The Catnapper Mystery: The Legend of Sassafras House, #3

By Anita Stafford

       The cats at Sassafras Animal Shelter have been disappearing without a trace. The director accuses twelve-year-old Kale Flores of being responsible for the missing cats and no longer trusts him to work as a volunteer. Kale is devastated at being blamed for something he didn't do. With the help of two friends, he sets on a quest to find the cats and to clear his name. They search the town with few clues to go on, consulting with some colorful senior citizens along the way.

       The answer Kale finds to the vanishing cats is more complicated than he ever imagined. Kale wants to save his reputation and return to work at the shelter, but to do that someone will have to betray an old friend. Will the cost be too high?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laughing Ladybug Press
• Release date: Jul 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201974251

Anita Stafford

Anita Stafford is a writer of middle-grade fiction, picture books, and non-fiction. The Catnapper Mystery is the third book in her Sassafras House series. Other books in the series include The Legend of Sassafras House and Treasure in Catclaw Canyon.

Book preview

Chapter one

VOLUNTEERS

There are no ordinary cats.—Colette

Kale unlocked the door , and Jasmine turned on the lights in the empty reception area. Yesterday, the comings and goings and voices of people filled the room from floor to ceiling. Today, even the smallest sound echoed off the walls. Kale wasn’t sure where his uneasy feeling was coming from. Something just didn’t feel quite right today.

Kale’s eyes swept the room. He held his breath and looked around. Silence hung thick and heavy in the deserted building. Kale strained his ears to pick up any sound in the large, open room. He half expected a chair or table to come to life and say, Boo. Jasmine moved forward on tiptoes, as if any noise she made might disturb something or someone.

Kale swung the door to the animal room open and fumbled in the dark for the light switch. As soon as the room lit up with the artificial yellow florescent glare, Freda stood up and stretched. A wagging tail drew Kale in her direction, causing his uneasiness to evaporate. Freda’s greeting cancelled out any jumpiness Kale had felt, and his body relaxed. The spookiness dissolved from the empty building. The shelter housed only two animals today, the dog, Freda, and a cat named Stripes.

I’ll take care of Freda if you’ll take care of Stripes. Kale knelt in front of the little dog and offered his hand to Freda for a sniff. She wiggled all over with happiness.

Jasmine nodded in agreement and moved to the row of crates against the far wall. She walked down the row, then turned and started back up the row. On this pass she paused for a moment in front of each crate.

What are you doing? Kale eyed her with curiosity from across the room.

I’m looking for Stripes. I thought he was in crate number four, but someone must have moved him. Number four is empty, and as far as I can see, all the other crates are empty, too. Jasmine turned and made an even slower and more deliberate walk back down the row again.

That’s where he’s supposed to be. Kale strode over and stood beside Jasmine. Shoulder to shoulder, they stared at crate four, but there was nothing to see there except a half-filled water dish. Crate four was empty, vacant, deserted, unoccupied. The big gray striped tabby cat named Stripes was nowhere to be seen.

Well, he’s not there now. Jasmine threw her hands in the air.

I can see that. But how could he get out of the crate?

Believe me, I don’t know. The latch is locked, but he’s gone. Jasmine turned in a circle, scanning the entire room. He has to be here somewhere. I’ll find him.

It’ll be faster if we both look. You start at the front, and I’ll start at the back. Kale opened each cabinet door and shifted the extra supplies around. There seemed to be no way the cat could have found his way into the cabinets, but he looked anyway. Kale turned on his cell phone flashlight to shine bright beams into the dark corners where a big ball of gray fur might curl up for a nap and hide from the world.

Kitty, kitty, kitty. Jasmine called again and again as she crisscrossed the room, moving anything in her path.

Stripes, come out, come out, where ever you are. Kale opened a can of cat food and filled a bowl. He placed the bowl near crate number four to entice Stripes. Cats have a good sense of smell, so Kale counted on the scent of the food to bring him out of hiding.

An hour later, Jasmine slumped in one of the guest chairs in the reception area. I don’t believe we can find him.

He has to be here. I saw him before we left yesterday. Kale ran his hand through his thick black hair. His uneasy feeling had returned.

So did I, but he’s not here now. Looks like he just, poof, disappeared. Jasmine waved her hand like she was holding a magic wand.

A cat can’t disappear. He must have escaped. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

Jasmine flashed a piercing look at Kale. Right. Then after he escaped, he stopped and re-locked the crate before running away.

Kale shrugged. I can’t explain that.

Jasmine lowered her eyes and sighed. Do you want to call Aspen, or should I?

Kale let out a soft groan. He had no desire to break the news of the missing cat to the shelter director, Aspen Branch. Kale visualized her face. Her expression seldom changed. Every time Kale looked at Aspen, her face had the appearance of someone who had just swallowed some sour milk.

Let’s flip a coin. Heads I call. Tails you call. Kale pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it high in the air.

Kale lost.

He trudged across the room to the reception desk. After the tense phone call, he dropped down in a corner to wait for her to arrive. He closed his eyes and thought of Aspen. How would a person describe her personality? Linden Sassafras had hired her to run the animal shelter because she had experience, but Kale didn’t see her as a good fit for the job. Kale had not warmed up to her, and it seemed that the feeling was mutual. Kale imagined a multiple-choice test that asked which career would best suit Aspen Branch. He considered some of the possibilities:

(A) Drill sergeant,

(B) Bull rider,

(C) Lumberjack,

Kale mulled the choices over and decided each one of them applied to Aspen, so he needed a fourth option. The correct answer would be:

(D) All of the above.

Jasmine leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Kale now paced the floor, re-playing in his head the phone conversation with Aspen. He flinched when she entered the shelter and slammed the door behind her. She stalked across the room in three swift strides. Aspen stopped with her face only a few inches from Kale’s. Her hot breath penetrated Kale’s eyes and attacked his nose with the stale odor of coffee, or was it sour milk?

Explain to me again how you two careless adolescents lost a cat. Aspen glared first at Kale, then at Jasmine. She stood rigid with elbows sticking out from her sides, hands fisted on her hips. He was here safe and sound when we left yesterday, and now you tell me he’s gone.

He wasn’t in his crate when we came in this morning. Jasmine’s voice sounded hoarse and weak.

Well, the cat didn’t let himself out, hissed Aspen. I expect someone to take responsibility for this inexcusable error. Who checked the crates before closing yesterday?

Jasmine and Kale exchanged a cautious look. Kale tried to swallow before answering, but it felt as if his throat had closed up.

I did, but I didn’t leave the crate open. I know Stripes was locked inside the crate when I left yesterday, but the crate was locked and empty when we got here today. He was just gone. He vanished. Honest.

"Kale Flores, this is unacceptable. The animals should be safe here. I have no choice but to put you on probation. For the next week you will be allowed to volunteer, but only with supervision. Our job here is to help the dogs and cats find homes, not to lose them. I run a