The Cat Who Wasn't a Dog

by Marian Babson

  ‘Come along.’ With unusual tact, Evangeline took one of my empty arms and steered me towards the exit. ‘Time we went home. I’d say tomorrow is another day, except that we’re well into tomorrow now.’

  Numbly, I allowed her to lead me away. Eddie was waiting outside with the taxi. I would have asked him where he’d been, but I couldn’t trust my voice. I blinked against the moisture obscuring my vision. I didn’t want Eddie. I didn’t want Evangeline. I wanted Cho-Cho to come home with me. I slumped into a corner of the back seat and ignored their efforts to cheer me.

  Morning was no better.

  ‘Pull yourself together!’ Evangeline snapped the most useless words in the world at me.

  ‘Shan’t!’ I brooded into a bowl of soggy cornflakes, topped with mushy slices of a banana long past its ‘best by’ date. The sooner this establishment found a decent housekeeper, the better.

  ‘Do you realize that this was my first opening in nearly twenty years when I didn’t have my little Fleur cheering me on?’ Dame Cecile, the thrill of last night’s ovations fading into memory, was doing some brooding of her own. ‘I don’t know how I managed to go on.’

  ‘You were magnificent, Cecile.’ Evangeline was prepared to be more forbearing with her old friend than with me. ‘And you, too, Matilda,’ she added hastily.

  ‘It did go rather well.’ Matilda managed to sound modest while still glowing with triumph. There was nothing on her horizon to dim her achievement.

  ‘Is this all we’re having for breakfast?’ That is, not until Soroya stalked into the room and glowered at the box of cornflakes. ‘No devilled kidneys? No kedgeree? I’ve worked until dawn. I need something better than this to keep my strength up!’

  As one, we turned to regard her coldly. The temperature in the room instantly dropped at least ten degrees.

  ‘This is insufferable!’ Soroya was back to normal. All that joy and delight in her ‘daughter’s’ success she had been babbling about last night had evaporated without an audience she could impress. ‘Have you contacted the agency yet? We must get a housekeeper!’

  ‘I have been rather busy with other concerns,’ Matilda retorted icily.

  ‘Oh, yes, you’re your father’s daughter, all right,’ Soroya said, as though there might have been any doubt about it. ‘You’re all the same – your generation – ’

  Matilda stiffened. Her head reared back and her eyes flashed fire.

  ‘Selfish and thoughtless!’ Heedless of the danger signals, Soroya began listing the genetic shortcomings. ‘Always putting yourself first. Never a thought for anyone else – ’

  ‘That will be quite enough!’ Matilda stood up abruptly. ‘I will not be insulted in my own home in front of my own guests.’

  ‘Your father’s home,’ Soroya corrected. ‘If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here.’

  The same could be said of Soroya. Matilda took a deep breath and seemed about to say it, then recollected her guests. She glared at Soroya instead.

  ‘I don’t expect gratitude, which is just as well.’ Soroya wrapped a martyr’s cloak around her. ‘I allow you to occupy the house rent-free in my absence. I never complain about your filling it with your friends and hangerson – ’

  ‘Just try charging rent!’ Matilda flared. ‘This is my house! My father never contributed a penny – not to the house, nor to my support, nor my mother’s. He preferred to throw his money away on … on his latest doxy!’

  ‘Not another word!’ Soroya drew herself up imperiously. ‘I will not listen to you sully your father’s memory. Nor will I be foolish enough to expect any sort of apology from you – now or in the future. We will not speak of this matter again!’ She turned on her heel and sailed out of the room.

  ‘Of all the women my father toyed with,’ Matilda finally broke the silence, ‘that had to be the one he married!’

  ‘More to the point,’ Evangeline said, ‘she was the one he was married to when he died. She wouldn’t have lasted much longer than the others, if he’d remained alive and true to form.’

  It was a nice try at comfort, but could have been more tactful. After all, Matilda’s mother was high on the roster of ex-wives.

  ‘I’ve got to do something about this!’ Matilda slumped back into her chair despairingly, buying her face in her hands. ‘Now that they’re doing more filming in this country, she’s planning to take up residence. I can stand her for short periods of time, but not indefinitely. I’ve got to do something!’

  ‘Frame a copy of your deeds and hang them on the wall in her room,’ Dame Cecile suggested. ‘Make sure it’s just a copy.’

  ‘Throw her out.’ Evangeline was all for simplicity. ‘Just change the locks while she’s away filming and leave her packed suitcases outside the front door.’

  ‘And wouldn’t that give the tabloids a field day?’ Matilda was more practical. ‘I don’t need that kind of publicity.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Dame Cecile said. ‘It would do the show no good, either. It may be a hit, but we can’t afford to be complacent.’

  There was a clatter at the back door and it swung open. Eddie stumbled into the kitchen, laden down with toolbox, cans of paint and brushes.

  ‘I’ll ‘ave those bookcases finished for you before lunch,’ he told Matilda. ‘Then I’ll paint them. Tomorrow – ’ he turned to me – ‘I’ll take care of that dodgy shelf in your closet.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ Matilda enthused. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without you, Eddie.’

  ‘Yeah, right, that’s all very well and I don’t mean to be nasty – but I wish you were doing without me. I mean, ‘ow much longer can they make me stay ‘ere? I’ve got a life – and it’s up in London. I want to get back to it.’

  ‘You should have asked Superintendent Thursby about that last night,’ I said. ‘He was at the opening and you saw him – and you went the other way.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I remembered something else I ’ad to do.’ He avoided my eyes. ‘Anyway, you don’t always want to remind the coppers that you’re still around.’

  ‘If they don’t remember you’re around,’ I pointed out reasonably, ‘they can’t tell you you’re free to go.’

  ‘Right. I just don’t like the bloke. I’ll tell you this, there’s some difference in the coppers now and when you’re driving a cab full of deprived kiddies down to the seaside on their annual outing, which is the only time I saw the coppers here before.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re on the other side of the law now,’ Evangeline said pleasantly.

  ‘Yeah …’ He slitted his eyes at her. ‘And I know who I’ve got to thank for that, don’t I?’

  ‘Circumstances, circumstances …’ Evangeline waved her hand airily. ‘These things could happen to anyone.’

  ‘But they don’t. They only ‘appen to you.’ He gave her a bleak look. ‘And to me, when I’m around you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Evangeline said, ‘I’m afraid we have been a bit remiss about you. Don’t worry.’ He immediately looked worried. ‘We’ll talk to Superintendent Thursby and get you sorted out.’

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘you don’t need to go near the police. What about that lawyer who got me out on bail? Let ‘im do it.’

  ‘Nonsense! It’s Thursby’s case. He’ll know just what’s going on. We’ll take him to lunch, or perhaps dinner, and have a long, friendly discuss—’ Her mobile trilled abruptly.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ She snatched it from her bag and flung it at me. ‘Tell that woman to use the land line and stop ringing my number! I don’t keep the phone for her convenience – or yours, either!’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, catching it. ‘She doesn’t mean to – ’ I broke off. Apologies were premature. It was Nigel’s voice bleating at me.

  ‘Evangeline? Evangeline? Who’s there? I want to speak to Evangeline.’

  ‘It’s for you.’ I handed the mobile back to her and watched her face change as she listened to Nigel’s frantic tones.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her
voice was as thunderous as her face. ‘You told me I couldn’t lose!’

  I couldn’t hear the words but the frantic pitch of the babbled explanations and reassurances was unmistakable. There went another of Nigel’s get-rich-quick schemes down the drain – and this time it was carrying Evangeline along with it.

  ‘You promised!’ The incredulity in her voice belied the fact that both of us had learned a long time ago never to trust a promise, any promise, no matter who made it.

  The high-pitched babble rushed on non-stop. Evangeline’s face relaxed as she gradually allowed herself to be mollified. Obviously with more promises.

  ‘See that you do!’ she said severely and rang off. ‘That’s settled,’ she told me. ‘Now – let’s tackle dear Superintendent Thursby.’

  Somewhere between the lobster bisque and the steak au poivre, I began to suspect that Superintendent Hector Thursby was toying with us. By the Poires Hélène, I was sure of it. By the time the demitasses, petits fours and mints arrived, I was convinced that it was his sole ambition to make complete and utter fools of us.

  He was going about it the right way, concentrating on Evangeline, leading her on to ever more outrageous statements and speculations. She had just stated as fact her opinion that Mr Stuff Yours had been involved with international jewel thieves, who were stuffing precious gems into the body cavities of dead animals and smuggling them into the country that way. And out of the country as well.

  ‘Mmm, yes,’ he murmured. ‘I seem to think I saw that television play, too.’

  ‘And what about drugs?’ Evangeline was not to be daunted. ‘That would be a perfect way to smuggle drugs into the country. Have you had the ashes tested for traces of drugs?’

  ‘There are rather a lot of ashes.’ His murmur remained diffident, but a telltale twitch at the corners of his mouth gave him away. ‘Have you any suggestions as to where we might start?’

  I tried to signal caution, but she was paying no attention.

  ‘How about that horse? It was big enough to hold half a warehouse worth of drugs.’

  ‘Yes, it was big, wasn’t it? However, it dates back to 1937, favourite hunter of a local lord, had to be shot when it broke its neck in a nasty fall. He had it mounted and kept it in his conservatory. Upon his death in 1981, the family donated it to a small private museum – with great relief, no doubt. It’s been there ever since, until about six months ago when it went to Stuff Yours for some minor repairs and a brush-up. It was scheduled to go straight back into the museum when finished.’

  ‘Oh.’ That took the wind out of Evangeline’s sails, but only momentarily. ‘Then how about – ?’

  ‘Amazingly well documented, wasn’t it?’ I put in. What was really amazing was that Thursby should have had all that information at his fingertips. He’d been doing more homework than Evangeline was giving him credit for.

  ‘Bit of a local curiosity, that horse.’ He shrugged off his expertise. ‘Newspapers run articles about it when not much else is happening. And, once in a while, organizations borrow it for parades or promotions.’

  ‘Smuggling, jewellery thefts, drugs – ’ Abruptly, Evangeline swept them all aside with a wave of her hand. ‘The point is, Eddie can’t possibly have had anything to do with any of that. It’s high time you allowed him to go back to London.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Thursby bared his teeth (‘What very big teeth you have, Grandmother’) in a grim smile. ‘Some people might think a taxi driver ideally placed to act as a fence or drug dealer. Driving all over the city, with no suspicion attached to any place he stops. It would go down well with the shady customers too. They could call him and he’d meet them anywhere.’

  ‘Never!’ I said. ‘Not Eddie!’ If that was the way he was thinking, no wonder he wouldn’t let Eddie leave town.

  ‘Complete nonsense!’ Evangeline said. ‘No wonder you aren’t getting anywhere with the case if you’re wasting your time trying to trump up evidence against an innocent man!’

  Oh-oh! She’d gone too far. The planes of his face shifted subtly and hardened. A nasty gleam came into his eyes.

  ‘She didn’t mean – ’ I began defensively.

  ‘I think she made her meaning quite clear,’ he said.

  A cold chill swept over me. Abruptly, I remembered Ron Heyhoe’s story about the rugby match and the almost-permanent injury Thursby had deliberately inflicted on him. We’d laughed when he gave us our introduction because he said he owed Thursby one. Now – too late? – I recalled uneasily that there had been times when Heyhoe had had his problems with Evangeline. Did he feel that he owed us one, too?

  ‘Just what makes you think we aren’t getting anywhere with the case?’ His glittering eyes were as cold and menacing as those of the hooded cobra must have been, and Evangeline was momentarily as frozen in their beam as any lesser prey.

  ‘You haven’t told us anything! What else are we to think?’ No, Evangeline was more mongoose than prey; she came out fighting.

  ‘You might think that it was none of your business. You might think that it was just possible that the police had more than one case at a time to work on. You might even think that your own position was a bit equivocal. You were on the scene, you have a highly developed sense of drama and, I understand, a fearsome temperament. If you had quarrelled with the man, struck him impulsively, harder than you meant to …?’ He gave a cold smile and paused, inviting a confession.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘It’s only too plausible, I assure you. As is the possibility that your friend Eddie is so good a friend that he is allowing himself to be chief suspect in order to shield you.’

  ‘No!’ I gasped with outrage and he transferred his icy gaze to me.

  ‘Both of you,’ he said impartially.

  ‘Really!’ Evangeline’s head reared back, her nostrils flared. ‘You’ll be accusing Cecile next!’

  ‘We’re not dismissing her out of hand. My information is that she is an extremely distraught woman whose recent behaviour has been … eccentric … if not demented.’

  ‘Who gave you that information?’

  ‘Now, now.’ He shook his head. ‘You should know that we never reveal our sources.’

  ‘Not unless it suits you!’

  I noticed the waiter hovering as our discussion grew more heated and signalled to him urgently. It took him only a moment to deliver the bill which, after hesitating briefly, he set down beside the gentleman of the party.

  I could see that Evangeline was so furious she was going to let it stay there, so I grabbed it.

  ‘We did invite him,’ I whispered.

  ‘And very kind of you, too.’ He wasn’t missing a thing. ‘A delicious meal and a most enjoyable occasion.’

  I was glad he thought so.

  Chapter Nineteen

  In the morning, I didn’t feel like facing Eddie, even though I knew he had never expected our efforts with Superintendent Thursby to be successful. Cravenly, I decided to skip breakfast at the house and go out and buy that pretty necklace for Viola, getting something to eat at a coffee shop along the way. Let Evangeline be the one to break the bad news to Eddie when he arrived, it had been her idea. Not one of her better ones. We were now firmly placed in the forefront of Thursby’s attention. And suspicion.

  It was a good plan: I might have known it wouldn’t work. When I got back to the house, Evangeline was still in bed. That took care of the glow of triumph I felt over my successful purchases. I’d picked up a novelty watch for Orlando, so that he wouldn’t feel neglected, and a couple of kitchen gadgets for Martha.

  ‘One of her headaches,’ Dame Cecile informed me. ‘And that terrible smell of paint isn’t going to help.’

  Now that she mentioned it, I became aware of the overpowering odour of fresh paint. Eddie was putting the finishing touches to Matilda’s new built-in bookcase. Perhaps he’d have time to fix my closet shelf while the first coat of paint was drying.

  I decided to clear the clothes
rail suspended from that shelf, so that Eddie could get at it more easily. There wasn’t much hanging from it and, as I worked, I allowed myself the brief luxury of imagining that I could throw everything back into my suitcase, ready to depart.

  But we couldn’t leave yet. We couldn’t desert Eddie. And perhaps the ‘don’t leave town’ edict had been extended to us by this time. Hector Thursby seemed to be preparing an all-purpose, any-suspect-will-do case against one or all of us.

  The unused wire hangers at the far end of the rail were in a fearful tangle. They had been rammed over the rail carelessly, their hooks opening in opposite directions, their loops intertwined and practically tied in knots. They had probably been there so long they were all rusted together. I tugged impatiently at them.

  Suddenly, the whole thing gave way. I had time for one sharp involuntary scream as the shelf tilted and an avalanche plunged towards me.

  ‘ … Trixie! … Trixie! …’ People were calling to me from a great distance, their voices faint and alarmed. ‘Trixie! …’

  I moaned and turned over. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to lie here on this nice comfortable bed for ever.

  ‘Trixie!’

  I tried to pull the pillow over my ears, but a sudden pain shot through my head and jolted my eyes open. I moaned again.

  ‘She’s coming round.’

  ‘I’m not. Go away and – ’ Someone pulled me upright and thrust a glass of water against my lips. I discovered I was very thirsty.

  ‘Trixie – what happened?’

  ‘The shelf got me,’ I said. ‘Before Eddie had a chance to fix it.’

  ‘I was going to get at it right after lunch,’ he defended himself. ‘Couldn’t you leave well enough alone until then?’

  ‘I just wanted to clear the rail for you, but the hangers were all stuck together and, when I pulled at them, the whole shelf – ’

  ‘Eddie’s right,’ Evangeline said. ‘If you didn’t go rushing at things – ’

  ‘The edge of the shelf didn’t strike you, did it?’ Matilda looked me over carefully. ‘I don’t see any blood.’