I knew what I was getting myself into the moment Bruce asked me to take his case. His fantastic feline, Sweetheart, had been missing for a good two days, and he was at a loss. I felt bad for the kid, sure; but I also felt bad for myself, for even taking this case. I knew for sure that it would lead me around the city a dozen times with still no trace of the cat-napped kitty. We were in my office the night after he first came in. He would have given me the specs on his furry friend the very first night, but under my advice he went home to search the various kitty hideouts. He came back without any leads. "So, Bruce. Did you check under the bed?" "Yep." "Did you check in the closet?" "Yep." "Did you go back five minutes later and check under the bed again?" "Yep, and still no trace of her. Like I said, Nik, my mom took her. I know she did. She's always loved my little Sweetheart." Right then I knew this case would be a complete catastrophe. "I'll take you back to my place," Bruce went on. "See if you can find anything." I offered a smile. "Back to your place? Bruce, baby, we just met." I have to admit, it was something I had to say. A gal like myself doesn't pass up the opportunity when it's there. He chuckled. "Don't start being cute. I'm here to get your help, that's that." I grabbed my hat and headed to the door. "I know, Bruce. And I'm going to help you find your Sweetheart the best that I can. But for the record, I was cute the day I got here, and I ain't gonna stop any time soon." He followed me out the door, and we walked the five blocks to his apartment. It was a nice place, on the second floor of a brick building. He opened the door and I surveyed the scarcely furnished home of my new client. There weren't many places in the main room for Madame Sweetheart to hide, that's for sure. "So, how do you think your mother got in the apartment?" I asked him, giving the place one more once-over. "I don't know. Could be that she has a key." I turned and looked at him with amused eyes. "Nice shot, ace." "Thanks." "Where does this cat-napping mother of yours live, anyway?" "Just down the block from here, actually." "I'm gonna need an appointment with her, to talk to her about this missing cat of yours. Think I can set that up?" He shrugged. "Sure. Mom's a busy lady, though." "Like busybodies ever meant anything to me," I scoffed. "Got a phone somewhere?" "Yeah." He motioned to a little wooden table, and there it was: a pearly white telephone. "Thanks. What's her number?" "555-4455," he recited, as if by heart. "Good boy, knowing your mom's ring-a-ding-ding. What should I call her by?" "I thought you were calling her by phone." "I meant name-wise, smart aleck." "Mrs. Antonio is fine." I dialed the number, and it took four or five rings before she answered. "Hello?" "Mrs. Antonio?" "Yes, who's this?" "This is Nikki Monroe, PI. I've had a report recently of a missing cat, by the name of Sweetheart. Would it be alright if I stopped by in a few minutes? I'd like to ask you some questions." "Oh, most certainly, anything I can do to help. I'll leave my door unlocked, come right on in when you get here." "Thanks, Mrs. Antonio. I'll see you in a little while." I hung up the phone and looked at Bruce, my expression confused. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Your mother, she seemed to know that I was going to call. But what's stranger is that she seems willing to help. Innocent even. Are you sure she's the one who took your cat?" He sighed heavily, a look of despair flashing cross his face. "I don't know who else could have taken her, no one else has the key to the apartment. Oh, I was only gone for a little while, I should have taken her someplace safe. I never leave home without her. Oh Nikki, what am I going to do?" I patted him on the shoulder. "Don't get your boxers all in a bunch, kid. We'll find Sweetheart, I can guarantee that." NEXT TIME: THE APARTMENT KEY