LULA KNOCKED ON my door at nine o’clock.

“I’m all ready to go,” she said. “I got on my night-stalker clothes. I’m even wearing sneakers.”

She was wearing a black satin hoodie with hot mama embroidered in pink on the back, a black sequined bustier, black tights stretched to the breaking point, and sneakers covered with silver glitter.

I was wearing a black Nike sweatshirt, a black T-shirt, jeans, and red sneakers.

“There’s a Rangeman SUV sitting in the parking lot next to your car,” Lula said. “I’m thinking as long as we can’t get rid of him we might as well use him as our wheelman. Be easier for us to make our getaway with him waiting for us.”

Lula had a point. I didn’t expect problems, but it might be a smoother operation with a dedicated driver.

We trooped down to the lot, and I looked in at the Rangeman guy.

“You’re not Carl,” I said.

“Carl went off duty. I’m Eugene. I’ll be with you for the rest of the night.”

“I have to pick up a cat for someone,” I said. “Would you mind driving us? It would make things easier.”

“Of course,” Eugene said.

Lula and I settled ourselves into the SUV, and I gave Eugene the address.

“I hope we’re doing the right thing,” I said to Lula.

“Of course, we’re doing the right thing,” Lula said. “We’re reuniting a mama and her kitty. We’re bringing poor Miss Muffy home where she belongs.”

“Let’s review the plan,” I said. “We quietly go to the back door. We get the door open, find the kitty, and put her in the carrier that’s left by the door. Then we calmly return to Eugene and drive off.”

“Yep, that’s the plan,” Lula said. “I got my door-unlocking tools with me, too, so we won’t have to kick it in.”

Eugene cruised down Freestone Street. It was strictly residential, and the street was traffic free at this time of night. Lights were on in most houses. Everything was quiet.

The scumbag’s house was dark. Eugene parked in front and cut his lights. Lula and I got out and quickly walked around the house to the back door.

“Do you think you can get this open?” I asked Lula.

“No problem,” Lula said. “Easy-peasy.”

She took a flathead screwdriver out of her purse and stuck it into the lock.

“All you gotta do is point this down a little and turn it.” She jiggled it around, but it wouldn’t turn.

“Hunh,” Lula said. “It looked easy on YouTube.”

She tried a paper clip and a nail file next. Still nothing. “This is real annoying,” Lula said. She took a hammer out of her purse, whacked the doorknob, and it popped off.

Crap! “You broke their doorknob.”

“That’s what you gotta do when there’s a tricky lock,” Lula said.

The door swung open, and we stepped inside.

“What’s that beeping?” Lula asked. “Do you hear it?”

I froze in place. “It’s an alarm system! We activated their alarm!”

“I don’t remember Annie saying anything about an alarm.”

The beeping stopped and a split second later the alarm siren started wailing.

“Yow!” Lula said, holding her ears. “That’s freaking loud.”

A fat cat streaked into the kitchen and hunkered down under the small table. I grabbed it and looked around for the carrier. No carrier.

“Screw the carrier,” Lula said. “There’s going to be police here any minute.”

The cat was hissing and squirming, trying to bite and claw me, trying to get away. I held it at arm’s length, and ran out the door.

“Get the doorknob,” I said to Lula. “Stick it back in and try to close the door. Maybe no one will notice.”

I ran around the house with the cat. I could hear Lula huffing and puffing behind me.

“Start the car!” Lula yelled at Eugene. “Start the car!”

We jumped into the car, and Eugene sped away.

The cat’s tail was totally bristled out, its eyes were slitty, and it was growling.

“I thought Annie said this was a nice cat,” Lula said, squeezing herself against the door, getting as far away from the cat as possible. “This is the cat from hell, and I feel a allergic reaction coming on.”

“It’s just had a traumatic experience,” I said. “We should talk to it in soothing tones. Nice kitty,” I crooned at the beast.

“Where are we going?” Eugene asked.

“Pull into a parking lot somewhere, so we can make a phone call and reorganize.”

Eugene found a 7-Eleven a couple blocks from the scumbag’s house and parked off to one side. The cat had quieted down enough for me to loosen my grip and punch Annie’s number into my phone.

“We have her,” I said to Annie. “We have Miss Muffy. Where are you?”

“How do I know you really have her?” Annie said. “I want to see a picture. Maybe you could FaceTime her.”

I hit the FaceTime button and pointed the phone camera at the cat.

“That’s not Miss Muffy,” Annie said.

“What?”

“Miss Muffy is a fat fluffy white cat with a pink collar. You have the wrong cat. You have a fluffy orange cat.”

“Maybe it turned orange while it was away,” Lula said. “Maybe someone took it to Lateesha for beautification.”

“Is it possible that the scumbag has two cats?” I said to Annie.

“I suppose, but I didn’t see a second cat when I was snooping around. I just saw Muffy and her carrier.”

“I couldn’t find the carrier,” I said. “It wasn’t by the door.”

The was a moment of silence. “Are you sure you were in the right house?” Annie said. “3635 Freestone?”

“You told me 3625 Freestone. You texted it to me.”

“My finger must have hit the wrong key,” Annie said. “I’ve had a lot of stress in my life lately. Sometimes my hand shakes.”

“Maybe it’s from all that orange juice,” Lula said. “Maybe you should get your liver enzymes checked.”

“And now, as if I don’t have enough stress, I still don’t have my Miss Muffy,” Annie said.

“You can have this cat,” I said. “It’s a really nice cat.” Only a couple of the scratches on my arm were still bleeding.

“No! I want Miss Muffy.”

“I’ll get back to you,” I told Annie.

“I’m not liking the way that conversation went,” Lula said.

“We have to return this cat.”

“No way,” Lula said.

Eugene was watching me in the rearview mirror. I think he was smiling. “Are we going back to Freestone?” he asked.

I blew out a sigh. “Yes.”

A solitary police car was parked in front of 3625. The interior light was on in the car, and the cop looked like he was writing a report. The light went off, and the car drove away.

I got out of the Rangeman SUV with the cat and walked to the back of 3625. I opened the back door and set the cat down in the kitchen. It hissed and tried to slash me one last time, but I jumped away. I closed the door as best as I could and returned to the SUV.

“How’d that go?” Lula asked.

“Great,” I said. “The cat thanked me, and said it was sorry it scratched me.”

“We still going to try to get Miss Muffy?”

“Yes.”

Eugene drove to the next block and parked in front of 3635.

“Do you need help?” he asked me.

“Are you any good at opening doors?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Then I need help.”

We all walked around to the back of the house and tried the back door. Locked. Eugene took a slim tool from a pocket on his cargo pants and unlocked the door. Everyone held their breath when I opened it. No beeping. No wailing sirens. I looked down and found the cat carrier exactly where it was supposed to be.

“Now all we need is a fluffy white cat,” I said.

Eugene took a penlight out of another cargo pants pocket and flashed it around the room. A white cat trotted into the kitchen and meowed at us. I scooped the cat up and zipped it into the carrier.

“Just like I told you,” Lula said. “Easy-peasy.”

I FaceTimed Annie from the back seat of the SUV. “It’s Miss Muffy!” Annie said. “You did it! You got Miss Muffy! I’m staying with a friend on Apple Street, just off Hamilton Avenue. I’ll be waiting on the front porch for you.”

We delivered Miss Muffy to Annie, and she promised to check in with the court first thing in the morning. I told her I would pick her up at ten o’clock. I thought chances were about fifty-fifty that she would be there when I arrived.

Once again, the key to true happiness is lowered expectations.

Ranger called just as we were approaching my building’s parking lot.

“Babe,” he said, “you’re not going to make the cut as a cat wrangler.”

“The second attempt went okay.”

“I have part of the first one on video from Eugene’s dashcam. I’m going to save it for those days when I need something to smile about.”

“Always happy to make you smile.”

“Wulf is in your apartment,” Ranger said. “Would you like Eugene to remove him?”

“No. He’s harmless.”

“He’s not harmless. I’m not even sure he’s human. He shows up as a blur on my video feed. He’s rogue even by my standards.”

“He might know something that we don’t.”

“Have Eugene wait in the hall, and leave your door open.”

“Okeydokey,” I said, but the line was already dead.

I told Lula I’d meet up with her in the office in the morning, and Eugene and I trooped upstairs. Wulf was waiting for me in my living room, standing by the window.

“We have to talk,” I said to Wulf.

He smiled. “I’m listening.”

“I hate when you break in like this. Stop it.”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” Wulf said. “Is there anything else?”

“No. That’s it.”

“Nothing to share?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve been busy,” Wulf said. “Spinning your wheels in Skoogie’s office. I could have told you it was clean.”

“And the house?” I said.

Wulf shrugged.

Now it was my turn to smile. “You never searched his house,” I said.

“That was an error on my part. Still, I trust you didn’t find anything significant.”

“Not significant.”

“Mildly important?” he asked.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” I said.

“Are you playing with me?”

“Not intentionally.”

He had crossed the room, and he was standing very close to me.

“I could suggest a game,” he said.

“I bet. No thank you. Maybe some other time.”

He touched the back of my hand with his fingertip, and I felt a burning sensation. I looked down and saw that a blister was forming where he’d touched.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“Magic,” he said. “Would you like to see what else I can do?”

“Eugene!” I yelled.

Eugene walked in from the hall, and Wulf gave his head a small shake. “Disappointing,” he said. “I expected foolish self-reliance from you.”

“Are you going to disappear in a puff of smoke?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “We’ve had enough theatrics for one night.”

Wulf left, and Eugene turned to me. “Would you like me to stay in the hall?”

“Not necessary,” I said. “The Rangeman control room monitors my hall. They’ll let you know if Wulf returns.”

I said good night to Eugene, and I locked my door. I had a brief conversation with Rex about the state of my life. I put some first-aid cream on my burn. I made a short phone call to Morelli. And I took my MacBook Air to bed with me and watched two episodes of House Hunters International before falling asleep.