ghost stories

1
Will Dori Forgive Sherlock Herms?
2
Sherlock Herms in G.A.G. Order
3
Sherlock Herms in Denial
4
Sherlock Herms in… Spring Break!
5
Sherlock Herms in The Trojan Horse Mystery
6
Org Chart Angst, Sherlock Herms
7
Sherlock Herms Video
8
A Room with a Mew, Sherlock Herms
9
Let Me Be Frank, Sherlock Herms
10
No Big Deal, Sherlock Herms

Will Dori Forgive Sherlock Herms?

Previously on Sherlock Herms in G.A.G. Order…

Dori slapped her book shut. “Let’s play 20 Questions. All yoo have to do is nod if we guess correctly. If we don’t, then yoo just sit there.”

The ladies put their heads together, whispering. Then Violet said, “I suppose we won’t be breaking the rules if we simply nod.”

“Excellent!” Dori put her book aside. “Did yoor granddaughter like pink? The color, not the singer.”

The ladies nodded.

“Did she like kitties?”

Again they nodded.

“Did she—?”

“Dori!” I snarled, embarrassed by her schoolgirl questions. “We need information on her death, not her fave colors and pets.” As my sister sat back with crossed arms and an even crosser expression, I asked my clients, “Did your granddaughter know the person who killed her?”

They stared at me. Then said, “We may need a few days before we can resume this interview.”

As Violet and Isobel faded away, I said to Dori. “I’m more than a spirit counselor. I’m a detective, and detectives detect. Tomorrow we will talk with the neighbors.”

Dori’s sulky puss warned me she was still hissed that I’d scolded her. “I got a better idea. Yoo talk with the neighbors. I might ask dumb questions about fave colors and fave pets.”

“I didn’t say your questions were dumb.”

“Yoo had a condescending tone to yoor voice.”

“I… I did not.”

“Did so. Tomorrow I’m going to take my dumb questions and talk with the kitties who live in the park.”

“What? Why?”

“So they can tell me about the lady who wears pink and loves kitties.” She picked up her book, prepared to leave.

I grabbed her tail. “Dori, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be condescending with you. I’m just frustrated. How am I supposed to find a dead lady who doesn’t know she’s dead? Especially when my clients refuse to answer direct questions about who she is. I didn’t even get a chance to ask her name.”

“Why don’t yoo ask me who she is. I know.”

I stared at my little sister. “What? Who? Tell me!”

“Now yoo sound bossy.” She walked to the door leading to the stairs to my office.

I growled, “Dori!”

Her paw on the doorknob, she narrowed her eyes at me. I’d seen that look before—right before I got a headache. Dori claims she can give migraines just by thinking one into your head, and I believe her.

“Dori! Stop right there. Tell me the granddaughter’s name. I’m your boss.”

Her eyes brimmed with hurt. “I thought yoo were my pawtner.” A tear trickled through her whiskers, making me feel like a two-headed monster.

I ran to throw my paws around my little sister, but she closed the door between us. By locking it, she put an exclamation point on her feelings. Read More

Sherlock Herms in G.A.G. Order

Previously on Sherlock Herms in Denial.

“You want me to find out who murdered your granddaughter?” I asked Violet.

“No! We already know who murdered her. Suffice to say we would be extremely pleased if you could bring the murderer to justice, but that isn’t why we wish to hire you. We want you to convince my granddaughter of her disembodied state so she can accept being dead. She’s in Denial, Detective Herms.”

And now… Sherlock Herms in G.A.G. Order

I sat on the bench across the road from our new home watching a pair of piping plovers skip along the sandy beach. The breeze felt cool and smelled of fish mixed with pungent earth warming to the idea that spring had sprung.

As the sun set over the ocean-size lake, my thoughts drifted back a few months to the time my friend and mentor Charley gave me a lesson on Inattentional Blindness. He’d told me to first focus on the birdbath, then shift my attention to the window reflection without turning around and tell him what was going on behind me in the room.

I’d been failing as a detective because I was so highly distracted by everything, I couldn’t focus on any one thing at a time. That day, by shifting my attention to the reflection, I’d seen Dori talking with Charley, and my other sister Candy was asleep on the back of the sofa. I’d also seen an angel with huge wings, along with some dood wearing sunglasses that turned out to be Ghost Guy who eventually summoned the demons that ran us out of our home.

When I arrived at my new home, I’d discovered Charley waiting for me. He’d overheard my thoughts about no longer wanting to be a ghost hunter. Who would after being sucked into Hell through an Ouija board? I was done with demons, big time! Charley is now my Guardian Angel and I guess there is some special dispensation that says G.A.’s can listen in on our thoughts. (I know, unnerving!)

I’d opened the Wonderpurr Detective Agency to learn how to solve crimes so I could help my author mom who wanted to write mysteries. I’m her mews, you see. I help her write novels. A year ago we’d watched a documentary on famous detectives that inspired me to be like Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe for their hardboiled detective lingo, and Sherlock Holmes for his use of logical reason to solve cases. Plus I liked his hat. I wanted to get back to the basics, and purranormal investigating was anything but basic.

That’s when Charley brought up my Inattentional Blindness. “When I gave you that lesson, Herman, I didn’t realize you could see into the future. But you can. That is your true talent. And with that talent comes the ability to see spirits. I cannot promise that demons will not try to approach you, because Evil is attracted to Good. But I can promise that I will always be there to prevent them from harming you and Dori, and your family.”

I’d hung my head. “How am I supposed to be my mom’s writer mews when I’m busy counseling spirits?”

“You are where you are supposed to be. You are here now…to help someone.”

Violet and Isobel, the ladies I’d lunched with on the rooftop, hired me to convince their granddaughter of her disembodied state so she could accept being dead. Looked like my role as a Spirit Counselor was about to take off. I didn’t want this job, but Charley seemed pretty set on me doing it. And how do you argue with your Guardian Angel who is also your mentor and good friend?

Deep in thought, I didn’t hear Dori arrive until she pounced onto the bench beside me. “Wanna wrassle, Hwermie?”

“No thanks.”

She flopped down to lick her paws. Then she spied the plovers. “Wanna chase birdies?”

“Not really.”

She nudged me. “Yoo were quiet at dinner. Cat got your tongue?” She meowed with laughter, but I only sighed. “What’s wrong, Hwermie? Why yoo sad?”

“I’m not sad, honey. Just…thoughtful. I got my first case tonight.”

She looked at me with surprise. “How? Yoor phone don’t work no more.”

“I don’t think it ever worked. When I found it in my desk drawer back at our old house, all I did was place it on the desk. I never asked anyone to hook it up.”

“So that means… What?”

“Think about who called on that phone.”

Dori’s eyes glazed over. “I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast, much less who called last year.”

“The calls came from the 1940’s. From dead people.”

“I think you’re mixing your movies.”

“Who hired us?”

“Violet and Isobel. They want us to tell their granddaughter she’s dead.”

“She don’t know she’s dead?”

“Apparently she’s in denial.”

“Egypt? Did she drown?”

“That’s what I asked, but they said denial is another name for purrgatory. She thinks she’s still alive.”

“So they want yoo to show her The Light?”

“Actually, The Roof. They want her to join them for tea.” As Dori turned to look at our rooftop, I asked, “Are they there?”

“Two old ladies? One with white hair? One with yellow hair?”

“That’s them.”

“Nope. Not there.”

When I turned around, Dori giggled behind her paw. “Made yoo look.” She waved at our clients. They waved back, then gestured for us to join them. “They seem like nice ladies, for dead hoomons.”

“I need more details on the granddaughter. Let’s go intermew them.” I moved to stand.

Dori stayed put. “We have to wait until dark.”

“Why?”

“Cuz that’s when ghosts come out of hiding. My book, Ghost Hunters Do It With the Lights Off, says so.”

I saw Violet and Isobel had their hands on their hips, clearly wondering why we were sitting on our tails. “It’s twilight. That’s dark enough. Let’s go.”

Violet poured her grassy-scented clover tea into cups for Dori and me. “In life my granddaughter was a beautiful girl with a sparkling personality. She easily made friends and was loved by everyone.”

“Almost everyone,” Isobel corrected.

“Indeed,” Violet responded with raised brows. “I dare say jealousy is a two-headed monster, able to fool even those closest to them.”

Dori gasped. “A two-headed monster killed her?”

“They speak in obscure references,” I whispered to my sister. Obscure was my Word of the Day on my Word of the Day calendar. I poised a freshly sharpened purrple crayon over my professional detective notebook. “How did she die?” I asked my clients. “Who killed her?”

“We must wait for dark to intermew them. My book, Ghost Hunters Do It With the Lights Off, says so.” `~Dori Click To Tweet

“And how?” Dori added. “That’s impawtent to know.”

“We cannot tell you,” Isobel told us. “We are under a G.A.G. order.”

Dori’s eyes grew huge. I can only imagine what she was thinking.

“What does G.A.G. stand for?” I asked.

“Alas, we are gagged by the G.A.G.,” Violet said, “unable to discuss such specifics.”

Dori opened her Ghost Hunters Do It… book. “G.A.G. stands for Ghost Authorization Guidelines. Number three prohibits spirits from discussing specific details of another spirit’s life and death.”

I asked, “How can I help when you can’t give me details?” My clients shrugged in unison.

Dori slapped her book shut. “Let’s play 20 Questions. All yoo have to do is nod if we guess correctly. If we don’t, then yoo just sit there.”

The ladies put their heads together, whispering. Then Violet said, “I suppose we won’t be breaking the rules if we simply nod.”

“Excellent!” Dori put her book aside. “Did yoor granddaughter like pink? The color, not the singer.”

The ladies nodded.

“Did she like kitties?”

Again they nodded.

“Did she—?”

“Dori!” I snarled, embarrassed by her schoolgirl questions. “We need information on her death, not her fave colors and pets.” As my sister sat back with crossed arms and an even crosser expression, I asked my clients, “Did your granddaughter know the person who killed her?”

They stared at me. Then again put their heads together, whispering. Finally Violet said, “Detective Herms, we need to consult the Higher Ups.”

“We don’t wish to jeopardize our heavenly reward,” Isobel added as she faded away.

“We may need a few days before we can resume this interview,” Violet said as she too departed. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed with disappointment. A few days was a long time to a housecat. Then I heard a whisper on the fragrant twilight breeze. “She easily made friends and was loved by everyone… Everyone.”

I said to Dori. “I’m more than a spirit counselor. I’m a detective, and detectives detect. Tomorrow we will talk with the neighbors.”

Dori’s sulky puss warned me she was still hissed that I’d scolded her. “I got a better idea. Yoo talk with the neighbors. I might ask dumb questions about fave colors and fave pets.”

“I didn’t say your questions were dumb.”

“Yoo had a condescending tone to yoor voice.”

“I… I did not.”

“Did so. Tomorrow I’m going to take my dumb questions and talk with the kitties who live in the park.”

“What? Why?”

“So they can tell me about the lady who wears pink and loves kitties.” She picked up her book, prepared to leave.

I grabbed her tail. “Dori, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be condescending with you. I’m just frustrated. How am I supposed to find a dead lady who doesn’t know she’s dead? Especially when my clients refuse to answer direct questions about who she is. I didn’t even get a chance to ask her name.”

“Why don’t yoo ask me who she is. I know.”

I stared at my little sister. “What? Who? Tell me!”

“Now yoo sound bossy.” She walked to the door leading to the stairs to my office.

I growled, “Dori!”

Her paw on the doorknob, she narrowed her eyes at me. I’d seen that look before—right before I got a headache. Dori claims she can give migraines just by thinking one into your head, and I believe her.

“Dori! Stop right there. Tell me the granddaughter’s name. I’m your boss.”

Her eyes brimmed with hurt. “I thought yoo were my pawtner.” A tear trickled through her whiskers, making me feel like a two-headed monster.

I ran to throw my paws around my little sister, but she closed the door between us. By locking it, she put an exclamation point on her feelings.

I felt wretched. I hadn’t meant to growl or be condescending. I loved Dori with all my heart. And while she could overwhelm and exaspurrate me, she’d also had a big impact on solving my cases. Our cases. She was my partner. My best friend.

I covered my eyes with my paws and moaned, “I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. But I did. I’m a baaaad kitty.”

“Youse not a bad kitty kitty,” said a sparkly voice. “Youse a good kitty kitty.” The high-pitched baby talk triggered a memory of the day we’d arrived at our new home and a baby-talking blonde lady in a pink polka-dotted dress tried to lure us inside with the temptation of fresh litter boxes. “Youse just need to a-poly-gize to make Dori feel awwww better.”

I lowered my paws to see the lady in pink polka-dots.

The lady Dori called Evie Pees.

TO BE CONTINUED FRIDAY, APRIL 14th.

Welcome to Season Two of Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries starring me, Herman @TattleCat and my lil sisfur, Dori @Adorapurr on Twitter.  If you’re new to us, you’ll find my Season One Case Files located in my Case Note Archives . You can also Subscribe to this Wonderpurr blog by email. See the side column. Go on, I’ll wait while you look.

I hope you’ve enjoyed today’s story, and if you did, let me know in the Comments below. And pleeeeze tell your friends. All of them. Even the ones you don’t like. Until next time…

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Sherlock Herms in Denial

Previously on Sherlock Herms in Spring Break

My title on the org chart said I was a hardboiled detective with grit in my blood. If I couldn’t promote that image to my agency personnel, I sure couldn’t promote it to my clients. I didn’t want to upset my siblings, but I needed to take control and not let them run all over me. The org chart was insignificant. No one outside the agency would see it, and if the silly titles, colored boxes and the flowers and the tartar sauce made everyone happy, so be it. But if my investigators-in-training started to supersede (my Word of the Day on my Word of the Day calendar) my position as Lead Investigator, I would be forced to shake my floofy tail and get tough. I’d also tattle on them to Mom.

And now… Sherlock Herms in Denial

As the aroma of corned beast and cabbage drifted up the stairs to my huge office on the third floor, I ignored my growling tummy to concentrate on emptying the last box that contained items from my office at our old house. Today was St. Patrick’s Day and Mom’s Irish blood made St Paddy’s Day an event that required Celtic mewsic and green beer. My fur sibs and I would skip the beer and the cabbage, but there was a juicy chunk of beast with my name on it that I planned to sink my teeth into later tonight.

The last item out of the box was my snake-necked lamp that I planned to shine blindly into suspects eyes during interrogation once my 1940’s Bakelite phone with the rotary dial got hooked up later this morning and clients started calling. My smiling piggy bank was hungry to be fed more huge quarters.

Dori wandered into my office rolling the Amazon Echo Dot. We had ordered some bacon and pawfessional ghost hunting stuff when we first arrived, but our order had been cancelled after an Amazonian called Dad to verify the order and Dad being Dad snuffed the deal.

“Concatulations, Hwemie! We are a finalist for Blogpaws Nose-to-Nose awards in the Best Pet Humor Blog category.”

“I’m humorous?”

“Actually, I am. Yoor my stwaight man. Like Ricky to Lucy.”

“I can be humorous. I can be like Alec Baldwin to Tina Fey.”

“Sowry, but Alec Baldwin will never be funner than Tina Fey.”

“But I’m Sherlock Herms, a famous hardboiled detective with grit in my blood. It says so on the W.A.D. org chart.”

“Detectives aren’t humorous.”

“Sure they are.”

“Name two.”

While I struggled to think of even one, Dori spoke to the Echo Dot. “Hi Dottie, this is Dori. Hope yoo are having a Wonderpurr St Paddy’s Day.” Read More

Sherlock Herms in… Spring Break!

Previoiusly on Sherlock Herms… The Trojan Horse Mystery

“I think I have a virus,” Mom told me. “I feel puny.”

“What does puny feel like?” I asked. I was very concerned. If my mom died, who would feed me? Who would…tweet for me?

“I have chills, a sore throat, and I’m achy all over.”

“Where did you find a virus?”

“No idea. It’s a mystery.”

I excused myself to scamper back to my office where I grabbed a notebook and a purrple crayon. Then I headed back to my client. “I need to interrogate you,” I told her. “What time did you first notice you were feeling puny?”

She swallowed hard. “Last night around nine-thirty.”

“What were the symptoms?”

“I felt tired. And queasy.”

I wrote in my notebook. “Where were you prior to feeling puny?”

She reached for her water bottle and drank before answering. “I went to a book signing at the library, and then out to dinner.”

“You book signed at the library. Did you sign in the entry hall, or someplace else?”

She grabbed her water bottle. “They set me up in a room with a small stage.”

“What else was there?”

She thought about it as she drank. “They had a giant book on the floor. And a giant pink eraser. And a rack of hand puppets.” She frowned.

I gasped. “You were in the—”

“Kid’s library!” we said in unison.

She groaned. “I should have known. The library’s a Trojan horse for kiddie crud.”

And now… Sherlock Herms in Spring Break

I hunched over my desk in my huge but otherwise empty office, working on Frank’s request to add tartar sauce to his salmon-colored box on my Wonderpurr Detective Agency (known as W.A.D.) organizational chart. With the help of Peaches I had managed to convince Frank that the box was indeed salmon-colored and not pink as he was worried that pink would ruin his image as a tough guy.

As I worked I thought about sharing my office with my investigators-in-training. Nine of them plus Dori my investigator-slash-partner. I’d shared my old office with my little sister and that had been incredibly disruptive. She knocked stuff over. She sang silly little songs under her breath. She walked through the talcum powder I’d sprinkled on the floor designed to capture unauthorized paw prints. She asked eleventy-billion questions without expecting me to answer a single one. In short—she drove me crazy! I shuddered to image what it would be like to share an office with all of my brothers and sisters. I felt pretty sure Sam Spade never had to share an office with his little sister, much less his entire family. Read More

Sherlock Herms in The Trojan Horse Mystery

Previously on Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries…Org Chart Angst.

As Dori hurled herself at Gidget with claws flailing and teeth chomping, everyone scattered to avoid being caught in the cat fight. We have a No Fighting rule in our house. Wrassling is allowed, but without claws and blood.

“Hisssst!” Peaches ran to break up the fight. “Mom’s coming. Quick! Everyone back to your seats.”

As they flung themselves at their pillows, I scampered back to the podium where I pretended to be winding up my lecture on ghost hunting. “And so…I’d like to end by saying…ghost hunting can be fun and exciting, but it’s also hard detective work.” I turned and pretended to be surprised to see our mom standing in the door with a tray of refreshments. “Look! It’s our Beck and Fetch Grrrl.”

She laughed. “That sums up my position in this house purrrfectly. Everything okay? I thought I heard howling and yowling up here.”

“We were having a lively discussion on…on… Hey! That smells good. Whatcha got on that tray, Mom?”

Wearing angelic expressions on their pusses, my W.A.D. employees formed a single file to retrieve their treats from the tray. Then as Mom closed the door behind her, my investigators stretched out on their pillows to eat and nap for the duration of the afternoon.

I dragged the cushion from the chair in the sunny turret and joined them. “I think we had a rousingly successful first meeting. What do you think?”

They all nodded sleepily, clearly not in the mood for further discussion.

Then Candy said, “We didn’t appoint a secretary. Did anybody write down all those job titles?”

Uhhhhh.

And now…The Trojan Horse Mystery


It was Dad who fed us breakfast. Highly unusual. Typically he’s in charge of cleaning the litter boxes in the morning, but today he also divvied up the kibble and placed the bowls in the wrong spots. I like to eat by myself on the cushy rug in front of the sink, but instead the bowls were lined up like a barnyard feeding trough in front of the kitchen fireplace.

Not realizing there had been an unexpected change of command, I was the last to arrive and almost didn’t get to eat because Jack on the end had wolfed his food like a starving…um, wolf, and then moved on to eat from Opie’s bowl next to him. Opie then moved on to eat from Peaches’ bowl, who was forced to eat from Dori’s bowl, who was forced to eat from Frank’s bowl…etc. etc. I arrived just as Jack finished Opie’s bowl and was heading for mine. I slapped my bowl aside and glared at him before turning my back to eat in semi-peace.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked Dori after I finished and was washing up.

“In her room. Dad says she’s sick.”

I stopped washing my paws. My heart thudded with panic. My mom isn’t a drama mama. She caters to my needs no matter what kind of storm pounds at our door. “What kind of sick?”

She shrugged. “Rabies, maybe?” Read More

Org Chart Angst, Sherlock Herms

Previously on Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries…A Room with a Mew.

Now that I was calm I noticed the huge painting over the fireplace of a ship sailing a stormy sea. Charley saw me looking at it and said, “That’s the Mishipeshu. It was on it’s way home when it disappeared, never to be heard from again. This house belonged to it’s captain. In fact, he used this room as his office.” He placed me on top of the desk. “But, now it’s your office.”

“It’s nice. Mom and I will get a lot of books written here.”

“Your mom’s office is in another room. This is all yours.”

I gazed at the huge room, wondering why I needed so much space. But then I saw how the sunlight puddled on the rug, and I thought maybe I could get a big couch to go there, and a desk for Dori. And Mosey, my stroller, would need a spot…

I felt a light touch brush my ears and realized I was alone. I turned to look up the photograph of me, Dori and Charley. There I saw him wink at me. “Everything happens for a reason, my friend. You are where you are supposed to be. Welcome Home, Sherlock Herms. Welcome Home.”

And now…Org Chart Angst

“You’re in the way. Get out,” Dad told us with his usual blunt honesty.

Mom dressed up the request to make ourselves scarce by saying, “The moving truck arrives this morning and chaos will reign. I think today would be a good one for you to teach the others about purranormal investigating. If you will keep them in your office while the movers are here, I will provide refreshments.”

I shuffled my notes with nervous paws. I hadn’t expected to teach a class on ghost hunting until I got settled in my office and had time to gather my thoughts, but here I was with only my desk in place and a comfy chair in the turret warmed by brilliant sunshine. I also had a podium to hold my notes while I lectured.

Lounging on my office floor atop scattered pillows like college hippies from the 1960s, the Wonderpurr Detective Agency’s investigators-in-training waited for me to begin. I’d heard rumors of concern regarding the organizational chart Dori had made. I didn’t think there would be issues with their duties, except for Gidget who Dori had assigned the job of Beck and Fetch Grrrl, along with providing refreshments. For now I kept the pink org chart with the flowers out of sight.

I cleared my throat. “As you know, the movers are bringing our stuff today and Mom and Dad want us out of the way. So I thought—”

“I’m not bringing no one no refreshments!” Gidget howled. She pulled out a pirated copy of the org chart and shook it with angry paws. “I’m nobody’s Beck and Fetch Grrrl. You gimme a real job, or I’m not gonna play detective with you.” Read More

Sherlock Herms Video

Love cozy mysteries? Cat cozy mysteries? Purranormal Cat Cozy Mysteries? Then you’ll love Sherlock Herms Purrnormal Mysteries starring Herman @TattleCat along with his little sister, @Adorapurr. Free blog series every Friday, only on WONDERPURR.COM.

A Room with a Mew, Sherlock Herms

Previously on Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries…Let Me Be Frank.

“This isn’t the surprise, Hwermie. Yoo gotta go upstairs.” Dori pointed to a staircase beyond the chase-ball-with-sticks table. She pushed me to the stairs, and then surprised me by pulling out my deerstalker hat, seemingly from out of nowhere. After plunking it onto my head, she gave me a light push. “Go! Yoo need to see for yourself.”

I glanced back at my fursibs who were watching. Opie nodded encouragement, and Jack gave me a dewclaw up. Staring up the stairs, I wondered where they led. We were already on the third floor. The only place stairs go after the third floor in houses is the attic.

I gazed into Dori’s eyes, searching for anything remotely demonic, but all I saw was her sweet face, excited for whatever lay in wait for me at the top of the stairs. “Okay. I’ll go. Call Mom if I’m not back in two minutes.”

And now … A Room with a Mew

I took the stairs slowly in order to prolong my arrival. While I hadn’t seen anything remotely demonic in Dori’s eyes, I couldn’t help feeling apprehensive about what lay in wait for me at the top of the stairs. When you’ve been to hell and back like I have, you don’t get over the experience all that easy.

As the staircase wound ever-so-slightly to the right, I saw the last few steps were illuminated with bright, sparkly light. In fact, the sparkles seemed to float in the air in front of me, as though beckoning me forward. One step. Two steps. I crept closer, slowly nearing the curve in the wall. Once I rounded that curve I’d see the surprise Dori wanted me to see—the one that required me to wear my deerstalker hat.

I don’t want to sound mellow dramatic, but I’m pretty sure I saw my life flash before my eyes. At least I saw a cute red and white kitten with big gold eyes and a floofy tail snuggled with similar-looking kittens against their momma. Cudda been me. Cudda been a cat food commercial I saw awhile back on teevee.

“Come on, Herms,” I growled under my breath. “You’re a hardboiled detective with grit in your blood. Get your tail up there and find out what Dori wanted you to see. Make Charley proud.”

Charley Feeble was my detective mentor. He’s also my Guardian Angel. He sacrificed himself so me and Dori could believe in ourselves enough to save him. Right before he left for Heaven, he said Dori and I possess the natural instinct to be a phenomenal detectives. I hope he was right. I swallowed hard, and peeked around the corner.

At first I saw nothin’ cuz the sparkly light was so bright. It actually hurt my eyes. But then I got used to it and stopped squinting. The room had a hardwood floor covered by a fancy rug. The heavily-draped windows went all the way up to the ceiling, allowing bright sunlight to flood the otherwise empty room. I noticed a fireplace to one side and a fancy lamp dangling over my head.

Unaware that I had moved, I found myself inside the room. The sunlight puddling on the rug looked inviting. Maybe I could take a little nap before I went back downstairs. I still didn’t see anything that would account for Dori’s big surprise awaiting me here. I stepped into the sun puddle. That’s when I saw it. And my breath caught with shock.

My desk! Charley’s desk! It was in the far corner. For a moment all I could do was stare. How was this possible? I’d left it at our old house because it was huge with lots of nooks and crannies—too big to get through the attic door without chopping to pieces. Mom used to say our home was built around an older house that refused to be torn down. Turns out she was right. Our home had been built around Charley’s house, and his ghost had refused to let it be destroyed while he was still inside it, hiding in the attic from Vivian Shallowford aka Demon Loud Lady. I met Charley during my second case: Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost.

But how did his desk get here in our new house, a billion miles north from where we used to live? It had been a long trip cooped up in a van with my entire family. That’s enough to exhaust anyone. I had to be hallucinating. Only one way to find out.

I approached the desk, expecting it to vanish with each step, but it didn’t. Not even when I was right in front of it. That’s when I saw the Bakelite telephone, and my smiling piggy bank was on the top hutch right next to the framed photograph of me and Dori and Charley, taken right before he left for Heaven. But how? I’d packed them in boxes, and the boxes were still in the moving van.

I stood in front of my desk for a long time, pawing the polished wood, inspecting each of the nooks and crannies. I even found my supply of purrrple crayons and my pocket watch. I don’t have pockets and I can’t tell time, plus the watch doesn’t work—I’d found it in one of my desk’s drawers and it turned out to belong to Charley—but it adds to my mystique.

“I wonder if the treats I hid from Dori are still here.” I opened one of the drawers in the hutch.

“Are they still there?”

“No. She must have smelled them and—” My heart lodged in my throat. I turned, expecting to see someone standing behind me. But the voice hadn’t come from the door. It had come from above. God? I looked up and saw Charley smiling his squinty smile from the framed photograph.

“Welcome home,” he greeted. And winked.

Then everything went black.

I awoke to feel sunshine warming my floof. It felt so good, I stretched all the way down to the tips of my toes and yawned. As fragments of my dream returned, I flipped over to warm my belly. I would love to have my desk back. But it would be especially wonderpurr if I could talk to Charley again.

“I’m really here, Herman.”

I opened my eyes to see Charley’s smiling face. “It wasn’t a dream?”

“No. It’s all real. I arranged to have your desk brought here. I also unpacked your smiling piggy bank, telephone, and pocket watch.”

I sat up to find myself on a toasty-warm chair inside a tiny round room. “Where am I?”

Charley pointed through the open side of the round room to where I saw my desk. “This is the turret your mom mention, with a view of the lake.”

I looked through the windows to see my new neighborhood. Beyond that, the entire town, a harbor, a beach, and an ocean-size lake.

“I would have loved an office like this when I was alive,” Charley told me. “When I saw it, I thought… This is perfect for Herman. A room with a mew.”

“This place is Wonderpurr!” I yowled. As Charley sat beside me, I crawled into his lap. He felt as solid as Mom or Dad.

“I wanted to welcome you to your new home, Herman. But, I also want to discuss something I overheard you think earlier today.”

“You can overhear me think?” Gosh, that was unnerving! Thoughts should be private.

“Yes, thoughts are private,” Charley said, reading my thoughts. “But not to your Guardian Angel when they involve fear that might stop you from achieving your life’s purpose.”

So much had happened since we left our old house. What had I thought that made Charley concerned?

“You’ve changed your mind about being a detective?”

“No! I want to be a hardboiled detective with grit in my blood. I… I just don’t want to be a ghost hunter. That was Dori’s idea. Not mine.”

“You can overhear me think?” Gosh, that was unnerving! Thoughts should be private. Click To Tweet

“What concerns you about working with spirits that haven’t moved on?”

“Demons. I don’t want to see one ever again.”

“That’s understandable. Do you recall my lesson on Inattentional Blindness? You were having problems focusing on the details necessary to solve cases.”

“I remember. You helped me train my brain to focus on what I couldn’t see.”

Back at our old house, Charley had asked me to meet him in our sun room at twilight. There he told me to look outside at the birdbath in our yard. While focused on the birdbath, he then asked me to tell him what was going on behind me in the room. All I had to do was shift my attention from the birdbath to the window reflection without turning around. There I’d seen Dori talking with Charley, and my little sister Candy was sleeping on the back of the sofa. I’d also seen an angel with huge wings, along with some dood wearing sunglasses that turned out to be Ghost Guy—the ghost hunter responsible for summoning demons that caused us to leave our home.

“When I gave you that lesson, I wasn’t aware that you had the ability to see what had not yet happened,” Charley now said. “I didn’t realize you could see into the future. But you can. That is your true talent, Herman. And with that talent comes the ability to see spirits. I cannot promise that demons will not try to approach you, because Evil is attracted to Good. But I can promise that I will always be there to prevent them from harming you and Dori, and your family.”

I hung my head. “So, I’m a ghost hunter whether I want to be or not?”

“I would call you more a spirit counselor than a ghost hunter. And spirits are not all ghosts. Spirits come in many forms, not all seen by the human eye.”

“But I’m not human, so I can see them?”

“You can see them.”

“What exactly are you talking about?”

“Angels, spirit guides… Shadow beings like your couch monster. Phantom objects like trains and ships. Cryptid creatures such as dragons, Nessie and Bigfoot. Aliens. Elementals connected to earth, wind, fire and air such as fairies and elves.”

“I can see all that?”

“And more, but I don’t want to freak you out.” He smiled his squinty smile, but my heart still felt heavy. “What’s wrong, Herman?”

“How am I supposed to be my mom’s writer mews when I’m busy counseling spirits? She could replace me with Opie. I just know he’s waiting for the chance to take my place.”

“Everything happens for a reason, my friend. You are where you are supposed to be. You are here now…to help someone.”

“Evie Pees?”

“Who?”

“The lady in the pink polka dot dress. The one who talks squealy baby talk.”

Charley looked confused. Then he looked concerned. I watched him tilt his head to one side and gaze upward as though he was listening to someone. “I should be going.” He carried me back into the big room with the fancy rug and my desk in the corner.

Now that I was calm I noticed the huge painting over the fireplace of a ship sailing a stormy sea. Charley saw me looking at it and said, “That’s the Mishipeshu. It was on it’s way home when it disappeared, never to be heard from again. This house belonged to it’s captain. In fact, he used this room as his office.” He placed me on top of the desk. “But, now it’s your office.”

“It’s nice. Mom and I will get a lot of books written here.”

“Your mom’s office is in another room. This is all yours.”

I gazed at the huge room, wondering why I needed so much space. But then I saw how the sunlight puddled on the rug, and I thought maybe I could get a big couch to go there, and a desk for Dori. And Mosey, my stroller, would need a spot…

I felt a light touch brush my ears and realized I was alone. I turned to look up the photograph of me, Dori and Charley. There I saw him wink at me. “Everything happens for a reason, my friend. You are where you are supposed to be. Welcome Home, Sherlock Herms. Welcome Home.”

Welcome to Season Two of Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries starring me, Herman @TattleCat and my lil sisfur, Dori @Adorapurr on Twitter. You can also find us on Facebook as Herman.TattleCat. And on Instagram as Wonderpurr_Life.

If you’re new to us, Welcome! You’ll find my Case Files to Season One located located in my Case Note Archives .  You can also Subscribe to this Wonderpurr blog by email. See the side column. Go on, I’ll wait while you look.

A new episode posts every Friday. I hope you’ve enjoyed today’s story, and if you did, let me know in the Comments below. And pleeeeze tell your friends. All of them. Even the ones you don’t like. Until next Friday…

Have a Wonderpurr Week! Herman!!!

Read the next episode: Org Chart Angst, Sherlock Herms

Let Me Be Frank, Sherlock Herms

Previously on Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries…No Big Deal.

“How could you be so rude?” Mom yelled at Dad. “She bought us toilet paper!”

“The whole house is pink,” Dad shouted back. “It’s like living inside a bottle of Pepto Bismol. I don’t care how cheap you got this house, it will cost a fortune to repaint.

I noticed Dori had returned from the litter box room. “Did you see where the lady in polka dots went?”

My little sisfur pointed to the stairs. “There.”

Frank shook his head. “She couldn’t have. Dad was standing on the bottom step. She would have to have walked right through him.”

Dori nodded. “She did! And then she walked through the mirror on the wall. I think it’s Evie Pees and she’s a ghost. Let’s get that Amazon Echo unpacked, Hwermie. We need to order pawfessional ghost hunting stuff.”

And now Part 3 of Welcome Home, Sherlock Herms

I didn’t care if the whole house was pink. And other than the joy of shredding it to pieces, I didn’t care if the toilet paper was either. My attention was on the ghost in the polka dotted dress. The one Dori called Evie Pees.

She had seemed so real! She wasn’t transparent like our ghost friend, Charley Feeble, a former detective in the 1940s who became my mentor and was now an angel because he risked his place in heaven to rescue me from hell. Maybe I needed to read some of Dori’s books on ghost hunting. Clearly I was behind in my education on spirit stuff.

Actually…between you and I…my gut twisted at the thought of dealing with more ghosts. Especially demons. I wanted to get back to my original plan to be a hardboiled detective with grit in my blood like Sam Spade, and back away from the spooky stuff I’d unexpectedly walked into thanks to Dori.  Read More

No Big Deal, Sherlock Herms

Previously on Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries…Welcome Home.

Forced to flee after I accidentally allowed demons to infest our house, we were now on our way to a new home in the Mitten State. While my fursibs were frightened about the move, I was excited. I’d already moved three times with my pawrents so I knew what to expect. The house would be bigger, better, and hopefully demon-free. Everything would be okay because we were still together as a family. The name of our new town was Welcome Home. I liked it. Made me feel warm and fuzzy about the new life we were about to begin. Then my gaze slid past the welcome sign, and my heart did a quick cartwheel; not with joy but with dread.

And now Part 2 of Welcome Home, Sherlock Herms

“The For Sale By Owner ad claimed the house is only vaguely haunted. No big deal.”

The words that came out of my Mom’s mouth startled my floofy tail skinny straight.

“What entails ‘no big deal?’” Dad wondered. Read More

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