Atticus Claw Hears a Roar Page 2

  ‘I’ve broken my tooth!’ Inspector Cheddar mumbled.

  ‘Nellie told you those masks would bring bad luck, Dad,’ said Callie. ‘You should have listened.’

  ‘Shall I fetch some of my Old Hag’s Cure-All Ointment?’ Nellie offered kindly. ‘It’s very good for toothache.’

  Old Hag’s Cure-All Ointment? Atticus could hardly believe his ears. Everything about Nellie today seemed to have a witchy sort of meaning.

  ‘No thanks!’ Inspector Cheddar held his jaw in his hands.

  ‘I’ll call the dentist.’ Mrs Cheddar took her mobile phone out of her pocket.

  ‘And I’ll phone the British Museum,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘We’ll show everything to Professor Verry-Clever. He’ll know what to do.’

  Atticus purred his agreement. Professor Verry-Clever was a professor of Ancient History. In fact it was the Professor who had discovered that Atticus was distantly related to the Egyptian cat pharaoh. He was also an expert on Howard Toffly and his expeditions. If anyone knew anything about the lost treasure of the jaguar gods, he would.

  ‘And I’ll lock this away in the shed where it can’t do any more harm.’ Nellie got to her feet and picked up the chest. She was surprisingly strong for an old lady, Atticus noticed.

  ‘Come on, everybody.’ Mrs Tucker rolled up her sleeves. ‘Let’s load up the junk. The car boot sale starts in half an hour.’

  As soon as they had gone, two black-and-white birds took off from a tree in Nellie Smellie’s garden and headed off in the direction of the sea.

  They made for the pier. Beneath it, perched amongst the old metal beams, was their nest – a scruffy construction of twigs and leaves, which had been the magpies’ home for years. The nest was full of all sorts of interesting things that magpies like to collect: shiny things, like foil sweet wrappers and coins and badges and pieces of glass that had been rubbed smooth by the sea. Of course the magpies would have preferred the nest to be full of even shinier things, like sapphires and rubies and diamonds, but since Atticus Claw’s arrival in Littleton-on-Sea, they hadn’t had much luck with their thieving, especially since he’d become a police cat. In fact it was so long since they’d managed to steal anything sparkly that they had almost given up hope of ever doing so again.

  Until now …

  The two birds fluttered towards the nest. They had expected to find their leader taking his afternoon nap. Instead, he was strutting up and down the beam in a state of fury, making a noise like a pair of castanets.

  ‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’

  ‘What’s got into him?’ The first magpie was thin with a hooked foot.

  ‘I dunno, Slasher.’ The second was fat with a ragged tail. ‘Looks like he’s had bad news.’

  ‘We’d better go and cheer him up, Thug me old mate,’ Slasher said. ‘Tell him about the lost treasure of the jaguar gods.’

  They landed clumsily on a rickety beam.

  Jimmy Magpie stopped chattering when he saw them. He was bigger than they were and had a glossy sheen to his feathers. His wings were tinged with a deep blue and he had an emerald green stripe to his tail. He regarded them with glittering eyes. ‘Fancy a kicking, either of you?’ he said hopefully.

  ‘Er, no thanks, Jimmy,’ said Slasher. ‘Me foot’s still sore from when you gave me the last one.’

  ‘What about you, Thug?’ Jimmy sidled up to him.

  ‘I’d rather not,’ Thug said with dignity. ‘It’ll make my bum wobble.’

  ‘How about a punch in the crop?’

  A punch in the crop was even worse than a kicking. It meant you couldn’t swallow properly for days. And Thug liked his food, especially worms.

  ‘Nah,’ said Thug. ‘I’ll pass.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Boss?’ Slasher asked. ‘You were in a good mood when we left. What’s happened?’

  ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’ Jimmy let out another volley of chattering. ‘I’ll tell you what’s happened. I got this in the pigeon post.’ He handed Slasher a letter. His voice dropped to a deathly whisper. ‘It’s from her.’

  Thug and Slasher exchanged horrified glances.

  ‘Not her her?’ Thug said in a hoarse voice.

  Jimmy nodded.

  ‘But I thought she was still in the slammer,’ said Slasher.

  ‘Apparently not,’ Jimmy snapped. ‘She’s out. Read it.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Dear Jimmy,

  The good news is I have fully recovered from being flattened by a large pig. The bicycle-pump treatment I received in Her Majesty’s Prison for Bad Birds worked wonders. I am now completely inflated and can squawk even louder than I could before. I have also been released early from Her Majesty’s Prison for Bad Birds because I am an endangered species. The doctors have sent me to Nicaragua for rehabilitation, where I am currently staying with the Ambassador, Sir Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel.

  The bad news (for you anyway) is that as your wife I am entitled to half of everything you own, including your nest under the pier and anything shiny you or your revolting gang may have collected recently. Please send everything asap care of the British Embassy in Managua. I will ask the Ambassador to provide a diplomatic bag for you to put it in. And don’t think about not sending it or I’ll make you come over here and scrub my poo bucket.

  Your nagging wife,

  Pam the Parrot

  PS Have you hung up that mirror yet?

  There was silence for a moment. Thug broke it with a loud burp. ‘I’m glad I’m not married to that old bag.’ He shuddered. ‘I still have nightmares about cleaning her poo bucket.’

  ‘More like glue bucket,’ said Slasher. Pam’s poo was legendary amongst the magpies, in terms of both its volume and its consistency, not to mention its smell. ‘It was like scraping toxic barnacles off a rock.’

  ‘I didn’t want to marry her!’ Jimmy said bitterly. He eyed Thug nastily. ‘I seem to remember it was your idea.’

  ‘Nah,’ said Thug. ‘It definitely wasn’t mine. It was Slasher’s. He’s the one what has all the ideas around here.’

  ‘Shut up, you moron,’ Slasher grumbled.

  Jimmy regarded Slasher coldly. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What have you got to say for yourself ?’

  ‘Aw, come on, Boss,’ Slasher wheedled. ‘It could be worse. I mean, look on the bright side. At least she’s going to Nicaragua and not coming here.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Thug. ‘Thank the crows for that!’ He chortled. ‘Imagine living somewhere that’s named after knickers!’ Very unusually an idea occurred to him. ‘Hey, Boss, do you think she goes around all day with pants on her head?’

  ‘It’s not Knicker-agua, you idiot,’ said Jimmy, ‘it’s Nicaragua. It’s a country in Central America where parrots come from. Managua is the capital city.’

  ‘All right,’ said Thug, none the wiser. ‘Keep your feathers on.’

  Jimmy gave him a peck.

  ‘Why don’t you just give her what she wants, Boss?’ asked Slasher. ‘Then maybe she’ll leave us alone.’

  ‘We can’t live in half a nest,’ said Thug reasonably. ‘We’ll fall out.’

  ‘We could build another one,’ said Slasher. ‘Better still, we could steal someone else’s. Then we can forget all about Pam and start filling it up with more shiny things.’

  ‘Talking of shiny things, Boss …’ Thug told Jimmy Magpie about the discovery in Nellie Smellie’s attic.

  ‘The lost treasure of the jaguar gods?’ Jimmy said. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, we saw the book. It belonged to Howard Toffly, that explorer bloke what lived at Toffly Hall.’

  Jimmy’s expression grew cunning. ‘Tell me about the masks,’ he said.

  ‘The decapitated cat one was cool,’ Slasher said. ‘Like Claw, only bigger, and with spots, not stripes.’

  ‘Nice,’ said Jimmy, thinking what a lovely mask a decapitated Atticus would make. He imagined wearing it in front of Pam the parrot. It would give her the fright of her life. With any luck she
might drop dead off her perch into her bucket and be preserved forever in her own poo. He could even see the epitaph on her gravestone:

  IN MEMORY OF

  PAM THE PARROT

  RIP

  (ROT IN POO)

  ‘But the bird one was pretty freaky,’ Slasher said. ‘It looked like Thug’s mum after she got run over by the ice-cream van.’

  Thug let out a sob. ‘Me poor old mum!’

  ‘That bad, huh?’ Jimmy pulled a face. Thug’s mum had never been a pretty sight but she looked even worse as roadkill.

  ‘Yeah, anyway, they’re gonna take the whole lot to Professor Verry-Clever at the British Museum.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Cos old Smellie Nellie got all het up about the masks,’ Slasher replied. ‘Said they were used for human sacrifices. She wouldn’t even let the kids open the book.’

  ‘She’s off her rocker!’ Thug muttered.

  ‘You mean Claw and his cronies don’t actually know where the lost treasure of the jaguar gods is?” Jimmy said. He was sounding more cheerful by the second.

  ‘Nope. Only that it might be somewhere in the jungle,’ Slasher replied.

  ‘What about the Tofflys?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Hmmm …’ Jimmy thought for a moment. ‘We need to steal that book before Claw and his pals get the chance give it to Professor Clever-Clogs. That way we’ll be the only ones who can find the treasure.’

  ‘Good thinking, Boss,’ Slasher said.

  ‘Just don’t tell Pam,’ Jimmy reminded them, ‘or the old bag will want half of that as well. It’s our secret, right?’

  Thug looked shifty. He liked secrets. ‘You can rely on us, Boss,’ he said.

  The car boot sale was being held in Bigsworth station car park. It was heaving with people all buying and selling junk. Nellie’s stuff proved to be very popular. By half past two everything had been sold, except for the cutlery and the loo seat.

  Atticus was amazed at how much rubbish humans bought. He hadn’t seen anything he wanted at the car boot sale except for a scratching post to sharpen his claws on. And he didn’t even need one of those because he preferred to use the back of the sofa. Humans could be very wasteful, he thought piously.

  ‘How much money did we raise?’ asked Callie.

  ‘One hundred and thirty-two pounds and fifty pence,’ said Mrs Cheddar, counting up the last coins and putting them in a plastic bag. ‘Good job, everyone.’

  Atticus didn’t think it would be enough to send the cats from the cats’ home on holiday but it might be enough for a day at the pet spa and a few ice creams.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ said Michael.

  ‘Me too,’ said Callie. ‘Can we go and get something to eat?’

  Atticus thought that sounded like an excellent idea. He hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast.

  ‘How about fish and chips?’ Mrs Cheddar suggested. ‘There’s a shop over there.’ She pointed to a parade of shops near the station entrance.

  ‘We’ll all go,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘Come on, kids, I’ll treat you and the kittens. You wait here, Atticus, in case anyone else comes.’

  Atticus’s chewed ear drooped. ‘Don’t worry,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘We’ll bring you something back.’

  Off they all went to the fish and chip shop. Atticus retreated to the back of the boot and lay down for a nap. He was just about to doze off when a man and a woman approached the car. The man was short and fat with a red face. He was dressed in a scruffy tweed suit. Billowing from his chin was what looked to Atticus very much like a fake beard. The woman was tall and thin. She wore a headscarf drawn low over her face, a long mac, rubber boots and a pair of sunglasses attached to a false nose. The strange couple started rifling through the cutlery in a very suspicious manner.

  Atticus watched them through narrowed eyes. They were robbers! He flattened his ears and let out a low, throaty growl. The couple didn’t seem to hear. They were engrossed in checking out the cutlery.

  ‘Any spoons?’ asked the woman in a low voice.

  ‘A few,’ said the man.

  ‘Pass them here.’ The woman opened her coat pocket.

  Oh no, you don’t! Atticus sprang forward, hissing.

  ‘Great Scott!’ said the man, jumping back. His eyes fell on Atticus’s neckerchief. ‘I say,’ he said, reading the name embroidered upon it. ‘It’s him!’ He turned to the woman. ‘Antonia, it’s that frightful police cat, Atticus Claw. The one who’s responsible for making us poor! I wish I had my shotgun!’

  Antonia! Atticus recognised them now. It was the beastly Tofflys!

  ‘You!’ spat Lady Toffly. She picked up a knife and fork and held them in her fists. ‘Is anyone coming, Roderick?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Keep a lookout, will you, while I skin him? He’ll make a nice cushion.’ She put one knee in the boot.

  Atticus gulped. She had him cornered. Where was everyone?

  ‘’S everything awright?’ a slurred voice said.

  Atticus breathed a sigh of relief. Inspector Cheddar. He was back just in time!

  Lady Toffly dropped the knife and fork. She shuffled backwards out of the car boot.

  ‘There y’are, Atticus!’ Inspector Cheddar said, lurching towards him. ‘I’ve been looking for you all over the place. Where’s everyone else?’ He bashed into Lady Toffly, sending her sprawling amongst the spoons. ‘Oops, sorry ’bout that.’

  Atticus regarded Inspector Cheddar with dismay. He looked very unsteady on his feet. And something had happened to his right cheek. It had swollen up like a chipmunk’s.

  Inspector Cheddar sat down in the boot with a bump. ‘’S m’ tooth,’ he said to no one in particular. He opened his mouth and touched his jaw gingerly. ‘Had to go to the dentist.’ He tapped his head. ‘Feeling a bit woozy.’

  So that was it, thought Atticus. He had never been to the dentist, but he had once had his teeth cleaned by his enemy, the vet. The vet had given him an injection first so that it wouldn’t hurt (or so he said!). Atticus remembered he’d felt pretty woozy afterwards.

  ‘’S not much junk left, Atticus,’ Inspector Cheddar slurred, looking around the boot. ‘’Cept spoons.’ He picked one up and stared at his reflection.

  Atticus wished he could tell the Inspector about the Tofflys trying to steal the spoons. Inspector Cheddar didn’t seem to have any idea who the strange couple was! Atticus gave a strangled meow and pointed at them with his paw.

  Inspector Cheddar was none the wiser. He offered the spoon to Lord Toffly. ‘D’you want it?’ he asked. ‘’S only ten pence. All the money is going to the Littleton-on-Sea Home for Abandoned Cats.’

  ‘No thank you,’ Lord Toffly sneered. He took Lady Toffly’s arm and made to steer her away.

  Good riddance! thought Atticus.

  ‘Be like that!’ Inspector Cheddar threw the spoon back on to the pile with a clang. ‘’S a pity we didn’t bring that ol’ chest of Howard Toffly’s you found in Nellie’s attic,’ he remarked to Atticus. ‘Might have got a decent price for it.’

  Lady Toffly stopped in her tracks. She turned round slowly. ‘What old chest would that be?’ she asked in a sugary voice.

  Atticus started meowing at the top of his voice. Inspector Cheddar mustn’t tell the Tofflys about the lost treasure of the jaguar gods!

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ Inspector Cheddar said.

  ‘Why not?’ Lady Toffly demanded.

  ‘’N case the beastly Tofflys find out about the los’ treasure of the jaguar gods.’

  Atticus clapped his paw to his forehead. Honestly? He tugged at Inspector Cheddar’s sleeve with his teeth. He wished Mrs Tucker would hurry up.

  ‘What if we promise not to tell the Tofflys?’ Lady Toffly said. ‘Not that we know them, of course.’ She smiled winningly. ‘Just think, if we found that treasure for you, you could sell it and give all the money to the cats’ home!’

  That seemed to get Inspector Cheddar thinking. ‘�
�S a good idea,’ he said.

  No it wasn’t! Atticus sunk his claws into Inspector Cheddar’s hand. ‘Oi!’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘’S naughty.’ He pushed Atticus to one side and beckoned the Tofflys closer. ‘There’s a journal,’ he explained. ‘’S from one of Howard Toffly’s early ’speditions to the jungle.’

  For goodness’ sake! Atticus launched himself at the Inspector. Inspector Cheddar tucked him firmly under his arm while he finished spilling the beans. ‘And there are some masks.’ Inspector Cheddar squinted at Lady Toffly. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but they’re even more hideous than you.’

  Lady Toffly gritted her horsy teeth. ‘I hope you’re – er – keeping the chest somewhere safe?’ she said, giving Atticus a malicious look.

  ‘’S in Nellie Shellie’s smed,’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘I mean Shellie Mellie’s sled.’ He tried again. ‘Make that Smellie Welly’s shned.’ He shook his head, yawning. ‘Whatever. But don’t worry, ’s locked, so the beastly Tofflys can’t steal it. Then tomorrow Mrs Tucker’s going to take it to the British Museum and give it to Professor Verry-Clever.’ He gave them a little wave and passed out on top of Atticus.

  The delicious smell of fish and chips and the mewing of lots of hungry kittens heralded the return of the others.

  ‘Quick, Roderick!’ Lady Toffly grabbed her husband by the fake beard. The two of them made off across the station car park.

  ‘Dad!’ Callie and Michael hurried over. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘You’re squashing Atticus,’ Callie said.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Inspector Cheddar sat up. ‘Couldn’t be better. Where am I, by the way?’

  Atticus struggled free. He had to warn the humans about the Tofflys!

  ‘Meow, meow, meow!’

  ‘Do you think Atticus is trying to tell us something?’ Michael said.

  ‘Meow, meow, meow!’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Callie.