Six Cats A Slayin'

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.

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?”

“Yes, with a response from me. Poor child sounds upset, but hopefully this will reassure him or her.” I started to get up.

“No, I’ll take it back.” Stewart disappeared into the hall but returned quickly. “All done. Are you going to lie in wait for this kid?”

“Off and on,” I said. “I don’t intend to spend the entire day watching the front door. The child might not come back until tonight, and I would have wasted an entire day sitting there.”

“True.” Stewart poured coffee into his favorite mug. He took a chair to my left. “Haskell and I can keep an eye out for someone lurking in the bushes while we work on the cage.”

I chuckled. “Speaking of lurking in the bushes—last night after I said good-bye to Helen Louise, I was about to walk back into the garage when I thought I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye.”

“Near the front door?”

“I wasn’t sure,” I said. “I stopped and looked, but everything was still. I figured I had imagined it and came on inside. But now I’m thinking that what I saw was the child sneaking away after putting that note on the door.”

“Possibly,” Stewart said. “You didn’t see anything on the door at the time?”

“Perhaps if I’d really been looking at the door, I might have,” I said, “but I wasn’t. Sooner or later I will find out who this child is.”

“I’m sure you will.” Stewart had a sip of coffee. “Haskell should be down soon, and we’ll get started on the cage.”

“I really appreciate this,” I said. “I’ll cook breakfast for you.”

“That’s kind of you, but I’m going to be having a cold breakfast.” Stewart grimaced. “My cholesterol is up, and I need to lay off the bacon and sausage for a while. So it’s a bowl of granola, yogurt, and fruit for me this morning.”

“What about Haskell? Is he having a cold breakfast, too?”

“Yes, he’s going to have the same, although I suspect he may want toast as well.” He smiled fondly. “He does like his buttered toast and jelly.”

“Don’t we all,” I replied. Not to mention buttered biscuits, cheese grits, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage. Maybe country ham, too. I shook my head, thinking guiltily of my own cholesterol levels, always a little above the norm.

“What’s wrong?” Stewart asked.

“Food cravings.” I laughed. “The minute anyone starts talking about healthy food, I immediately think of all the things for breakfast that you shouldn’t eat every day. Which I do.”

“There’s plenty of granola, yogurt, and fruit,” Stewart said, his tone bland. “Feel free to help yourself.”

“Thanks. I might just do that.” I pushed back from the table. “Before I eat anything, I’m going back upstairs to feed the kittens and clean their litter boxes. Then I’ll have a shower. Diesel, do you want to come with me?”

The cat, who had evidently ignored the poodle long enough that Dante had finally given up, meowed. I gathered the cans of food and the bag of dry crunchies and placed them on a tray I dug out from one of the cabinets.

“See you in a bit,” I said to Stewart, who nodded.

Diesel raced up the stairs ahead of me. He seemed to know our destination. When I reached the second floor, I saw him disappear into Laura’s old bedroom.

I made sure to shut the bedroom door to limit the possibilities if any of the kittens escaped from the bathroom. Diesel stood ready in front of the bathroom door, from under which I could see small paws protruding. Diesel growled and batted at the paws, and they were quickly withdrawn.

Balancing the tray on one hand, I opened the door enough for Diesel to slip in. After a few seconds I slipped into the bathroom, too. As I had guessed, the kittens had swarmed over Diesel. My boy had been smart enough to lure them about three feet away from the door.

I fed the kittens and gave them fresh water before I attended to the litter boxes. When I finished, I spent a few minutes playing with them, holding and stroking each one in turn. Ramses wiggled the entire time I held him, impatient to get down and join in the fray with his siblings. The others seemed to enjoy the attention I gave them.

I left Diesel in the bathroom with the kittens, promising to return after my shower. He appeared to be happy staying with the active quintet.

Twenty minutes later I returned—showered, shaved, and dressed in more appropriate daytime attire. I called to Diesel before I opened the door, and he warbled in response. I opened the door wide enough for him to ease out, and he did so. I managed to close the door before any of the inmates escaped.

The sun had begun to rise, I noticed as Diesel and I walked into the kitchen. I heard sounds of activity coming from the direction of the living room but decided that I wanted my breakfast before I went to see how the cage was coming along.

I contemplated yogurt, granola, and fruit, but not for long. I suppressed the little voice that was urging me to follow Stewart’s example. I prepared cheese grits, a couple of slices of buttered wheat toast, and two sausage patties. Diesel sniffed appreciatively, but he would be disappointed. No sausage for him. They were too highly seasoned.

By the time I finished eating and drinking another cup of coffee, I could see sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. The weather forecast had promised a clear, chilly day. That was good, because if everything went as planned, Sean and Frank, my son-in-law, would arrive at nine to start installing Christmas lights on the front of the house. Frank, with his experience in stagecraft and set design, had drawn up a tasteful plan for illumination. Had it not been for his enthusiasm and Sean’s willingness to assist, I probably wouldn’t have bothered. Time enough for that when baby Charlie and Rosie were old enough to enjoy the holiday.

After clearing up the small mess I had made cooking and eating breakfast, I headed through the hall to the living room, accompanied by Diesel. We stopped in the doorway to survey the progress.

My volunteer carpenters had put down a drop cloth to protect the hardwood floor. From what I could see, Haskell and Stewart had completed one segment of the frame and were now working on the second one.

“You’re making good progress,” I said.

Haskell glanced up. “It’s not a complicated design, but it should be sturdy enough to do what you want.”

Diesel padded over to inspect the completed segment, for the moment propped against the wall. He sniffed it, then prodded it with a paw. He looked my way and chirped, as if to tell me he approved of the work. Haskell and Stewart continued to work, oblivious to the cat’s actions.

“Is there anything I can get you?” I asked. “Water? Coffee? Juice?”

“No, thanks,” Stewart said. “Soon as we finish this bit we’re going to take a break and have breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll be around, though, if you need me,” I said. “Come on, Diesel. We’ll be in the den for a while.”

I retrieved my laptop, and the cat and I got comfortable on the couch. While I caught up on e-mail, Diesel snoozed beside me. I had nearly finished with e-mail when my cell phone rang. I set the laptop aside because the caller was Melba. I knew the conversation could last awhile.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Morning, Charlie,” Melba replied, sounding perky.

After an exchange of the usual pleasantries, Melba said, “I got to thinking about Billy Albritton.”

“What about him?” I asked, puzzled.

“About why he kind of brushed me off,” Melba said. “I got to thinking about it last night, and it seemed to me he didn’t mind talking to me—he’s always been flirty, you know—until I brought up Geraldine Albritton.”

“Obviously you think that means he knows something about her and didn’t want to let on that he did,” I said. “Right?”

“Right. He’s slick, all right, else I would have caught it then, but at the time I believed him when he said he was in a hurry.” Melba laughed. “I’m not going to let him get away with it, though.”

I tried not to chuckle. “What are you going to do? Show up at his house and bang on the door until he lets you in?”

“If I thought that was what it would take to get a real answer out of him, I’d do it.” Melba’s tone held a touch of frost. “You know I would.”

“Yes, you sure would,” I replied.

“I’m going by his appliance store first thing Monday morning,” she said. “I don’t think he’s there on Saturday. I’ll insist that I have to talk to him, and only him, about replacing my washer and dryer. If he thinks he’s going to get some money out of me, he’ll be more willing to talk.”

“Fond of a dollar, is he?” I didn’t know the councilman myself.

Melba’s snort resounded in my ear. “You better bet he is. Like all the Albrittons. Most of them started out poor, and some of them still are. The ones like Billy who’ve managed to make a few bucks hang on to them as hard as they can.”

“I have no doubt you’ll wear him down,” I said.

“I’ll let you know,” she replied. “In the meantime, you mind if I come over and see those babies you’re fostering?”

“Sure, come on,” I said. “Are you thinking about adopting one?”

“I might,” Melba said. “There’ll never be another Diesel, but it might be nice to have a cat of my own around the house.”

“I think you’d love having a cat.”

Diesel meowed loudly.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

Melba chuckled. “I did. Tell that sweet boy I’ll be seeing him in about twenty minutes. That okay?”

“Sure, see you soon.” I ended the call. “Your friend Melba’s coming over to see you and the kittens.”

Diesel meowed again. He knew Melba’s name.

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and make some fresh coffee for Melba.” I rose from the couch. Diesel oozed off onto the floor, rolled onto his back, and stretched. I laughed and headed out the door.

I took a detour to the living room to let Stewart and Haskell know that company was arriving soon. They acknowledged my announcement but didn’t look up from their work. The second frame was complete, and they were now stapling the wire mesh into place.

Diesel met me in the kitchen. While I rinsed the coffeepot and prepared the maker for another round, he disappeared into the utility room. I heard crunching noises when I turned off the water.

By the time the doorbell rang to announce Melba’s arrival, the coffee was ready. Diesel scampered ahead of me to the door to greet the visitor.

When I opened the door, Melba looked at me with a frown. “I just saw the weirdest thing. I thought I saw a child’s head sticking up out of the shrubbery.”