Eyeshine

by Cy Wyss

  Kitten, you need to get that eye looked at.

  He looked at PJ from his good eye, doubt clearly evident on his dark face.

  I know a very good veterinarian. She will treat it, and it’ll be better in no time.

  You’re kidding, right? I can’t just waltz into a veterinarian’s office.

  Well, actually you probably could, PJ said, but you don’t have to go alone. I’ll take you.

  Kitten looked at her askance. You? Another cat is going to take me to the vet? What are you going to pay with? Kitty kibble?

  PJ laughed. It was a series of broken snorts and almost sounded like hissing. No, silly, I’ll take you when I’m human.

  Kitten stopped short. All three of the animals stopped then and formed a little circle. Everyone stared at everyone else.

  What did you just say? Kitten asked PJ.

  I said, I’ll take you in the morning when I’m human again.

  When you’re human again? What does that mean?

  Mutt shook his head, his collar jingling amid the noise of cicadas and wood frogs. She’s only a cat part time, Kitten. During the day she’s a human.

  Kitten eyed both Mutt and PJ very closely. Slowly, he said, The squirrels warned me you were a nut, PJ.

  At that, everyone laughed. Mutt let loose a short howl toward the clouds. PJ made her snuffling hisses that denoted laughter, and Kitten opened and closed his eyes several times.

  It’s true, Kitten, PJ said. Come with us if you want to watch. At sunup I will morph into a woman.

  Wow, Kitten said. Now this will be weird.

  * * *

  PJ spent the rest of the night preparing Kitten for his trip to the vet’s office. When dawn broke, PJ’s body morphed as promised into a short naked woman with long black hair. She quickly went inside her trailer and dressed. Kitten and Mutt followed her inside. She fed them both breakfast and made herself some eggs and bacon. After everyone was well fed, PJ got a cat carrier and coaxed Kitten into it. She had previously prepared Kitten for the experience but still had to grab him by the scruff of the neck and shove him inside.

  Kitten howled the entire way to the vet’s office. PJ did her best to soothe him, using the few cat language noises she could make as a human, to no avail. By the time they got to the Mayhap Animal Hospital, Kitten was nearly in a frenzy. PJ knew this was going to be a difficult enterprise.

  Dr. Noble saw them right away at eight since she had an opening before her surgeries. It took Dr. Noble, PJ, and a vet technician to hold Kitten down so the doctor could diagnose his eye. They gave the screaming Kitten shots for good measure, and while PJ held him, the vet tech glopped a viscous salve into his eye. He wanted to wipe it out with his paw, but PJ wouldn’t let him. She held him fast. Dr. Noble wanted to put a cone on Kitten so he couldn’t paw at his eye, but PJ knew that would never work. Instead, she took the tube of salve with her and promised to find him daily to give him more until his eye healed.

  In the waiting room, PJ ran into Clara. She was wearing all turquoise today. The bright color flattered her red curls and hazel eyes. PJ admired her dangling turquoise earrings greatly.

  “Where did you get them?” PJ asked.

  “From Lucy, where else?” Lucy ran the jewelry store PJ always shopped at and was also a prodigious purveyor of costume jewelry for every taste. Whether you wanted bangles and paste or rarity and gold, Lucy was your go-to.

  Clara looked at the clock. She held a cat carrier with a golden-orange cat who had big yellow eyes. “Muffin is due for surgery now,” she explained. “He hasn’t been eating well, so they’re doing an exploratory colonoscopy.”

  That was more information than PJ wanted to hear. “That’s too bad,” she said. “I hope it comes back clean.”

  Clara nodded somberly. “Want to get lunch later? They’re still having the 10 percent off special at Lucky Cat.”

  Lucky Cat Sushi Bar was one of PJ’s favorite local restaurants. Aside from the name, the decor appealed greatly to her. It was shades of crimson and vermilion with hundreds of cats displayed on posters, on wallpaper, and on banners. Apparently cats were good luck in Asia, and PJ was only too happy to go along with that.

  “Sure. Sounds great. See you at noon among the cats?”

  “Perfect.”

  * * *

  They had hardly been seated in a booth near a window before Clara said, “So I heard you went on a date with Jake Tipton. How’d that go? Tell me, tell me!”

  PJ was surprised for a moment, then she laughed bitterly. “It wasn’t a date.”

  “It wasn’t? What was it then? A business lunch?”

  “That’s not far off, Clara. Apparently he thinks I’m responsible for the Stoker Hills thefts. He wanted to corner me into some kind of confession, I think.”

  Now it was Clara’s turn to be surprised. “You’re kidding. You’re absolutely kidding.”

  PJ frowned. “I wish I was. He told me not to leave town.”

  “Oh, they all say that.” Clara waved a hand dismissively. “That jerk. I wondered why he hasn’t followed up on the footage you got of them breaking into your trailer.”

  “He thinks I set that up. To throw suspicion off myself onto someone else, or something like that.”

  “Oh, PJ, that’s silly.”

  “You’re telling me. But the one you should tell is Jake Tipton.”

  “I think I will, next time I see him. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

  “What does Laura say about the whole thing?”

  Clara worked as a librarian and, as such, seemed to have her finger on the pulse of Mayhap. She chatted with everyone who came in and could usually be relied on to have the latest gossip. Beyond that, her sister Laura worked in the municipal building as administrative assistant to the police chief. Both siblings shared the same fondness for gossip, and if Clara didn’t know what was happening already from her inquiries, Laura was sure to know.

  “Well, like I said, we were wondering why the footage of your trailer break-in wasn’t followed up. But I guess it is now. Did you hear they arrested Alex Tate and searched the Tate trailer finally?”

  “Did they find anything?”

  Clara shrugged. “Some pieces belonging to other people, like watches and stuff like that. But Trent claims he was given those pieces, and there weren’t enough to hold him. Detective Tipton thinks there should be much more booty than there was.”

  “Well, I bet they’ve been pawning it all. That’s why there wasn’t that much there.”

  “Unless it’s in your trailer, PJ.”

  “Very funny.”

  Clara was laughing. “I know, and you know that you’ve got a thing for the bling. Better dig out all of your receipts for those shinies you’ve got hidden around your trailer.”

  “That’s really not funny. Do you think Jake will get a warrant to search my trailer?”

  “He hasn’t applied for one yet that Laura’s told me. But you’ll be the first to know if he does.”

  The waitress came and dropped off drinks and took their orders. PJ sipped her sweet tea. Clara took a long drink of her Coke.

  Clara said, “Those two boys are trouble, pure and simple. I wish someone would see that.”

  “You mean Trent and his friend?”

  “Sheldon, yes.”

  This was the first PJ had heard any name attached to the short boy in the video. “The other one’s name is Sheldon?”

  “Yes, Sheldon Pike. He lives in Whitesville Township, just across the line. He goes to Mayhap High, though. He’s eighteen, so if they could get him for those thefts, he’d be tried as an adult.”

  PJ knew Trent was only seventeen. “Well, why don’t they get off their duffs and get him for those thefts? I caught them red-handed on film. What more do the authorities want?”

  “Oh, they always want more. Unless you’re unlucky. Then the slightest shred of evidence is enough to send you away for life.”

  “That’s really sad.”

  �
��I know. Too bad Trent’s not unlucky. Then I’d get more sleep around my place.”

  “What?”

  Clara sucked more Coke through her straw before answering. “That Trent. At least I think it’s him. Every night practically, he comes tearing out of Stoker Hills in his mom’s ratty old pickup and burns down my street. The thing always seems to backfire right in front of my house. I always think someone’s shooting at the cats. Gives me nightmares.”

  “Trent goes out on school nights?”

  “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care what night it is.”

  “Where does he go?”

  “I have no idea. Probably somewhere nefarious. You know how it is.”

  PJ’s scalp was tingling. She knew that if she had whiskers, she’d have to smooth them down because they’d be feeling so piqued. She felt sure this was a new piece to the puzzle. Could the “shot” everyone heard have been the Tate pickup? If so, why didn’t everyone hear it more often? Was it just an unlucky coincidence? PJ didn’t think so. She figured she could tell a pickup backfiring from a real gunshot. Or could she? And where was Trent going almost every night? Did it have to do with the Stoker Hills thefts?

  Two plates of sushi were delivered, and PJ and Clara tucked into the delicacies with enthusiasm. By the time lunch was over, PJ had a good idea of what she would do to investigate the problem of Trent and his nightly trips.

  — 13 —

  Field Trip

  That afternoon, PJ made sure her backup camera was in good working order. When evening came, she transformed in her trailer and waited until deepest twilight to come out. She wanted the cover of darkness, and she hoped she wasn’t too late to catch Trent. She needn’t have worried. At the Tate trailer, their small red pickup was parked under a drooping willow at the edge of their driveway. PJ looked around carefully. Seeing no one, she jumped into the pickup bed. It contained some random debris but was mostly empty. PJ nosed her way under a stained oil cloth and curled up to wait.

  The night was calm and filled with the braying of cicadas and the hissing of other insects. Above, thin clouds obscured a waxing moon. PJ heard squirrels chattering nearby and wondered if they were Click and Clack, Kitten’s friends. In the distance, Mutt barked. PJ shook her head. That dog was forever breaking free of her trailer and getting his nose into things he shouldn’t. PJ had to admit she loved him for that very spunkiness. PJ closed her eyes at the thought, and a quiet purr escaped her.

  How long would she have to wait? What was the point of her following Trent, assuming he went out tonight? She mulled these questions over while the last remnants of twilight dissipated in the humid air. She hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long. Already her eyes remained closed, and she felt herself pulled into the half-sleep cats enjoyed at a moment’s notice. About Trent? Well, PJ wasn’t sure why she wanted to see where his nightly trips took him. Call it cat sense; PJ was sure Trent was involved in at least the thefts and possibly Chip’s accident too. After all, Mutt had smelled Sheldon Pike’s cigarette smoke, and where Sheldon was, there Trent usually was. Thinking such thoughts, PJ slipped into a deeper sleep, nodding off under the warm cloth.

  * * *

  PJ’s eyes flicked wide open. Something had alerted her. She remained very still. She heard the crunching of footsteps on gravel as someone walked toward the pickup. Then someone opened the front door with a creak and climbed into the driver’s seat. The door closed with a loud clunk that made PJ jump. Through the cab window she could see the back of Trent’s head.

  Showtime, she thought.

  Trent started the vehicle and hastily backed up in a circle around the driveway to turn around. PJ slid back and forth in the truck bed with nothing solid to hold on to. This was going to be a wild ride, if the first turn was any indication. Trent was driving like a maniac. He sped down the access road and blew through the stop sign at the mouth of Lunar Lane. He gunned it down Lunar Lane, and at the other end, near Clara’s house, he slowed briefly to take the turn onto Second Street, then gunned the engine. The pickup backfired loudly, making PJ jump and lose her footing. She sprawled out in the back of the pickup for several moments before she finally regained her balance. She considered jumping out and aborting this ill-advised trip, but curiosity got the better of her as usual, so she hung on. Plus, the truck was speeding, and PJ was worried about possible implications of jumping out of such a fast-moving vehicle. In fact, she was also worried about being thrown from the truck.

  After several hair-raising turns, they straightened out on a rural road leading away from Mayhap. Trent was still going much faster than he should, but the ride evened out since they were on steady pavement. PJ took the chance of looking out. She saw cornfields pass and a small lake. She realized they were headed north on Route 421, into the deep countryside. She saw the last few buildings of Mayhap’s extent recede into the distance, and then they were in Taft County, speeding along under the moonlight.

  PJ hunkered down to wait. She hoped they weren’t going far.

  About ten minutes later, by PJ’s reckoning, Trent slowed and swerved off 421 onto a much smaller road. Less than five minutes after that, he turned crazily onto a gravel road cut between patches of trees. After the trees at the mouth of the road, the area opened up into farmland. Trent drove for several seconds, then pulled up in front of a typical farmhouse and stopped. He opened his door and got out, slamming the door in his wake.

  PJ waited until she heard his footsteps diminish, then poked her head over the side of the truck bed. She saw Trent approaching the wrap-around porch of the house. He was carrying a package, large enough that he had to use both hands.

  “Yo, old man,” Trent called loudly.

  PJ ducked her head at the sight of a man coming around the porch’s far side. He was carrying a shotgun. PJ’s heart raced. She dared to poke her head back out after the initial shock had worn off.

  “Hey, Trent,” the man with the shotgun said.

  Trent nodded at him. The inner door opened, and a man pushed open the screen door.

  “’Bout time, boy,” a gruff voice said. It belonged to an older man who looked, in PJ’s estimation, an awful lot like Trent. The man held the screen door wide, and Trent pushed past him with his package. The man let go of the screen door, and it banged shut, rebounding more than once. PJ realized it hadn’t caught on anything; it was simply hanging open. She looked the porch over carefully. The man with the shotgun had returned to wherever he came from.

  PJ hunched down and then leaped from the pickup bed. She landed neatly on the gravel beside the truck. She waited. No one came. No one had seen her. Slowly, keeping to dark shadows, she crept to the front porch. The wood was aged and not well taken care of. Without a sound, she ascended to the screen door. She peeped inside. She could hear muffled voices but could see only a few inches past the inner door, which left only about six inches open. PJ hooked the screen door with her claws, and pulled it open easily. She took a deep breath and poked her head through the opening made by the heavy inner door.

  She saw a living room. It was shabby and unkempt. Newspapers lay in stacks on the coffee table along with numerous plastic beer cups and pizza boxes. The room smelled awful, like rotting food remnants and something chemical that PJ couldn’t place. PJ darted inside and raced for the nearest chair.

  “Did you see that?” the gruff voice asked.

  “What?” Trent said.

  Trent and the older man had been standing nearby, on the other side of the heavy front door. PJ had missed them since she was looking the other way when she surveyed the area.

  “An animal. A gawd-dang animal. I think it was a raccoon.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, boy. I think a raccoon just ran in here.”

  The old man stooped to the ground and looked under the furniture. PJ was squeezed behind the TV stand, praying he didn’t find her.

  “You’re crazy, Pa,” Trent said.

  From that, PJ gathered the old man was actually Trent’s f
ather. That would explain the resemblance.

  “C’mon,” Trent continued. “I’m tired of carrying this crap. Let’s go drop it off in the kitchen.”

  “Better not be a ’coon in here,” the old man said. “Otherwise I’ll shoot its tail off and cook it in a stew.”

  PJ shuddered. Trent and his father left the room, heading down the hall. After a moment, PJ dared to peek out. It looked quiet. She was very, very curious about what was happening in the kitchen. Yet she was also terrified of having her tail shot off and being made into stew. She debated with herself for several seconds before she finally stepped out and crept between the furniture to peer into the hallway. At the other end of the hall stood an open door. The chemical stench was coming from that direction.

  PJ pulled back just in time as Trent and his father came out of the kitchen.

  “… show you something upstairs,” the old man was saying.

  In the hall there was a staircase leading up to PJ’s left, out of sight. Trent and his father went up the stairs, fortunately not seeing the small black ear listening or yellow eye watching them from the front room. After she heard their steps recede, PJ took the chance of sneaking forward, down the hall, past the steps. Across from the steps was a door, and PJ guessed it probably led to a basement. She wondered briefly what horrible things might be going on down there, but then focused her attention on the kitchen in front of her. She heard cooking sounds and the shuffle of people moving around. She boldly crept up to the door and peeked in.

  Two women in what looked like makeshift haz-mat suits were moving around the stove. The chemical stench was coming from whatever was boiling in a large dutch oven. The women wore shower caps, white masks over their noses and mouths, and plastic clothing over their regular clothing. One of the woman opened the package Trent had brought. Inside were bottles and various other items that looked like ingredients for whatever noxious stew the women were concocting. On the other side of the kitchen, the back door was open, and PJ could see the shotgun-wielding man standing on the back stoop, smoking.