I had left Bruce's apartment to walk two blocks to his mother's place. In a way, I was looking forward to the little shindig with Mrs. Antonio. The case of the missing kitty was wearing me out, and I hadn't even been working on it for that long. I was also lacking in my necessary beauty sleep - which I usually got during my afternoon nap at the office. Bruce had warned me before I left about some short-term memory issues his mother had been complaining about over the last few years. I told him it wouldn't be anything major, since I'd been dealing with some memory problems of my own. Mrs. Antonio answered the door to her condo after two knocks. Truth is, she wasn't exactly what I expected - but then, no one really expects to be gazing down the barrel of a shotgun. "EGAD!" I exclaimed as my hands flew up in the air. "Yeesh, lady, what are you trying to make me do, drop half my weight in the seat of my pants?!" "Who are you?" she asked, her left brow lifted in question. "What? What are you, crazy or something?! It's me, Nikki Monroe, I called you less then a half an hour ago!" "...You did?" "Yes! I called and asked if it was alright if I stopped by and asked you some questions! You said it was fine! Nothing personal, lady, but if you ask me - having a gun in my face isn't my idea of fine!" Mrs. Antonio lowered her weapon, her eyes filled with worry. "I'm sorry, I forgot. Damn my memory..." "It's okay, Mr. Antonio...Bruce warned me about your habit of forgetting things. I should have been prepared for something like this. Or at least something similar." The frazzled mother of my client propped her shotgun against the wall and stepped back from the door. "Please...come in..." It wouldn't have been right of me to refuse such an offer - especially since she had that damn gun of hers so close by. Her place looked a lot like her son's: no decorative touch, no sense of home, no family photos on the mantel. As a matter of fact, as I looked around a bit more, I realized she didn't even have a mantel. Poor gal. "Your home bears quite a resemblance to your son's," I remarked. "Yes, well...Bruce's father was a frugal man. I suppose it rubbed off on the both of us." "You married a cheap bastard, huh?" "From what I can remember, yes. What did you say your name was again?" "The name's Nikki, Nikki Monroe," I replied. "Detective by day, and uh...detective by night, too." "I'm Carol," she said, more to herself then to me. "Ah, Carol...mom by day, shotgun-wielding condo inhabitant by night, huh?" She sighed heavily, but my comment made her chuckle. I was glad my comment was the pick to crack the ice, but I didn't exactly mean it as a joke. "What is it exactly that I can help you with, Miss...em...what was your name again, dear? Ah, that's right, Vicky. What can I help you with, Miss Vicky?" I didn't bother to correct her, since she seemed content with the name she'd picked out for me. "Seems your son's cat has gone missing over the last couple of nights, he's a bit worried." "Sweetheart!" she gasped. "Oh no, what happened to her?" "We don't know. Bruce said you have a spare key to his apartment and that you were the last one around at the time of Sweetheart's disappearance." "Oh yes...I checked on her the other night, and I thought it was strange. She wasn't there. See, Bruce usually takes her to work, but he couldn't for some reason. I forgot why. So I went to feed her, since he was gone, and she never showed up. Why, I didn't think anything of it, you know how cats are. Oh, but now she's...where is she again?" "That's what I was hoping you could help me find out," I replied, "because at the moment, she's missing." "Missing...oh dear, that poor cat... I'll help you in any way I can, Mickey." "...Yeah, thanks. Did you see anything different about the apartment the last time you were there? Anything out of place?" "What apartment?" "Bruce's apartment." "Oh, Bruce! How is he? I haven't seen him in a while." "...Uh...he seems to be okay, I guess..." "That's good. Now what about his apartment?" "Did you see anything strange while you were there?" "No...not that I can recall." "...Ahuh...did you see Sweetheart anywhere?" "When?" I raised a brow. "When you were over at Bruce's apartment." "No, I thought it was a bit strange, too. Because she wasn't there." "Alright...well, I think that about covers it for the moment." "Covers what, Ricky?" "Questions, Mrs. Antonio. And I'm Nikki, by the way." "Nice to meet you, Nikki. I'm Carol." "Indeed, nice to meet you. I'd better be on my way." "On your way? Oh, but you just got here!" Mrs. Antonio protested. "Time does fly, what can I say," I replied. "I might be back sometime soon, though, when I find out something about Sweetheart." "Why, did something happen to her?" "...No...nothing that you need to worry about, ma'am." "Well, please do call the next time you want to stop by. You came rather unexpected." "Will do. Thanks for having me." I dipped my hat and hurried out of the building. A few minutes later, I was back at Bruce's apartment. "Did you get any information?" he asked eagerly as I opened the door. I frowned at him. "Your mom's a nut job. A total nut job. And I've met a lot of nut jobs in my day, but none like your mother. No, no information. We're right back to square one." He sighed. "So you don't think my mom took Sweetheart?" I snickered. "If she did, she'd be the last one to know it." NEXT TIME: SWEETHEART'S SURPRISE