Cats in Provence: Inca Book Series 3

By R. F. Kristi

The Inca book series is based on the escapades of an energetic Siberian cat named Inca who considers herself a great sleuth. Cats in Provence is the third in the Inca book series and follows The Cats Who Crossed Over from Paris and the Christmas Cats, which were released in 2016.

Inca, the main character, exemplifies the intelligence and cunning of our feline friends and is a sure-footed and strong-willed leader. Readers will surely admire Incas grace and wit as they follow the detective cats adventures in these unexpected tales of redemption.

Always an animal lover, Kristi saw some natural kindred between children and animals and wanted to bring more attention to this through her book series. The purpose of the Inca series is to primarily help children gain an even greater respect and love for animals.

The books are written in a way to show children that animals have personalities, feelings, and activities just like them and that they are to be treated kindly, loved, and appreciated.

The books are beautifully illustrated giving a magical life to the animal characters. She shares adventurous stories about the cats, which were inspired by her real-life pets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Mar 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781482883343

R. F. Kristi

R.F. Kristi, the author of the Inca book series, lives in France. She holds a doctorate in economic development and has traveled and lived in many countries around the world. She is fluent in English and French. With a deep commitment to animal rescue efforts, Kristi has a keen interest and love for animals. She created the Inca Cat series for younger readers up to age 8 or 12, and for animal lovers.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 R.F. Kristi. All rights reserved.

ISBN

978-1-4828-8333-6 (sc)

978-1-4828-8334-3 (e)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/singapore

03/21/2017

15494.png

CONTENTS

1 UP WITH A JOLT!

2 CAN WE ALL GO TO PROVENCE?

3 WHO GOES AND WHO STAYS BEHIND?

4 THE DELIGHTS OF PARIS!

5 PROVENCE HERE WE COME!

6 HAVE YOU SEEN THE INSIDE OF A CHATEAU?

7 SNIFFING AROUND IN PARIS!

8 THE MISSING PAINTING

9 POLO HAS SOME NEWS!

10 SOLO TAKES A STAND!

11 SHORT BREAK IN PARIS, HOORAY!

1. UP WITH A JOLT!

Late at night, we were awakened by the sharp tone of Missy’s mobile phone piercing the midnight peace. Missy woke up and then buried her head back under the pillows to avoid getting up. I knew she was exhausted from working long hours at our cheese-shop-cum-restaurant.

The shrill ringing stopped after a few minutes and all was still once more. But my sixth sense had picked up some vibes and I could not go back to sleep.

I slowly raised myself from the bottom of Missy’s bed and surveyed our bedroom. Cara, my Siamese sister, was cuddled next to Missy, all rolled up in a ball. Fromage was in the little basket on a low table, sound asleep in his blanket. Charlotte, our adopted hamster, was also happily snoozing deep in Fromage’s shawl with only her little ears peeping out.

illustration%201-new.jpg

Shaking the uneasy feeling settling over me like an unwanted visitor, I crept out of the room and padded to the kitchen to help myself to a midnight snack. Food always comforted me, but this time I could not shake off the uneasy feeling. No sooner had I started chomping my favorite croquettes than the mobile phone started ringing again. Why did it ring one time and buzz the next time?

A feeling that something was just not right entered my head again, and I dashed upstairs and jumped on Missy’s body to wake her up. As I suspected, she did just that and reached over to grab the phone. Seeing that the caller was Aunt Florence, she whispered, Why is Aunt Florence calling this late? I just spoke to her this morning. She quickly switched on the lamp and answered the phone.

I could not hear what was being said, but I felt that the news was not good as I saw Missy tense and ask Aunt Florence to take a deep breath and repeat what happened once again. Sleepyhead Missy was wide awake, her voice filled with shock and disbelief.

Aunt Florence, take a sleeping pill with some hot tea, Missy said. I am going to speak to Solo as soon as it is daylight. Don’t worry, we are there for you.

My ears perked up at the mention of Solo. Solo is the famous detective who lives in the adjoining mansion. I was impatient to know what was going on. As soon as Missy put down the phone, I leapt onto her chest.

What happened? I purred, gazing into Missy’s eyes using my telepathic powers.

I have been born with the ability to communicate telepathically with humans. I am a kitty with several talents, but I consider my telepathic powers of communication with humans to be the greatest gift I possess.

The others were all awake by now, crowding around Missy on the bed. The alarm in Missy’s voice had jolted everyone from their slumber. As I sent wave after wave mentally to Missy, urging her to let us know what was going on, they all looked on with worried faces wondering what had made our easy-going Missy so distraught.

Missy started stroking me and explaining what had happened. Aunt Florence had been robbed of a valuable painting that she had been restoring for her client. By profession she was a well-respected restorer of valuable paintings.

The painting was the property of the owner of the chateau, Monsieur Du Valle, who lived next to her own cottage. She frequently worked for Monsieur Du Valle, restoring his valuable collection of old paintings piece by piece.

Apparently, upon discovery that the masterpiece was missing, she had called Monsieur Du Valle and the local police station (or gendarmerie as it is known in France). The police had visited and so had Monsieur Du Valle, who was in a terrible state. There was to be a major exposition in the gallery of the chateau,