in conversations, but Richard, grumbling and alone, was holding an icepack to his face in a lonely corner.

Fruitloop caught her breath and calmed herself down.

“Alright, just ask the men and get out of here…” Parsley whispered.

Fruitloop nodded with determination and, reminding herself of her great-aunt’s lessons, daintily walked into the garden.

Seeing her alone and with no obvious target for conversation, the men flocked to her side, save Richard, who was still sulking.

After all the introductions had made her dizzy, Fruitloop pressed her point. She couldn’t help but smile at the answers, and finally excused herself. She invited them all to the common room in five minutes, as she was going there herself, but each one asked to escort her, to an interesting reaction.

“Pardon me, but has she talked to any of you this evening?”

As the crowd stopped to think, Richard pushed his way through, scabby nose and all, to Fruitloop’s side.

“As that apparent answer happens to be no, I will escort the young lady myself. Understand?!”

The crowd stood aside, and Fruitloop smiled to herself. This day was going to end well indeed.

“I suppose you wonder why I’ve called you all here this evening—”

“Miss Ann, we’ve all read Sherlock Holmes. Just continue!”

“Well pardon me, but I haven’t!”

“Shush, Bartholomew, and let my niece talk!”

“As I was saying!” Fruitloop shouted, not just hoping to interrupt the argument but to also shock the lords and lady into a short silence she could use. After counting a second, she continued: “Thank you. Anyway, this is about the burglary this afternoon.”

“We could have guessed…”

“Shush Bartholomew! Behave!”

Fruitloop again paused, now knowing exactly how her English Lit. teacher felt back home.

“Please continue.”

“Thank you. At first, the crime seemed like a common burglary, but that wasn’t right…”

Her footsteps made no noise as she paced to the window.

“As you can see at my feet, there is no glass, but if you look up…”

They collectively followed her gesturing hand.

“…there is a lack of said glass. Something broke the window, and what if the butler did it?”

There was a collection of gasps at sighs at the old cliché, and the young butler, at the door, yelped in surprise.

“You were reportedly the first on the scene. You could have done it!”

“But I couldn’t even move!” the butler squeaked, desperately trying to save himself. “I was the one who screamed and was frozen in fear!”

“But you have a lot to gain. Stolen items from your employer could get you a pretty penny on the street—”

“I would never do that, and I’m a coward anyway!”

Fruitloop nodded, snickering. “That’s right. As a coward, you wouldn’t even think to smash the window, and at the very sight of your battered lord, you were scared stiff. Of course it wasn’t you.”

The butler fainted in relief. The poor, half-deaf maid behind him had the honor of catching his pitiful, unconscious self.

“Then there’s the lord himself, who could have done it…”

“I dare say—!”

“But it’s hard to imagine how he can knock himself out with a blow to the back of his head, so I guess he’s not it…”

The lord rolled his eyes to the scattered snickers. “Miss Ann, if you’re quite finished, we’d like the conclusion!”

“Alright, alright,” Fruitloop smiled. “What about Edmond? You didn’t want your grandfather to sell, so you could have set this up to prevent the transaction…”

“I did not! I was at a loss at the time!”

“Do you have proof?”

“My grandfather saw me right before I went in. He can testify for me!”

“Sir Bartholomew?”

“I did see him there, and I do believe I mentioned it to you.”

Fruitloop’s smiled only broadened. “You did, but the detective wasn’t there, so you may have to repeat a few things.”

“Is that what this is all about?!”

All eyes turned to Richard, who was still a little peeved about his bloody nose. “You’re playing this twisted game just so the detective can get all the facts?!”

“Pretty much. I have noticed when I mentioned the butler, the lord of this estate, and Edmond in particular, you did seem a little smug…”

“Wait a minute! By Jove! That’s him!”

The officers by the door caught Richard as he tried to bolt for the door and Detective Churchill handcuffed him right then and there. They were about to take him away, but Fruitloop asked for him to stay.

“I would like for him to hear how I figured it out,” she explained.

With nothing to lose, they complied.

“To tell you the truth, Richard, the whole game was to catch your reaction. It’s a bit obvious what would beget what, so I won’t get into detail there, but you did leave behind some interesting evidence.”

Richard huffed. “Like what?”

“When you bought the brooch, Lord Bartholomew told you it was fake, and, being angry, you threw it at him, but missed, terribly, and broke the window. As the lord was lamenting the window, you grabbed the clock, slammed it over his head, and, dropping that, grabbed whatever you could and stashed it in the vent. After that, the butler ran in and you, hiding behind the door by said vent, heard him scream. His vision was completely taken by the battered lord, so you had plenty of time to hide in the room before the maid ran in. Shortly after that, I came in a little before Edmond, and…Sir Benjamin, can you tell me who entered the room after that?”

A young lord stood up. “I did with my brother and two friends, closely followed by five others.”

“And how did you know there were five of them?”

“Because Lady Dueblo cried out, ‘Move aside you four! The lady goes first!’”

After glancing toward her blushing great-aunt, Fruitloop said, “That’s nine, plus Edmond, who entered shortly before and me, just a few seconds before that, means you, Richard, never left the room at all. You were just ‘there’ when everything started.”

Richard only scowled as the room began to murmur.

“To top that off, you have a temper, and, knowing that, you knew you had to get the blame off you. You provoked Edmond into an attack to make him seem the dangerous and temperamental one, despite the glaring evidence of Edmond speaking to you earlier in the garden about the items themselves. That, and all these wonderful young men told me so much about your days in school…and the time you spent in the detention hall for starting fights.”

The murmur grew only slightly.

“Also, I knew about your bad aim from asking about the fight. Apparently, you swung first, and missed, and Edmond only hit you in self defense. That’s what you get for spreading lies about me. And you told me about your appraising hobby, which only seemed to stick out like a sore thumb when Lord Bartholomew mentioned you threatened to know the difference between a fake and the real thing. Sorry, Richard, but you blew it.”

The whispers in the room were filled with doubt. Richard did it? But he hadn’t been in trouble for years!

“You’ll regret this, Miss Dueblo! I have influence in this city, and I’ll be after you long before you even realize it!”

“Then try getting me in America. That’s a bit far, even for you, don’t you think?”

It was Fruitloop who was smug as Richard was led from the room.

It had been a week since the whole fiasco had settled down and, Lady Fiona, proud of her great-niece, officially signed her as the sole beneficiary to the estate and all her belongings once her time came.

Fruitloop looked up at the airport sign. She had just gotten her bags a day ago and, in the meanwhile, had been borrowing clothes her great-aunt had bought her just for the occasion. Lady Fiona probably wouldn’t have been too appreciative of jeans and sneakers anyway, but it was felt good to finally be in her own clothes.

Even so, she was going to miss this place…and Edmond. After the incident, she had time to spend with him, and he ended up being one of those young lords who dress up in “commoner’s” clothes just to sneak out and head to the local arcade.

That, and he had three cats.

She sighed. There wasn’t a more perfect guy in the universe, and he lived behind an ocean compared to where she lived. She was really going to miss this place.

“Fruitloop!”

She almost jumped (although Parsley did) at the voice. It was only Edmond, who had gotten into the habit of calling her by her nickname in less formal circumstances.

“Fruitloop! You haven’t left yet!”

Fruitloop sighed in relief and smiled. “Of course I haven’t, Edmond. My plane leaves in an hour!”

“Well, I was only stopping by on my way to the arcade, because I just had to say goodbye to you one last time.”

Fruitloop almost melted. “That’s so sweet of you, but you don’t have to say goodbye!”

He looked confused. “Why is that?”

“Because, if you give me your email address, we can send instant letters whenever we wanted! Digital pen pals!”

Edmond rolled his eyes and smiled. “Of course. I completely forgot! Well…do you have a pen?”

After they exchanged emails, Fruitloop had to say one last thing before she left.

“And by the way, my cat talks.”

“That’s n— WHAT?!”

With her bag in one hand and Parsley on her shoulder, Fruitloop ran into the airport, calling, “Talk to you later, Edmond!”

And of course, Parsley had to add something:

“And don’t forget to stay out of trouble!”

June 2, 1997

Monday. Annalise Dueblo, my “owner,” has just recently saved an English Lord from loss of respect after clearing the near burglary of his collection. According to sources, the Lord Bartholomew found his collection to be “empty” and, after selling the items and buying copies of ranging values, he donated the money to various charities and buildings, including, but not limited to, five individual orphanages, six hospitals, and three well-known missionaries. In addition to this, he promised to sell the so-called “priceless items” to his grandson’s rival as a “spot of revenge,” to quote the man from the English “telly.”

Note: Case specifics are filed under “E” for “Edmond”

Note: Cats do need passports, just like humans, so there.

End of entry.

Fruitloop took a deep breath of the damp British air, smiling as she released the sigh. “What a day…” she whispered, completely satisfied the British Airways nightmare was over.

“Who knew you needed a passport for me, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, slapping a hand to her face and hissing the same air she had just so peacefully inhaled. She then whipped toward the small, seemingly crouching cat at her feet. “You know perfectly well I had no idea.”

“Still,” the cat purred, rolling over to his side, “it seems cats are important enough to require passports, just as humans do…”

Fruitloop could almost feel the snickering smile in Parsley’s voice.

“Regardless, whether or not we actually have to argue with the international police about whether or not I actually need a passport, isn’t there a rich great aunt of yours we need to suck up too?”

Fruitloop rolled her eyes and picked up the little munchkin cat. Just to annoy the thing, she continued to roll and flip the cat in her hands as she spoke. “And why are you so intent on sucking up to my great aunt, anyway?”

“Put me down or (urp!) stop tossing me! I get motion sick!!” Parsley squeaked.

“Says the cat who can’t stand sitting anywhere but the front seat of my car.”

Beep Beeeeeep!

Both cat and human started suddenly at the high-pitched car horn, trying to discern if they were the target of such harsh noises.

Sure enough, a taxi labeled “Dueblo” was parked ahead of them just outside the airport. The taxi driver kept looking left and right, seemingly in search for something he probably could not recognize if he had to.

“I guess that’s for us…” Fruitloop sighed, slumping her shoulders and allowing Parsley to skip up to her neck. “Hopefully there isn’t another ‘Dueblo’ in London…”

The short trip was soon made to the small taxi and, after tapping on the glass, Fruitloop was able to discover that although she was not the only Dueblo in London, she was in fact the Dueblo the taxi man was looking for. Despite this quick discovery, more international problems presented themselves. These problems were not “international” in size, but in kind; the airport had sent Fruitloop’s bags to Kuwait.

Needless to say, Fruitloop was not happy by the time she had arrived at her great aunt’s mansion.

At the door…

“Wow…” Fruitloop breathed, trying to see the top of the mansion from the front steps. “It’s huge!”

“And your entire inheritance hinges on this one visit! Behave!” Parsley hissed from her feet. “You’re her last living favorite relative, you know!”

“Yeah, and she wants me to marry that favorite patron of hers, Edward the Sixth or something. What was so great about the other five, anyway? People with numbers in their names never have any originality.”

“There you go with stereotypes again…”

“Even if they are not true one hundred percent of the time, they tend to be true of the majority. That said, it can usually be stated how a stereotype is a good base when preparing to meet a new/unknown person, a.k.a. a stranger, in an unknown and probably unsafe environment.”

“We’re at your great aunt’s house! It’s loaded with security!”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

Fruitloop took another big breath and headed for the door, praying with every step as Parsley just grumbled at her feet. Her fist stopped just an inch from the oaken wood, nervousness practically oozing from her demeanor.

“Stop freaking out! You’ll be fine!” Parsley hissed under his breath, but just loud enough for Fruitloop to hear.

“I know, but she’s rich and snobbish. I don’t like those people!”

“Usually. Fake it if you have to!”

“What are you, my conscious?”

“No, your common sense. Up straight! Somebody’s coming!”

Fruitloop quickly straightened her back and smartly rapped the door, immediately regretting the move as the hollow sound seemed to rumble along inside. She barely had time to breathe in time for the butler, just inside said door, to open the portal and, consequently, scare poor Fruitloop into a small shriek.

“Is anything the trouble, miss?” the butler droned.

“No, thank you, I’m just…a little nervous, is all…”

“Thank you, miss. Please, follow me.”

With that, the butler bowed and headed inside. Fruitloop breathed a sigh of relief and followed the servant in, hoping, and she knew in vain, her worst troubles were over.

“Young miss, I noticed you have not any bags…” the butler continued to drone.

“They sent them to Kuwait. I’ll have them in two days.”

“Young miss, may I warn you against that type of language around the Mistress. She absolutely cannot stand improper, or loose, grammar.”

“Thanks for the warning…” Fruitloop mumbled. “And please don’t call me ‘Young Miss.’ My name is Fr—I mean, Ann. Just call me Ann.”

“As you wish, Miss Ann.”

“This is gonna be a long week…”

The butler abruptly stopped and whirled upon the young woman, who (again) almost shrieked in shock. “This, Miss Ann, is your room. Your great aunt has already heard of your bags and, expectantly, has clothes for this evening’s party already in the closet. Please freshen up and dress yourself within the hour, as your great aunt will then meet you at the tolling of the bell.”

“He means Big Ben,” Parsley whispered, pretending to meow as the butler then turned a curious eye.

“Uh, my cat rambles a bit,” Fruitloop smiled, hoping not to seem too nervous. “Sometimes he sounds like he’s talking.”

“You will find yourself fortunate the Mistress allows pets, including a small dog of her own. I suggest keeping your cat in your room,” he mumbled, still in the same tone as before.

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll be fine from here,” she answered, picking up Parsley and attempting to enter the room. However, this small victory was taken from her because the butler, used to duty and chivalry, opened the door for her.

“Thanks again…” she mumbled, slumping slightly as she entered. She knew she’d never get used to this.

The butler only bowed in reply as the door shut, allowing Fruitloop and Parsley to finally have their privacy.

“You know, Miss Ann—”

“Oh, shut up!”

“—something has been bothering me. How did your great aunt already know the bags were missing?”

Fruitloop abruptly stopped pulling off her coat and shirt and glanced at the cat over her shoulder. “You know, I had thought of that, but I assumed the butler had an earpiece or something. You know, so Aunt Fiona could call at a moment’s notice or something like that.”

“True, true… There was a miscoloring in his ear…”

“Says the midget.”

“Vertically Challenged! It’s Vertically Challenged!”

“Still,” Fruitloop grunted, fighting with her belt, “that would explain how the butler knew I was coming before I knocked, and how my great aunt knew about my bags just seconds after I told the butler.”

“So the butler did it?”

Parsley leapt for cover as the flying pillow narrowly missed the leaping munchkin cat. “I’m only quoting the great Sherlock Holmes! We are in London, you know!”

“Just shut it and leave me alone! I have to get ready for the party!”

“Which does mean makeup, you know…”

“Yeech…”

The next half hour was a frantic rush of a quick shower, a blow-drying accident involving the cat, a chase around the room to retrieve the makeup (Parsley’s revenge), and a frantic call to the maid to help with the dress and abnormally large hat. At the top of the hour, Fruitloop was ready.

“I feel like a fake.”

“Oh hush! Your aunt will be here any second now!”

Fruitloop picked up Parsley to calm her nerves, but the maid warned her how the Mistress would find that improper. As a result, Fruitloop was so nervous she did not know the location of her cat when her great aunt arrived.

“Ah! Miss Dueblo! Such a pleasure!” her strangely young-seeming great aunt cooed upon entering the room. “And you picked my favorite dress! How lovely!”

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you!” Fruitloop blurted, and quickly covered her mouth in her embarrassment.

“Oh, hush now. Speak softer and much slower. You aren’t in America, my dear!”

“That’s what worries me…”

“No mumbling! And straighten that back! Shoulders down! Relax, for the love of Britain! Relax! Nose up! That’s it! Now, let’s see you walk.”

Fruitloop suppressed a grimace and gingerly began to step forward in the most graceful manner she could manage. Hopefully her great aunt wouldn’t notice her Chicago walk.

“You walk like a hippopotamus. Come, come! Sven, call François. The woman needs some quick lessons!”

“Great, the teacher’s French!” Fruitloop moaned, and she hoped quietly enough to avoid her great aunt’s wrath.

“You will listen to whatever François says and follow orders exactly. Understand?” Aunt Fiona snapped, making it very clear her word was law.

“Yes ma’am,” Fruitloop replied, doing her best to bow, just a little, in respect.

“No no no! It’s ‘Yes, madam!’ And don’t bow like that! Just nod your head! The party’s in an hour! We’re going to be the laughing stock of the nation!”

As her great aunt continued to wail in despair, Fruitloop was led off into a side room where a young man (obviously French) began to rap orders at her. How to dance, how to walk, how to talk, etc. etc. However, Fruitloop also began to notice one last detail:

Where was Parsley?

The garden party started a little after four o’clock; well into the afternoon and just into the evening. Fruitloop was supposed to be the star attraction; as the possible heir to the great Lady Fiona Dueblo, Miss Ann Dueblo seemed quite the prize. In fact, whether or not they had been chosen by the great Lady Fiona herself, many of the men (some married) introduced themselves to Fruitloop anyway. Despite the conversations, Fruitloop, for the first time in her life, found herself shy and unwilling to make small talk with any of the Lords and Ladies present, and constantly tried to find ways of excusing herself.

Sometimes, the opportunities presented themselves.

“Why, Miss Dueblo! You look absolutely smashing this evening!”

“Thank you, Sir…?”

“Markus. Sir Markus. I do believe you are…twenty years of age? Am I correct?”

“Almost. I’m nineteen.”

“Such talk! You’re from the Americas, then?”

“Yes, actually. I’m from Chicago.”

“Nice to hear, nice to hear! I say, what an interesting hat! Where did you ever find such a design?”

“Say again?”

“Well, fur was last year, m’lady. It’s all flowers this year.”

“What?”

Fruitloop tried to look up at her hat, which, of course, she could only see the bottom of because of the wide rim. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…”

“Here, let me take your hat and show you then. The pin should be in the back…”

“MEOW!!”

“AUGH!!”

Fruitloop quickly scooped up the frightened cat from the man’s front and snatched the hat as she swiftly removed herself from the scene. Parsley continued to grumble about an interrupted nap as the not-quite-young lord continued to brush cat fur from his front and face, only to look up and find the subject of his fancy to be strangely missing…

“And you told who to behave?”

“Just shut up.”

Fruitloop continued to travel deeper into the garden hedges, finding herself delightfully lost and wonderfully alone. In fact, she felt so sure of her security she even let Parsley walk on his own at her side as the stone paths continued to twist and turn.

“Wait a minute…”

“What, Parsley?”

“Shh!”

Both were as silent as the grave as new voices were heard.

“I don’t like this. I never did. You cannot bully the old Lord just for a few baubles!”

“They aren’t just a ‘few baubles!’ They are, in fact, crown jewels from separate countries, including the India Eye!”

“That old cat’s eye gem is practically worthless now! And he will not give up such a piece without a good offer, which I can guarantee two million pounds is not!”

Fruitloop suppressed a whistle. Two million pounds was a lot of money!

Parsley, however, was more interested in finding the identity of the conversationalists than dreaming of the untold amounts of money being casually conversed of here. As his little face peeked from around the corner, the second speaker loudly announced his hurt pride and the insulting nature of the first and proceeded to grant the man a good day as footsteps were heard receding. As a result, Parsley was only able to find the identity of the first speaker, who, still frustrated and annoyed at his conversation partner, was all too willing to find any excuse to think of something else.

“Why, hello there, little chap! Where did you come from?”

“Meow!”

“My my, the Americas! How quaint!” he laughed, picking up Parsley as only a cat lover could. “And did you, by chance, bring your prize owner with you? She has escaped me all evening.”

“Oh great. More flirts!” Fruitloop moaned, trying to think of any excuse to continued being lost and alone. Except, now she would be without Parsley, and that would mean she wouldn’t have anyone to talk to…

“Isn’t that what being alone’s all about?” she groaned, pressing a palm to her face. Only after this little gesture of frustration was completed did she think of the condition it may cause to her makeup.

“Purrrrrr. Purrrrrr.”

“Well, old chap! You are quite the friendly one!”

Fruitloop sighed as she listened to the purrs. “Well, he does only purr when he trusts someone… Eh, why not?”

Hoping not to seem too clumsy or fake, Fruitloop turned the corner and called, “Parsley! There you are! You silly little kitty! You keep running away!”

She tried to be casual as she walked up to the man and, without making eye contact, tried to take the small cat from his hands, with whom he willingly parted. “Thank you so much for finding him. I’ve been lost looking for him the whole time.”

“Well, Miss Dueblo…may I call you Ann?”

“Well, I don’t see why—” Fruitloop abruptly stopped as she looked into the man’s face. He was young, probably about her age, with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. That, coupled with dark hair and a British accent, had Fruitloop completely at a loss. She had even forgotten what she was going to say!

“May I, Miss Ann?”

“Uh, yes! Yes. You-you may call me Ann.”

The handsome stranger only smiled before he continued. “I am Sir Edmond, grandson of Lord Bartholomew, owner of this particular estate and host of this particular party.” He then took Fruitloop’s free hand and gently kissed the back of her palm, causing the poor girl to then blush much more heavily than her makeup had been applied.

“I must say, your complexion is unmatched this evening! Is that a natural tone?”

The blush only grew brighter as Fruitloop turned away. She really needn’t have worried, due to the next action of the event.

“Purr-er-er-errr. Purr-er-er-errr.”

“I say, that almost sounds like ‘Here Comes the Bride.’”

“YOU STUPID CAT!!”

Sir Edmond jumped back as Fruitloop almost threw her cat to the floor. “Ohh!” she grunted, stomping off to the egress she had entered from. “Keep the damn thing!”

“Miss Ann!” Edmond called, trying to gently catch her wrist. “The party is the other way.”

“I do not care!” she cried, still trying to get away. “The only people there are people I do not know and do not care to know! They want me because of my great aunt and just want to take advantage of my ignorance! No thank you!”

“Then please!” he called, still gripping her wrist. “For your cat. We need to get him something to eat, and I do believe he would not be used to caviar.”

Fruitloop stopped trying and just turned to look Edmond in the eye. “Caviar? Why would my cat want fish eggs?”

“Mrowr?”

“No, Parsley. Not ‘fish’ and ‘eggs,’ but ‘fish eggs.’ Nasty little salty bits that look like dirt.”

Edmond laughed at the small comment. “I had never heard of anyone speak of caviar as such. Well done!”

“It’s the truth!”

“No need to defend yourself, miss. Let us find the kitchen; as this is my grandfather’s estate, I do believe I am allowed to a few unannounced vittles,” he smiled. “Besides, I do believe cats, and your cat in particular, would enjoy a nice bit of salmon instead of ‘nasty little salty bits that look like dirt.’”

“How did I get into this?” Fruitloop sighed, trying to decide between getting wonderfully lost again or to follow this handsome man. “Fine! Fine. Let’s get Parsley a little salmon or whatever.”

By this time Edmond had released her wrist and now held his arm to her. “May I have the honors, madam?”

“I prefer ma’am. It sounds more Chicagoan.”

Again, Edmond laughed, leading her along by the arm (and again, gently). “I am truly baffled by this…Chicagoan language. Can you teach me?”

“Sure. First, cut off every ‘g’ from any ‘ing’ endings.”

“How so?”

“Like not ‘running’ but ‘runnin.’”

“Ah.”

Parsley continued to skip along behind, continuing to hum “Here Comes the Bride” to the unending torment of the young woman at the young lord’s side. Although there was conversation between the couple, Parsley, and moreover, Fruitloop, noticed many of the guests found this new development to be quite annoying. In fact, the only person seemingly happy about Fruitloop (or, as the company would call her, Ann) being with Edmond was, in fact, the great aunt. Parsley decided to keep this little tidbit to himself for a moment so he could investigate later; he wanted his salmon first.

In the kitchen, (after they had finally arrived) Parsley was happily munching his salmon in cream on the counter as Fruitloop and Edmond, mounted on kitchen stools, continued to chat.

“So, why is his name Parsley, perchance?”

“Well, because when I first found him, I was having spaghetti for dinner and I didn’t want to change my plans, so I just whipped up a little for him too. As he was so weak he could barely eat, he just licked the parsley and butter off the top and meowed until I cut up the rest until it was small enough for him. I just thought it was so funny I actually found a cat who would tolerate parsley I just named him after it.”

Edmond chuckled as he nodded. “Infallible logic, I must say… Will you excuse me for a moment? I find myself at a loss.”

It was Fruitloop who found herself at an actual loss. “Uh…sure! Sure. Go ahead.”

Edmond then excused himself and bowed, leaving shortly thereafter. Fruitloop, confused, then turned to her still munching munchkin cat.

“What the heck did he mean, ‘I find myself at a loss?’”

“He meant he had to go to the bathroom. Now leave me alone! You have to savor every bite of something like this to completely enjoy it!”

“Snob.”

“Proud of it.”

Again Parsley’s reflexes saved his life as Fruitloop punched out at him, fully intentional in connecting. “Why do you have to be such a…ah…”

“Snob?”

“Oh shut up.”

“Can I enjoy my salmon and cream now?”

“Whatever.”

Parsley continued to enjoy his meal as Fruitloop just sulked, heavily annoyed and wondering why she was the one, of the billions of people in the world, to have been landed with a talking cat.

“You could have been a talking fish…”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.”

Parsley only gave her a wary eye as he continued. Lucky for him, Fate allowed him to finish his meal before the scream was heard.

“I’m gone!” Fruitloop yelped, sliding off the stool and leaping for the door.

“I’m not that fast!” Parsley squeaked, trying to leap from the slippery countertop and land on her shoulder simultaneously. “Wait for me!”

Parsley only got nabbed by the nape of the neck as Fruitloop tore by; she had every intention of being one of the first at the scene of the crime.

The scene was some sort of common room, fully adorned with priceless antiquities and a gilded fireplace, in which a pale butler, a startled maid, and a battered lord (who was currently face down on the floor) were situated. First, before even actually entering the room, Fruitloop dropped Parsley and pointed out a corner by the fireplace; an ideal hiding spot for a small cat. Then, straightening herself, she ran in, creating the distraction Parsley needed to move.

“What happened?” she called, trying her best to sound concerned.

“Oh, Miss Dueblo! It’s awful! When the butler screamed I came right in here to find the Lord Bartholomew right where you see him!”

Fruitloop looked confused. “Wait a minute. That horribly feminine scream was, in fact, the butler?”

The maid nodded and Fruitloop just rolled her eyes. It always seemed to be her.

Parsley even mouthed to her, “The butler did it!”

Within seconds most of the party arrived, including the great aunt and Edmond, who had been missing just moments before. “Good gracious! What happened here?” Aunt Fiona gasped upon entering the room. “Someone, call the city guard!”

That action had already been sent underway, but it was Fruitloop who added the necessary information. “He’s not dead, just hit over the head. Somebody get me ice in a bag and a cold compress! We need to reduce the swelling!”

The items were quickly retrieved as the lord was moved to the couch for comfort. Fruitloop herself began to apply the treatment, much to her amazement, alone. No one in the room seemed willing to help, including the butler (who had actually soiled himself and was asked to leave) and the maid.

Seconds later the guard arrived and took control of the situation. They commended Fruitloop for her work and took away the lord on a stretcher, promising his well return.

“Okay…” Fruitloop smiled, clapping her hands together. “First thing’s first. We have to find out who did it and—”

“Eeek! The India Eye is missing!”

“The Seven Pearls! They’re gone!”

“…what’s missing…” she groaned. “Okay! Does anyone have a complete list or are we going to have to write one?”

A young lord stepped forward. “I do believe I can name everything missing. However, it is a shame the lord never sold the items, leaving them open to such vicious attempts.”

“Well, that’s a strange look,” Fruitloop snickered. “Why was it a shame?”

“Quite simple, actually,” was the reply. “If he had sold them to me as I had asked, he may have gotten some profit for the items instead of a headache.”

“He has more than a headache, Richard! And you know that!” Edmond snarled, advancing toward the other young lord. “My grandfather could have died, and no thanks to you!”

“Are you accusing me of such a crime?”

“It is not beneath you!”

“And what about you, who was heard arguing with him just moments before! The argument could have been the precursor to this event!”

“I was not before my grandfather since three this evening!” Edmond roared.

“You have no proof of that!”

“Nor do you!”

The screaming fit almost ended in a fist fight as the two young lords were literally dragged from each other. Several lords and ladies in the room kept the two apart, and Fruitloop continued to mentally tag each and every one of them.

A guard returned and asked the condition of the room, at which Fruitloop took control and mentioned how everything was fine and calm; there had been an attempted fight, but it was stopped and unnecessary to inquire anything else of it. The guard insisted otherwise, but there was little else to be done without an actual detective, so they posted a patrol to prevent anyone currently on the estate from leaving.

Within a few tense moments, Parsley, Fruitloop, and the maid were the only ones left in the room.

“Miss, did you see anything?” Fruitloop asked.

“No ma’am. I just ran in when the butler screamed. The lord was face down on the floor and I was speechless! I couldn’t do anything!” she wailed.

“It’s alright! It’s alright. I just want to know what you saw.”

“Well, I did notice the mantle clock was a bit skewed, but I thought it had fallen during the fight…”

By the maid’s definition, “a bit skewed” meant tumbled across the floor a few feet from the landing place of the battered lord. “Where did it used to be?” Fruitloop asked, walking over to the clock as quietly and gently as possible so as not to disturb too much of the scene.

“On the mantle. It was one of the lord’s favorite pieces. It’s an antique, near three hundred years old, or so I’m told.”

Parsley, next to Fruitloop’s ear as she crouched low to see the clock, whispered, “That’s pretty sturdy for a three-hundred-year-old clock, but we aren’t appraisers so we can’t know for sure. I say our next order of business is to find one. Perhaps there’s one at the party.”

“Say ‘maybe,’ not ‘perhaps.’ You’re creeping me out!”

“I’m only trying to pay homage to the Great Sherlock Holmes!”

Parsley quickly removed himself from the area. You do not continue along any strain of conversation when Fruitloop gives you “tha look.”

“What’s wrong, miss?” the maid asked.

“Oh, nothing. My cat was getting in the way, that’s all.”

“Should I take him for you?”

“Why not? He likes being cuddled. Just don’t mishandle him; he can get a little fussy.”

The maid nodded as Fruitloop rose and began searching the room, being very careful not to touch anything. Parsley also began looking, but was wandering in the general direction of the maid, as she was calling to him and holding out an open palm. He figured he could get a better view from a higher vantage point, but he didn’t want to seem suspicious.

Fruitloop sighed. “I guess I’ve done all I can. Time to interview the guests!”

“Good luck with that,” the maid huffed. “There are over thirty people here and any one of them could have done it.”

Fruitloop was not dismayed. “How many are guests?”

“Twelve. Including yourself.”

Fruitloop nodded to herself. “Small party… Anyway, I guess I’ll get started. Parsley! I’m leaving!”

At the call, the ginger munchkin cat leapt clear from the maid’s arms and eagerly stepped into line next to Fruitloop, who was leaving the room as she had implied. The maid, a little confused, called out; “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes,” Fruitloop replied, looking over her shoulder as she walked. “Only I and the detective can enter the room. Clear?”

“Yes ma’am!” the maid rapped, standing straight and barely keeping her hand to her side.

Parsley snickered. “She used to be in the military.”

“But she looks so young! And how did you know?”

“She’s in her twenties. That’s young enough. I’m guessing she blew out an eardrum or something and got sent home. You did notice how she was a little annoyed when you never faced her.”

“Actually, I didn’t, but good call. But how did you notice?”

“She kept scowling. As for the military thing, when you asserted your authority, she was at rapt attention, just as she had been trained. I don’t think she got anything over a GI private.”

“I see… Nice to know…”

The walk to the garden was short, and only four of the original twelve were present. Fruitloop took this time to notice her great aunt and herself were the only women officially invited to the party.

“So, Parsley,” Fruitloop whispered while picking up the cat, “who first?”

The ginger cat did not reply for a few seconds as he looked around. “How about that older man by the table? He’s alone and relatively private, so we wouldn’t have to worry about too much…”

“Isn’t that the one to whom you had attached yourself about the same time as the hat incident?”

“Hey, unlike you I’m willing to forgive and forget. Get moving!”

The garden was not large and Fruitloop was in the man’s company in a short while.

“Why, hello sir!”

“Ah, young miss! I hope I did not scare you off when the cat attacked me.”

“No, quite the contrary. I believed you’d be furious at me so I to—I mean, I left to allow you to recover.”

The man laughed and stood up, pulling out a seat as he did so. “Why would I be angry at such a heavenly creature? Please, sit and let us resume our conversation.”

Fruitloop nodded and gingerly took the seat, stroking Parsley more out of nervous habit than to please the cat. “Actually, before we talk about our previous subject, can I ask you a few questions?”

The man looked thoughtful for a second and then replied, “I don’t see why not, m’lady. How may I be of service?”

“Well,” Fruitloop mused, “do you know of an appraiser?”

“As a matter of fact, I am one,” was the reply.

“Oh really? Then maybe you can help me. You see, the item we believe to be the weapon, although it could be collateral, is a three-hundred-year-old—”

“Fake.”

“Just as I thought. How did you know it was a fake?”

The man, who Fruitloop just remembered was Sir Markus, replied, “I saw it on the floor a little after I walked in and, curious and worried it was damaged, went to investigate.”

“I do hope to God you didn’t touch it.”

“Actually, Miss Dueblo, I didn’t. As soon as I was within five feet of it I saw the gilding smeared on the back. Blatant proof of a fake.”

Fruitloop looked amazed. “Well done! I didn’t even notice.”

“In my line of work, Miss Dueblo, you have to have an eye trained for this sort of thing. But now I’m curious; why all the questions? The detective is already interviewing the guests himself.”

Fruitloop smiled. “Insatiable curiosity, if you excuse the term.”

Sir Markus just nodded. “I see. Well, I hope I helped.”

“Actually,” Fruitloop cut in, “I may need your help later. Keep in touch!”

Sir Markus gave her one of his more charming smiles. “Anything for m’lady.”

Fruitloop excused herself and, still holding Parsley, rose and left the small garden table. “So, Parsley, who next?”

“Well, the greatest suspects are Edmond and Richard, who both seemed to have some sort of problem with the unconscious lord. Edmond was reportably arguing with Lord Bartholomew moments before the incident, but Richard was overheard about bullying the same lord into selling some of his artifacts. Interesting note; Richard was overheard while talking to Edmond.”

“You have to wonder if Edmond was setting something up…”

“Or, he never did know we were there and acted as he really did. If there was an argument, it may have been about the selling of the artifacts.”

Fruitloop nodded. “Okay, Parsley. Let’s interview Richard first. He seems to be the root of the problem so far.”

Parsley purred.

Richard was actually in the dining room, sitting at the table and writing on a small notepad. He looked up when Fruitloop entered the room.

“Ah! Miss Ann! What a plea—”

“Miss Dueblo, please.”

“Miss Dueblo, then. What a pleasant surprise! I do not believe I have talked to you all evening.”

The young woman nodded knowingly. “You must understand, almost everyone has been fighting for my attention at this party.”

Richard snickered as he stood to pull a seat for her. “Are you at all surprised? Except for the host and his good friend, the hostess, who would not remarry for the world, not a single member of the party is currently pledged to anyone.”

“That would actually explain a lot.”

Richard snickered again and held out his hand for her. “May I assist you, Miss Dueblo?”

Fruitloop suddenly thought of what she thought was a brilliant idea worth trying. “Actually,” she purred, placing Parsley on the floor away from Richard (and while bending at the waist), “you can call me Ann.”

“Of course,” Richard smiled, “Miss Ann.”

As soon as Richard had made sure Fruitloop was comfortably seated, the young man seated himself and seemed completely content watching Fruitloop return his stare.

“Is there nothing to drink?” Fruitloop asked, being very careful every word rolled comfortably off her lips.

“I can call the maid. Is there anything you would like?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just a little parched, that’s all…”

Immediately Richard called the maid over from the door. “Would you kindly bring this young miss a drink? Nothing too strong; the conversation will be light.”

“You’re predicting what I’m going to say?” Fruitloop smiled, pretending to be delightedly amazed.

“If maybe not today, some other time. But I do believe you will say it!” Richard called triumphantly.

“Before I ask what I’m going to say, what do you have that will make it worth it?” Fruitloop purred.

“Well, I have recently come into possession of a few new priceless items, expanding my already large collection.”

“Oh really?”

“Of course, I have to check each and every one of them to make sure they are, in fact, the real McCoy, as you Americans would say, so I have actually taken appraising as a hobby in my spare time.”

“Is that when you’re not playing polo?”

“Of course not! I could never stand horses.”

Already curious of the turn the tables were making, Fruitloop decided to test her control over the young man. “Shame, really. I’ve always been fond of horseback riding...”

“That means nothing to say I would not make exceptions in the presence of pleasurable company.”

Fruitloop only smiled. “I wouldn’t want to impose myself upon you!” she cooed, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“Believe me, Miss Ann, that is the least of my worries…”

His tone of voice and Parsley pawing her ankle was enough of a hint. “Sir Richard, may I be excused? I find myself at a loss.”

Richard threw open his arms. “By all means, Miss Ann. Take your time.”

Fruitloop rose from the chair, gave Richard a little nod of the head, and left the room, quietly followed by Parsley, still as cute as ever.

“Nice wag.”

“Hush, Parsley! The door’s open!” Fruitloop hissed, still only a few feet from the dining room door.

“He’s not paying attention. He’s staring at your rear end.”

Fruitloop winced and blushed, hoping she would never have to return to the dining room. “How’d I do?”

“He was putty in your paws,” Parsley purred.

“Very cute.”

“I thought so,” Parsley smiled.

Fruitloop rolled her eyes. “So, Edmond next?”

“I would think so.”

“But where to find him? This house, and estate, is huge! He could be anywhere!”

“Ask the butler! He knew where Richard was.”

Fruitloop sighed. “I wish I didn’t need to, but fine…”

To remind her to ask the quest, Parsley even trotted over to the nearest butler (the one who had soiled himself earlier but had apparently changed his trousers by this time) and started purring. He even rubbed himself against the young man’s leg just to make his point.

“Um…Miss Ann? Your cat?”

“Oh, please excuse him. He tends to be friendly!” Fruitloop smiled, giggling nervously and clearing her throat as she picked up the munchkin cat.

The butler looked curious. “May I help you?”

Fruitloop returned the curious look. “Actually, you might. Do you know where Edmond is?”

The butler smiled, obviously happy to be useful. “He’s in his room, ma’am. I can take you there if you wish!”

Fruitloop breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, actually. I would appreciate that. And while we’re walking, could I ask you a few questions?”

The butler shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Does this have anything to do with the guests?”

She nodded. “Yes, actually. As you were walking by the room, how did you notice Lord Bartholomew on the floor?”

“Well, I heard a window smash, and I quickly ran to the room and saw the master on the floor as you saw him.”

“The window was smashed?”

“Yes, miss. Quite high up. If I didn’t hear I wouldn’t have known.”

Fruitloop paused in the conversation for a minute as she thought about this last tidbit of information. When she had walked into the room she didn’t even notice the window was smashed, not only because it was high up, but because of one other small detail; there was no glass on the floor.

“It was smashed from the inside…”

“Excuse me?”

Fruitloop giggled and smiled at the butler. “Nothing. I just thought of something, but it’s for Edmond. Don’t worry about it.”

The butler only nodded. “Alright then…”

“You know, I noticed you aren’t half as mono-toned as the butler in my great aunt’s house…”

“Well, I’m new. I’ve only been here three days.”

Fruitloop suppressed a giggle and smiled again. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Everybody starts somewhere.”

The butler nodded but still sulked a bit. “I guess…”

“Don’t worry about it…” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get there someday. Is this Edmond’s room?”

The butler was suddenly at rapt attention. “Yes ma’am. Should I announce you?”

“No, it’s alright. Thank you though.”

The butler blushed at the kind attention and bowed. “As you wish, ma’am. I’ll take my leave.”

With that the butler left. Fruitloop still paused at the door, a little unsure of how to announce herself. Should she just knock? Or should she call out through the door?

“EEK!”

“Miss Ann!”

Fruitloop suddenly found herself on the floor with a very confused Parsley under her ankles and a very apologetic Edmond trying to help her up.

“I am so sorry, Miss Ann! If I had known…!”

“Oh shut up, you big lummox. You just solved my problem and I’m used to falling. I have a ten-year-old sister.”

“I just solved your problem?” Edmond asked, still trying to help her up. “How so?”

Fruitloop took his hand while lifting an ankle to allow the stunned cat to escape. “Well, I was trying to figure out how to announce myself but I guess screaming is enough.”

“I am still so very sorry…”

Fruitloop only brushed herself off as she stood up. “Actually, I would like to talk to you, but I would prefer it to be in private. Is there some place we could talk?”

Edmond nodded. “Well, we are just outside my room…”

“Do you actually live here?”

“No, but this room is reserved for me when I visit my grandfather.”

“You have your own estate?!”

“Is this what you wanted to ask me?”

“Um…no, sorry. Let’s talk in your room.”

Edmond led her in by the arm, smiling all the way. “What would this line of questioning be about, perchance?”

“Actually, about the break-in, but I’m not so sure it was a random bandit anymore,” Fruitloop explained, trying not to be too amazed at the grandeur of the temporary bedroom. “You see, the window was broken—”

“I didn’t notice.”

“—and there was no glass on the inside of the room. That’s probably why no one noticed, and the break was high up, which would make it almost impossible for someone to get out, much less in. The criminal has to be one of the guests!”

Edmond nodded to himself as Parsley jumped up to the bed and snuggled into the pillow. “Just as I suspected. It could have been Richard.”

“I don’t know,” Fruitloop sighed, sitting next to Parsley (who seemed more interested in taking a nap than listening). “That’s why I’m asking questions. Back home I have a small business called the DDA, which stands for the Dueblo Detective Agency. I solve little crimes like this for fun.”

Edmond sat next to her and reached behind her to scratch Parsley’s ears. “Should I pay you for this, then?”

“Actually, if I finish this, I may end up becoming my great aunt’s heir, and that should be payment enough. But…a few dollar signs won’t hurt,” she giggled.

Edmond snickered and smiled. “I don’t know exactly how much an American dollar would translate to in pounds, but be assured I will pay you for this. He is my grandfather, after all.”

“By the way, how’s he doing?”

“He woke up an hour ago, but he’s still feeling awful. He didn’t want any guests for the time so I’m spending my time here until he would like some company.”

Fruitloop nodded and started fidgeting. She always ran out of things to say.

“You had questions about the break-in?”

Fruitloop was jarred back to reality when Edmond spoke and blushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to think. Um…did you really have a fight with your grandfather?”

“Well, I had some heated words, but it was not a complete argument. You see, I was upset he would even consider selling the items to Richard, and I almost lost my temper toward my grandfather. However, my grandfather had another view; he said the sales would be sweet revenge against Richard.”

Fruitloop looked completely confused and Parsley even perked up. “Say again?”

“I don’t know. You could ask my grandfather once he permits company, but I couldn’t even begin to tell you why he might have said that.”

“Uh-huh…” Fruitloop mumbled, nodding her head as she did so. “Could it have something to do with the clock…?”

“Say again?” Edmond asked.

“Well, we found out the clock on the floor was fake, so some other objects in his collection may have been fake as well. I don’t know…but this is getting interesting.”

Parsley started purring as he laid his head back down on his paws. Fruitloop couldn’t blame him.

“Do you think your grandfather would like company now? I would like to talk to him.”

“Well, you could ask the butler or the maid. I was told to stay in one place until he called for me.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you around…”

Edmond helped her up from the bed and bowed to her, kissing the back of her palm as he did so. “Until we meet again, Miss Ann.”

“Uh…until then!” Fruitloop giggled, blushing and quite unsure of what to say. “Well, goodbye.”

Edmond nodded and smiled as she left the room…without Parsley.

“MEOWR!!”

“Parsley!”

Fruitloop almost jumped in surprise while Edmond actually did. Parsley rushed over to Fruitloop and hissed, quite annoyed at how he was so blatantly ignored.

“Oh Parsley! I’m so sorry! I completely forgot you were there!”

“Hisssssss!”

Edmond couldn’t help but laugh as the duo left, knowing full well his grandfather was in good hands. Fruitloop, however, was still quite embarrassed and kept apologizing until they were quite far down the hallway, at which point Parsley finally allowed her to pick him up.

“There she is!”

Fruitloop turned a curious face down the from which she had just come to see a man in a large coat and the butler from before, who was pointing in her direction. The man thanked the butler and then called out to her.

“Miss Dueblo, I presume?”

“Yes?” Fruitloop asked, horribly suspicious of the strange man.

The man smiled. “I’m Detective Churchill of Scotland Yard and I’ve come to ask you a few questions. Is there someplace where we could talk in private?”

“Um…I dunno. I’m here visiting.”

“Well, there’s the garden. Could we talk there?”

“Are you married?”

The detective looked confused. “Yes, but why is that relevant?”

“Because I’m sick of talking to single people. We can talk in the garden then.”

“Alright then…”

Both were silent during the walk to the garden, with the exception of Parsley, held in Fruitloop’s arms and purring loudly. The first to speak was the detective.

“So, is the cat yours?”

“Yes. Why would I be carrying him if he’s not?”

“Just curious. You seem a little…tense. Is anything the matter?”

“No. It’s just I don’t like answering questions.”

“Ah.”

Again they were silent for a moment. The garden now had six people in it, but none of them seemed to notice the pair as they were all in their own conversations.

“Well, Miss Dueblo, where were you at the time of the crime?”

“I was in the kitchen getting something for my cat to eat.”

“Alone?”

“No. Edmond was there for most of it. Then we heard the scream and we ran to the room to see Lord Bartholomew on the floor unconscious.”

“What do you mean, exactly, ‘there for most of it’?”

“Well, he had to g—he found himself at a loss, and excused himself about a minute before the scream.”

“Ah-ha…”

The detective pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling, seemingly with no direction, all over the paper. In fact, he actually got to look up and open his mouth when a commotion was heard.

The detective, pulling out a small pistol with one hand and shoving the pad of paper in an oversized pocket with the other, said nothing as he raced off. Fruitloop took this lack of warning as an invitation to also investigate, but three steps into a run she found herself abnormally flat…

…on her face.

“Owwww…!” she moaned, just pulling her face up from the stones.

Parsley pounced over to her face. “Are you alright?!”

“Yes, just hurt, that’s all…” Fruitloop groaned, reaching back and yanking off her shoes. “No more high heels for me! I’m goin’ barefoot!”

“Atta-girl. But keep the shoes! Your aunt’s gonna be mad.”

“Like I care anymore?”

But Fruitloop did keep the shoes, and she did run barefoot to the commotion. This action actually ruined her stockings, as she had to run through the freshly moist garden grass to get to the designated area. She hoped her aunt wouldn’t notice that much.

The scene unfolding was an interesting one. Richard, with a bloody nose, was being held back by two guards as he yelled curses at Edmond, being held at gunpoint and handcuffed by the detective and another guard, respectively.

“What happened?” Fruitloop gasped, remembering to hold a hand delicately close to her mouth.

The lord next to her turned to reply. “Some fight about a woman, I gather. Richard stated one such beast was found flirting with the staff at this establishment, and, as Edmond was apparently fond of that one, he lashed out.”

“Oh, so women are beasts, huh?” Fruitloop hissed, giving the man “tha look.”

“Quite the contrary! Just this woman. Think of it; a noble lady speaking as such to a servant!”

Fruitloop continued to give the man “tha look” and suddenly slapped him.

“You dare!” the man gasped, mouth agape that someone would actually dare to strike him in such a manner.

Parsley mewed in an altogether pitiful fashion, warning Fruitloop that she was now the center of attention. So she planned her reply as such:

“Be wary of whom you speak to, oh clueless man. I take my leave.”

With that, Fruitloop flourished an altogether sarcastic, overstated, and masculine bow (masculine because it was not, in fact, a curtsy) with a sweep of her hat, and removed herself from the man’s company.

The entire party was silent as Fruitloop left, both mystified and confused. The tension was broken with a single phrase from a different, but still clueless, young lord.

“How very American!”

The kitchen was just as it had been left, save the dish Parsley had used was now gone. Parsley was actually amazed the cleaning staff was so punctual, but he currently had other things on his mind.

One of them was Fruitloop.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Parsley asked again, purring and trying to sound encouraging.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Fruitloop sniffled, blowing her nose on the handkerchief provided by the butler from her great aunt’s house. “I think I’m over the whole ‘being a beast’ thing now…”

Parsley put a paw on her hand and continued to purr. There really wasn’t much he could do.

“Madam?”

Both the young woman and the cat turned to see one of the older butlers of the mansion holding a cordless phone. “There is a call for you from the Americas. He claims to be your friend.”

“You know, I almost expected some sort of functional antique.”

“We are state of the art, madam.”

“Yes, thank you…” Fruitloop mumbled, taking the phone and putting it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi! Fruitloop! It’s me, Michael!”

Fruitloop had to strain a bit to hear the voice, but she understood nonetheless. “Oh! Michael! From my senior year English class, right?”

“Right! I was the one always asking to see your notes.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I could never figure out that alliteration stuff… Anyway! I’d love to chat, but this is a long-distance call and it’s important.”

“Before you get to that, how’d you get the number?”

“Called your mom.”

“That works…”

“As I was saying! Remember John? Also from that class?”

“A little… The punk kid in the back?”

“Yeah. He had cleaned up a bit and we were actually friends for a while.”

“What do you mean, ‘a while?’ Did he disappear or something?”

“He’s dead.”

Fruitloop paused for a minute. Dead? Why should she care? She barely knew the kid!

So why was there a knot in her stomach?

“Oh my gosh…Michael, I’m so sorry…”

“That’s why I’m calling. He said he got some call from some old ‘friends’… They didn’t sound like friends the way he talked about them. He was supposed to meet them for some sort of orientation. Next thing I know, his neck’s chewed out and—”

“Wait-wait-wait! Chewed?!” Fruitloop could hardly contain the disgust she felt with even just the thought of it.

“That’s just it! They think Rotweiler did it, but I don’t know…”

“Michael, who is Rotweiler?”

“Some A Class freak. He’s known to chew, claw and tear his victims apart.”

“And they’re letting him walk loose?!”

“Fruitloop, this is long distance! I’ve gotta keep this short!”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, when you get back, I’ll hire you to look into this. Something just doesn’t seem right…”

“Well, tell me the details when I get home or email them to me. I’ll look into it and determine a price for you.”

“Thanks Fruitloop. Thanks a bunch!”

“No problem…” she mumbled, trying to swallow the information. A Class A maniac, loose on the streets? A hand unconsciously moved up to her throat, probably to ensure her it was still there.

“What’s wrong?”

Fruitloop suddenly turned toward the cat, more surprised than anything else. She had completely forgotten he was there.

“No need to jump. I just want the details.”

“A classmate of mine just ended up dead…”

“How?”

“Somebody…chewed through his neck…”

Even Parsley, usually known to be more level-headed, seemed shocked. “How? Who?!”

“An A Class insane named Rotweiler.”

Parsley just whistled. Mentally strange people came in four classes: D, meaning generally harmless; C, meaning dangerous when agitated; B, meaning destructive when agitated or generally dangerous; and finally A, which is usually a lock-away-for-life or shoot-on-sight target card.

They generally didn’t let Class A mentally challenged people walk free…

“Augh! Mind on the case, mind on the case!” Fruitloop grunted, pressing her fists to the sides of her head. “I gotta find out what happened to the jewels!”

“Well,” Parsley mewed, tilting his head to the side in a thoughtful way, “Assuming the person didn’t take the jewels with him, to avoid suspicion, they have to be in the room somewhere.”

“True…” Fruitloop mumbled, thinking of the possibilities. “There was an air vent just beside the door.”

“Cleverly hidden by the wallpaper, may I add. Only someone who knew about it would be able to find it.”

“That, and it was on the floor. It was kinda easy to miss…”

“Regardless! We have to see if that is actually where the jewels are hidden. If that happens to be the case, they can’t be too far in, and the dust will probably give us some sort of clue as to who tried to hide something there.”

Fruitloop nodded. “To the living room then. You know, being as the clock was fake, maybe some other items are too.”

“Maybe,” Parsley purred as Fruitloop gently picked him up. “We’ll just have to see.”

“GAWD BLESS AMERICA, FRUITLOOP!! I WILL NOT DO THIS!!”

The maid poked her head in for what seemed like the seventh time. “Is everything alright, miss?”

Fruitloop sighed and dropped her head, even though she was dangerously close to the wall and on all fours. For the past ten minutes she had been trying to shove Parsley into the air vent she had only recently pried open.

“Yes, everything’s fine!” she sighed, sarcasm being quite obvious in her voice. “I’m just having trouble shoving my talking cat into the vent, that’s all!”

“Um, miss, cats can’t talk.”

“Then who was the other voice?” hissed the reply.

“I’ll…leave you now…”

“You do that.”

Parsley poked his head out of the small vent he had been shoved into. “Do you think she actually thinks I can talk?”

“No, I think she thinks I’m thinking things up to think like a madman because ONLY MADMEN WOULD DEAL WITH CATS LIKE YOU!”

“Say again?”

“IN!!”

Parsley found himself nastily shoved deep into the vent, finding himself face to face with a familiar phobia.

“EEEK! SPIDERS!!”

“PARSLEY, I SWEAR TO GAWD ON HIGH IF YOU DON’T GO IN THERE…!”

Parsley did open his mouth to try to argue, but Fruitloop was giving him a very nasty form of “tha look” and, as previously stated, you don’t mess with someone giving you “tha look.” Parsley himself was actually shivering from head to paws to tail, watching the black, eight-legged forms crawl around in the dark. His imagination was actually multiplying the one house spider, but that’s what a phobia does.

“Do you see anything?” a faint echo called out from behind. Parsley jumped at the noise, knowing it to be only Fruitloop, but he panicked nonetheless.

“No…” Parsley mewed, almost paralyzed with fear. “Wait…I see something!”

“What is it?” the echo whispered.

“Glittering…like jewels!”

“Well then get them out of there!”

Parsley froze as the repetitions of the words continued to fade. Could he even move? What happened to the spiders? Were they crawling up his tail? Up his spine? Into his ears?

“Fruitloop! Help me!” Parsley wailed, choked with fear. He could even imagine the spiders embedding themselves in his fur, freezing up his limbs with webbing. Even now, each and every ]]> tag:www.gigamaster001.com,2006://9.2121 2006-11-09T15:32:54Z 2006-11-13T16:22:46Z

“I swear to God on high, Ms. Dueblo! You are not allowed to have pets in the office!”

Fruitloop silently smiled as she picked up the ginger munchkin cat at her feet. “Oh, don’t let the big man scare you, Parsy-warsy!” she cooed, obviously teasing the stressed man across her secretary desk and hugging the little cat. “I got you safe and sound!”

The well-dressed man grunted in disgust as he stormed from the room, apparently missing Fruitloop’s smug little smile as he left. The door slammed and Fruitloop placed her cat on the desk.

“You do know how much I hate ‘Parsy-warsy’?”

The munchkin cat was sitting up on his back end as it spoke.

Fruitloop rolled her eyes in reply; “He just doesn’t know you, Parsley, so I gotta play the part.”

“Just look at me; Parsley, the world’s smartest cat, and I’m working with a nineteen-year-old lawyer wannabe!”

Fruitloop just winked and started sorting papers. This was nothing unusual.

May 16, 1997

Tuesday. Ann Dueblo, my “owner,” has again found herself in hot water over my presence at her office. At the current standing of this offense, the lawyer has given her one last chance for the seventh time. This situation has played itself out many times, and I, Parsley, current senior detective of the Dueblo Detective Agency (DDA), can only logically conclude that, in light of recent events, the lawyer is, in fact, a closet cat lover.

End of entry.

Sing a song of Sadness,
A pocketful of lye.
The blackbird sings his praises
To Him who sits on high.

Sing a song of Madness.
The clouds shall pass me by,
Sobbing tears of bloodshed;
The World shall only sigh.

Young Marianna, wearing her new dress of velvet night, sang as she twirled among the weeds. Her goal was to pick flowers, but many of them had died by the time the frost had passed. The early cold was bringing a toll to many people, especially poor old Farmer, who hadn’t yet brought in this year’s crops.

Regardless, she did not want the frost to kill her spirits. She continued to twirl among the weeds until many ugly flowers had been picked and dry tinder for the night’s fire had been found. Determined to get home, she quickly ran to and fro, gathering herbs for the Alchemist in town. He was so old these days; he could barely pick himself up anymore. Marianna did not want him to die so old and alone, so she helped him as much as possible. Very few seemed to realize that the old “Witch Man” was really quite harmless and only wanted to help, but all they saw was his potential for malicious crimes.

She shook her head as she stood up, disbelieving of peoples’ blind hearts. She began the first few notes of her song as she turned, only to scream the last of the first line.

“Calm! It’s only Rita!” a woodland woman called.

“Rita!” Marianna exclaimed, hugging her friend. “You scared me! You always play such tricks!”

Rita laughed and accepted the gesture of affection. “Only to little girls, Marianna! I just wish I could be as joyful as you.”

Marianna smiled as she looked at her older friend. “You can still be little, Rita. You just have to smile and sing like I do.”

“Alas, if I shall sing, I shall never marry!” Rita smiled, obviously teasing her younger friend. “As it is, I shall be reaching my twentieth year without a husband to my name!”

“Then stop living in trees, elf maiden!” Marianna laughed, twirling away and snatching a flower that had previously escaped her gaze. “I am still in my sixteenth year, and Father is still mad I haven’t yet found a suitor. Perhaps we should switch places; I have heard the blacksmith’s son has taken a liking to me!”

“Alas again. I could never stand the pounding!”

“Then take your pick. He does have seven sons!”

Both laughed as gaily as the light on a summer’s day, but Rita’s smile died from both her lips and her voice. Marianna’s worry was apparent the very second she noticed.

“Rita, pray, what’s the matter?”

Rita sighed before she replied. “Oh, Mari, I wish I could say. There have been disappearances of late in the nearby towns. There has been talk of evil trickery such as witches, men of the night, and werewolves!”

“Rita, Rita!” Marianna giggled. “They’re only stories! Everyone knows a man with fur cannot exist; just as a woman who travels on a broom and a man who drinks blood is any more real!”

“Please, hurry home!” Rita begged. “Be these not real, the murders are! Already I have heard of twenty people dead in their homes, and many more missing to the world around them. I do not want you counted among the dead!”

Marianna nodded. “Then what shall I do? Father would like his flowers and the alchemist needs his herbs!”

“If you must travel, do so with an escort,” Rita scolded, noting how Marianna was alone when she was found. “Travel with a man at your side at all times and you will be safe!”

Marianna nodded again, sighing away her laughter with her breath. She could see it hang on the winds and disappear to the world it belonged to. “Alright, Rita. I’ll go home.”

Rita nodded in reply, shifting the bow slung across her shoulder. Not a word was exchanged as the little girl in Rita’s life left her, and she could only pray no harm came to such a wonderful heart. She turned to the wind, facing its cold sting.

“Shall you bring any harm, I shall kill you myself!” she hissed, listening to the wind taunt her with another hiss of its own. She turned, marching back to the village with determined pace, and the meadow was empty.

Save one…

The reason for this is because I have lately been thrown to the ground after several beatings to my cerebral region. To be frank, I just got whopped really hard on my head and a moment ago I said hello to the floor.

“Where’s your daddy now? He gonna save you or what?”

If only they knew that I could only just barely hear them, let alone answer, they probably wouldn’t be getting so riled right now. Oh well. As usual, I’ll have to sit this out again.

Actually, this is normal. On a school day, I get “roughed” around three…maybe four times on a good day. On weekends and non-attendance days, it’s usually somewhere around two or three unless I hide really, really well. Either that or I spend time with my dad all day.

Speaking of dad, he’s recently been obsessed with teaching me some of his “world-saving” moves. He’s really getting sick of coming home to mom wrapping me up like a mummy again and having to call Grampa to heal my wounds. Actually, I think my whole family is getting sick of it. Like I said, I get really hurt really frequently.

This is partly because I’ve been a runt since birth. Dad is huge, mom is strong, and their baby was at least three pounds too small when I was born. They say it’s a miracle I survived, and mom even calls me her “little miracle” to make sure I remember. Anyway, I was born with a twisted leg and something the doctor called “a slim chance he’ll ever have a good build.”

To wrap this up in a nutshell, I’m short, skimpy, weak, and with a limp I happened to work out of my twisted leg when I was young. You can imagine how I was never quite dad’s “dream child,” but he always jokes that I’m the very thing he needed to remind him that there’s more to the world then roughing up bad guys.

As a teacher comes to my rescue, I will reveal my name and family. I am Jak Jr., son of Jak from the House of Mar. My mother is Kira, my Grampa (a nickname that stuck when I couldn’t talk well at the age of two) is Samos the Green Sage, and my regrettably adopted “uncle” is Daxter.

Thank the Precursors school is almost over!