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

asked Flo, scratching his chest.
    â€œWell, now, let me think,” said Mildred. “You know I’m not good with directions.”
    The Grand Poobah put the card back in the file and snapped it shut.
    â€œSo that’s the way it’s going to be, is it?”
    â€œWhat way?” asked Mildred.
    â€œIs there a way?” asked Flo, who was having a hard time keeping up.
    Neither one of them had the slightest idea what the Grand Poobah was talking about. They didn’t think it was abig deal to give Uncle Runyon’s address to a bunch of foxes who needed recipes decoded. They were all for helping forest animals. They just couldn’t remember where Uncle Runyon lived. Madeline always took care of details like that. And they were more than a little suspicious that they were hallucinating the whole thing anyway.
    â€œPretending you don’t remember will get you nowhere. I’ll give you one last chance to talk and then we will take you someplace where we can be, shall we say, more persuasive.”
    â€œTalk about what?” asked Flo.
    â€œDo you really think I believe you can’t remember where your own relative lives?” said the Poobah, leaning in menacingly, his meat-eating breath hot on Mildred’s kneecap.
    â€œBut I really
don’t
remember,” said Mildred. Why didn’t this fox believe her? People had accused her of many things before but never of insincerity. She found it very distressing. “Now, if you could wait until Madeline comes home …”
    â€œOh yes, the daughter. Give up your young like that, would you? I have a better idea—let’s put a little leverage on the two of you
and
your daughter. Let’s take you and leave her behind to stew. Let’s see who cracks first.”
    â€œCracks what, man?” asked Flo.
    â€œWe’ll just write your little Madeline a note, shall we?” said the Grand Poobah.
    â€œFelix, blow the whistle.”
    One of the trench-coated foxes took a large whistle out of his pocket and blew it. Immediately seventeen foxes popped out of the trunk of the car and surrounded Flo and Mildred. They were all flak-jacketed and carrying truncheons. Within seconds they had Flo and Mildred trussed up and gagged and placed in the trunk. Then the Grand Poobah whipped out a fountain pen and paper and wrote a note.
    Dear Madeline ,
    We have taken your parents in for questioning. If they do not tell us where the decoder, aka Uncle Runyon, lives, foul things await them. Beware, if they do not talk, you will be next .
    We will be in touch. Do not go to the police or we cannot answer for our actions. But let me give you one clue! Finger food! Mwa-haha .
    Cordially yours ,
    The Enemy
    The Grand Poobah tacked the note to the fridge, where he knew all humans left notes of importance.
    One of his guard foxes rushed in.
    â€œHurry, boss, Fidel has finally managed to get the car started, but it’s close quarters and the guys are beginning to nip at each other!”
    Fidel, the driver, had to wear stilts to work the pedals. It sometimes took an hour for him to get the thing running.
    â€œCan none of you behave with any dignity?” asked the Grand Poobah, and then, walking out in a stately, grand and poobahly manner, tripped over his tail and spilled recipe cards everywhere.
    â€œPick those up, will you?” he said to Felix, and proceeded into the car as if nothing had happened.
    Felix scurried about, picking up the cards, then ran with them to the car, which was starting to pull away. Foxes were very bad about waiting for each other. He just had time to leap in before it headed off to the ferry.
    The Grand Poobah took the cards with silent dignity and replaced them in the box.
    â€œChange the radio channel, we shall listen to cool jazz,” the Grand Poobah said.
    â€œWe want to hear easy listening!” whined the rest of the foxes.
    It was just such things that made being Grand Poobah such a