Chapter twelve: Revelations

"Why are we back here?" Tugger whined, squeezing his way through the gate surrounding the shop where Old Deuteronomy lived. After the meeting was over, I had convinced him to show me the way. "I told you, I searched the place bottom to top. He's not there."

"Exactly," I nodded. "You were always on the ground. You couldn't have seen what was on top of all the shelves."

Continuing to growl under his breath, Tugger wandered over to a window that led into the basement. To our dismay, we found it boarded up.

"That's how I got in last time," he told me. "Now what do we do?"

"Well . . ." I mused, looking up at the enormous oak tree next to the house, "looks like we'll have to go in the hard way."

"With this paw, you've got to be joking," Tugger scowled at me.

"Fine, stay here."

I began dragging myself up the tree. When I was a kitten this would have been easy, but now, every new claw grip brought danger. I felt the bark splintering and hugged the tree for dear life. Tugger sat down below, looking both concerned and amused.

At last I reached the highest and sturdiest branch. I was confidently walking across it when I slipped on some snow. Tugger hissed in alarm, but I managed to grip the branches' underside. Hauling myself back up, I leapt onto the roof of the house. Feeling exceptionally proud, I padded over to the skylight, wiping the condensation away with my paw.

The room I was looking into must have been the storage room for items not on display. There were beautiful statues of fierce guard dogs and sly felines. The hand-blown glass was exceptionally exquisite, the intricate details catching the tiniest ray of sunlight, casting rainbows on the floor.

Then I saw him. Squatting on top of one of the shelves was Old Deuteronomy, a large splotch of dried blood coloring his neck. Crimson had pooled around his peacefully resting paws. He looked almost relaxed, unlike the other victims, with his eyes shut and his mouth calm. I realized, with a startling revelation that this hadn't been murder. It had been an execution and Old Deuteronomy hadn't even struggled.

"What was so unbelievably important at stake that Old Deuteronomy was willing to sacrifice himself for it?" I wondered and then answered my own question. "Jellicle! He must be alive!"

* * *

Hours later, I was no closer to solving the mystery. I was slumped right next to Gustav, who was, in turn, slumped over his latest work. He had apparently attempted to go back to Egyptian writing and had exhausted himself trying.

"With Old Deuteronomy gone," Tugger said through a mouthful of pigeon he had dragged in with him, "that brings us back to square one."

"Not necessarily," I told him, "It's not over. It's just gotten extra complicated, like Egyptian Hieroglyphics."

Pawing through the book in front of me, I came across a Hieroglyphic with a beautiful Egyptian cat offering a bird to the pharaoh. The cat seemed familiar for some reason. I thought hard and a memory came drifting back to me. A lovely reddish brown queen with brown-blue eyes, mewing her bewitching song . . .

"Tugger, I've just had the craziest idea!" I exclaimed.

"Crazy?" Tugger mused. "A word that goes pretty well, with quite a few of your ideas."

Ignoring him, I headed over to the bookshelf where Gustav had a set of Webster's dictionaries.

"Genetics!" I leapt up at the book labeled "G" and knocked it to the ground. It skittered over to where Tugger was sitting. Jumping after it, I began pawing through the pages.

"Here it is!" I said excitedly, "Genetics. That heredity was established by the laws of nature was discovered by Gregor Johann Mendel through the course of crossbreeding plant experiments . . . Tugger, we're being bred back to our origins!"

"We're being what?" Tugger choked on his pigeon.

"My god, I must have been blind not to ask which queen the toms had been seduced by!" I growled, furious at myself. "All the clues in my dreams that I ignored. My original nightmare of the man with no face. Obviously, that was Preterius. And I didn't understand the significance of Victoria's words. His tone of voice, though, there was a sense of urgency in his tone. A persuasive conviction; he was trying to tell them something of great important. Ugh!" I slammed my head against the bookshelf in frustration.

"The murderer," I continued, turning back to Tugger, "isn't a psychopath. He wanted to give Munkustrap, Alonzo and the rest every opportunity to leave my sexy queen alone and the rest of her mysterious kind. And what was it she said? We are not new, we are old."

"You mean those snobby cats who are taking over the neighborhood?" Tugger asked in disgust.

"Exactly," I nodded. Going back up to the desk, shoved the open book of Hieroglyphics toward Tugger. "Here, take a look."

"What? Is that her?" Tugger asked, looking at the Egyptian cat.

"No, that's just a model," I told him. "For breeding, that will change us back to our original form." I went over to look at the dictionary again. "Experiments with plant hybrids . . ." I mused.

"Experiments with plant hybrids!" the eerie voice from my dream echoed in my head. I could almost see the bodies of the cats flying through the air again.

"And who reverse Mendel and has a giant portrait of him in his house?" I asked, excited. "Who worked in Preterius's laboratory?"

"Who?" Tugger asked.

"Zeibold!" I answered triumphantly.

"Zeibold?" Tugger frowned. "Who the hell is Zeibold?"

"Fresh liver."

"Huh?"

"Fresh liver. Ring any bells?"

"Fresh liver, fresh liver . . ." he pondered.

"We don't have time for you to think!" I said, exasperatedly, "Come on, we have to get the murderer right now!"