The doorbell pealed sharply, startling them both.
‘I told her twenty minutes,’ Lorinda said indignantly. ‘It can’t be more than ten.’
‘Why the front door?’ Freddie started towards it. ‘She’s not usually so formal — and the back door is closer.’
The cats watched with narrowed eyes. Lorinda saw Had-I’s back begin to arch and But-Known’s fur bristle, so she was not entirely unprepared for the flurry of yaps and yelps as Freddie opened the door.
‘I’m sorry to drop in on you like this,’ Gemma said, ‘but I was just passing and it occurred to me —’
‘Come in.’ Freddie’s voice was resigned: she led the way into the kitchen. The cats hissed, informing the intruders that they considered this part of their territory.
The pugs yelped again, as much at the sudden clatter at the back door as at the cats. Gemma tried vainly to quiet them.
‘I’ll get it.’ Lorinda opened the back door and Cressie darted inside, setting off a fresh paroxysm of hysteria from the pugs.
‘You’re not going to unleash those, are you?’ Cressie stared at the dogs coldly.
‘No, no,’ Gemma denied hastily, tugging back on the leashes. ‘We’re not staying. We’re out for our walkies. I only popped in for a moment to ask – That is … I was wondering …’
‘Yes?’ Freddie tried to hurry her along.
‘Wondering if you’ve seen Opal today? She was gone when I got up this morning. And she didn’t come back for lunch. And she didn’t leave a note, or anything …’
‘Are you still looking for Macho?’ That reminded Lorinda of Cressie’s earlier concern.
‘Isn’t he here?’ Cressie looked around suspiciously.
‘Well, well,’ Freddie said. ‘So we have two missing persons. Perhaps they’ve run off together.’
‘Oh, I’m sure not —’ Gemma began. ‘Oh. Oh, I see. You’re just having your little joke.’
‘That isn’t funny!’ Cressie snapped.
‘It wasn’t intended to be.’ Freddie widened her eyes in improbable innocence. ‘It was just a helpful suggestion.’
‘How long has it been since you’ve seen Macho?’ Lorinda tried to keep them to the point. So far as she knew, Macho hadn’t been sighted in any of his usual haunts for at least a week. This could be serious.
‘Since yesterday afternoon. We were wor – just having a quiet discussion when he threw a book across the room and stormed out. And … he hasn’t come back … yet. He has a filthy temper!’
‘Not usually,’ Lorinda murmured. ‘He’s the most patient and kindest of men.’
‘That just shows how little you know him,’ Cressie said. ‘He has no patience at all. It’s almost impossible to get a civil word out of him. And all he cares about is that bloody cat!’
They didn’t need Freddie’s snort to emphasize the fact that Cressie would try the patience of a saint.
‘Where is Roscoe?’ Lorinda was not to be sidetracked. ‘Did he take him with him?’
‘I wish he had! The damned thing won’t stop yowling and it’s driving me crazy!’
‘Then Macho won’t stay away long.’ Lorinda gave a long sigh of relief. ‘He wouldn’t abandon Roscoe.’
‘No? And what about me? I suppose it’s all right if he leaves me high and dry? Just when we’re at a crucial point! Just when I most need —’
She broke off abruptly. It was probably the expression on Gemma’s face that had stopped her.
‘Unless something has happened to him,’ Gemma said darkly.
‘What – What do you mean?’ Cressie went pale.
‘Macho would never abandon his cat, just as I’d never leave my dogs. Unless I couldn’t help it. Unless – An accident can happen to anyone.’ Gemma rubbed her forehead, as though trying to erase a memory. ‘That poor child – I’ll never forget it. And yet, I can’t remember enough. I keep feeling … There might have been something I saw … Without actually registering it consciously. I think, I really do think, I ought to try hypnosis. They say it can help you recover buried memories.’
‘You want to be careful if you’re going to experiment with that,’ Freddie warned. ‘It might regress you right past the accident and into previous lives you’ve lived.’
‘That’s right!’ Cressie’s attention was caught. ‘I’ve heard of that. People go right back into history and discover all sorts of things about themselves and the historical period. It would be a natural for your cousin Opal, too.’
‘Oh, I don’t think Opal would agree to —’ Gemma began.
‘We could all try it!’ Cressie’s eyes gleamed. ‘We could have a party and hire a hypnotist to regress us all.’
‘Oh, I don’t think …’ Gemma’s protests were growing weaker. ‘Everyone … That’s a bit excessive … I was thinking of a private consultation. You … You’re turning it into a game.’
‘It would be a great party!’ Cressie steamrollered over her. ‘Everyone could come in costume. A Come-As-Who-You-Think-You-Were Party! Then the hypnotist could regress them and they’d find out if they were right.’
‘It would certainly be different,’ Freddie said.
‘It would be wilder than a Botox Party!’ Cressie had the bit in her teeth and was not to be stopped. ‘And think of the publicity! We’d all gets lots of publicity. I might even be able to get that TV show interested.’
She probably would, although how much publicity would accrue to anyone but Cressie was a debatable point. She was wiser than the others in the ways of the soundbite. And Lorinda wouldn’t put it past her to fake her own regression into a more glamorous era. She made a mental bet with herself that Cressie was another Cleopatra wannabe. Or possibly Catherine the Great.
‘I’m not really sure Macho would approve of this,’ Lorinda said tentatively.
‘Oh, yes, he will.’ Cressie’s jaw set stubbornly; she was not to be discouraged. ‘I guarantee it!’
‘I wouldn’t want publicity,’ Gemma demurred, blissfully unaware that little of it was likely to fall her way. ‘I just want to help that poor family to come to some sort of resolution of their grief. Closure, I believe it’s called now, although I don’t believe such tragedies can ever be closed.’
‘What?’ Cressie looked at her blankly, having obviously forgotten the reason for her inspiration. ‘Oh, yes. Yes, you can try. That would make great copy, too. Especially if you could come up with something solid. A name … or even a registration number.’
In which case, Gemma would definitely get her share of the publicity. Lorinda watched her absorb the idea.
‘Do you ever have the feeling that things are getting out of hand?’ Freddie asked, sotto voce.
‘Almost constantly – when Cressie is around,’ Lorinda replied.
‘Macho will put a stop to this when he comes back.’ Freddie looked at her in sudden doubt. ‘Won’t he?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lorinda said. If he comes back. But he wouldn’t leave poor Roscoe as a hostage to fortune, would he? Or was he trusting to her to look after him?
‘ … and it’s so beautifully photogenic.’ Cressie was concentrating her blandishments on Gemma now. ‘I understand you people use it for your parties a lot. That gorgeous reception room they’ve made out of the old banking hall – so much nicer than any of this …’ She flicked her fingers in a disparaging gesture that dismissed any venue that Freddie, Macho or Lorinda could provide.
‘Well, it’s a thought …’ Gemma was being persuaded.
‘Coffers Court looks so luxurious.’ Cressie was pressing hard. ‘And that’s the impression we want to convey. Opulence, luxury – all so photogenic, telegenic – it will come over beautifully.’
‘What about the Manor House?’ Freddie put in. “That’s even more luxurious and photogenic. What’s wrong with Dorian’s place?’
‘In a word, Dorian.’ Cressie wrinkled her nose, possibly trying to get it back into joint. ‘How much publicity do you think any of you would get if we used his Mano
r? He’d be swanning around, acting as host, grabbing all the camera angles. No, we need a more neutral venue, like Coffers Court.’
‘I do see your point,’ Gemma said. ‘And I’m sure the other Court residents would agree.’
‘Why shouldn’t they? They’re all going to be invited. It will be very convenient for them – all they have to do is step out of their flats and they’re at the party.’
‘It has been a long time since we’ve had a big party,’ Gemma said wistfully. ‘And we used to have such nice ones.’
‘This will be the best of all,’ Cressie promised.
‘And if … nothing happens … when he hypnotizes me, then it won’t seem so important because all of the rest of you will have your turn and no one will notice so much.’
‘That’s it!’ Cressie beamed on her like a teacher encouraging a backward pupil. ‘You needn’t worry about a thing. Everyone will – ’
Hhhhsssss! A loud snarling hiss from But-Known interrupted them. As one, they turned to see But-Known advancing in fury upon Conqueror, who was in the process of lifting his leg against a corner of Freddie’s stove.
‘Stop that! Stop that at once!’ Alerted, Freddie stormed forward, hand upraised to clout the offending pug.
‘Oh, no! Oh, dear!’ Gemma tugged at the leash. ‘I’m so sorry! We were going walkies. He must be – It’s not his fault. He didn’t mean – ’
She broke off as Lionheart advanced, sniffed briefly and began to raise his own leg.
‘No! No!’ She jerked the leashes frantically. ‘We’re just leaving! We shouldn’t have stopped! I’m so sorry – ’ She dashed for the back door and found Freddie there ahead of her, opening it.
‘Oh! Thank you.’ The pugs strained at their leashes, pulling her off balance and nearly toppling her. ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ she threw over her shoulder to Cressie, as the dogs raced for the nearest tree.
‘Have I ever told you – ’ Freddie closed the door and looked down at Had-I and But-Known – ‘just how much I appreciate your cats?’
‘They have a lot to recommend them.’
‘I guess they do.’ Even Cressie had to agree. ‘But, I’m not sure …’ She looked at them uneasily. ‘Just what do you do about a litter box? Macho always took care of that.’
‘Personally,’ Lorinda ventured, ‘I have a cat flap and I just leave them to it. They only use the litter box when the weather is exceptionally bad.’
‘Oh.’ The answer obviously did not please Cressie. ‘But that means letting him out. And then some people – ’ Her accusing gaze swept over them. ‘Irresponsible people – will feed him and ruin his diet.’
‘Better than letting him die of starvation,’ Freddie said.
‘You wanted to talk to me?’ Lorinda forestalled Cressie’s reply. ‘Some sort of problem, it seemed?’
‘No.’ Cressie looked away. ‘No, not at all. It was just a thought. It doesn’t matter now. I ought to be getting back and – Oh!’ Something in the distance caught her eye. ‘There’s Macho now!’ She rushed to the door. ‘I must catch him before …’ She was gone.
‘“Before he gets away again”, was the ending of that sentence, I think.’ Freddie watched through the window as Cressie intercepted Macho at his own front door and an obviously heated altercation began. ‘Now what are we to make of that?’
Chapter Twelve
The young woman walked briskly down the street, her head high, her eyes bright, the sun glinting on her newly coiffed blonde hair. She had been in the hairdresser’s for longer than usual today, but the results were worth it. She’d had a manicure, too, her nails delicately shaped and glowing red. Red. All ready for her important date tonight. She was young, beautiful, self-assured, striding towards happily-ever-after.
Unsuspecting.
The head was waiting for her in her bedroom closet.
Gift-wrapped. With a perky bright red bow.
Sooner or later, she would find it. When, didn’t matter. It would keep.
Rather – a long whinnying snicker escaped him – it wouldn’t keep.
The red blood pooling into the bottom of the plastic bag beneath the pretty wrapping would darken and turn brown. The face would darken, too, and begin to dissolve. If she hadn’t found it before, she would find it then.
When it began to smell.
Even then, she would not imagine the reality. The bright expensive wrapping would fool her into thinking it was an overlooked gift. Perhaps one that had been put into her closet to surprise her.
A basket of fruit, perhaps. Gone rotten because not discovered in time. Guiltily, she would begin to open it, perhaps tearing at the wrapping, hoping to find a card from her well-wisher.
The head was his calling card.
Then she would know. Or begin to know.
The second head – the one that was draining in his bathroom sink now – would convince her.
Especially when she recognized them. One by one, her best friends were going to be returned to her in pieces.
And she would know it was going to happen to her, too.
Soon.
And slowly. He had learned a lot since that first amateur effort. He could keep them alive a lot longer now, while he …
Lorinda squinted her eyes to blur the type and checked the pages to the end of the chapter. Twelve pages of gut-wrenching detail as the killer reminisced.
She hoped the editor hadn’t been trying to digest his lunch when he read them. On second thought, she hoped he had. It would serve him right. Except that he was probably so hardened to this sort of thing that he wouldn’t notice how sickening it was. Or perhaps it was a she – some of the worst of them seemed to be edited by women. What did they have against their own sex? And the more gruesome the book, the bigger the advertising budget it seemed to attract. New York Times Best Seller List was emblazoned across the cover, just above the title. No wonder Macho got so upset, there was no justice!
And where was Macho? She had witnessed his not-so-rapturous reunion with Cressie yesterday and had expected him to have dropped over – or, at least, telephoned – by now. Of course, it was still early, not quite noon, although you couldn’t tell that from the darkness outside.
Another grey gloomy day – well, it suited the mood the book had put her into. Lorinda hurled the paperback across the room so violently that it bounced off the opposite wall before dropping into the waste basket below, narrowly missing But-Known.
‘Come back, darling!’ Lorinda called, as the cat skittered out of the room. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it for you. It’s all right. Come back …’
It took minutes of coaxing before the small head poked cautiously around the door frame. By this time, Had-I, attracted by the dulcet tones, behind which lurked the promise of impending treats, was also on the scene. She paused, communed briefly with But-Known and led the way over to Lorinda. They sat at her feet and looked up at her expectantly.
‘Oh, all right.’ She gave in, leading them kitchenwards. ‘I think we still have some munchies in the cupboard.’
They looked with disfavour at the thin stream of munchies that trickled into their bowl.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lorinda said. ‘I thought we had more than that. I’ll get a fresh supply when I’m out shopping tomorrow. Can’t you make do with these for now?’
They gave her a haughty look and stalked across to the back door, staring pointedly towards Freddie’s house.
‘She isn’t home,’ Lorinda told them. ‘I saw her leaving this morning. She took the car, so there’s no telling when she’ll be back.’
That wasn’t good enough, they let her know. Furthermore, they had no intention of using the cat flap. The least she could do was open the door for them.
‘All right.’ She opened the door. ‘Go and see for yourselves.’
To add insult to injury, it began to rain. They stopped on the doorstep and stared at her accusingly.
‘Honestly, it isn’t my fault,’ she said, as the first splatterin
g of drops rapidly became a heavy downpour. ‘I had nothing to do with it.’
Disbelievingly, they turned as one and marched back across the kitchen and into the living room. When she checked on them a few minutes later, she found them, as she had expected, curled up together in a corner of the couch and fast asleep.
They had the right idea. The rain was teeming down now, with no promise of a let-up. The best thing to do with this sort of day might be to sleep through it.
Of course, that option wasn’t open to everyone. Through the front window, she saw Gemma battling her way down the High Street, struggling with dogs, umbrella and … yes, Cousin Opal. They appeared to be arguing.
Briefly, Lorinda wondered if Opal really had been off somewhere with Macho yesterday when Gemma and Cressie were looking for them. That would be amusing, she thought, and abruptly realized that she wasn’t so amused at all.
Cressie would be incandescent. The thought cheered her for a moment. And yet, why shouldn’t Macho, a former history teacher, want to spend some time with a colleague who was an historical novelist? They must have a great deal in common. Perhaps Opal was even consulting him on some aspect of the Tudor era. If anyone knew most of the ins-and-outs of that particular period, it would be Macho.
As she watched, Opal drew herself up and snapped something obviously offensive at Gemma, who also drew herself up as far as was possible with the dogs tugging at their leashes and keeping her off balance.
Opal stamped off and Gemma stumbled her way to the nearest lamp post where there was a long pause while the pugs occupied themselves and Gemma rootled in her bag for the pooper-scooper. Her umbrella tilted as she did so and a trickle of icy water found its way between the collar of her raincoat and her neck. She shuddered visibly.
‘You may have your drawbacks,’ Lorinda turned away from the window and addressed the sleeping cats, ‘but I wouldn’t swap you for that lot.’
Had-I twitched in acknowledgement before burying her nose deeper between her front paws. But-Known opened one lazy eye and shut it again in what might have been a conspiratorial wink.
Please Do Feed the Cat Page 10
