Giblet & Belle - The Case Of The Vendetta

By ROBERT S LAY

Giblet & Belle are back,

But nothing has prepared them for what's coming...

Death has come to Torrington, Connecticut, in the form of a serial killer. Giblet & Belle have turned to a legendary detective to help solve this case, but is he even up for the challenge? From the slums of London to New York

• Language: English
• Publisher: Giblet & Belle Press
• Release date: Oct 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798986997971

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Giblet & Belle

The Case of the Vendetta

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Copyright © 2023

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the express permission in writing by the Author.

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locals are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the Author’s imagination and are not to be construed as accurate.

All rights reserved.

Text: Robert Lay

Editor: V. M. Lay

Cover Design/Illustrations: Natalia Junqueira, Dawn Book Designs

dawnbookdesign.com

Interior Design and Layout: Danielle Smith-Boldt, Miss D’s Designs

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This Book Is Dedicated To

Alexandria Cira and Macgregor Robert

You two continually exceed all expectations.

and

Mr. Ronald W. Schmidt

Thank you for over thirty-five years of lunches.

Table of Contents

Epigraph

Cast of Characters

Prologue

Chapter I

Training

Chapter II

Parole

Chapter III

The Simpler Things

Chapter IV

The Prodigal Son

Chapter V

Operation Scare Cassidy

Chapter VI

A Tidy, Little Murder

Chapter VII

Troubling Developments

Chapter VIII

The Third Murder

Chapter XI

More Questions Than Answers

Chapter X

The Changing of the Guard

Chapter XI

The Disruptors

Chapter XII

Unexpected Guests and Consequences

Chapter XIII

Holmes

Chapter XIV

Tyler

Chapter XV

Mom

Chapter XVI

Casualties

Chapter XVII

Ambush

Chapter XVIII

The Aftermath

Chapter XIX

Abberline

Chapter XX

The First Murder Scene

Chapter XXI

Holmes and the Case of the Hostile Takeover

Chapter XXII

Plans Made

Chapter XXIII

Trips Taken

Chapter XXIV

The Broken Cat

Chapter XXV

Surprise!

Chapter XXVI

The Race

Chapter XXVII

The Confrontation

Chapter XXVIII

Statements and Questions

Chapter XXIX

The Bridge

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Hamiltons’ Stilton and Stout Soup Recipe

Author’s Note

Sneek Peek for the New Series

Epigraph

"It was from out the rind of one apple tasted

that the knowledge of good and evil,

as two twins cleaving together,

leaped forth into the world."

—John Milton

Cast of Characters

Protectors–An ancient society of cats working behind the scenes, always in the shadows, protecting mankind

Belle–A young black cat and new Protector; Giblet’s best friend

Mittens–A Mane Coon cat and senior Protector from an ancient line; leader of the clowder

Giblet–A fussy Tabby tomcat that worries about Belle, his best friend

Hamilton–Black cat and a Protector in training

Holly Bear–A young, tabby cat

Anne Gaumont–Retired senior police detective, adopted grandmother to the Macgregors

Gus–Neighborhood tomcat and casanova

Mac–Retired New York City police dog

Tyler W. Baumann–Recently paroled convict

Jack Paulson–Tyler’s best friend growing up

Holmes–Orange tabby cat and detective

Shirley Macgregor–Mom (Woman-Person to the cats) and English Professor

Russell Macgregor–Dad (Man-Person to the cats) and History Professor

Cassidy Macgregor–Macgregor’s daughter, an eighth grader and a genius

Christopher Macgregor–Macgregor’s son, who is in the fifth grade

MacKayla–Shirley and Russell’s first cat, a beautiful calico cat who is deceased

Iko–Australian Cattle dog and the family pet for the Macgregors

Prologue

There are Protectors among us.

For as long as there have been human settlements, a chosen few have worked behind the scenes, always in the shadows, protecting humans and enabling us to prosper.

A Protector looks like any other cat. They are neither expressive nor reticent; many are considered beloved house pets. People are unaware of the cat’s duel role, and Protectors work very hard at keeping it that way.

According to legend, the very first Protector was Queen Nin of the ancient city of Uruk. It was said that Queen Nin decided to protect humans after a kind person came to her aid and nursed her back to health. It certainly was a heartwarming story, but it left much to conjecture. In general, humans probably had been friendly or fed cats before that incident that involved Queen Nin. So, what spark caused Nin to become the first Protector? No cat knew the answer; if there was one, it was lost to time and the Infinite.

The Protector is always female and chosen when a current Protector of a vicinity sees the desirable qualities in a candidate. If an offer is extended, that cat has an opportunity to accept or decline. A Protector is often chosen from the same family line, creating a lineage stretching back centuries. Unfortunately, these dynasties, while serving mankind, have been known to make enemies.

Wars have been stopped, crimes solved, and great leaders aided by Protectors, almost all without anyone knowing a Protector had a paw in the outcome. Regarding human interaction, it was thought that only a few individuals throughout history could speak and understand cats. Some of those became valued partners to the Protector. Like the cats they worked with, these people understood the work being done and the responsibility and burden required to help these cats.

The Universe relies on balance in all things. You see that in nature, species, and the cosmos. When one side changes its dynamic and exceeds that balance, something else rises to restore equilibrium. Sometimes, those corrections are invisible and uninteresting. Sometimes, those rectifications cause ripples in our existence and with the Infinite.

Chapter I

Training

I made you attack on my terms. You can’t let your opponent dictate the fight or fall for their taunts. The key to winning the fight is controlling the encounter. Then she added, Usually.

Belle, the small black cat, crept slowly down the pitch-black basement hallway; all her senses were attuned to any threat. She stopped every few feet to control her breathing and listen. To all appearances, she was alone, but she knew the reality was different. Today’s advisory had training in the ways of a Protector, just like Lucinda from Busby had, but unlike Lucinda, this cat was a male.

Even Mittens, an accomplished senior Protector and Queen of Belle’s clowder, didn’t know of a male cat having attempted the rigorous training to be a Protector. She told Belle, As far as I know, there hasn’t ever been one.

But, why hasn’t a male cat ever been trained? Belle asked.

I don’t know, Mittens admitted. Queen Nin, the first Protector, set the laws for our order over ten thousand cat years ago without explanation.

Well, that was one law that was broken, Belle thought. Today, her opponent was male and had Protector training, a dangerous combination.

It had been over a year since Belle, her best friend Giblet, Joel Grey, and Mittens had journeyed to Busby, West Virginia, with their family on what was supposed to be a working vacation. However, the plans for a quiet holiday were shattered when Belle and Giblet were drawn into the murder case of Joel’s first owner, Obidiah. They solved the Case Of One Still Too Many, but that resolution had cost them one of their own. Belle still felt the pain of loss when she thought about Joel Grey’s death at the paws of Lucinda, the maniacal cat owned by the town’s Mayor.

Loss is part of life, Mittens’s schooled her. Especially for a Protector. Belle understood that lesson, but it was hard. Joel was now part of the Infinite, a dimension after this existence. However, Joel’s loss was tempered by the knowledge that he was happy and with Obadiah.

The Infinite is what cats and dogs call the spirit world or afterlife. Occasionally, a person will see their cat staring at what appears to be a blank wall or ceiling and dismiss it as feline eccentricities. However, the truth of the behavior is so much more impressive. Only for an instant, the lucky cat (rarely a dog) is peering through a doorway between worlds. Then, for a moment, the lucky animal may catch a glimpse of a lost loved one. There isn’t supposed to be any communication between worlds, and cats consider these doorways extremely rare.

Nevertheless, the universe will sometimes produce a cat with such a powerful consciousness and life force that communication between worlds is possible. Few cats had ever been contacted by the other side, and fewer still, like Belle, had been approached more than once. She was a nexus and wasn’t happy about it.

What this all meant, Belle was not sure. All she could say was that it must have happened for a reason. Patience. The answer will reveal itself in time. Now, get your mind on the job, she scolded herself. Your adversary isn’t worrying about metaphysical subjects; he wants to beat you.

Belle shook her head and cleared her mind. She was a full Protector now, not just an acolyte. Your decisions from this point forward will be your own, Mittens had told her. That is a heady responsibility for any cat. But you have proven yourself multiple times, and I trust you. Congratulations, Protector Belle.

The problem was Belle didn’t feel like a Protector. In so many ways, she thought of herself as a cat who was recently out of kittenhood, unsure of herself, and still making too many mistakes. If I’m a full Protector, shouldn’t I know more? Shouldn’t I feel more confident? she thought.

I need to keep my mind on the mission; she chided herself and scanned the hallway but saw nothing; it didn’t help that her opponent was jet black also. Then, up ahead, there might be something against the wall that might be cat-sized. However, in the near complete absence of light, she needed to be sure. Belle chattered into the darkness, then felt and heard the return of the soundwaves as they bounced off the object and surrounding walls.

He wouldn’t be this obvious...would he? She approached the mass slowly, getting lower to the ground and making no sound. When she got within a few feet, she saw that her opponent was a black towel wrapped around a stuffed toy animal. Silently laughing, Belle stood back up on her paws... That’s when the attack came.

A heavy weight landed on her, forcing her back to the floor. Over a year ago, the same thing happened in Busby when Lucinda attacked her. At the time, Belle tried every move she knew to dislodge her opponent, only to come up short. She had been practicing new counter moves for the last year to prevent that from happening again. Of course, a more extensive arsenal of counter-moves is a must when you are the smaller cat in almost every fight.

Thinking fast, she rolled her opponent off before he could sink in his claws. She kept the roll going, ending up on her paws once again. Now, she thought, it was time to put a little distance between us so I can counterattack. Belle leaped further down the hall, tucked into a forward roll, and came to her feet facing her opponent. There was only one problem: the other cat wasn’t there. As soon as she sprang away, he had disappeared into one of the side rooms that dotted both sides of the hallway. Which one had he chosen?

She was familiar with her opponent, and knew from observing him, that he was right-paw dominant. Guessing he had escaped into the room on his right, she followed with the determination that he would not have the upper paw again. Bingo, she heard his breathing as she entered the room.

As soon as she turned towards the sound, he came barrelling at her like a steamroller, determined to use his greater size and weight to the best advantage. Belle was knocked over as the other cat rolled over her and kept going. Getting to her feet quickly, she had just enough time to see him coming at her again. The resulting contact knocked her flat once again.

Being this cat’s doormat was getting really old, really fast, Belle thought. Then, an idea came to her, and she called out, Come on, little kitten, let’s see you try that again, she goaded her opponent. She knew from experience that even though he was bigger than her, he was only a little over one human year old (about 8 cat years) and hated being called a little kitten.

Once again, he came at her like a tank, only this time, Belle was ready. As soon as her adversary was a whisker’s length away, the young Protector reached out with her front paws and grabbed the other cat by the shoulders. Digging her claws in and hoping she could hold on, she let the antagonist push her over and onto her back. Then, kicking out with both back legs, she was able to flip the other cat onto his back. All Belle had to do was hang on and enjoy the ride. When it was over, Belle was right where she wanted to be, on top of her foe, with her jaws clamped to his windpipe.

Yield, Hamilton, she purred good-naturedly between clenched teeth.

I yield, he meowed with annoyance.

How did I beat you? Belle asked as she disengaged and then sat, cleaning her fur.

I’m sure you can’t wait to tell me, he huffed, replaying the encounter in his mind.

I made you attack on my terms. You can’t let your opponent dictate the fight or fall for their taunts. The key to winning the fight is controlling the encounter. Then she added, Usually.

I distracted you with the decoy, Hamilton boasted, looking for any positive in this lesson.

Yes, the black towel in the hallway was a good idea, she purred. Full marks. You are definitely getting better.

I should be winning by now, Hamilton retorted.

Hamilton, when you realize you don’t know everything, you will be able to learn something. I enjoy our training sessions. Belle reassured him and licked his head to show she cared for him.

Part of Hamilton’s charm was his pomposity. Since the little black kitten arrived in their home, he had regularly boasted he knew more than any other cat and just as often was shown that he didn’t. When Giblet, a cat of considerable pretentiousness, felt that you were full of yourself, that was a rare achievement.

Still, Hamilton had ingratiated himself with the family and the Clowder. He’s a good cat, Mittens had said when Belle suggested giving him some Protector training. I think that’s a good idea.

Come on, let’s go upstairs. The family will be home soon, and you always help with dinner. Together, they climbed the basement steps and padded into the family room. They would be there when the Mom, Dad, and children got home.

How did the training go? Iko, the family dog, asked as the two cats emerged from the basement.

I think it went very well, Belle meowed. But Hamilton is aggravated at his slow progress.

I let my excitement overpower my judgment, Hamilton confessed.

Well, you don’t have to tell me about getting over-excited, Iko reassured him. Gosh knows, I have lost my cool on more than one occasion, the Australian Cattle Dog confessed.

But you’re a dog. Dogs are supposed to jump in with both paws without thinking. Cats are more discerning, Hamilton purred, filling the room with enough propensity that it would even make Giblet proud.

That is specious thinking, Hamilton, Belle scolded. There are exuberant dogs and careful dogs. Every canine is unique, like cats and people. Iko is not the same as Mac the Police Dog or Luther the Great Dane; they are all dogs, but each is an individual, she meowed, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Belle quoted from her favorite old sci/fi television show.

Iko is not the same dog he was when he came here as a puppy, just like you are not the cat you were when you arrived as a kitten. Something to think about, Belle said, concluding the latest lesson and leaving the young black cat with more to think about.

Soon, Belle settled on the couch and was reading the newspaper when she heard a cat running down the upstairs hall, followed by the steps. Hamilton looked up from his grooming just in time to see Mittens bolt into the family room.

Come on, Belle, we have to go. Cassidy is in trouble, Mittens shouted. Cassidy, heading for the basement and the way out of the house. Cassidy was the oldest human kitten and should have been at Grandma Gaumont’s home next door.

I didn’t hear anything, Belle said, getting to her paws. How do you know?

Because she cried out to me in my mind! the senior Protector exclaimed.

Oh, my cat! Belle and Hamilton meowed simultaneously, following her down the steps and into the basement.

The old woman had less than five minutes left to live. Alone in the house she and her late husband bought so many years ago, she was doing what she usually did in the evenings: sleeping upright in her old chair. It was easier to fall asleep in front of the television than in her bed, with all its memories.

She remembered vividly where she and her late husband bought that bed, G. Fox and Company, during a Christmas trip to Hartford. At the time, she scolded him for purchasing the bedroom set at such an expensive store. After all, they were just starting out, she a teacher and him a mechanic, and they needed to be prudent. But he assured her this was an investment. Look at the beautiful Hard Maple, he said, admiring the headboard. Then, with that playful grin meant for her and her alone, he said, We’ll be able to hand it down to one of our kids one day. Little did they know that the joys and tribulations of children weren’t in their future. No matter. They built a life together and doted on the neighbor’s children, who they watched grow up.

Years passed in a blur. Both pursued their careers but always had each other to come home to in the evenings and share the day with. They thought nothing would change until her husband complained about his stomach that fateful day. A trip to the doctor’s office changed everything. Cancer. Inoperable was the diagnosis. And soon, she was alone.

She’d been alone for seven years, married for fifty-three years before that. The neighborhood where they’d bought their house had changed, and all the neighbors they knew were gone. The new crop of residents seemed content to ignore everything around them and instead keep their noses buried in those ridiculous little phones that everyone carried. Attempts at starting a conversation with the neighbors on both sides yielded nothing other than polite chit-chat and then their need to rush off for something more important. She hadn’t even tried to get to know anyone for the last five years. Instead, she went to the market, the bank, and back home in solitude.

One night, she was startled awake when a cold, wet cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth. At first, she couldn’t decide if this was real or if she was still dreaming. Then, she inhaled and thought she smelled something sweet, and immediately, her head began spinning like she’d had too much brandy. Then, as the room seemed to get dark, with her last coherent thought, she wondered, if this was a dream, why in the world did I have a cat in it?

Chapter II

Parole

Tyler W. Baumann, the uniformed man in the doorway called out. A man with short-cropped black hair and glasses slowly got to his feet and walked towards the door.

Eight folding metal chairs lined the institutional-green painted plain brick wall. The chairs were orientated in two groups of four, on either side of a heavy-duty, grey institutional metal door. The small side lite in the door had Georgian-wired glass to prevent anyone in the hall from breaking the window, reaching in, and unlocking the door. Among other things, this room was meant as a sanctuary for sheltering in place in case the need arose.

There were no windows in the hall for natural light and no artwork on the walls to catch the eye. Instead, a bank of several fluorescent fixtures provided dim illumination. Adding to the hallway’s dreariness was a well-worn, concrete floor. that caused even the slightest sound to amplify.

The metal chairs weren’t very comfortable, not that any of the men using them cared. If this visit was unsuccessful, the men knew it would be two long years before they would sit here again.

There wasn’t anyone watching over the six men sitting in the chairs. If they still needed that much supervision, they wouldn’t be here. The grey door opened every half an hour or so, and a man would exit and head back up the hallway. The departing man didn’t look at any of the men still waiting or speak to them. For each, this was a personal journey.

From the doorway, a husky man in a uniform would call the next name on his clipboard. Then, that man would rise and walk through the door into the adjacent room. Before entering, some of the men would quietly mumble a prayer before going in, and still, others would pause a split second to try to straighten their jumpsuits, but all were