Click here to read Part 1: Trouble In Fur!
Part Two: Burrowed Clues
The old train station wasn’t the best spot to hang out at night, and it was a strange place to have a meeting any time of day. I'd just heard the midnight train rattle through, the last one until tomorrow morning. It wasn't in the safest neighborhood, and certainly wasn't a place I'd expect a whisker like her to visit. Rich dames usually had their own cars. Or used the station in the nice part of town.
My footsteps echoed in the empty platform, though the rain pounding on the roof created a soft, constant thrum that filled the silence. It was only punctuated by the occasional squeak of a critter or a gust of wind from outside. Overhead fluorescent lights flickered over empty benches, catching graffiti tags and the faint reflection of neon signs blinking outside. The bleach-smelling station was clean and orderly, but deserted, as if time had paused between the last train and the next.
I spotted Millie standing near the timetable board, her eyes fixed on the rafters high above. She didn’t turn when I approached, but her ears flicked at the sound of my wet paws padding across the floor. I gave my coat a quick shake, sending droplets scattering.
“You’re punctual,” she said, still staring at the ceiling.
“You’re lucky,” I replied, brushing the last of the rain off my hat. “So what are we doing in an empty station at midnight?”
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes as sharp as broken glass, and pulled a folded piece of paper from her crocodile skin clutch–stained burgundy, of course. “I found this when I emptied out my uncle’s old safety deposit box.” She turned to face me and held out the scrap of paper. “It’s an old map of the station. Hand-drawn. And see that mark?” She pointed to a small X scribbled roughly where we were standing.
I studied the map, tracing the lines with a claw. But the X wasn’t just randomly placed—it was marked on a spot where the ceiling met the wall, almost hidden from view. And if the map was accurate, then I should be able to see the spot from where we stood.
"There," Millie said. She pointed up toward the ceiling where a small piece of plywood had been nailed to the wall exactly the map indicated.
“So what’s the big deal?” I asked, handing it back. "It's a piece of plywood. An old repair. Nothing more."
“That X marks something my uncle hid,” she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. “I think it’s a clue to whatever’s buried at the Barrow estate, but it’s out of my reach.”
I followed her gaze to the rafters, where the plywood blended in with the station around it, a long-forgotten repair now dusty and tattered with age. It was a good twenty feet up, just out of reach unless you had a ladder—or claws and a knack for climbing.
“How can you be sure something’s still up there?” I asked, keeping my voice casual, though the gears in my head spun. "What if someone took it already?"
“Because no one else knows about this map,” she said, tucking it back into her coat. “My uncle was careful—paranoid, even. Whatever he stashed up there, he didn’t want it found easily.”
“You sure about this? Could be nothing.” I was reluctant to make the climb without some reassurance this wasn't a wild goose chase.
Mille looked at me, eyes dark and determined. “Or it could be everything.”
I shrugged, but my gut told me she was right. There was something hidden there. The map with the X and the plywood in exactly the same spot—it was too much of a coincidence.
I found a narrow support column, slick but sturdy, and hoisted myself up. My claws gripped the metal, and I moved carefully along the beam until I reached the plywood. It was rotted around the edges and gave way with a bit of force, revealing a small metal box wedged inside a small gap in the wall.
She'd been right.
Slipping the box into my pocket, I carefully climbed back down. "There was something there," I told her. Her eyes widened as I handed her the box, no bigger than a pocket watch case, tarnished and sealed tight.
She pressed the button latch and it clicked open, revealing a single object inside: a small, brass key, ancient and worn, with an intricate design etched along the shaft. It was the kind of key that opened more than just a door—it unlocked secrets.
“That what you were hoping for?" I asked, trying to gauge her reaction.
She held it up in the light, a spark of excitement flashing in her eyes before she buried it beneath a cool, calculating gaze. “This is it. The key to whatever my uncle hid at the estate. If we get there first, we get it all.”
The word "first" rang in my ears. Did that mean someone else was looking for this treasure? What exactly was I getting myself into?
I watched her, trying to read the truth behind her eyes. She’d gotten me this far, but now we had a key, a map, and more questions than answers. And if the next stop was the Barrow estate, the real trouble was just beginning.
“Meet me at the estate tomorrow night,” she said, slipping the key into her coat. “Same time. And bring your penchant for sniffing out clues, Detective. We’ve got work to do.”
She started to walk away but I held out a paw. "Payment first, whisker. A train station is one thing, but a haunted house at midnight is something else entirely."
A silky laugh echoed in the empty train station as she slipped a hand into her pocket and withdrew an envelope stuffed with cash.
"Just be there," she said.
I watched her walk away, the sound of her steps fading into the empty station. I’d been hired for jobs before, but this one had a feeling I couldn’t shake—a mix of desperation, mystery, and the kind of danger that felt like tufts of fur being yanked out of your tail.
We weren't just digging up valuables.
We were digging up trouble.
