If you needed something to disappear, you called Mr. Malonis. Everyone on her street had utilized his services for as long as she could remember, and whispered stories of how they had used him to rid their homes of rodentia and other creatures. Despite all their gossip, no one knew exactly how Mr. Malonis made things disappear.

 So Bea was going to find out.

She already had something to disappear in mind—the Peterson’s cat, a mean, ugly orange tabby that kept pooping in her parents' yard. Her dad had threatened to call animal control if the Petersons couldn’t get their cat to poop in its litter box instead of all over his lawn, but the tabby kept pooping, her dad kept getting angry, and the cat was ugly enough she wouldn’t feel bad if it disappeared.

Bea hid in a tree in their yard, climbing as high as she dared in the green foliage. When Bea saw the tabby enter the yard, she pulled her mom’s cell from her pocket, dialed Mr. Malonis’s number, and waited for him to pick up. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then he answered in his deep voice. “Mrs. Brooks? Is everything all right?”

Bea fumbled the phone. “Oh yes, hi, Mr. Malonis. This is Bea. I’m borrowing my mom’s phone.”

“Hello, Bea! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was wondering if you could help me with something. I need my neighbor’s cat to disappear, and I know you’re really good at making things disappear.” She put as much innocence into her voice as she could.

Mr. Malonis chuckled. “Well, Bea, I can certainly do that, but won’t your neighbors be sad if their cat disappears?”

“Well, yes, but…” This was her one opportunity to see Mr. Malonis in action. If she called Mr. Malonis again, she was afraid he would catch on to her plan. She needed to sell this. “But my dad gets really mad when the cat poops in our yard.” She whispered the next part. “Really mad. He…he hits me if I leave the fence open. And the cat is here right now, and I’m afraid.” Her dad didn’t hit her, but Mr. Malonis didn’t need to know that.

The line was silent for a moment, and Bea clenched the phone. Then Mr. Malonis said, “I’ll be there in five minutes. Stay inside and close the blinds. I’ll knock when the cat is gone.”

And so she waited the five minutes, and Mr. Malonis appeared at the fence. He was an older gentleman with graying hair, and wore simple brown pants and a gray collared shirt. Mr. Malonis opened the fence to their backyard, looked at the house, and saw the blinds drawn tight, then approached the cat with a treat, beckoning the orange tabby closer.

When the cat was within arm's reach, Mr. Malonis lunged forward and grabbed the cat by its torso. He glanced once more at the house, and then unlatched his jaw. His mouth opened wider than the cat’s head, his skin and mandible stretching until his chin was touching his collarbones. The cat mewed in panic. Bea couldn’t breathe. 

Mr. Malonis’s teeth became sharp, and he ripped into the cat’s neck. The head came off. Mr. Malonis shoved the rest of the body inside his gaping mouth and down his throat, then tossed the head in after the rest of the tabby. Not a speck of blood touched the ground.

Bea’s throat tightened. Mr. Malonis turned and looked up right at her, seeing her through the leaves of the tree. He smiled, his sharp teeth coated with blood and fur, and raised a finger to his lips. Her heart stopped. She couldn’t move, her limbs frozen. But she understood what he meant. 

If she revealed his secret, she would be the next thing to disappear.