How To Tail a Cat by Rebecca M. Hale Read Free Book Online Page A

resumed her imperial pose, settling onto her perch as her brother’s fluffy form padded into the living room.
    • • •
    RUPERT PROCEEDED DIRECTLY to the couch and, despite the open seat to his person’s left, hopped straight into her lap.
    A flurry of white cat hair floated into the air as Rupert nuzzled the woman’s face. Purring loudly, he began turning in a tight circle, kneading his front feet into her stomach, each prodding poke digging a little deeper into her gut.
    “I was here first,” she protested. A feathery clump of cat hair floated past the tip of her nose, triggering a loud sneeze.
    Rupert paused for a moment and turned his wobbly blue eyes to gaze into her hazel ones.
    “All right, all right,” she relented with a sigh.
    Lifting the large cat over her lap, she slid herself sideways and dropped down into the scalloped-out cushion.
    Rupert immediately flopped onto his back in the preferred seat. The plump of his distended stomach swelled upward as his legs splayed out on either side.
    It wasn’t a very dignified position, but Rupert didn’t care. After gobbling down his serving of fried chicken—and checking Isabella’s bowl for any leftovers—he was the most contented cat in the universe. On top of all that, he’d just secured one of his favorite places to sleep.
    Scooping up the day’s newspaper, the niece settled into her spot. With a sigh, she propped the heels of her running shoes on the edge of the long wooden trunk positioned in front of the couch. Her hand drifted over to rub Rupert’s belly as her feet slid into the same scuffed divots her Uncle Oscar had worn into the trunk’s top planking.
    This had become their regular end-of-day routine. The niece, scanning the headlines as she recuperated from her run; Rupert, crashed out on the firmer side of the couch as he digested his afternoon chicken snack; and Isabella, lording over them both with noble disdain.
    • • •
    ALL THE WHILE, the brass lamp sat on its end table, within arm’s reach of the niece’s seat on the couch. The image of the Steinhart Aquarium’s original alligator Swamp Exhibit remained darkened and unseen, stoically waiting to be discovered.

Chapter 7
    THE MISSION
    NEAR THE ACADEMY of Science’s rear entrance, Sam Eckles ducked behind a stone column to catch his breath. After gathering his wits and calming his pulse, he slowly peeked around the edge of his hiding place.
    His eyes slid back and forth, studying the near perimeter. He didn’t see any of his tiny tormentors lurking in the wings, but he couldn’t be sure.
    Of this, he felt certain: he was still on someone’s radar.
    Crouching near the column’s base, he waited, listening for the telltale thud of little feet, but the area had fallen silent. The afternoon penguin-feeding session at the opposite end of the building had created a momentary lull in the rush of pedia-traffic.
    After several seconds of ambient noise and more than a few concerned stares from nearby adults, Sam pushed out a steadying sigh. He couldn’t stay hidden forever. Perhaps, if he moved into the open, he could draw out the spy.
    All of his senses on high alert, Sam stepped from behind the column and took stock of his surroundings.
    His eyes widened when he realized where he’d ended up.
    As luck would have it, he found himself near the aquarium’s signature Swamp Exhibit, a multilevel feature that spanned the width of the Academy’s rear entranceway and sank two levels down into the basement below.
    This was, after all, the reason his team had concocted the frog diversion in the first place.
    This was the target of his covert operation.
    • • •
    PAUSING SEVERAL TIMES to look over his shoulder, Sam cautiously crept up to the Swamp Exhibit.
    A brass balcony surrounded an opening in the floor, providing a vertical support for patrons looking down on the occupants of the open-roofed tank below.
    Still wary of potential spies, Sam began a visual sweep of the exhibit. He