The Stranger Next Door

by Peg Kehret

  Mr. Kendrill laughed. “A talking cat,” he said. “What next?”

  “I fail to see what’s so funny,” Pete said. “I’ve spoken perfect English since I was six weeks old. It isn’t my fault that you people can’t understand it.”

  “Oh, all right,” Alex said, getting the harness and leash. “I’ll take you for a walk.”

  As soon as he was outside, Pete headed for the corner. He wanted to see the downed signposts for himself and sniff where the vandals had walked.

  Fifteen minutes later, Alex said, “If you aren’t going to do anything but stand here and smell that signpost, I’m taking you home. This is supposed to be your exercise time.”

  “I don’t need exercise. I need to get the scent of those vandals in case they return. How else would I recognize them?”

  Alex picked Pete up and carried him home. Sometimes he thought his cat really was trying to talk to him.

  6

  Alex tossed from side to side in his sleep. He woke and realized he was too warm; Pete was plastered against his side, and the room seemed stuffy.

  Alex moved Pete over. Still half-asleep, he unlatched the window behind his bed and shoved it to the side, not realizing that the screen had moved along with the window. The cool night air felt great on his damp face. Alex turned his pillow over and lay back down, falling asleep instantly.

  Pete lifted his head, sniffing the fresh air. It smelled of adventure.

  He walked along the mattress edge beside Alex, then jumped to the windowsill behind the bed. His whiskers twitched with excitement. Not only was the window open, the screen was pushed to one side, too.

  Pete put his head through the opening, then wedged his shoulders through. His front claws dug into the siding on the house as he balanced briefly half in and half out the window. Then he gave a mighty shove with his hind legs and leaped down to the garage roof. From there it was easy to jump into the maple tree and go down the trunk.

  Pete sat on the ground below the tree for several minutes, listening carefully. He heard no dogs, no humans, no sounds at all except music coming from a radio or TV in the house next door. Pete had not been over there since the new people moved in. It was time to investigate.

  As he approached the house, the music stopped, and the only lighted window went dark. Pete crept around the entire house, pausing every few feet to smell the ground in front of him. He kept his body low, moving silently.

  After circling the house, he headed for the tall weeds that grew behind the Morrises’ lot. Eventually those weeds would be replaced by the backyard of a home facing the street one block over.

  Pete the Cat, mighty hunter, slunk silently through the weeds, stopping once to sharpen his claws on a tree trunk. His thick fur kept the dew from chilling him, and his whiskers flicked in anticipation of finding a tasty mouse.

  A car door clicked shut beyond the vacant lot. Pete stopped, aware that he was no longer alone. Soon a person walked toward him. The person wore dark clothing, and Pete could not make out the face, but he saw the large shape moving closer.

  Pete flattened himself in the weeds, keeping his ears down as the person approached. He hoped his white fur would not be too visible in the dim moonlight that filtered from behind the scattered clouds.

  The person carried a large container in one hand.

  Pete tensed, preparing to run away if the person noticed him, but that was not necessary. Although the person passed only four feet from Pete, he never looked down.

  Pete could tell that it was a man. For a moment he got a whiff of the man’s scent and thought he recognized it, but that smell was overpowered by what Pete realized was a container of gasoline. It was the same pungent smell as the gas can that Alex used to fill the lawn mower.

  The man approached the back side of the Morrises’ house, then opened the container and poured the contents along the back of the building.

  Pete’s eyes narrowed to slits as he crept closer. His tail whipped back and forth in the grass like a windshield wiper in a storm.

  The man poured out gasoline until he ended at two large cardboard boxes that leaned against the garage.

  He took something from his pocket. Pete heard a slight clicking sound, then a small flame appeared near the man’s hand. The man used the flame to light a piece of paper, which he tossed toward the boxes.

  The boxes instantly caught fire. With a whooshing sound, the flames raced along the gasoline path, quickly igniting the entire back side of the house.

  The man turned and ran past Pete toward the other street. This time the container was in the hand away from Pete, so the gasoline smell did not overpower the scent of the man.

  Pete’s eyes opened wider as the man raced past.

  He recognized that smell. He knew who the man was.

  Pete waited until the man had reached the pavement. He heard a car door slam and an engine start; he heard the car drive away.

  Pete raced across the Morrises’ yard, past their burning garage, to the maple tree next to his own garage. He climbed the tree, walked along a limb, and dropped onto the garage roof.

  When he looked at Alex’s window, he hesitated. It had been easier to jump from the small opening in the window to the large garage roof than it would be to leap up from the roof, aiming for that narrow opening.

  Pete was not at all certain that he could jump back inside, so he did what any sensible cat would do: he sat on the garage roof and called for help.

  Behind him, the flames leaped higher, and the light from the fire illuminated both yards. Wood crackled and split. Smoke blew toward Pete, making his eyes smart.

  Pete howled louder. “Fire!” he screeched. “Wake up! Wake up and call the fire department!”

  Alex opened his eyes, blinking sleepily. It took a moment for him to realize what had awakened him. He lay in bed, listening. Where was Pete? Alex was sure he had heard Pete yowling, but the cries sounded far away, as if Pete were shut in a closet.

  Alex got out of bed and went into the hallway.

  “Wake up! Bring a ladder and get me off this roof!”

  Alex listened again; the yowling seemed to come from outside. Had Pete managed to sneak outdoors?

  Alex went downstairs. He opened the front door, looked out, and gasped.

  “Mom! Dad!” he yelled as he raced to the telephone. “The Morrises’ house is on fire!”

  He dialed 911.

  “Our neighbors’ house is on fire,” he said.

  “What is the address?”

  For a second Alex blanked. The only address he could remember was his old one, where he had spent the first twelve years of his life. Then he saw that one of his parents had written their new address on a piece of tape and stuck it to the base of the telephone.

  He gave his address and said the fire was next door. By then, both of his parents had come downstairs. Mom took the phone and talked to the dispatcher, giving explicit directions on how to get to Valley View Estates. Dad rushed outside, ran to the Morrises’ house, and pounded on their front door.

  “Fire!” he shouted. “Get out! Your house is on fire!”

  Alex hurried through the kitchen, into the garage. He opened the overhead door and dragged a hose outside.

  “Get me down! Get me down! I’m going to collapse from smoke inhalation!”

  Alex looked up. He saw Pete peering over the edge of the roof.

  “There you are,” Alex said. “How did you get out there?”

  “I jumped out the window,” Pete said. “Come and get me.”

  Alex pulled the hose to an outside faucet, connected it, and turned on the water. Mrs. Kendrill ran to help. They stretched the hose as far as it would go; then Alex sprayed the water toward the house next door.

  He was too far away for his water to reach the flames, so he wet the grass instead.

  Sparks flew into the air. Some landed perilously close to Alex’s house. Quickly he turned his hose on them. The small flames sizzled and spit as the water doused them, but ot
hers quickly surged up again in new places.

  Mr. Kendrill continued to shout and pound on the neighbors’ door.

  Alex saw lights come on in an upstairs window. Seconds later Mr. Morris and Rocky rushed outside.

  Alex heard a siren in the distance, coming closer. Hurry, he thought. This fire’s burning fast.

  He could tell that the siren was coming up the hill, approaching Valley View Estates. Then, instead of continuing to get louder, it began to fade in the distance.

  “They missed the turn!” Mr. Morris said. “They’ve gone too far.”

  “There’s no street sign,” Alex said.

  Mrs. Kendrill rushed inside, called 911 again, and explained what had happened. Soon Alex heard the siren returning. That time the fire truck turned at the proper corner and found the fire, but by then the flames had reached the second story of the house.

  Flames shot through the roof. Windows broke, sending shattered glass to the ground. Thick, dark smoke blocked the moonlight, causing Alex to hold his arm to his face and breathe through his pajama sleeve.

  When the firefighters turned their big hoses on the flames, Alex turned off his small garden hose. He joined his parents, who stood with Mr. Morris and Rocky, watching the drama.

  “Where’s your mom?” he asked Rocky.

  “She’s out of town.”

  It took nearly an hour for the firefighters to extinguish the fire. During that time four cars drove slowly past, one at a time, while the people inside gawked at the fire.

  “Siren chasers,” Mr. Kendrill muttered.

  Alex noticed that each time a car passed, Rocky and his dad turned away as if they didn’t want to be recognized.

  The flames had gutted the garage and the back half of the house. The front, though not as badly burned, had extensive smoke and water damage.

  Mrs. Kendrill made coffee and hot chocolate and invited Mr. Morris and Rocky to come inside.

  “You can borrow some clothes,” Mr. Kendrill said. “They might not fit perfectly, but it’s better than talking to the fire department in your pajamas.”

  Alex led Rocky into his room, glad for a chance to get to know him. Even though the fire was unfortunate, no one had been hurt and maybe it would result in Rocky finally becoming a friend.

  Alex opened the closet. “Jeans, T-shirts, and sweatshirts are on the shelves; socks and underwear are in the drawers. Pick out whatever you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  Alex got dressed, too.

  Rocky chose jeans and a Seattle Mariners sweatshirt. It was Alex’s favorite sweatshirt, but he didn’t say so.

  Everything fit except Alex’s shoes; Rocky’s feet were much larger.

  “You can take another set of clothes, if you want,” Alex said, after Rocky was dressed. “You might need a change, and I imagine you lost all of your own stuff.”

  Rocky shrugged, as if he didn’t care. “I didn’t have much,” he said. He took a T-shirt and a second pair of jeans, plus more underwear and socks. “Thanks,” he said again.

  “I’ve never known anyone who had a fire,” Alex said.

  “Neither have I. When I woke up, my room was already so full of smoke I could hardly find the door. It was scary.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Rocky turned to leave; Alex wanted him to stay and talk more.

  “Have Duke and Henry bothered you since you dumped the spaghetti on Duke’s head?” Alex asked.

  “Those creeps,” Rocky said. “Yesterday in the library, Duke slipped me a note that said, ‘You aren’t safe in Valley View.’ Then before I could say anything, he left the library.”

  “You aren’t safe in Valley View?” Alex repeated. He stared at Rocky. “Do you suppose Duke started the fire?”

  7

  Rocky shook his head. “If Duke planned to set a fire, he wouldn’t announce it ahead of time, would he? He’d keep it a secret, for fear of getting caught.”

  “That’s true. But if he didn’t set the fire, what does his note mean? Why aren’t you safe?”

  “I don’t think it means anything,” Rocky said. “He’s just trying to scare me.”

  “Duke’s a bully,” Alex said, “and Henry is a sheep, following after him.”

  “That’s right. They don’t scare me one bit.”

  Although Rocky claimed not to be scared, Alex noticed that his face was pale and his hands, as he tried to wedge his feet into Alex’s too-small shoes, were trembling.

  Well, who wouldn’t be upset? Alex thought. I’d be shaking, too, if my house had just burned.

  “Maybe you can wear a pair of my dad’s shoes,” Alex suggested. “They might be too big, but it would be better than going barefoot.”

  Mr. Kendrill gladly supplied a pair of sneakers for Rocky.

  When everyone was dressed, they all stood at the window, watching the firefighters roll up the hoses and prepare to leave.

  “It’s lucky for us that you saw the fire,” Mr. Morris said. “I was sound asleep, and the smoke alarm didn’t go off. If you hadn’t pounded on the door, we may not have escaped in time.”

  “Alex is the hero,” Mr. Kendrill said. “He woke us up and he called nine-one-one.”

  “What woke you?” Mrs. Kendrill asked Alex.

  “I heard Pete yowling.” Alex drew his breath in sharply. “Oh my gosh, I forgot: Pete’s outside, on the garage roof.”

  Alex and his dad rushed to the garage and looked up.

  “It’s about time,” Pete yelled. “I thought you were never coming to get me down.”

  Mr. Kendrill got out a wooden ladder and held it steady while Alex climbed up. When his waist was even with the roof, he stretched his hands toward Pete.

  “Come on, Pete,” Alex said. “Over here.”

  Pete stayed just out of Alex’s reach. He didn’t want to appear too anxious to be rescued. After all, he could easily have jumped back through the window or climbed down the tree trunk or leaped from the roof to the ground in a single, graceful jump, if he had wanted to.

  “Here, Pete,” Alex said. “I’ll carry you down. Don’t be scared.”

  “Scared!” Pete hollered. “I wasn’t scared for one second. But since you’re here, I suppose I may as well go down the ladder with you.”

  “Come on, big boy,” Alex said. “Get over here so I can reach you.”

  Pete crept closer. When he felt Alex’s hands on his back, he slid over the edge of the roof, put his front paws around Alex’s neck, and hung on.

  Alex backed down, holding the edge of the ladder with one hand and Pete with the other. He went through the garage and in the kitchen door before setting Pete down.

  “How in the world did that cat get outside?” Mrs. Kendrill said.

  “I don’t know,” Alex said, “but we’re lucky he did. If he hadn’t yowled I would still be asleep. We would never have seen the fire. Pete’s a hero.”

  “You can say that again,” Pete said.

  There was a loud scream from upstairs, followed by footsteps pounding across the hall and down the steps.

  “There’s a fire!” Benjie yelled. “Over at the Morrises’ house! A fire truck is over there and . . .”

  Benjie burst into the kitchen, stopped, and looked from his parents to Alex to the Morrises. “Why didn’t anybody wake me up?”

  “We were busy,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “It was more important to wake the Morrises.”

  “I missed all the excitement,” Benjie wailed. “The only reason I woke up now is because I was cold. If I hadn’t opened my window earlier I’d still be asleep. You would have let me sleep straight through till morning and I wouldn’t have seen the fire truck at all.”

  “The window!” Alex said. “I opened my window, too, and I’ll bet I accidentally pushed the screen open at the same time. That happened once before, only that time it was during the day, and I realized what I had done.”

  He hurried up to his room to close the window.

  “You’ll need to be more careful,” Mrs.
Kendrill said. “We’ve had enough excitement for one night; we don’t need a lost cat.”

  “Why do you think I’ll get lost?” Pete said. “I know my way around this neighborhood as if it were the inside of the barn where I was born. Lost, indeed. Give me some credit for having a brain.”

  “I wonder how long he was outside,” Alex said.

  “Not nearly long enough,” Pete said. “I didn’t even catch a mouse. I came home because of the fire.”

  “Thank goodness he knew enough to stay on the garage roof,” Mr. Kendrill said.

  “That’s what you think,” Pete said.

  “You certainly have a talkative cat,” Mr. Morris said. “Here, kitty. Nice, kitty.”

  Pete rubbed against Mr. Morris’s shoe, which was really Mr. Kendrill’s shoe, and allowed Mr. Morris to pet him.

  “My, he’s a big fat cat,” Mr. Morris said.

  “Solid muscle,” Pete said. “Not an ounce of fat on me.”

  “I understand some of the diet cat foods work well,” Mr. Morris said.

  Pete stomped indignantly away. He looked back over his shoulder and said, “I know who set the fire, but if you’re going to insult me, I’ll keep what I know to myself.”

  “Check his food dish, Alex,” said Mrs. Kendrill. “The way he’s complaining, it must be empty again.”

  The dish was full, but Alex opened a can of tuna and scraped some of it onto a plate for Pete. He stroked the cat’s fur as Pete ate.

  “Pete’s my best friend,” he told Rocky. “He’s really a smart, good cat.”

  “You can say that again,” Pete said. “How about some more tuna?”

  Two firefighters came to the door to talk to Mr. Morris. “I wish we could have put the fire out faster,” one of them said. “Since we’re not a city out here, we’re a volunteer department. We only have two trucks, and the other one had already responded to an alarm.”

  Mrs. Kendrill offered them coffee. When everyone was seated, the fireman said, “An investigator will check the house tomorrow, but we suspect arson.”

  Mrs. Kendrill gasped.

  “How can you tell?” Mr. Morris asked.

  “The fire started simultaneously in more than one place. It appears that an accelerant was used across the entire back side. Do you know of anyone who would deliberately want to set fire to your house?”