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Birdie folded her arms and returned Detective Michaels’ stare coolly. “I thought I asked you not to do anything,” he reminded her.

“What can I say?” Birdie shrugged.  “I was curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

Birdie turned and nodded meaningfully at the shop windows, where dozens of whiskered noses were pressed to the glass, topped by  large yellow orbs staring in the darkness.  “To be fair, sir, I’d have to disagree.”

Detective Michaels burst out laughing.  A moment later, the front door of the shop flung open and Frankie’s father came tumbling out.  He flipped over on his rear, his long legs splayed out in front of him.  Shaking a skinny wrist at the door, he shouted, “You can’t escape me, Pemberely!  I’m the Fourth Estate!  The public has a right to know what you’re up to!”

The only response was the slamming of the door and a final, decisive metallic click.  The lights flicked off and rustling and scraping of metal against tile could be heard through the thin glass windows.  Several dogs and cats stared curiously at Birdie and Sassy before returning to their cages, pressing their wet noses against the glass a final time.

A single black cat remained after the others had gone; it’s golden eyes glowing in the darkness.  A shudder ran down Birdie’s spine and she turned from the window.

Detective Michaels leaned down and extended a hand to Frankie’s dad.  “Detective Michaels.  And you are?”

“Patrick O’Neil, reporter for the Pemperely News.”  He pumped Detective Michaels hand.  “Are you as curious about Pemberely as I am?”

“That depends,” Detective Michaels drawled.  “Why are you curious about him?”

Frankie’s dad’s jaw dropped.  “Are you serious?  What isn’t there to be curious about?  A pet shop where only certain people can see the animals?  An owner that dresses up like a cat”–  Birdie opened her mouth to correct him, then closed it. Maybe it was better if they didn’t know.

“–And has a strange habit of befriending millionaires, getting them to sponsor his wacky experiments before mysteriously disappearing?  And then he shows up in town without a word to anyone, without joining the chamber or anything in a pet shop with no animals except for the mysterious ones that appear to the occasional shopper.  Why Pemberely?  Why now?”

Birdie remained silent, watching the two men.  Her hand tightened around Sassy’s leash as Detective Michaels slid a glance her way.

“Why do you think it is, Birdie?”

Mr. O’Neil blinked, his eyes wide.  “Birdie!  I’d forgotten you were even in there!  What are you doing out this late!  Do your parents know where you are?”

“No,” Birdie replied honestly.

“Shouldn’t you tell them?” Mr. O’Neil demanded.

“There’s no one to tell,” Birdie replied, a wry smile on her face.  “Don’t worry.  The neighbor watching me knows where I am.  She doesn’t care.  She’ll watch game shows until midnight anyway.  As long as I’m back before then, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Mr. O’Neil bit his lip.  “Maybe you should come home with us.  I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”  He shook his head, his green eyes glittering as his mind churned.  “What were you doing in there, anyway?  And where did you get the dog?”

Birdie pressed her lips together as Detective Michaels answered for her.  “She was doing a bit of investigation of her own, it seems.  Apparently, you’re correct.  There are animals inside, but only a few can see them.”

Mr. O’Neil scratched his head.  “Did you see any animals?”

“I only saw a few cats.”  Detective Michaels shrugged.  “But I didn’t see them until Birdie made a joke.  Then I saw them staring out the window.  I don’t see any now.”

Mr. O’Neil squinted out the window.  “I don’t either.”

“There’s one.”  Birdie’s voice was calm, but strong.  “A black cat.  He’s been watching us the whole time.”

“You can see the animals?” Mr. O’Neil’s eyes widened.  “How many are in there?”

“Dozens.  Cats, dogs, lizards, snakes, fish….”

Mr. O’Neil gaped at her, then looked at Detective Michaels.  He raised his hands. “I’ve got several other sources that say the same thing.”

Mr. O’Neil nodded, running his long fingers through his hair.  “I do too, but still…”  He shook his head.  “It doesn’t make sense.  Why here, why now?”

Detective Michaels rocked back on his heels.  “I believe it may have to do with our zoo.”

“Our zoo?” Mr. O’Neil snorted.  “Pemberely deals with cats and dogs, not elephants and tigers.”

Birdie bit her lip.  “I have to agree.  I heard…something…of the same nature.”

Mr. O’Neil chewed on his lower lip.  “We don’t have a huge zoo, though.  I mean, Pemberely’s friends with heavy hitters.  Athletes, businessmen, movie stars, musicians….why not a bigger zoo, with more animals?”

“Too much attention,” Detective Michaels pointed out.  “He’s always worked under the radar and been very discrete.  That’s one reason he has so many wealthy friends–they don’t have to worry about him splashing their affairs and names all over the place, especially when they’re linked to his wacky experiments.  Wealthy people are as strange as the rest of us–they often get so lonely and paranoid they buy into weird schemes or ideas.  Pemberely is no different.”

“What would he do with a zoo?” Mr. O’Neil mused aloud.  “I mean, what’s he going to do, steal an elephant?”

Sassy snorted.  Birdie eyed her, but said nothing.

Detective Michaels shrugged.  “I don’t know, but I think he’ll do it soon.”

Mr. O’Neil’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you mean?”

“I think things are going to be moving a lot sooner than any of us expected.”  Detective Michaels pulled a folded square of bright pink paper out of his pocket.  He handed it to Mr. O’Neil, who scanned it wordlessly and gave it to Birdie.

The second she unfolded the paper and scanned the words, a knot tightened in her stomach.

The Pemberely Junior League

Is proud to announce the first annual

Zoobilation Ball

To be held at the Pemberely Zoo

Thursday, April 28.

Tickets will be sold at local Piggly Wigglys

With all proceeds going to the Friends of the Zoo Fund.

Activities include dancing, a silent auction, featured artists and interactions with trainers,

As well as music and a magic act.

Salt’s Steakhouse will be catering.

For more information, call…

“That’s next week,” Detective Michaels pointed out.  “And most of the richest people in town are going.  It’s a huge deal.  Anyone who is anyone is attending, and anyone who wants to be anyone is tagging along.”

“It’d be a perfect time for Pemberely to do something,” Mr. O’Neil agreed, his long fingers fluttering as he spoke.  “And he could certainly hit up the rich folks for more money for his experiments.  But how would he get in?”

Birdie grinned and tapped the paper.  “Easy.  Magic.”

The two men looked at her, their eyes wide.  “Of course!” Mr. O’Neil cried.

Detective Michaels nodded, his brown eyes warm.  “She’d be a great investigator.”

“Or a journalist,” Mr. O’Neil added quickly.

Birdie rolled her eyes.  “Right now, I only want one thing: to save the animals in the shop.  And I know just how to do it…”

Behind them, the black cat’s eyes bored into Birdie’s back. Slowly, it’s tail twitched from side to side…

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a delicious recipe and Friday, a new Dallas Jean!  Then we have more whimsy!  Stay tuned!