Six Cats a Slayin'

by Miranda James

  “Not that Deirdre isn’t an interesting subject,” Helen Louise said, “but let’s get back to Gerry Albritton. Have you noticed the two for-sale signs in the neighborhood?”

  “The ones with Albritton Realty on them?” Haskell asked.

  Helen Louise nodded.

  “Where are they?” I asked. “I don’t recall seeing them.”

  “There’s one on my street, about three blocks from my house,” Helen Louise said. “Where Mr. Murdoch lived.”

  “Our old high school principal?” I asked after a moment’s reflection. “I saw that he died a few weeks ago.”

  “More like two months,” Helen Louise said with a wry smile. “But you’ve had a lot on your mind since then, with a new granddaughter and baby Charlie.”

  I nodded. “Where’s the other sign?”

  “Three streets over, toward the railroad tracks,” Haskell replied. “Family named Merriman owned it for years. Elderly lady was the last one living there, and she died about two months ago.”

  “And here’s our neighbor Gerry selling two houses in the area,” Stewart said. “I wonder how many other elderly neighbors there are around us.”

  “Why do you wonder that?” I asked.

  “Maybe Gerry is bumping them off so she can sell their houses,” Stewart said. “There are quite a few old folks in this area. We could start seeing those signs popping up all over the place.”

  Haskell regarded his partner’s flippancy with a repressive frown. “Be careful where you say things like that.”

  Stewart rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that in front of anyone else.” He paused for a grin. “Well, hardly anyone else.”

  Haskell shook his head, and Helen Louise and I exchanged wry smiles. Stewart’s irreverent sense of humor occasionally went a little too far, but as long as he confined such remarks to the present company, there would be no harm done.

  Stewart rose from the table. “On that note, dear ones, I think it’s time I fetched Dante and took him out for a walk.” He gazed at Haskell. “Will you join us?”

  Haskell stood. “No, I’ll clear the table. My turn, I think.”

  “I’ll help you,” I said, also rising. “No, you stay where you are.” Helen Louise had started to get up, but she sank back in her chair at my words. “You were on your feet at the bistro today.”

  “I’m not going to argue,” she said.

  Haskell and I had the table cleared by the time Stewart returned with his poodle on a leash, ready for their walk. Both master and dog wore sweaters. Diesel roused long enough to chirp tiredly at his friend, while Dante wiggled and woofed ecstatically upon seeing his good buddy. Dante pulled at his leash to approach the cat, and Stewart allowed the leash to extend. Dante licked Diesel’s face. The cat put a large paw on the dog’s head and pushed him away.

  Stewart and I chuckled, and he drew Dante along toward the front door. “We’ll be back soon,” he said.

  I put away the leftovers while Haskell loaded the dishwasher. We chatted in desultory fashion as we worked. By tacit agreement, it seemed, we avoided further discussion of Gerry Albritton. Frankly, I was tired of the subject.

  My respite from my irritating neighbor didn’t last long, however. Stewart and Dante returned after a few minutes. As he entered the kitchen, Stewart brandished a piece of paper.

  “Wait till you see this flyer, Charlie. It was stuck to the front door,” he said. “I spotted them at several houses up and down the street.”

  I took the flyer, which was the size of a regular piece of copier paper, and scanned the contents. I began to read aloud.

  “Tired of mortgage payments? Fed up with costly repairs? Ready to downsize and move? We buy houses, no questions asked, no inspections required, at good prices. Give us a call, and let’s do business.”

  I looked at Helen Louise. “The contact information is for Geraldine Albritton’s real estate office.”

  “What on earth is she up to?” Helen Louise frowned. “Is she trying to buy up the whole neighborhood?”

  SEVEN

  “She’s certainly not going to buy this house.” I crumpled the flyer with both hands before discarding it in the trash bin under the sink. Having done so, I shut the cabinet door a little more forcefully than necessary. I wasn’t sure why the flyer made me angry, but that was how I felt.

  Diesel, evidently alarmed by my tone, sat up and began to meow. I called him to me and began to stroke his back when he stopped and leaned against my legs. Dante was in Stewart’s lap, whining because he wanted to play with the cat. Stewart kept him firmly in place.

  “Everything’s all right, boy.” I had to take a few deep breaths to calm myself, and Diesel relaxed under my touch.

  “No doubt it’s standard business practice with her,” Helen Louise said. “Although she seems to have come out of nowhere. I certainly hadn’t heard of her or her real estate business before.”

  “I hadn’t, either,” Stewart said, and Haskell shrugged. “Not something I pay much attention to,” he said.

  “I wonder where the money is coming from.” I resumed my seat at the table, and the cat settled down by my legs. “Surely it takes substantial capital to go around buying houses. What if several people all want to sell at the same time? That would run into hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

  “She either has amazingly good credit,” Helen Louise said, “or she has big cash reserves.”

  “Or someone putting up the money for her,” Stewart said. “It’s strange that no one seems to know where she came from. She basically popped up like a mushroom after a good long rain.”

  “She’s definitely an enigma.” I shrugged.

  Stewart laughed. “I’m looking forward to this Christmas bash of hers even more now. No telling what might happen.”

  As if they had heard Stewart’s last few words and considered them an invitation, the five kittens came running and tumbling into the kitchen. Ramses was in the lead, and George brought up the rear. Diesel jumped up from beside my legs and darted toward the playful youngsters. Dante jumped out of his master’s lap, the leash still attached to his collar, before Stewart realized what the dog was doing. The poodle joined the melee on the floor, barking excitedly while Diesel batted at kittens in an attempt to stop their antics. Two of the kittens seized sections of the leash in their mouths and began to chew.

  Laughing, Stewart hastened to catch Dante and free the leash from sharp kitten teeth. Haskell and Helen Louise were also laughing as they both got up to help. They grabbed a kitten in each hand, and that left Ramses rolling and scrambling as Diesel continued to bat at him. I scooped up Ramses and brought his face near mine. He purred, and I could have sworn he tried to smile. He certainly looked smug for having led the charge, as it were.

  Diesel seemed to sag with relief now that the junior set had been caught, and he stretched out on the floor. The kittens had worn him out.

  “What do we do with them now that we’ve caught them?” Helen Louise held up Fred and George and grinned.

  “Take them home with you,” I said promptly.

  Helen Louise shot me a look that I had no difficulty interpreting. I chuckled. “I guess not.”

  Haskell held Marlowe and Bastet close to his chest. “Unless you want them roaming free all night, you’re going to have to put them in a smaller room.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “If it weren’t so chilly tonight, I’d put them on the porch, and they could ramble to their hearts’ content.” I thought for a moment. “The downstairs bathroom is too small for all five of them and their beds and litter boxes. I guess I’ll put them in one of the bathrooms upstairs for tonight.”

  “Might as well do it now,” Haskell said. “How about the one in Laura’s old room?”

  “That bathroom’s fine,” I said. Laura’s former bedroom was closest to mine upstairs.

 
; “Y’all keep the kittens entertained.” Haskell turned over his two little monsters to his partner. “I’ll get the bathroom ready for them.”

  Stewart offered to help, but Haskell waved him away. “Won’t take me long.” He left the kitchen.

  “He certainly is handy to have around,” Helen Louise said.

  “He is,” Stewart said. “He doesn’t mind doing things to help out, though. He likes to keep busy.”

  In the brief silence that followed Stewart’s remarks, I heard Haskell trotting up the stairs. He returned to the kitchen in less than ten minutes, I reckoned.

  “Everything’s ready,” he said.

  I rose from the table. “Thanks for doing that.”

  Helen Louise and I got the kittens settled upstairs in their temporary quarters. After I shut the door, we stood in front of it and watched. Two little paws appeared underneath the door.

  “Didn’t take them long to find that,” Helen Louise said.

  “They’re all a little too smart for their own good, I think.” I turned to lead the way out into the hall. I left the bedroom door open.

  “I’m going to head home in a few minutes,” Helen Louise said. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Are you working tomorrow?” I asked. “I can’t remember what you told me the other day about your schedule.”

  “No, thank goodness, I’m off. Henry is in charge, and he and the others can handle everything,” she said as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Good,” I said. “Any plans?”

  “I’m going to sleep late.” She followed me into the empty kitchen. “Then at some point I’m going shopping. I want a new dress for this party. I haven’t bought anything new in ages.”

  “You’ll be a knockout no matter what. The belle of the ball.”

  She grinned. “That’s the plan.”

  I laughed. “Gerry Albritton may have a heart attack on the spot, especially since you’re a good eight inches taller.”

  “That’s her lookout, not mine,” Helen Louise retorted.

  “Absolutely.” I drew her into my arms for a kiss. After a brief but satisfying interlude, we stepped apart. I glanced around the room. No sign of Diesel.

  Helen Louise read my mind. “He’s probably sound asleep on your bed.”

  “Probably.” I watched while she gathered her purse and jacket. I held the jacket for her while she pulled it on. We went into the garage from the kitchen and out into the driveway, where she had parked earlier. The streetlights glowed in the early-evening darkness, and I felt the chill from the damp air.

  Helen Louise unlocked her car before she turned to give me another quick kiss. “Get back inside. You don’t want to catch a cold.”

  “I won’t.” I watched until she backed her car into the street and headed the few blocks to her house.

  I started to head into the garage, but a flash of movement in my right peripheral vision stopped me. I turned and headed into the yard. I didn’t see anyone or anything moving now. I halted and stared hard at the shrubbery in the beds on either side of the front door.

  I waited. Nothing moved, but I was feeling the cold more every second I delayed going back inside.

  Maybe I imagined it. I shrugged and walked to the garage. When I reached the entrance to the garage, I turned to glance one more time in the direction of the front door. Still nothing.

  Shrugging, I hit the button to close the garage door as I stepped into the kitchen. The house stood quiet around me. I paused for a moment before walking to the living room to survey the scene. The area the kittens had occupied needed to be cleaned, and I didn’t want to leave it for Azalea in the morning.

  After setting the bookshelves upright and out of the way, I swept up the scattered litter and stray kitten hair; then I found one of those lint roller devices to remove more hair from the drapes. While I worked, a thought struck me.

  What if I really had seen something or someone moving in the front yard a few minutes ago? Might have been the child who left the kittens on the doorstep. Perhaps I should have investigated further in case the child was still lurking in the shrubbery. I really didn’t think that was likely, however.

  Surely the parents wouldn’t let their child run around in the neighborhood after dark without supervision. But I knew there were negligent parents who didn’t keep an eye on their children like they should. I would never have let Sean and Laura run around the neighborhood on their own at night.

  I turned off the light in the living room and took the dustpan and broom to the utility room. Azalea would probably find dust or hair I had overlooked, but I had been as meticulous in my cleaning as I knew how. Then I realized that Haskell and Stewart would have the new corral built and in place by the time Azalea returned on Monday morning. The real inspection would take place once the kittens were either returned to their original home or placed in new forever homes.

  Upstairs I got undressed and into my nighttime apparel of shorts and a T-shirt. Diesel lay stretched out on his side of the bed, his head on the pillow. He opened his eyes, yawned and stretched, and then appeared to go back to sleep. I climbed in with him, turned out the light, and soon drifted off to sleep.

  I woke the next morning to the sound of Diesel warbling loudly from the floor beside the bed. Evidently, I didn’t respond quickly enough, because I felt a large paw on my arm. After a couple of yawns, I pushed aside the covers and sat up on the side of the bed.

  “All right, boy, I’m awake.” I looked in the cat’s face. “What’s so urgent?”

  He turned and padded to the door.

  “Give me a minute,” I said. “Bathroom first, then I’ll follow you.”

  Less than two minutes later I trod down the stairs behind him. He headed across the kitchen and into the utility room. He sat beside his litter box and meowed loudly.

  “Sorry, I guess I forgot to clean it out yesterday.”

  Diesel meowed again.

  “I’m on it.” I quickly took care of the litter box, and after that I rinsed out and refilled his water bowl. Then came the dry food and half a can of wet food.

  I left him happily munching his breakfast and wandered into the kitchen for coffee. I realized as I glanced at the window over the sink that it was still dark outside. A quick check of the clock on the wall informed me that it was about three minutes shy of five thirty.

  After hitting the button to start the coffeemaker—it was set for six thirty every morning—I grabbed a jacket off the rack in the hall and opened the front door. I intended to retrieve the newspaper, and I had the door halfway open before I remembered that today was Saturday. There would be no paper.

  About to close the door, I spied a folded piece of paper stuck to it with a tack. I removed the tack and unfolded the note. I immediately recognized the childish scrawl.

  They’re gone! I thought you’d take care of them! What did you do with them? Where are they?

  EIGHT

  I stared at the note for several seconds, until I became aware of the chill air against my bare legs. Hastily I moved back and shut the door. I put the jacket back on the rack and walked into the kitchen, head down, contemplating the note.

  Poor kid was my first thought, but then I realized I felt a little irritated. Why would the child assume that I had already given up the kittens? Hadn’t it occurred to the youngster that I had simply moved the kittens?

  Perhaps the child was used to being let down by adults, I thought a moment later. After all, an adult had apparently threatened to drown the kittens.

  I frowned. Hadn’t I been making a groundless assumption that the person the child referred to in the original note was an adult? It might be simply an older brother, a teenager who enjoyed tormenting his younger sibling. Either way, the child had no reason to trust adults, other than the fact that I was known in the neighborhood to be an animal lover.
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  I laid the note on the table and went to the counter to pour my coffee. Cream and sugar added to the cup, I settled in my usual place and sipped my coffee. The hot liquid felt good going down, and the slight chill I’d felt earlier dissipated.

  Contemplating the note again, I thought about the best way to allay the child’s fears about the kittens. The easiest way would be to respond to the note, pin it to my front door, and leave it. And if I happened to keep an eye out for the child in hopes of finally catching sight of him or her, that was all to the good.

  Diesel sauntered up to me, laid a paw on my thigh, and trilled. I rubbed his head for a bit. Finally content, he stretched out by my chair, most of him under the table. Taking care not to disturb the cat, I got up to find a pen. I rummaged in the catchall drawer and found one.

  Back at the table, I thought briefly about my response to the note.

  The kittens are fine. I moved them to a different room overnight. They will soon be back in the same spot. I promise you I will keep them safe.

  Surely that ought to do it, I thought. I drank more coffee, thought about breakfast, and drained my cup. I decided to put the note back on the front door in case the child sneaked out early to come look again.

  What had I done with the tack? I couldn’t remember. I patted the pockets of my shorts. Ah, there it was.

  Note safely tacked to the front door, I came back to the kitchen and tried to decide whether I was hungry enough yet to start preparing breakfast for myself. While I pondered this weighty matter, I heard footsteps, both human and canine, on the stairs. Moments later, I heard the front door open, and Stewart—he was usually the one—took Dante out for his morning walk.

  Stewart and Dante returned soon and, as I anticipated, came into the kitchen instead of heading back upstairs. Dante pranced around Diesel, tapping the floor with one dainty paw to entice his friend to play. Diesel ignored him, but Dante persisted despite the lack of response.

  “Good morning.” Stewart peered at the paper lying on the table in front of me. “What’s that all about? Another message from the kid?”