by Nic Saint
“There’s something wrong with Harriet, Max,” said Brutus. “She’s not herself today.”
“I can see that,” I said. “Did she say anything?”
“She said something about a dismal future lacking in hope and brightness.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it, Max. I don’t like it one bit.”
“It’s FOMO,” said Dooley knowingly. “It’s a disease that makes you sad but doesn’t kill you.”
“FOMO? Never heard of it.”
“It’s what Princess has, and Harriet wants it, too,” said Dooley.
“Princess? That jumping bean?”
“Harriet wants to be just like Princess.”
“She shouldn’t. Harriet is a lot prettier and a lot nicer than Princess. In fact Princess can’t hold no candle to Harriet. Not by a mile.” He shook his head. “I wish those Interesting Cats had never set paw in Hampton Cove. Filling Harriet’s head with all kinds of nonsense.”
“You guys,” I said. “I think it’s Shanille.”
We’d reached the source of the splashing sounds and found ourselves looking up at a large stone structure, a cat perched on the rim, splashing herself with pawfuls of water. It was Shanille, and she was muttering strange oaths under her breath. It sounded a lot like, “Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous, grievous fault...”
Chapter 8
“What are you doing?” asked Dooley curiously.
Shanille, who hadn’t been aware that she was no longer alone, jumped about a foot in the air, vaulted from her perch on the stone structure and landed on all fours on the granite floor below. She clutched a paw to her chest. “You scared the living daylights out of me! What are you doing here?”
“We’re looking for Patient Zero,” Dooley explained helpfully. “And Max seems to think you’re she—or her—or it.”
“What is that thing?” asked Brutus, staring up at the monument Shanille had just made such a nice running dive off of. “And why were you taking a bath in it?”
“I wasn’t taking a bath,” said Shanille, directing a scornful look at Brutus. “I was merely repenting. And for your information, that ‘thing’ is a baptismal font.”
“An abysmal font?” asked Dooley. “What is an abysmal font?”
“Baptismal, not abysmal,” Shanille corrected him. “It’s used to baptize babies.”
“You’re not a baby,” said Brutus, keenly detecting the fatal flaw in Shanille’s logic.
“I know I’m not a baby, Brutus,” she said haughtily. “I was merely...” She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. “I was merely expressing contrition, that’s all.”
“Be that as it may,” I said, deciding to get this interview on the right track again. “We’re on a mission to find out who Patient Zero is who brought this flea pandemic to our community, and, like Dooley mentioned, we have reason to believe that this Patient Zero is in fact you, Shanille. So what do you have to say to that?”
She drew back a little. “What do I have to say to that? That you’re talking through your hat, Max.”
Dooley laughed. “That’s impossible. Max doesn’t even have a hat. Have you, Max?”
“No, I don’t have a hat,” I said, locking eyes with Shanille. This was where all those late-night cop shows came in handy. Interrogation technique. I pointed a paw at Shanille. “Isn’t it a fact that on the night of Thursday the sixteenth you stepped into a limo that stood idling on the side of the road? And isn’t it also a fact that the very next morning you woke up with a terrible itch that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you scratched?” Shanille gasped, but I wasn’t done yet. “And isn’t it also true that Father Reilly discovered, upon closer inspection, that you were infested with a small army of fleas and as a consequence called in Vena Aleman who diagnosed you as having contracted this terrible affliction?!”
Shanille drew herself up to her full height. “Where did you get this information?”
“Kingman told me,” I lied. “And he also told me Limo Cat seduced you and subsequently infested you!”
“Lies!” Shanille cried now, her composure crumbling under this onslaught. “All lies! It wasn’t an entire army of fleas—just a few of them.” She bowed her head, defeated. “It’s true though that I came upon a limo idling on the corner of Franklin and First that fateful night. And it’s true that I injudiciously hopped into that limo and joined that cat. And it’s also true he must have given me this flea affliction that unwittingly turned me into your Patient Zero.”
Dooley gasped. “So it’s true, then. You are Patient Zero!”
Shanille nodded, wringing her paws. “Yes, I am! I am Patient Zero!” she cried, her voice echoing through the church’s nave, bouncing off the stony-faced saints who all seemed to stare down on her with condemnation written all over their unforgiving mugs. “I did all this. I hurt my community and now I must pay the price for my sins.” She tapped her chest and once again began to murmur that strange oath, “Through my fault, through my fault...”
“Hold it,” I said, and she halted her sad lament and looked up. “You’re not Patient Zero. You’re merely a victim of Limo Cat. He’s Patient Zero. He’s the one who should be repenting and taking a bath in Father Reilly’s abysmal font.”
“Baptismal font,” she corrected me, then shook her head. “Limo Cat is not from around here. I am. I’m responsible for this outbreak. I brought this pandemic upon us.”
“But he’s the one who gave you fleas!”
“And I should have known better than to get into a limo with a stranger!”
“Stranger danger,” Dooley muttered automatically.
“So he was a stranger, was he?” I asked, curious to ascertain the identity of this mystery cat. “You never saw him before?”
Shanille hesitated. “He... seemed familiar somehow, though I can’t say why.”
“You didn’t recognize him?”
“He was wearing a mask.”
“A mask!”
She nodded pensively. “It was such a strange experience. There was something electric about him—something utterly mesmerizing. He was perhaps the most charming cat I’ve ever met. And not in an unctuous or cheap way. He was... wonderful. Simply wonderful.” She uttered a little sigh. “When I asked his name he told me to call him Love Symbol.”
I frowned. “Love Symbol. Like Prince.”
She nodded. “He said he’d dropped his name. Claimed names were a tedious and bourgeois convention and that the name humans had given him was now a distant memory of his dead past. A past where he was a mere household pet.”
“As opposed to...”
“He said he was now master of his own fate. Ruler of his domain. King of his home.” She shrugged. “He said a lot of things—that night is almost like a blur to me now. And a moment in my life I’d much rather completely forget. Love Symbol led me to heights I’d never thought I’d experience. And then into the lowest depths the very next morning.” She buried her face into her paws. “And now if you would leave me alone. I need to repent.”
I touched my tail to hers. “It’s all right, Shanille. It wasn’t your fault. No need to repent. As far as I can make out this Limo Cat—Love Symbol—is the one who brought these fleas into our lives, not you.”
“Please go away, Max,” she said in a strangled voice. “I would be alone.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Shanille,” I said. “And stop splashing yourself with water. It’s very uncatlike and frankly a little creepy.”
She nodded, her face still hidden. “I know. But I have to do it. This is all my fault, Max. If I hadn’t succumbed to the temptations of sin, this would never have happened. If I hadn’t fallen for the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye and the pride of life, Hampton Cove would have been spared this terrible ordeal.” She looked up, a sad look in her eyes. “I’m a sinner, Max, and now I must repent and hope I will be forgiven.”
“I forgive you, Shanille,” I said magnanimously.
She clucked her tongue. “Would that it were so simple, Max.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, for lack of anything better to say. I am, after all, not a confessor.
We watched as Shanille made the leap back up to the edge of the baptismal font, and started splashing water over her head once more, murmuring incantations to herself.
“She’ll get over it,” said Brutus.
“Would that it were so simple,” Dooley said.
Chapter 9
As we left the church, I wondered what the odds were for the Most Virtuous Cat in the World to meet the Most Charming Cat in the World and together turn Hampton Cove from a bucolic little town into a flea-infested hellhole. Slim, probably. And still it happened.
“So what’s the plan, Max?” asked Dooley.
“Yes, we need to confront this Love Symbol,” said Brutus. “Teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.”
“Violence, always violence,” said Harriet, still morose even after her prayers. “Why is it that men always seem to resort to violence as the first solution for every problem?”
Brutus frowned. “Because it works?”
Harriet sighed. “Oh, Brutus. You do bore me sometimes.”
Brutus exchanged a quick look of concern with me. Harriet was getting worse. The FOMO virus had taken root and was spreading, quickly poisoning her soul.
“At the very least we should figure out who this Love Symbol is,” I said.
“And then we’ll knock his block off,” Brutus said with a decisive nod.
“Violence, violence,” Harriet muttered.
“Not knock his block off,” I said, “but talk to him. Reason with the cat. Tell him to seek help for his flea affliction. I’m sure that when we explain to him how he’s responsible for this recent outbreak he’ll be horrified and more than happy to comply.”
“That’s it?” asked Brutus, disappointed. “That’s your big solution? Talk to the cat?”
“Sure. Love Symbol probably doesn’t even know what’s going on.”
“But he’s driving through town—seducing our lady cats!”
“No law against that,” I said.
“Some kind of pied piper is wreaking havoc in our community and you’re going to let him get away with it? No way. I know you’re a pacifist and all but that is just plain wrong.”
“So what do you suggest? We rough him up? We’re cats, Brutus, not animals.”
“Cats are animals!”
“Still. No need to resort to violence. I’m sure Love Symbol is a perfectly decent cat and—”
“He’s a harbinger of doom!”
“And he works for the Deep State,” said Dooley. “Bringing death and destruction to all cats.”
Brutus gestured to my friend. “See? Even Dooley agrees with me on this one.”
I was slowly losing my patience with these cats. “How many times do I have to say it? There is no Deep State. There is no secret plan to wipe out the country’s cat population. And Love Symbol doesn’t work for the CIA!”
“I have an idea,” suddenly Harriet spoke up. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet for the past five minutes. “We know where Love Symbol picks up his victims, right?”
“On the corner of Franklin and First,” I said.
“So why don’t we meet him there tonight, and see what he has to say for himself?”
“He’s not going to stop his limo for us,” I said. “Love Symbol likes his cats young, pretty and, most importantly, female.”
Harriet cocked her head and smiled. And then I got it. And so did Brutus, judging from the way sound was escaping from his lips like steam from a busted pipe.
“No way!” he bellowed.
“Yes, way,” Harriet insisted.
“You’re not going to act as bait for that maniac!”
“Oh, yes, I am.” She touched Brutus’s shoulder. “How else are we going to make him pull over his limo? And how else are we going to get him to open his door? This cat is coy, and when he sees the four of us he’ll tell his driver to punch the gas and lay rubber. No, the way I see it is that one of us must get him to pull over and since last time I checked I am the only female in our little band of four, it’s up to me to do the honors.”
“No!” said Brutus. “I won’t let you!”
“Brutus,” I said. “She’s right. There’s no way Love Symbol, or whatever his name is, will pull over his limo for you or me or Dooley. Harriet’s plan is our only option.”
Brutus was puffing up his chest. “If you think I’m going to let my girl be subjected to this—this—this PLAY-CAT you’ve got another thing coming. I’m putting my paw down!”
And he did. He actually stomped his paw. “Brutus, sugar bear,” said Harriet. “It’s so sweet of you to try and protect me, but I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t know this cat. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Like she said, Harriet is a big girl, Brutus,” I said. “She’ll be fine.”
“You’re not that big,” said Dooley. “In fact you’re quite petite.”
Harriet laughed a tinkling laugh, and I for one was glad she seemed like her old self again. “You think I’m petite, Dooley? You haven’t seen my butt!”
“I’ve seen your butt,” said Dooley, blinking. “You have a nice butt.”
Brutus directed a scathing look at Dooley. “Dooley,” he said warningly, “I like you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t disembowel you.”
“Temper, temper,” said Harriet, lightly tapping her lover on the nose. “Now are we doing this or not?”
“We’re doing this,” I said resolutely.
Brutus seemed torn. On the one hand he wanted to collar this Love Symbol, but on the other hand the thought of Harriet crawling into the limo with this notorious player clearly made his skin crawl.
“You’ll be thirty feet away,” said Harriet. “So if something happens...”
“I’ll come running,” Brutus said, nodding. “And I’ll knock his block off.”
“Deal,” said Harriet with a perky smile. “And now let’s get something to eat, shall we? I’m starving.”
Brutus relented. Seeing Harriet being herself again clearly cheered him up, to the extent that he was prepared to let her get into strange limos with strange cats. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s grab a bite to eat and then we’ll get ready to pounce on Love Symbol.”
And as we set a course for home, Dooley and I fell back a few steps, allowing Harriet and Brutus some privacy while they discussed Harriet’s daring and audacious plan.
“I’m right, though, aren’t I, Max?” Dooley said.
“About what, Dooley?”
“Harriet has a very nice butt.”
“She does, but don’t let Brutus see you checking it out.”
“But why, Max? Harriet’s butt is a thing of beauty, and things of beauty should be appreciated, not hidden away from the rest of the world by some jealous cat-friend.”
I smiled. “Are you comparing Harriet’s butt with a work of art, Dooley?”
His face took on an exalted expression. “Doesn’t Harriet look just like Mona Lisa?”
For a moment I fixed my gaze upon Mona Harriet’s tush. Dooley was right. Harriet did have a perfectly nice behind. More than that, though, she was a dear friend, and I hoped her latest mood swing was a permanent one. That she’d thrown off this strange mantle of doom.
Somehow I wasn’t too sure, though.
Something told me we weren’t out of the woods yet.
Chapter 10
That night found Harriet, Max, Dooley and Brutus staking out the corner of Franklin and First, lying in wait behind a fire hydrant. They’d been there for all of one hour and frankly Harriet was already regretting having suggested this crazy scheme. It was one thing to come up with a plan of campaign but quite another to carry it through.
“Where is this Love Symbol?” she asked irritably. She had an itch near the base of her tail that she was pretty sure came from lou
nging on this absurdly filthy sidewalk.
“Maybe Shanille made the whole thing up,” said Brutus hopefully. Even though he’d accepted the plan, that didn’t mean he was happy with it. He clearly hoped Love Symbol wouldn’t show up and Harriet wouldn’t have to act the part of live bait.
“She didn’t,” said Max, as always the voice of reason. “Shanille would never lie about a thing like that. Shanille would never lie, period. She’s the most virtuous cat I know and if she says this episode happened, it happened.” He sighed. “Maybe this Love Symbol person took another route.”
“This is the best way into Hampton Cove,” said Harriet, chewing her lower lip nervously. “If he comes from Hampton Bays this is the road he needs to take.”
“What makes you think he comes from Hampton Bays?” asked Brutus suspiciously.
“Duh. Where else is he coming from? The moon? His human probably lives in Hampton Bays or somewhere around those parts, and he’s chosen Hampton Cove as his hunting ground.”
“Hunting ground,” said Brutus. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
She didn’t, either, but it was her only way out. If this Love Symbol was as suave and charming and worldly as Shanille had described, he wasn’t from around these parts. More than likely he was a New Yorker, or maybe even a West Coaster here on holiday. And if his human let him ride around in a limo he must be loaded. All those things combined indicated a future for her far away from Hampton Cove. A chance to kick the dust of this crappy little town and an opportunity to join the major leagues. The prospect cheered her up.
Now if only this Love Symbol would show up and take her away from here...
“There he is!” suddenly Dooley cried. She followed his gaze and saw he was right. A white stretch limo had just turned the corner and was slowly rolling their way. Showtime!
