Mr. and Mrs. Bunny—Detectives Extraordinaire! Read Online Free Page A

the Grand Poobah said, clearing his throat and putting his sunglasses back on. “We have the recipes, true, but we can’t
read
the recipes. Fanny was always terrified that someone from a rival firm would steal them, so she wrote them all in code.”
    He opened the box and took out one of the file cards to show Flo and Mildred. On the top was engraved FANNY FOX’S CANNED RABBIT PRODUCTS AND BY-PRODUCTS FACTORY . There was a logo of a fox trying to cram a protesting rabbit into a pressure cooker.
    Mildred flinched. “I’m a vegan myself,” she said.
    â€œOf course you are,” said the Grand Poobah. “And your IQ is well under one hundred. Don’t worry, we know all about hoomans. We’ve been studying your sitcoms. And we know allabout the vegans. Interesting choice. Vegetables and grasses. Foxes, of course, prefer
meat
.”
    He smiled at them. It was a cruel smile that made the most of his prominent canines. The thought of meat had caused a little line of drool to escape his mouth and make its way down his chin. Mildred flinched again.
    â€œDid someone say something about, uh, grasses?” asked Flo, whose attention had flagged. “I’m not a vegan. Anyone want a cheese straw? The milk is locally sourced.”
    Mildred studied the card some more. Underneath the factory name and logo were a series of wiggles and swirls. She passed the card to Flo.
    â€œWhat’s that, like, Fox alphabet?” asked Flo.
    â€œFox alphabet?”
barked the Grand Poobah, and then recovered himself. “No, my dear sir, that is
code
. Unbreakable code, so it seems. That is why we have come to you. I have a cousin who lives in the woods by Ottawa who keeps track of government goings-on. It is, as I’m sure you can understand, important for our species to keep tabs on your species to see what little nasty thing you’re going to be up to next. He found out some interesting items. One is that there are several decoder scientists sprinkled around Canada.”
    â€œHa! Runyon said he was the only one! Ha!” said Flo.
    â€œNo, babe, he said he was the
best
one,” said Mildred.
    â€œWell, here is the salient point,” interrupted the Grand Poobah, who was really losing patience with them and also thinking their fingers would make tasty snack food. “He is the
closest
one. To have a decoder actually on Vancouver Island is enormously convenient. Foxes hate to travel.”
    â€œThe ferry was loathsome,” said one of the bodyguard foxes. “I thought I was like to die.”
    â€œAnd we had to stay in the car the whole time with its blackened windows so as not to arouse suspicions,” said another fox. “I got seasick.”
    â€œI had to use the bathroom,” said another.
    â€œI wanted a chocolate bar. They have vending machines on the ferry and I could have snuck inside without anyone seeing me. Foxes are very stealthy and humans never notice anything anyway. They’re way too busy with their cell phones and iPods, but
he
wouldn’t let us.”
    â€œShut up, shut up, shut up, all of you,” said the Grand Poobah. “Now, unfortunately, for all my Ottawa cousin’s snooping, he couldn’t obtain the decoder’s
exact
address. That, apparently, is a secret. It is rumored this decoder is somewherein the Cowichan Valley, where we are starting our factory.
Très coincidental, n’est-ce pas
? Our foxy Ottawa snoop
did
find out the address of the decoder’s nearest relatives. That was no secret. And so, you see, here we are with you. And you, of course, will tell us where to find this relative of yours because we have been so friendly and haven’t once munched on your digits, no matter how great the temptation.” Another line of drool escaped the Poobah’s lips and began its trail down his furry chin.
    â€œLove to help you out, man, but I can’t remember the address. Can you, Mildred?”