“Hurry up!” I shouted to my fur sibs. “We’re gonna be late!”
“We can’t be late,” Opie contradicted. “A picnic starts when we get there.”
“The picnic starts when we open the picnic basket,” Dori corrected. She had a package of Smittens in her paws. I doubt her tummy is ever empty.
Hi! I’m Herman, a Turkish Angora known as @TattleCat on Twitter. I help my author mom write books, and I purrformed in the 5-star children’s book, FINDING MYA. When Mom decided to write mysteries, I opened the Wonderpurr Detective Agency to learn about the hardboiled crime business. Then I got my first case. It involved busting ghosts. That’s how I got to be the almost-famous purranormal detective known as Sherlock Herms.
I flicked my floofy tail with impatience. Not for the picnic to start…although the aroma of the fried chicken my sisfur Gidget had prepared was making me drool. No, I was impatient to get to the woods where my friend Charley was waiting for us to find him.
Charley Feeble wasn’t exactly lost. You see, seventy-some years ago he was a detective known as Maxwell Shallowford. Charley has some kind of phobia that makes him so shy, he pretends to be someone else. I met Charley during my second case, Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost. Charley was the ghost. He died from heart failure caused by a demon masquerading as a crabby lady with a loud voice. To better understand what I’m meowing about, you’re welcome to review my case notes for Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost.
Since Charley is dead…he can no longer work as a hardboiled detective, so he’s teaching me the biz. He said he would also teach me about the spirit world, but we weren’t learning about ghosts today. Last Friday Charley gave me a lesson on Surveillance. Today I’m taking my fursibs into the woods to have a picnic, and while we’re there we’re going to hunt for Charley.
Not easy considering Charley is kinda transparent. This is Charley.
I’m like my mom as I like to write stuff. Gidget is also like my mom as she likes to cook stuff. (My pawrents were in the restaurant biz back when they were “young and stoopid” as Mom usually says when somebody asks her about those years.) Gidget knows where Mom keeps her secret cookbook and sometimes creates delicious meals for us, especially when we become oh-so-sick of the canned crap marketed by pet food conglomerates for humans to feed us. Don’t mention those conglomerates to Gidget. She gets all huffy and feisty.
We didn’t have far to go to have our picnic. Since we aren’t allowed to leave the yard, we dragged the picnic basket to where the woods run alongside a creek behind our house. While Peaches helped Gidget set up the noms, Chauncie Marie and Candy played ball with Frank, Opie, Jack and Jesse, while Nikolas and Noah hunted bugs and Dori snacked on her box of Smittens. Despite it being a picnic, no one expected her to share them.
I had a hard time relaxing like the others. I was anxious to prove to Charley that I could be a hardboiled detective like Max Shallowford, so I grabbed a chicken leg and got a head start on exploring the woods. I wanted to be the first to spot Charley.
I wandered around until the chicken was gone, and my fursibs had eaten, then taken naps. By the time they woke up it was near dusk and the raccoons had joined our picnic. I reminded everyone why we were in the woods to begin with, and steered them to the stairs that led down to the creek. It was the only place I hadn’t yet explored. Charley had to be hiding down there.
It means a lot to me to be the first to find Charley. I’m the hardboiled detective with grit in his blood. I’m the almost-famous Sherlock Herms of the Wonderpurr Detective Agency. The rest of my fursibs, including Dori, think detecting is fun—like hunting bugs. But I’m serious about it. I have to be. My author mom has decided to write mysteries. She seems pretty set on doing it. That makes me nervous. I’m her mews, you see. How can I inspire her when I know nuffin’ about solving mysteries? If I fell down on the job, she might ask my ex-arch-nemesis but still chunky-butt orange tabby brofur, Opie. I needed to be good at digging for dirt on suspects and solving crimes in order to help my mom write stuff.
But… Here’s the rub: I don’t seem to be very good at detecting. It’s like my brain goes to mush when the clues are right in front of my pink nose. My sisfur Dori, however, has a real talent for detecting. So humiliating!
What if Dori finds Charley first? What will that say about me? Being a detective means a lot more to me than it does to Dori. All she cares about is eating treats and flitting around in a tiara, calling herself ‘Pwincess.’
I need help. I need YOUR help!
Do you see Charley in the woods? Look real hard. If you do see Charley, don’t meow or bark out loud because then my fursibs will come running. Just leave a comment that you found him. That will help me so much.
Good luck! And thank you for helping me.
Until next Friday, have a Wonderpurr week!
If you’re new to Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries and want to catch up, here are the links to my first case, The Case of the Dancing Ghosts, and my second case where I met Charley Feeble, Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost. Also, you can click on the links located on the sidebar of this website.
Thanks so much for stopping by. I’d love to hear what you think of my series, so please leave your comment below. Thanks so much! Herman!!!
P.S. If you’d like to learn more about the books me and my mom write, visit our Author Page.