Murder at Madame Chatille's--Elementary age Hillary

Meowerahhh! Madame Chatille sat straight up in her four-poster bed. A cold, eery shiver crept down her spine as her mind processed the cry for help she had just heard. She sensed the absence of her beloved cat, Johan, from her fee. Horrible thoughts entered her mind as she tried to think of where he could be. As no answers came into view, she snuck out from under her safe and toasty covers, slipped on her pink slippers, wrapped herself in her hand-knitted shawl, and daintily tiptoed to her screen door.
“Johan!” she hurriedly whispered. “Oh Johan!” Still no boisterous, proud Persian cat came to greet her. The hole in the screen door remained vacant as Madame Chatille placed Johan’s favorite delicacy near. A wave of absolute exhaustion enveloped her as she sat, staring at the hole, wondering and waiting for her companion. She hesitantly closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
“Madame Chatille! Madame Chatille!” Madame Chatille’s eyelids flew up as she came back into reality. She glanced over at her screen door to see her grocery delivery boy, Harvey, awaiting her. His eyes and face revealed a nervous and uneasy look as he stepped in to greet the elderly widow.
“M..Mmm…Madame Chatille, um, are you perchance missing Johan?” Harvey timdily asked.
“Why, yes! I’ve been worried sick about Johan. Do you happen to know where he is?”
A drop of sweat trickled down Harvey’s face as he broke the devastating news to the Madame. “He is outside, Madame Chatille, lying limp and cold. He’s dead.”
Unimaginable pangs of disbelief and shock racked the Madame’s frail body as her worst nightmare came true.
“J…Johan is….dead? How? Who did it?”
Disbelief was replaced by utter rage as she marched outside. Her anger soon collapsed. There was her precious, loving Johan lying numb and lifeless on the sidewalk. She knelt down beside him as a flood of memories entered her mind. She slowly stood up and turned to Harvey.
“I will have vengeance on whoever did this!”
The old lady began to look for any sort of clue that would lead her to the murderer. Anything she could salvage would contribute to the solution of who killed her beloved companion! She hobbled around the crime scene. “Look! I see something suspicious!”
There, in the puddle of mud next to the corpse of Johan, was a large paw print. It was obviously left by a gargantuous beast of a dog. The Madame also found a blue collar with “Bruno” engraved on it.
“Do you know anyone with a massive dog like that?” Harvey inquired.
“Yes…yes I do.” Madame Chatille whispered stonily. She marched over to her newly-married neighbours, Peter and Anna Wilson, and pounded on the door. The door slowly opened.
“Why, good morning Madame chatille! How may I brighten your life today?”
To the Madame, the sweetness in Anna’s voice just kindled the fiery anger in her heart. She disguised her voice into a kind, needy old woman and took a deep breath.
“Anna, dear, I just came to see if your sweet little dog was missing his collar!”
“Zeus? No, I don’t think so! Hang on, I’ll go check.”
Madame Chatille wondered who “Bruno” was, and who owned him. She was a tad embarrassed that she had accused the Wilsons. Anna came skipping back, shaking her head.
“Zeus has his collar on, Madame. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, deary.” the Madame lied through her artificial teeth. She trudged down the stairs and lethargically glanced at Harvey. He was carefully placing the small body of Johan into an old cardboard box.
It was around 5 o’clock by now, and Harvey informed Madame Chatille that he must depart. As he zoomed away in his broken-down Volkswagen, the Madame walked back into her tiny house. She plopped into her willow rocking chair just as the phone rang. She hobbled over to the noisy contraption and squeaked a “Hello” into the receiver. A familiar voice entered her ears, and she relied haughtily, “Monsieur Chien, my dear stepbrother. And how may I be of service to you?”
It took everything in Madame Chatille’s power to keep from hanging up on her evil step-sibling.
“My sweet little step-sister. I was wondering if you would like to come for tea. I have something special to give to you!”
A deep “Rowff!” came from the background, along with a muffled snicker that made the Madame shudder with fright.
“Um, I’d rather not, thank you. Something awful has recently happened, and it will take me a while to get over it. Au revoir!” And with that, she placed the receiver back in its rightful place. She began to bustle around the kitchen, preparing her supper. Disgusting spinach-broccoli soup and a low fat, no salad dressing salad that made her gag were all part of her maddening diet to lower her blood pressure. She couldn’t finish it, so she went to her bedroom and took a photo album out of her bureau. This photo album was marked “Johan’s Memorable Moments.” The sides of the cover had beautiful golden designs of kittens and fluttering butterflies. Madame Chatille returned to her creaky rocking chair and flipped through the worn pages of photos slowly. Tears came to her aging eyes and she became weepy as she relived Johan’s life with her through the pictures. It was about 11:00 before she closed the book and went to sleep in her bed. Little did she know that she was in danger at that very moment.
Pop! For the second night in a row Madame Chatille was awakened from her slumber.
“Monsieur Chien,” she whispered fiercely, “has a monstrous dog. And could his name be Bruno?”
The Madame frantically tried to remember the name of her evil stepbrother’s dog. Could it be? She remembered back to when he threatened to sick his dog…BRUNO on her and her sweet cat. Bruno!
The Madame hopped out of bed and rushed to the phone. She picked up the receiver and dialed the police. Just as a policeman was saying hello, Madame Chatille felt a cold, hard hand on her shoulder.
Over the muffled scream of the Madame (the intruder had their rough hand over her mouth), she heard a familiar voice...But it wasn’t the one she was expecting.
“Good evening, Madame Chatille! Hope you enjoyed your day…it was your last, you know. When you found Bruno’s collar, I knew I had to get it back before you discovered the truth before I arrived tonight. Monsieur Chien is giving me a very generous sum of money to dispose of you. Luckily, all I needed was his Saint Bernard, Bruno, for your mangy cat. That disgusting, drooling mutt slobbered all over my Beetle’s seats, but it was worth it. I’m sorry, Madame, but goodbye!
The Madame felt a long, heavy chain tighten around her neck. Her last images were of Harvey, that timid teenage grocery boy placing the chain back into his pocket and laughing maliciously. No one ever saw Madame Chatille again.