The Cat Who Wasn't a Dog

by Marian Babson

  The puppy watched her hand, then did a backwards somersault. Taken by surprise, even Cecile laughed.

  ‘Do that again!’ Evangeline waved her own hand. The puppy ignored her, bright eyes watching Cecile.

  ‘Allez-oop!’ Cecile waved her hand again and the pup did another back flip. The little creature was a natural-born clown.

  ‘You can’t say that one needs straining,’ I told her.

  ‘We’ll see about that.’ Intrigued now, Cecile caught up the wriggling bundle of ecstatic fur, set it down on the floor and walked away from it. ‘Heel!’ She threw the command over her shoulder.

  The puppy did its best. As often in front of her as at her heels, it was firm in its determination not to let her get away from it.

  ‘Well …’ Cecile strode back to her chair. ‘Well …’ She sat and the pup promptly leaped into her lap.

  ‘Not bad for such a little one,’ I applauded. ‘It’s still got a lot of growing up to do.’

  Sensing victory, Evangeline kept quiet.

  ‘No!’ Dame Cecile drew herself up and placed the puppy back in the box. ‘No – it’s too soon. And it’s not Fleur.’

  ‘There was only one Fleur,’ I sympathized. Stroking Cho-Cho’s little head, I knew just what she meant. ‘There can never be another.’

  ‘Never!’ she agreed fervently.

  Cho-Cho’s curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted a closer look at the strange creature occupying the box she had marked out for her own. Stealthily, she got all four feet up on the table and inched towards the box.

  Noticing her approach and thinking it had found a new playmate, the pup gave a joyous yelp and sprang out of the box, charging forward to greet her.

  Her fur bristled, her back arched, she hissed and a paw lashed out to strike with deadly accuracy.

  The pup retreated yelping and dashed for the sanctuary of Dame Cecile’s arms.

  ‘Poor baby,’ she cooed, gathering it to her. ‘Poor baby, did the nasty cat scratch you?’

  Recognizing a good ploy when it saw one, the pup sank against her bosom, whimpering piteously.

  Cho-Cho gave it a contemptuous look and took possession of the empty box.

  ‘Poor baby!’ Cecile was dabbing at the tiny nose with a lace-edged handkerchief. ‘Oh! Look at that!’ She displayed the hanky indignantly. ‘That ruffian cat has drawn blood!’

  Really! You could hardly see it. It was barely more than a speck. And you couldn’t blame Cho-Cho for defending herself when an unidentifiable creature rushed at her noisily.

  ‘Frou-Frou’s blood!’ Dame Cecile elaborated.

  ‘Frou-Frou?’ She had lost me.

  ‘Chlo-Chlo, Margot, Frou-Frou – ’ Evangeline began humming the song from The Merry Widow. Of course! It was a French poodle.

  And Cecile had already given it a name, a name that had obviously popped into her head some little while ago. Evangeline and I exchanged triumphant glances. They were bonding nicely.

  The sudden pounding at the back door, demanding admittance, broke the pleasant spell.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I didn’t like the sound of it – and I was right. Eddie opened the door, then retreated faster than the battered puppy.

  A large sheaf of roses intruded into the room. It was beautiful, but I lost any admiration for it when I realized Superintendent Thursby was carrying it.

  ‘Ladies!’ he greeted us. ‘Forgive my dropping in so informally, but I felt I had to come by and express my appreciation for your wonderful hospitality the other night.’ He extended the bouquet to Evangeline.

  Oh, yes? If it was such a social call, why were two uniformed police officers – one of them a woman – lurking behind him?

  ‘How kind of you.’ Evangeline dropped the bouquet on the table and waited for his next move.

  ‘Also – ’ He turned to Matilda smoothly. ‘I understand you have something for us.’

  ‘Yes.’ Matilda stood up slowly. ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘Constable Martin will help you.’ He nodded sharply and the female officer moved forward.

  ‘That won’t be necessary – ’ Matilda began.

  ‘No trouble at all, madam. That’s what she’s paid for.’ He nodded again and the woman followed a flustered Matilda from the room. The male constable remained by the door, at ease but watchful. No one was going to get past him.

  I told myself that the unsettling thought was ridiculous. Then I looked back at Thursby – Thursby, with the slick vulpine smile that never quite reached his cold eyes – and had an even more unsettling thought: when he left this house, he was planning to take more than the housekeeper’s effects with him.

  ‘What are the police doing here?’ All the situation had lacked was Soroya and here she was. ‘Are they arresting Matilda?’

  ‘Now why would we want to do a thing like that?’ Thursby asked innocently.

  ‘Why have you got a policewoman following her around?’ Soroya countered. ‘I met them going up the stairs just as I was coming down. Neither of them spoke to me. What’s going on here?’

  ‘Just a little matter of routine,’ he assured her. ‘It won’t take long.’ Casually, he strolled over to the cellar door, opened it and looked down. ‘You’ve repaired those steps, I see.’

  ‘You didn’t say not to.’ Eddie was instantly on the defensive.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ Thursby turned and gave Eddie a long look before snapping the wall switch and nodding as the cellar flooded with light. ‘New bulb, too, I see.’

  ‘It was dangerous, the way it was.’ Eddie backed away and rubbed his wrists as though he could feel handcuffs snapping around them.

  ‘Very dangerous. As was proved.’ In the ensuing silence, Thursby seemed to listen for the footsteps overhead.

  He had missed his calling. Anyone who could hold their audience so mesmerized belonged on the stage. We could not take our eyes off him.

  He closed the cellar door and, with measured tread, came over to the table to stare back at us. He wasn’t going to be the one to blink.

  Frou-Frou stirred uneasily in Cecile’s arms and the sound she made was more whine than whimper. Cecile closed her hand around the little muzzle, quieting it.

  ‘What’s that?’ Soroya advanced on the table. ‘What is that – that – thing doing here?’

  ‘It’s mine.’ Cecile nuzzled the pup. ‘My little Frou-Frou. Frivolous Frou-Frou.’

  ‘Well, you can get rid of it! I won’t have animals in my house!’

  ‘You have a cat.’ Cecile relinquished any claim to Cho-Cho in the light of her new acquisition. ‘You can’t talk!’

  Thursby had gone into freeze-frame mode; only his eyes moved as he looked from one speaker to the other.

  Evangeline was also watching, with the slightly puzzled frown she has when trying to decode English crossword clues.

  Cho-Cho picked that moment to pop out of the box where she had been crouching and start back towards me, detouring to inspect the roses. Thursby transferred his attention to her.

  ‘Interesting little cat,’ he observed. ‘I’ve never seen one like it before. What is it, a failed Manx?’

  ‘Cho-Cho-San is a Japanese bobtail,’ Soroya said. ‘She comes of an ancient lineage. You can see her ancestors in old Japanese prints and paintings of many centuries ago. They’re quite rare in this country,’ she added condescendingly.

  ‘Unobtainable, in fact,’ Evangeline said under her breath. I realized she had been making efforts on my behalf.

  ‘Is that so?’ Thursby nodded sagely. ‘That’s very interesting. Import her, did you?’

  ‘Not the way you put it, no. I bought her as a kitten when I was touring in the Far East and brought her home with me.’

  And gave her to Teddy for an engagement present, then tried to snatch her back when Teddy eloped with Frella. But she wasn’t telling Thursby that.

  ‘And no problems bringing her in?’ He seemed to sense that there was more to the story than she had reveale
d. ‘No trouble arranging for her six months’ quarantine?’

  ‘Oh, the rules had changed by then and she’d had all her shots and proper papers – her Passport for Pets, as they’re calling it.’

  Cho-Cho gave a sneeze and abandoned the roses. She was close enough to reach now and I gathered her to me. Soroya didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Pretty little thing,’ Thursby said dismissively. He looked over our heads and became alert.

  I turned to see Matilda and the policewoman returning. The policewoman nodded and I turned back in time to catch Thursby’s answering nod. A satisfied, but unpleasant, smile curved his thin lips.

  Matilda looked dazed. She moved to the table like an automaton and seated herself between Cecile and me. She kept her eyes downcast, her face expressionless. She might just as well have worn a placard around her neck announcing that something had happened.

  ‘You were right, sir.’ The policewoman marched up to Thursby carrying the housekeeper’s suitcase. They beamed at each other briefly, radiating self-congratulations.

  What was wrong with this picture? Evangeline and I exchanged glances – she felt it, too. Even Cho-Cho sensed the atmosphere; she shivered and shrank against me. Matilda sat with her shoulders hunched, as though expecting a blow. Eddie had all but disappeared into the wallpaper.

  ‘Good work, Constable Martin,’ Thursby praised, accepting the suitcase. The large, the very large, suitcase – with no labels at all stuck on it.

  That was it! That was not the suitcase we had found!

  ‘What are you doing with my suitcase?’ Soroya demanded. ‘Give it back to me at once! You have no right – Where did you get it? You’ve been in my room! How dare you? I’ll report you! I’ll complain to – ’

  ‘They had a search warrant, Soroya,’ Matilda said wearily. ‘I had to allow Constable Martin to search. She didn’t disturb much, she had a pretty good idea of what she was looking for.’

  ‘You little slut! You’ve always hated me!’

  ‘Not half as much as you’ve hated me.’

  While they were distracted, Thursby set the case on the table and opened it.

  Cho-Cho snapped to attention and twisted out of my arms, heading purposefully for the suitcase. She reached it just as Thursby found the catch that released the lid of a hidden compartment.

  ‘No, no, little one.’ Thursby pushed her away. ‘Mustn’t contaminate the evidence. There’ve been quite a few exotic specimens occupying that space since you did.’

  ‘Exotic species – endangered species!’ Evangeline caught on immediately. ‘For the taxidermist. Like that golden eagle – ’

  ‘Not the eagle, I think,’ Thursby said. ‘Too large. But quite definitely the hooded cobra. I wonder if she got it from a snake charmer.’ He whirled on Soroya suddenly. ‘Did you?’

  ‘No!’ The denial was automatic, putting it into the Well, she would say that, wouldn’t she? category. ‘I didn’t get anything, anywhere. I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Soroya quivered with indignation. Or was it fear?

  ‘I understand you’re in and out of the country a great deal,’ Thursby said. ‘Filming in all sorts of exotic locations.’

  ‘I am in great demand, yes. Unfortunately, my acting skills are more appreciated abroad than in my own country. It’s often the way.’ Talking about it seemed to calm her. ‘However, Bollywood films are reaching a greater audience now and we’re doing more filming in this country. I’m overdue for a breakthrough.’

  ‘You travel with a great deal of luggage.’

  ‘One must consider one’s fans. I attend many formal events abroad. That requires a wide selection of costumes. When I’m out of the country, I’m a star. I must dress the part.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ Thursby was not impressed. ‘And does all your luggage have hidden compartments?’

  ‘I often carry valuable jewellery with me. Naturally, I want to keep it safely near me.’ She was overacting. Nothing new with her, I was sure, but something about it tugged at a chord in my memory. I had seen part of this phoney performance before and not in any Bollywood movie.

  ‘And you bring in a lot more jewellery than you take out!’ Evangeline couldn’t restrain herself any longer. ‘Without paying Customs duty! And it was probably stolen by your cohorts, to begin with!’ She turned to Thursby triumphantly. ‘I told you to look for jewel smugglers!’

  ‘Quite.’ He gave her a nasty look. ‘Unfortunately for your pet theory, jewellery is a side issue, if it figures at all. Isn’t that right, Mrs Jordan?’

  Matilda made a small choking sound. I didn’t blame her. It was bad enough to have Soroya for a stepmother without anyone rubbing it in.

  ‘I don’t know what any of you are talking about!’ Soroya blustered. ‘And I will not stay here and be insulted!’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Thursby eyed her coldly. ‘If you’re not happy here, we can always continue our conversation down at the station.’

  ‘What’s she done, then?’ Eddie became a little more visible, sensing that he was off the hook.

  ‘I’ve done nothing!’ Soroya flared at him, then turned her fury on Thursby. ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Oh, you mustn’t be so modest. We think you’ve done quite a bit, Mrs Jordan.’

  Matilda winced.

  ‘We’ve been keeping a weather eye on Stuff Yours for some time now, in conjunction with the Worldwide Fund for Nature and Customs and Excise. We found you were one of their regular visitors, along with a few other frequent travellers.’

  ‘Never!’ Soroya lost colour.

  ‘Every time you returned from a trip, you wasted no time in joining their parade of late-night visitors. You might have been a minor player, but it was a lucrative little sideline, wasn’t it, Mrs Jordan?’

  ‘Must you keep calling her that?’ Matilda’s overstretched nerves snapped. ‘Her stage name is Zane. Use that!’

  ‘Oh, yes, that would suit you very well, wouldn’t it, Your Ladyship?’ Soroya rounded on her. ‘I have a right to the Jordan name – I was Gervaise’s legal wife! Just as you were his legitimate daughter!’

  There was an electric silence. Thursby was smart enough not to break it. He just watched. And waited.

  ‘A very good point.’ Evangeline moved in where no one else dared tread. ‘Have you encountered many of Gervaise’s by-blows?’

  ‘Enough! More than enough! Wretched ghastly creature!’ Tellingly, Soroya lapsed into a grotesque parody of an Australian accent: ‘“Ooew, you were married to him! Tell me – what was Dad really like?” Dad! Ugh!’ Soroya shuddered and sketched a push-away motion with her hands. ‘The nerve of her! The presumption!’

  She might have been carried away by righteous anger, but Soroya was overacting again. Just as she had been when she had pounced first on me and then on Jocasta, pretending that she thought each of us was the new housekeeper. When all the time she knew that the woman was lying dead at the foot of the cellar stairs. Where she had pushed her.

  “Ere!’ Eddie had been following his own train of thought. ‘If all those people were watching Stuff Yours, ‘ow come you let the owner get killed right under your nose and the place set on fire?’

  ‘We weren’t watching it every single minute. None of our budgets are that generous.’ Thursby was aggrieved. ‘We kept an eye on the place on nights when we suspected a delivery was due.’

  ‘So you tried to pin it on me – ’ Eddie was no less aggrieved – ‘even when you knew there was all these other geezers floating around with a lot more motive.’

  ‘You would have been all right.’ Thursby did not have the grace to look embarrassed, but he did seem a bit uncomfortable. ‘It’s just that if someone thought we were concentrating on you, they’d feel safe and might give themselves away.’ He looked pointedly at Soroya.

  ‘She lost her temper with him and hit him over the head with a blunt instrument!’ Evangeline was in her element, the better half of The Happy Couple doing her stuff again. ‘Then she searched the files for an
y import/export documents he might have kept that would have incriminated her. At some point, she realized that most of the stuffed specimens in the shop were just as incriminating as any papers, so she set fire to the place.’

  ‘I think it’s time we went along to the station.’ Thursby was not comfortable with audience participation. He nodded to the constables, who closed in on Soroya. ‘We have a lot more questions still to ask.’

  ‘How could you?’ I had one of my own for Soroya. ‘When you rifled those files in the office, you must have seen her. How could you have run away and left poor little Cho-Cho-San to burn alive?’

  ‘I refuse to say another word until I have a lawyer present!’ Soroya’s mouth snapped shut and stayed that way.

  ‘Well, you’re not getting mine,’ Eddie said. “E’s too good for you.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was a relief to get back to the flat in Docklands. Even though it had its drawbacks and we were going to have to leave it shortly, it felt like home. A refuge, however temporary, from the world. Eddie had wanted to return to London and his interrupted life immediately and we had had no hesitation about going with him.

  Now we were lounging in front of the glass wall, the riverscape stretched out below us, the clouds turning pink in the glow of the setting sun. On the coffee table, Superintendent Thursby’s roses were unfolding, exuding a delicious fragrance.

  I made a mental note to gather a handful of the petals when they began to fade and add them to the bottle of white wine vinegar for an exotic flavour. Exotic – I didn’t want to think about that.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘Frou-Frou was a great success. Eventually.’ Cho-Cho lounged beside me, safely mine. Soroya couldn’t take her where she was going – even if she had wanted her – and a quick telephone conversation with an obliging Teddy had settled the custody question in my favour. I realized that probably meant that I’d have custody of Teddy, as well, at least part-time, but you can’t win ‘em all.

  ‘Soroya must have been frantic to dispose of the body,’ Evangeline said, ‘but she couldn’t get the chance with Cecile drama-queening around at all hours of the day and night. So the best thing she could think of to do was to pretend that she thought any unknown female was the new housekeeper. She thought that would establish the fact that she believed the housekeeper was still alive somewhere.’