AUTHOR NOTE: This chapter brings us one of the most important events in the Minokee Mysteries series: the Arrival of Zeus!  We will always miss Dave and mourn his loss, but if Dave could be reincarnated in feline form, he would be Zeus. Thank you to all my IN CROWD members who suggested and then voted on a name for Shep's new sidekick.  I love Zeus already, and I hope you will, too.

The video above is a Maine Coon kitten, similar to Zeus, "talking" to the birds outside his window. Maine Coons are notorious for being more doglike than the usual cat, and Zeus's vocabulary is certainly not the usual meows.

Enjoy Chapter 6 of The Mammoth Murders:  "The Storm."

~o~~o~~o~

Farmer Tom Rigby had been right when he predicted stormy weather.

Several square miles of land around Minokee – including Martha Cleary's precious garden – soaked up a heavy rain during the night following the canoe trip.

Martha Cleary named this the Cat Storm. She remembered it that way because in the midst of the storm, bird-loving (therefore, cat-avoiding) Miz Cleary, fell for the sad eyes and matted fur of a half-drowned kitten crying at her door.

No other cat had ever drawn Martha's compassion. This was a singular kitten, however. It did not meow or yowl or mew, as cats are expected to do. Instead, it chirped. So, anyone hearing it might mistake it for a bird.

Thus, Mrs. Cleary opened her door to the storm, expecting to find an injured bird on her porch. By the time she recognized the "bird" had fur, claws, a tail, and enormous, doleful eyes, it was too late for the old softie to harden her heart.

So, the kitten was more-or-less welcomed into the Cleary house, where it was given tuna and a saucer of Half-and-Half coffee whitener (because Miz Martha absolutely did not keep cat food or cream).

She gave the dripping feline a few quick passes with a blow dryer before wrapping it in a soft, thick towel (warm from the clothes dryer). She then placed it in a worn, deep, easy chair, where it slept until morning.

Wednesday afternoon

On the fourth day after the canoe trip, Win Clarkson responded to a knock on his office door. "Enter."

Felicia Harper stuck her head around the edge of his door. "Have you talked to Zhang today?"

"No. In fact, I tried to call him, but got no answer. He didn't show up to teach a class this morning, and that's not like him. Do you know if he's ill?"

"I don't know if he's anything. I haven't been able to reach him either, and I haven't seen him since Saturday, and we always talk two or three times a day, and ... I'm afraid something's happened to him!"

"Now, calm down, Felly." Clarkson gestured her toward a chair and waited until she sat. She remained on the edge of the seat, her spine flagpole-erect.

Clarkson said, in his most calming voice, "You and Zhang have been, ah, an item for how long?"

"Just over three months."

"I see. Well, ah, let me put this as delicately as possible. The fact is, um, relationships have their ups and downs; it's only normal—"

She cut him off. "We didn't have a fight, Doctor Clarkson. Everything was fine between us, then he just ... disappeared off the face of the earth. I even went to his apartment, and his roommate hasn't seen or heard from him, either."

Felicia took a shaky breath and continued, "And, besides, if he just didn't want to see me, that wouldn't keep him from teaching his class this morning. He would've known I wouldn't bother him; I have my own class at that hour." She covered her face with her hands and began to weep.

Clarkson dug a box of tissues out of a drawer and passed it across the desktop to Felicia.

"We had so many plans!" Felicia mourned.

"I can see why you're upset," the professor said, "but let's not make more of the situation than is necessary. Zhang is a loyal, ethical young gentleman. Out of politeness, if nothing else, he would not suddenly shun you after you two had become ... um ... close, shall we say?

Win continued, "There has to be a logical reason we can't reach him. Perhaps his phone is malfunctioning, or he has had car trouble and is stranded at a repair shop somewhere. Perhaps he told you he had plans out of town, and you either didn't hear him, or it slipped your mind?"

Felicia sniffed, snorted into a tissue, then balled the damp paper into her fist. "I never forgot a single word he ever said to me. I told him I loved him!"

She stood to lean toward the trashcan at the far end of the desk. "And, if he had phone trouble, or car trouble, or any kind of trouble, he would have found a way to call me, I know he would. He wouldn't want me to worry."

The tissue-ball arced gracefully from her hand to the trashcan, and she resumed her seat. "I don't think for one minute that he wanted to break up with me. And even if he did, he would have told me himself. My David is no coward."

The girl went on, "And he wouldn't miss work without letting you know somehow, sir." She lifted two fresh tissues out of Win's box. "That's how I know something bad has happened to him! What are we going to do?"

Win averted his eyes while Felicia snorted into her tissues. He thought for a moment before saying, "Well, the logical first thing to do is call the campus police. We'll proceed from there, based on what they tell us."

Felicia doubled-sniffed into her wet tissue wad. "Thank you, Doctor Clarkson."

"You're very welcome, Felly. Now, try to calm yourself. It'll be all right. We'll all be laughing about this misunderstanding sooner than you think."

Unfortunately, the professor was quite wrong.

Thursday morning

Television weathermen across Central Florida confirmed what Tom Rigby had predicted based on his aching bones. The pros called it a "tropical depression," but it was the same weather Tom had called "a doozie of a storm." The steadily pounding rain continued for several days.

On the morning the rain finally stopped, Shep was pouring himself a cup of coffee, and Carlo was frying bacon, when someone rapped on the kitchen door.

"You'll get it," Carlo said, without looking up.

Shep opened the door with his coffee cup in one hand, and Martha Cleary placed something fuzzy in Shep's non-coffee-holding hand.

"Gotcha somethin'," she said.

Shep weighed the fuzzy object, and it moved against his palm. "What is it?"

Carlo leaned to get a look at the object. "Is a Tribble," he said, "like Star Trek."

"Ain't it obvious?" the old lady said.

"Not to me," Shep said, "or I wouldn't have asked."

"Give us a clue," called Carlo from the stove. "Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

"Animal."

"It's a puppy!" Carlo guessed.

Shep was pushing the fur ball toward Mrs. Cleary, shaking his head. "No dogs," he said. "No more dogs."

Mrs. Cleary retreated a step, refusing to take back the gift. "It ain't a dog, Chef Boy-Ar-Dee," she said to Carlo. "Dave ain't been gone but six months. Nobody around here's ready for another dog yit."

"Are you saying this is a cat?" Shep lifted his hand higher, putting the beast farther away. "I'm not a cat person, Miz Martha. I wouldn't have the first idea what to do with a cat. You're a natural nurturer. It would be better off with you."

"Nope, that horse won't plow. I got birds and bird feeders all over my yard. Dang cat would think it's an all-you-can-eat buffet. And, the first time I caught the little booger with one of my birds in its jaws, I'd have to shoot it nine times to be sure I took every one of its lives. Nope, ain't no cat on earth gonna be 'better off' with me."

Shep sipped his coffee and thought. The kitten had fallen asleep in his raised hand, but he didn't seem to notice.

Carlo broke the silence with, "My brother loved cats."

"He never said that," Shep snapped.

"But did he ever say he did not?"

"Next you'll be telling me Dave would want me to have a cat," Shepard snarked.

"Did you ever ask him?" Carlo responded, lifting the bacon onto a plate lined with paper towels.

"That's low, even for you."

"Meh," said Carlo with a shrug, picking up an egg and breaking it into the pan of bacon grease.

Shep sipped coffee again, then said to Mrs. Cleary, "I'm allergic to cats."

"I ain't heard you sneeze, and ya bin holdin' this'n fer a while now."

"It's a slow-onset allergy. Takes a few hours to incubate before symptoms appear, but it's deadly," Shep insisted.

"You know, Madam absolutely despises cats," Carlo said, breaking another egg into the pan.

"My mother? Truly?" said Shep.

"Hates them with a purple passion. Will not go anywhere near one," said Carlo, reaching for another egg.

"Sold!" Shepard announced. "Miz Martha, you've found a home for your cat. Of course, if you happen to find another suitable home for it, just let me know and I'll bring it right over."

"Ain't my cat," Mrs. Cleary said. "Cats don't belong to people; it's th'uther way 'round. I'll leave it here and we'll see if it adopts you. If it don't like ya, we'll blow that bridge when we git to it."

"Fair enough," Shep said, swinging his handful of kitten in close to his chest. "Any words of advice?"

"Git a litter box. Soon," she said, and she walked away without another word.

Shep turned from the door as he shut it. "I'll put an old towel at the bottom of that wicker laundry basket, like we did when Dave was a puppy. That oughta hold the little guy at least until after breakfast."

"Hurry up," said Carlo, flipping the eggs. "Breakfast in fifty-five seconds."

When Shep returned to the kitchen a minute later, he carried a wicker basket with a sleeping kitten in it. "We better take him to the vet and be sure he has his shots."

Shep stashed the basket under the table while Carlo plated the eggs and bacon.

"I cannot, not today," Carlo said, and he went to retrieve toast from the toaster. "War council today. Madam has summoned me, and I must obey. Your wedding, remember? Have you set a date yet?"

"I'll get Bean to take us to the vet; she's working the two-to-nine shift today. You have a nice meeting, Traitor," said Shep.

"I am no traitor. I am double agent. Is very dangerous work, and I only do it out of friendship, you ungrateful sloth. Is your turn to say grace."

They bowed their heads to pray over the meal. Shepard thanked God for the blessings of the day and for heaven's provision of this meal and of all their needs, beyond what they could ask or think.

In closing, Shepard said, "Amen."

Carlo echoed, "Amen."

Chirp, said the basket under the table.

"A religious cat," said Carlo. "That's nice."

After the breakfast dishes were done and the kitchen set to rights, Carlo took leave of Shep and the kitten and drove away to attend Hermione Montgomery-Krausse's war council.

Hermione would have called it a "planning session," but anyone who knew how Shep would react to his mother's plans would know: That meeting was a prelude to war.

Shepard took the kitten outside and placed it in a sandy spot, then stood by while it did its business. When he heard little paws tossing sand over the kitten's deposit, he squatted to pick up the animal, and he walked through the backyard hedge toward Miranda's back door, carrying his fur ball.

Miranda was in the laundry room at one end of her kitchen, loading dirty sheets into Aunt Phyllis's vintage Kenmore washing machine.

The dryer beside it was brand new, with a thousand bells and whistles. Shep had bought the fancy dryer recently, after a near-death experience when he walked neck-first into Miranda's clothesline.

She called "Come in, it's open," when Shepard knocked at her kitchen door. When he entered with a handful of fluff, she said, "What is that?"

He grinned. "Cost you a kiss to find out."

"Hmmm."

"Well? What are you waiting for, woman? Your prince has come."

"Mm. I'm trying to decide how badly I really want to know."

"Okay, now it's gonna cost you two kisses."

Smiling, she drew close and, on tiptoes, planted a long kiss, followed by a shorter one, on his waiting lips. "Oh, and good morning, incidentally," she said.

"Yes. It. Is!"

"Now you have to answer my question."

"Yes. I. Do." He lifted the hand holding the kitten from against his chest to near where he judged Miranda's face to be. The fur ball uncurled into a tiny beast with big ears and a pink tongue. The beastie extended one hind leg and began to bathe-lick the limb.

"Aw, a kitten," Miranda crooned. She touched its head, and the kitten pushed against her fingers as if requesting a massage. To Shep she said, "And, you suddenly have a kitten because...?"

"Miz Cleary rescued it from the storm, apparently."

"Good for Mrs. Cleary," she said. "Good for the kitten, too. But, why do you have the kitten? Did you want a cat?"

"Never thought about a cat. Just knew I didn't want a dog." Neither of them mentioned Dave.

Shep continued, "And then Miz Cleary came to the door this morning and gave me a cat."

"You could've said no."

"I did, at first, but Carlo reminded me of something."

"Carlo wanted a cat?" she guessed.

"Nope. He said my mother hates cats. I believe his exact words were, 'She won't go near one.' That's good enough for me."

Miranda thumped him on the arm. "Shame on you! You would use a helpless, innocent kitten just to keep your mother from visiting you? I will not allow you to doom this poor baby to a loveless, lonely existence just so you can have a ... a ... a shrew deterrent!"

Shep pulled the kitten against his chest and covered its ears with his hand. "Shhh! Honey, we said we'd never argue in front of the children," he teased. "First of all, he or she is only staying until he or she decides whether to adopt me, so there's no arbitrary 'doomed existence.'

"Second, it will not be a loveless, lonely existence. I would never abuse or neglect an animal.

"And, speaking of loving care, since you have the morning off today, will you drive us to the veterinary clinic to get the necessary immunizations? And we need to pick up a litter box. Maybe we should do that first."

Shep waited for her answer.

Miranda crossed her arms and tilted her head ten degrees. "Let me get this straight," she said. "You promise to love—"

"I didn't say love."

"Okay, you promise to care for this adorable kitty, but first you want to subject it to torture-by-a-thousand-needles at the vet's clinic."

"Yep, that's about it."

"I'll get my car keys," she said.

The kitten chirped.

"I know," Shepard told the cat. "She acts tough, but she's a pushover. You'll like her."

He turned toward Miranda's pantry. "Let's see what Bean has for your breakfast. We'll shop for cat food later today. You be thinking about what you'd like."

A short time later, as Miranda drove Shepard and the kitten to the veterinarian Dave would have recommended, Shep's cellphone chimed in his pocket. He dug it out and answered: "Krausse."

"Good morning, Shep," Win Clarkson said. "How are things in Minokee these days?"

"Hi, Win. We're great, thanks. Enjoyed the canoe trip last Saturday. What's up in 'Gator Country?"

"I just got an email from the university's development office, telling me that your donation was wired to us yesterday evening. I know you'll get one of those fancy letters from the uppity-ups in administration, but I wanted to thank you personally. You've been incredibly generous to us over the years, and this latest contribution to my department is further proof of your benevolence. I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Not necessary, Win, it was my pleasure. 'To whom much is given, much is required,' and I've been given more than I deserve a hundred times over. It's a blessing to me that I can afford to support your program. I'll bet you already have plans for the money, right?"

Clarkson chuckled. "Guilty," he said. "I think we'll use part of it for a dig out at Tom Rigby's place. I sent a team with ground penetrating radar out to Tom's place, and they found what looks like a complete mammoth skeleton down in that new sinkhole."

"No kidding!" Shep told Miranda, "Bean, there's a mammoth in Tom Rigby's sinkhole!"

"The one we saw on the canoe trip?"

"How many sinkholes does Tom Rigby have? Of course, it's the one we saw." Into the phone, he said, "Is it the same sinkhole we saw the other day? ... Right. Of course. Well, tell him congratulations from Miranda and me."

"Thanks," said Win. "I can't wait to start signing up students for the dig. This will be terrific field experience for them, and it will be a help to Tom. He's getting too old to be digging up mammoth fossils by himself."

"Listen," said Shep, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you to get your security system in place first thing. Don't wait. A mammoth won't be a secret for long, and fossil poachers will carry half of it away before you can say 'prehistoric.'"

"Oh, I'm way ahead of you there. I've been online this morning, researching motion sensors and alarms and other equipment."

Shep asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You mean, besides giving us a boatload of money?" Win said. "Oh, wait, you already did that. That's what prompted this call, wasn't it? Did I say thank you yet?"

"I believe so, and I hope I said you're very welcome."

Win did not respond immediately.

Shep waited a slow five seconds before asking, "You still there?"

"Yes. I was, um, thinking there might be something else you could do for me, if you don't mind my asking."

"Anything for you, Win. Ask away."

"Um, if you, um, if you still have the, um, connections you used to have when you were doing Sheep Counters..."

"The radio show?"

"Yeah. I know you don't do it anymore, but you did seem to have, y'know, certain sources..."

"I still have 'em. Win, what's going on? Why do you need my underground sources?"

Miranda said, "What?"

Win said, "My teaching assistant, David Zhang, is missing, and I hoped you could..."

"I'll find him," Shep said.

"You'll find whom?" came from the driver's seat, where Miranda could only hear one side of the conversation.

"Don't worry," said Shep. "Email me the details you have so far. I'll be in touch."

"Worry about what?" Miranda said, her voice rising in pitch and volume.

Chirp, said the basket in the back seat.

"Shhh, Bean! You woke the baby," Shep said in a stage whisper.

Miranda stayed quiet while Shep promised to see Win Clarkson soon, signed off on his call, and disconnected.

She stayed quiet for another half-minute, waiting for Shep to speak to her. When he didn't, she sighed in resignation.

Miranda said, "You're not going to tell me what that was about, are you."

"Nope."

"And, you're not going to tell me about your 'underground sources'?"

"Nope."

"Because the less I know, the safer I'll be? Is that it?"

"Yep."

"Men."

"Ya gotta love us."

~o~

Later, on the way home from the veterinary clinic, Shepard brought up the subject of a wedding.

"Bean, do you want your parents to plan you a wedding? Because if you want the bridesmaids, and the candles, and the flowers, and the church organ music, and the whole shebang, you can have it."

He went on, "Don't let me talk you out of it, Castor Bean. We're only getting married once, after all. You should have your wedding exactly as you want it."

Miranda reached across and patted his left thigh, and then jerked her hand back to the steering wheel as if she had received an electrical shock. "You're a very sweet man, Shepard Montgomery Krausse."

"I am, aren't I? And good looking, too."

"I agree," she said with a smile.

"And incredibly smart," he suggested.

She scoffed. "You're not so smart if you think a wedding planned by my parents would be any better than the spectacle-of-the-century your mother is probably planning. Neither wedding would be exactly what I'd want, I can just about guarantee."

He patted her shoulder. "Good girl. You and I are the only people who matter."

She drove in silence for a few moments and then heard him say, "So, how's this afternoon for you?"

She laughed. "Kinda short notice, doncha think?"

"But, Bean!" He gestured toward the basket in the back seat while he leaned toward Miranda and whispered, "We want to take our vows before the baby gets old enough to understand."

The kitten chirped.

"See? He's beginning to understand too much already," Shep whispered.

~o~~o~~o~

AUTHOR NOTE: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed meeting Zeus.  Next time, in Chapter 7, Hermione holds a war council meeting to plan a wedding, and Shep & Carlo start looking for David Zhang.

Don't forget to click that vote star, and leave me a comment. I love hearing what you think of developments in the story.

Good news received from Amazon today! The Mammoth Murders ebook is now available for pre-orders on Amazon.com. Same goes for iBooks, B&N, Kobo, and Smashwords. Book goes live November 1, 2019.

See you next time.

Iris