by Clea Simon
“Mmm.” Connor might’ve been saying something, but I didn’t hear him, only felt the movement of his lips against my hair. I watched the band, as conscious of his breath and his hands on my waist as I was of the musicians and the bluesy rock they played. Connor was behind me now, and I leaned back on him as we both swayed to the music. One chord, I thought, but that was all that was needed as the guitarist pushed her capo down a fret and started another long solo all moans and whispers.
“Dance with me, Theda.” I heard his voice in my ear and turned. He took our empty bottles and reached over to leave them on the bar, then pulled me toward him. The slow song ended and we kept dancing, moving over to the side of the room as the drummer kicked into a rocker and the people beside us began to pick up the beat.
“So sweet,” I think he said, kissing me. I couldn’t reply. I opened my mouth to his and pulled him closer, both of us pressed against the wood-paneled wall. I could feel the heads of pushpins against my back and knew I was dislodging posters for weeks of upcoming gigs. The music kept going as we paused for breath and kissed again, shifting slightly to arrange arms and legs and tongues in new and interesting ways. He tasted of beer and the bourbon he’d been drinking before, and I felt drunker on the taste of him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, finally, when we both realized that the band had stopped. He stepped back and I stood up straight. Both of us were breathing heavily. I nodded and he took my hand, weaving through the crowd until we reached the street.
Out in the air we turned toward each other and he grabbed me again, pressing me against the stucco wall of the bar as if he would devour me. “That empty house is near here,” he said, when we both came up for air.
“I have my own place,” I replied, remembering that he still roomed with Ralph, and stepped toward the sidewalk. Luck or fate brought a cab and I gave him directions before letting Connor pull me back into a long, sloppy kiss. Condoms, I said to myself. Don’t act drunker than you are. Condoms. I knew I had a pack in my night table, but I also knew how close I was to forgetting any sensible part of myself.
“Ahem,” said the cabbie, making little effort to make his fake cough sound real. “We’re here.” Connor slapped down a five-dollar bill for a three-dollar fare, and then pulled me out of the cab. I stood up and we kissed again. I pulled away only long enough to extract a key from my pocket.
“Upstairs.” He followed me and we both tried to embrace as we walked, tripping on the stairs as we did. I started to giggle and then he did too, although he also kept trying to kiss me into silence, which didn’t help us climb to the second landing.
“Shhhh!” I pulled away, just a bit, as we fell against the wall. “My neighbors!”
“The hell with your neighbors,” he growled and slammed me into a door, kissing me harder than before, his hands now pulling my hips to his. This was my door, though, and I managed to hold up my key between us. He nodded and I turned, fumbling with the lock.
“Come in.” I opened the door and stepped in, pulling him to follow.
“Raow!” Connor had just stepped into the door when we heard an ungodly noise. “Eeeooowww…roaw!” A high-pitched whine that ended in a growling roar called my attention down and to the left. I flicked on the light. There was Musetta, my cute little kitty, puffed up and hissing like an adder. “Rrrraow!” She was twice her normal size.
“Kitty, what’s the matter?” I knew better than to approach a cat who looked like that.
“Let me see.” Connor reached for her. Too late I put my hand on his arm to pull him up. “Heh!” the cat spat and fell back. But not before lashing out with both claws. Connor stepped back, and I saw blood on his hand.
“Musetta!” I yelled, but the cat continued her whining growl. Her ears were pinned flat to her head and she drew back as if threatened, both front paws raised to strike again. I backed away.
“Connor, are you okay?” I turned toward my date and found him sucking the back of his hand. I took it from his mouth and saw six deep scratches. “I’ve never seen her like that before.”
“Had her long?” He didn’t sound amused. Behind me, the cat’s low whine was gaining in intensity. “Eeoorrr….”
“Here, let me put some antibiotic on that.” I started to step around the cat, toward the bathroom, but Connor didn’t follow.
“No, no thanks.” He was holding his bleeding hand like it hurt him. The mood was clearly broken. “I think I’d better take off, Theda. It’s been fun.”
With that he turned and walked out and all I could do was stand in the open doorway and watch him retreat down the stairs. Damn that cat. What had come over her? I turned toward my kitten, expecting to see signs of madness or rabies or rage. But the puffed-up beast who had just ruined my evening was now sitting calmly on the hallway floor, looking up at me all wide-eyed innocence once more. Her fur still looked a little rumpled, but her ears were up and her mouth was closed.
“What is it, Musetta? What was all that, Musetta? Just tell me what?” But the small cat didn’t answer, except to bend over and start licking her toes.
Chapter Thirteen
“That cat has more sense in its little body than you have in your college-educated brain.” Bunny stood glaring down at me, her round face tight with anger. “What am I talking about? You weren’t thinking with your head at all, were you, girl? How old are you again?”
I sulked on her sofa, slumping into its brown corduroy comfort. Despite my hangover, I’d managed to get to Bunny’s and even remembered to pick up bagels on the way over. Cal was out at rehearsal for at least another hour, so I had my friend alone for a bit. I’d been hoping for a little commiseration from my usually gentle friend.
“He’s smart. He’s an artist. You’ll like him,” I countered, wondering if I had the energy to drink the orange juice she’d poured for me. “You would like him, if I ever see him again. What got into that cat? Do you think she’s one of those psycho ferals who just can’t stand any male of any species? Has she just decided that I’m her property?”
Bunny looked pointedly at the juice. She had the coffee pot in her hand, but withheld from pouring it. I sighed and pulled myself upright in the deep cushions. I drank. My stomach accepted the liquid. With an approving nod, she poured the coffee.
“I’ve heard of cats like that. I don’t know, maybe she was abused as a kitten. But I am not going to end up single and abstinent because of a cat. As soon as I find a good home for it, that kitten is gone.”
“You need a good cat,” she started her familiar refrain.
“I know, I know, Bunny. But I’d like a good man, too. And if I have to choose….” I left my statement open, but Bunny looked at me, eyebrows raised over her cats’-eye glasses.
“What’s gotten into you?” She put the bagels out on a plate and went back into the kitchen for a knife. “You’re acting like this man is the last one on earth. Don’t forget: cute boys know they’re cute. This man probably has you figured. He’s playing you like a harpsichord.”
“I know, Bunny, I know. And he is cute, but, well, maybe he’s more than that as well. I just felt we really connected. He understood the whole writing thing. He’s an artist, too, did I tell you?”
“Several times,” she said, as she sliced two bagels open. I pointed to the poppyseed. “Though I haven’t heard that you’ve seen any of his paintings, girl. Do you miss Rick that much? Cal and I never really figured you two for a lasting couple.”
“We weren’t, I don’t think. I mean, I don’t regret not moving to Arizona with him.” I slouched back into the couch cushions and tried to rev up my brain. “Maybe it’s going freelance and leaving the everyday of the office. I feel less connected to everything. Maybe it’s being in my thirties. Maybe it’s losing James.”
“Which brings me back to this kitten.”
“I don’t know, Bunny. Even aside from the weird man-thing, I don’t think I’m ready. I’ve got to look at this as a fostering situation. Maybe it will be my
job to train her not to attack men.”
“Where’d this kitten come from, anyway?” Bunny spread cream cheese on the open half of poppyseed bagel and layered lox on it, then handed the plate over to me, holding it over the head of her small, agile black-and-white shorthair, Astarte. I took a bite and found I was hungry.
“Oh, this is good. Is this Nova?” I devoured the bagel half and reached for another. Astarte gave up and began washing.
“Did she come from that cat hoarder you were writing about?
“Hmm? Oh yeah.” I was busily prepping two more lox and cream cheese open-faced sandwiches, and got my hand slapped reaching for the red onion that Bunny was still slicing. “I picked her up the morning I found Lillian’s body. I didn’t want Animal Control to get her.”
“What? Theda, wait till I’m done. This is sharp. What did you say? A body?”
That’s when I realized. I’d been so busy and so distracted by Connor that I hadn’t kept Bunny up to date on all that was happening with Lillian, with her death—or murder—or Violet and Patti and the house full of cats who were even now waiting in the shelter for new homes or death.
I did so now as my horrified friend stared at me and our coffee cooled.
“So, it probably was an accident,” I yelled back from the kitchen in conclusion. I had removed the knife from her hand a while ago, but she still sat there frozen. “That’s what the cops think, anyway. But I’m beginning to wonder, myself.” I poured a hot, fresh cup for Bunny, who seemed oblivious, and more for me. I took a sip.
“Ow, hot. Anyway,” I continued, gingerly replacing the mug on the table. “I’m really getting to like Violet, but I wish she’d give me some straight answers. She just refuses to have anything to do with the cops and she keeps going back to that house to rummage around, when she knows that she could get in serious trouble. There’s something off there. I don’t like to think she’s stealing, but what she’s told me about looking for clues just doesn’t all make sense. Plus, I know she’s pretty broke and maybe now that her friend is dead….
“Then there’s this neighbor. Did I tell you about her?” Bunny’s big marmalade lad, Pangur Ban, claimed my lap and I let him lick some cream cheese from my fingers. “She really hates cats and she wasn’t too fond of Lillian either. She’s a realtor, and she’s applied to be the administrator of the estate. She really wants the property. Needs it, really. I gather she’s going broke, and she’s not the type to suffer poverty gladly.
“And then there’s Lillian’s son, Dougie. He’s got schizophrenia, lives in a group home out in Western Mass. And from what I hear, he’s had some trouble staying on his meds. I wanted to talk to him at the memorial service, but he kind of slipped away. I should really follow up on that.”
“Theda. Shut up. Just—just be quiet for a second.” Bunny put her hand up for silence, staring at me with a look that could have pinned a butterfly to a board. Pangur Ban jumped down. “Do you hear yourself? A woman has died. A woman you had only just met. And on the urging of some little punkette you’ve got yourself halfway to believing that her death was caused by somebody who wished her harm. And that you’re the one to solve it.”
“No, I don’t think I’m going to solve it. Violet thinks she will. I just want to ask….”
“Wait, wait, Theda. Listen to yourself. Last week at this time, you hadn’t even thought about a cat hoarder in Cambridgeport. You certainly wouldn’t have gotten involved in second-guessing the police. This is crazy talk, and I don’t like it. You’ve got to call the police and give them that plastic thing you found and get yourself out of this.”
She was right, at least as far as turning over the personal alarm pendant. “I know. I was going to call Bill on Monday.”
“Bill?”
“Bill Sherman. He’s the detective who showed up at the scene. I ended up hanging out with him last Wednesday. That’s when he told me that the cops were going to rule Lillian’s death as accidental. He explained everything about head wounds to me. Nice guy, actually.”
“Theda, I don’t believe you.” She was laughing now, the color coming back into her face, so I felt better. Or at least slightly off the hook. I dipped my finger in the cream cheese and let my arm drop surreptitiously toward the floor. Pangur’s rough tongue made quick work of the treat. “Cut that out. He’s fat enough.” I was caught, but the evidence had been destroyed. Bunny turned back to me. “You’re picking up cops now? I don’t know. People who hang around crime can pick up some very bad karma. I mean, at the very least you get used to seeing people who’ve been hurt.”
“And maybe seeing crime and death also teaches you to appreciate life. I mean ‘carpe diem’ and all that, right?” She was missing the point. “And besides, I’m not going out with him. We just ran into each other at Central Café over in JP.” I was glad the tension had broken. I could eat again. “But I will call him and I will give him Lillian’s pendant.” I bit into another bagel half, the lox just salty and greasy enough to ease my aching head. “Though how I’m going to explain being in her house in the first place will be a bit tough.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way, Theda.” Bunny sighed and reached for another bagel too. Pangur Ban jumped into her lap and began kneading. “You always do.”
mmm
“Hmmm, kitten attack.” Cal seemed to be taking my problem seriously. “That would be a buzzkill.” He reached for the peanut butter to spread on a bagel, knocking Astarte off the counter with a small shove. Despite our best intentions, Bunny and I had finished the lox long before he got home. “Though it could be the test of a man. I remember a certain feline reaction to a certain new beau that almost put the new beau off.”
“That’s not fair,” retorted Bunny, jumping in as Cal chewed his sticky concoction. “Pangur Ban had been taken by surprise. Suddenly there was another person in the bed, and he didn’t know what to make of you.”
“True enough, true enough.” Cal wiped his mouth and poured us all more coffee. “I’m just saying that cats can have adverse reactions. I had to throw those sneakers out, eventually. Couldn’t get the smell off them.”
“But Pangur got used to you eventually, right?” I was looking for reassurance with my coffee, even though the offending kitty now lay curled on the sofa, a picture of domestic bliss.
“Yeah, and I got used to him. Which leads us to the big question. You’re not asking about the kitten, right? You want to know if you’ll see this guy again.”
“I don’t know if she should,” Bunny interrupted. “He’s too smooth.”
“Not smooth enough in the face of an attack kitty, sweetie.” Cal was used to her mother-hen tendencies. “But what does Theda want?”
“I don’t know.” I was still feeling sorry for myself. But I had to admit the food and the friendship had done much to repair my mood. “No, I’m lying. I do know. I really like this guy. I really, really like him. I’m just worried that the night went from no-holds-barred to claws out and, well, what’s he going to think of me? That I’m some lust-maddened crazy cat lady.”
Neither of them responded.
“Thanks, guys. I needed that this morning.”
Cal broke out in a grin. “You set yourself up for that one, darling. But why not relax a little? If he’s worth all the fuss, he’ll call you again.”
By now even Bunny’s fur had been smoothed. “Cal’s right, Theda. This time, you’ve got all the more reason to wait and see what he does.”
I didn’t necessarily agree, being more of a fix-the-damage rather than a let-time-heal type, but there really didn’t seem like much I could do. Not that afternoon, anyway. So I settled back and enjoyed the gentle comfort of my friends, letting the afternoon turn into evening, our bagels to Chinese take-out, and my hangover into an unpleasant, but vague memory.
mmm
That night, upon returning home, I found Musetta as affectionate as before, twining around my ankles like a well-upholstered serpent.
“What is it with you, ki
tty?” I asked, lifting her in my arms so I could stare into those round, green eyes. “Do you have something against men? Or is it just that you want me for yourself?” The off-center white blaze on her nose gave her a goofy look, making her eyes appear slightly too close set. The overall impression was of innocence. She was, after all, simply a kitten. “Did some man do you wrong?” She wasn’t talking, although the paws that pressed against my chest let me know she’d rather be on the floor. I set her down and watched her speed toward my tiny kitchen. I followed and reached for a can to open, succumbing to the routine that my small feline houseguest already accepted as her due.
Chapter Fourteen
Monday dawned, as it always does, full of good resolutions. I tumbled out of bed the first time the alarm rang, dislodging the cat, and reached for my sneakers as the horrible buzzing faded in my ears. Shorts, sports bra, tee shirt, keys. I was still tying my hair back, doubling up the fabric-covered elastic that contained the bulk of my unbrushed curls, as I descended the stairs. Stretching against the stoop—left leg, reach, then right—I realized that resolutions should go more than muscle deep. Today, I thought, I would finish up some of my outstanding projects. Send them in, and write up and mail the story invoices, too. Paper in the mail meant money coming in at some point, and I’d been getting way too lax on the billing front.
I’d also call Bill Sherman and arrange to get him the pendant I’d found at Lillian’s house. I’d promised Bunny, and Cal too, that I wouldn’t mess any more in Lillian’s death; they’d kept after me until I stopped calling it murder. But, as I started off at a brisk trot, I did let myself muse on the idea of talking to Violet, even if just to clear up some of my own questions. What I would not do, I vowed as I turned the corner and picked up speed, was call Connor. After Saturday’s passion and his later rapid retreat, he really had to be the one to make the next contact. I paused at a light, running in place as my muscles warmed up, but when it changed, I didn’t cross, obviously startling the little tan Hyundai that stood waiting for me. I waved it on, squinting into the sun, and turned left instead.