Free Kitty Kitty by Michele Jaffe Page B

person who thought she’d been murdered, which meant I was the only one looking for her killer. And not only did I have no leads, I didn’t even know where she lived. All I needed was one piece of evidence to show the police, one thing to convince them. But I didn’t have le clue where to start looking.
    Not that it would matter, I realized. The fact that I had not been arrested but merely spent part of the night at the police department would not, I felt, do anything to calm the Dadzilla Wrathphoon that was headed for the Isle of Jas as soon as I encountered him the next morning. Or sooner, since, as I reached the door of the hotel, someone cleared his throat in the alley next to me and stepped out of the fog.
    But it wasn’t Dadzilla. It was a little boy in an Ali G–style tracksuit four sizes too big for him.
    “Missy Callihan?” he said. “It is you, pretty lady?”
    “Sì.”
    He shoved an envelope into my hand. “This is for you, then.”
    The envelope was lumpy and had an address, CANNAREGIO, 5524, embossed on the flap. On the other side, my name and Grissini Palace Hotel were written in big swirly writing.
    Writing I recognized as Arabella’s.
    “Where did you get this?”
    “The lady gives it to me and says if she doesn’t arrive to take it back, I should come here and deliver it to you personally I’ve been waiting for hours. Good-bye.”
    “Wait, I—” I started to say, but the boy had completely vanished.
    There was nothing else to do. I opened the letter.

Chapter Ten
    I don’t know what I was expecting. Something profound, maybe a little moving, with a precious object accompanying it.
    The letter said:
    Dear Jasmine,
    In case I have to depart abruptly, please look after my goldfish.
    Kissos,
    Arabella
    And the object? An I-Heart-Hotcakes keychain with seven keys on it.
    !
    Although the letter only contained sixteen short words and they were all in English, I had a hard time understandingit. I read it over three times, looking for some sign that it was in code. This allowed me to discover that GOLDFISH is an anagram for both DISH GOLF and FIG HOLDS, but that didn’t exactly enrich my comprehension.
    Please. Look. After. My. Goldfish.
    It was practically a haiku! Which is, of course, everything you want in a note from a dead person! If your address is 1 Opposite Road, Backwardsville, Planet of Not.
    It was only two in the morning but my day was already going from strength to strength. If I’d been hoping for le clue decisive that Arabella had been murdered that I could show to the police, I was out of luck. They would laugh like tiny hyenas in my face.
    Here were the facts:
1) Arabella had, in fact, departed abruptly.
2) Her goldfish would, therefore, need looking after.
3) Once I encountered Typhoonzilla and he learned how I’d spent the past few hours, I would no longer be allowed to leave the hotel.
4) Ever.
5) The last thing in the world I wanted to do right then was walk across Venice in my leather pants.
6) I had no choice.
    I was starting to see what Polly meant about Arabella’s signature scent being TROUBLE.
    The thing is, Venice is a small city, but it was laid out by someone who hated their friends and never wanted them to be able to visit. To get to Arabella’s, I would need to consult a map. Since there weren’t any map stores conveniently open at two A.M., the best place to find one was in my room upstairs. Which meant sneaking in without alerting Lo Zilla. And then sneaking out again.
    Awesomeo!
    (Although it did mean I could change my pants.)
    The sneaking-in portion of the program went pretty well. I got through the lobby and up to my room and inside it without alerting anyone. I’d just pulled the map out of my desk, when there was a thrashing noise outside my door. Dadzilla’s loving voice cooed, “What’s going on in there? Open up!”
    Not only did it say that, but I saw the key on my side start to turn in the lock as he used a key on his side. I’d been right—he