Read Online Goldwhiskers by Heather Vogel Frederick - Free Book Online Page B

‘See?’ he said. ‘Told you. It’s cats, plain and simple. We don’t need an investigation. And we don’t need any help from MICE-6. You might as well leave now too.’
    Glory was sorely tempted to do so. She glanced out the window as a Pigeon Air taxi swooped by. On its back she spotted a pair of tourist mice. They snapped pictures of Scotland Yard and then flew on. That’s what she should be doing right now too – touring London, not interviewing stubborn mouselings.
    â€˜Wait,’ she said, as the orphan hopped off his perch and started to leave. Glory reached into her backpack and pulled out the remains of breakfast. She pushed the napkin-wrapped object towards the mouseling, who sniffed it hopefully.
    â€˜That is hardly necessary, Miss Goldenleaf!’ protested Inspector Applewood. ‘He’ll be fed when he arrives at Nibbleswick, just like the others.’
    Glory ignored him. ‘It’s all yours if you cooperate,’she told the orphan. ‘You know, help us out.’
    A crafty look settled on the youngster’s sharp little face. ‘If I talks, I gets it all to meself ?’
    â€˜All to yourself,’ Glory promised.
    The mouseling wiped his nose with his paw again, considering. Then he shrugged and climbed back up on to the cork perch. Inspector Applewood frowned. The mouseling started to reach for the crumpet. Glory whisked it away. ‘Oh, no,’ she said, ‘fair’s fair. You first. What’s your name?’
    The mouseling’s bright little eyes were fixed firmly on the crumpet. His stomach rumbled loudly. ‘Smudge,’ he said.
    â€˜Smudge what?’ asked Glory.
    The orphan shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just Smudge.’
    Glory tore off a corner of the crumpet and passed it to him. ‘Well then, Smudge, I’m sure you know that orphans just like you have been disappearing?’
    The mouseling nodded, his cheeks bulging with crumpet.
    â€˜I’ll bet that’s a bit scary, isn’t it?’ said Glory sympathetically. She tore off another corner of the crumpet and passed it across the table. The mouseling wolfed it down hungrily. ‘Your friends disappearing like that, I mean.’
    Tears welled up in the orphan’s bright little eyes. He pawed them angrily. ‘I’m not scared of nuffing,’ he boasted.
    Glory passed him another piece of crumpet. ‘No, I can see how brave you are. Brave as my brother B-Nut, almost, and he’s a pilot.’
    Smudge’s mouth dropped open. ‘A pilot? That’s wicked, that is! I wants to be a pilot some day.’
    â€˜I’m sure you shall,’ said Glory. ‘A bright young mouse like you can go far in life. So back to these friends of yours. Do you have any idea where they’re off to? Maybe Inspector Applewood is right – maybe it’s just cats?’
    The mouseling cast a sidelong glance at the detective. For a minute, the only sound in the room was the chewing of crumpet. ‘Not cats,’ he said finally.
    â€˜What makes you say that?’ Glory replied.
    Smudge leaned across the table towards her. ‘No bones,’ he whispered. ‘Cats leave bones. When me mates disappeared, there wasn’t nuffing. Not even a whisker.’
    Glory turned to Inspector Applewood. ‘He’s got a point,’ she said. The detective frowned and scribbled furiously in his notebook.
    â€˜So if it’s not cats, what do you think it is?’ In abold gamble, Glory thrust the remainder of the crumpet across the table towards Smudge and held her breath. It was all or nothing now. The mouseling tore into the crumpet greedily. He glanced around fearfully while he ate, as if perhaps someone might be watching, or listening. Finally, he leaned towards Glory again and whispered, ‘They calls him Master.’
    â€˜Who calls him Master?’ she whispered back.
    â€˜The ones he takes,’ replied Smudge.
    Glory