Please Do Feed the Cat

by Marian Babson

  There was a sudden telltale clunk from the kitchen. The cats heard it, too, and raised their heads, abruptly alert.

  ‘What do you want to bet?’ she asked them. They uncurled themselves, leaped to the floor and followed her into the kitchen.

  Sure enough, a wet bedraggled Roscoe was crouched by the feeding bowl, gulping down the munchies Had-I and But-Known had so recently despised. Of course, now that someone else wanted them, they were changing their minds. They advanced upon Roscoe, determined to remind him just whose territory this was.

  ‘Poor baby, you’re drenched.’ Lorinda tore off some paper towels and proceeded to blot Roscoe. He gave a rusty purr, but was not to be distracted from his purpose. He didn’t lift his head until the bowl was empty. Then he looked around for more.

  Lorinda watched the door expectantly. If Roscoe had arrived, could Macho be far behind?

  She set out another cup and saucer, but the afternoon wore on and there was still no sign of Macho. She went back to work, while Roscoe, having eaten everything available, joined in as the cats resumed their interrupted nap.

  The rain settled into a steady downpour, eliminating the temptation to do anything other than work – except, perhaps join the cats in their nap. Along about what would have been twilight, had there been any brighter light at all that day, she heard the sound of Freddie’s car returning.

  She was not surprised when, after a suitable interval – long enough for shopping to be unpacked and stowed away – the telephone rang.

  ‘I may go mad!’ It was not the voice she expected to hear. In fact, it was one she would have considered most unlikely.

  ‘What’s the matter, Dorian?’ She refrained from saying that, whatever it was, he had probably brought it on himself.

  ‘Adèle! Adèle Desparta! She’s driving me out of my mind!’

  ‘Oh?’ Yes, he had definitely brought it on himself. ‘Perhaps you ought to get together with Gemma. I gather she’s having rather a difficult time with Opal. You can commiserate with each other.’

  ‘God forbid!’ he snarled. ‘Gemma and that damned cousin of hers are the problem where Adèle is concerned. It would be more than my life is worth to go near either of them. Adèle would kill me!’

  ‘I suspect that Opal would take exception to Gemma talking to you, too. She’d think it was consorting with the enemy. It’s a shame they both had to visit at the same time.’

  ‘This town isn’t big enough for both of them,’ Dorian agreed. ‘And I’d rather not be around for the shoot-out.’

  ‘How much longer is she staying?’

  ‘Who knows?’ She could hear his shudder over the phone. ‘How much longer is Gemma’s cousin staying?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘I gather she may sublet Rhylla’s flat for the summer. She’s staying with Gemma while she considers it.’

  ‘Hmm … pity.’ Abruptly, he changed tack. ‘Anyway, why don’t you come up and have a drink?’

  ‘What?’ She looked at the waterfall streaming down the window panes. ‘You mean … now?’

  ‘No time like the present. Come along,’ he coaxed. ‘You’ve done enough work for one day. Come and relax.’

  And take some of the strain of entertaining his tiresome guest, he meant.

  ‘Actually …’ She stretched the truth a bit. ‘I was just going over to Freddie’s.’

  ‘Bring her along.’ He sounded slightly desperate. ‘The more, the merrier.’

  ‘She’s very busy.’ Freddie would be no more enthusiastic than she was about trudging through this downpour to pull Dorian’s chestnuts out of the fire he had, as usual, lighted himself.

  ‘Oh, but all work and no play … You need a break … refresh yourselves …’ He was close to babbling.

  ‘Not today.’ The rain drumming against the windows helped her to stand firm. ‘Honestly, Dorian, another time.’

  ‘Oh, come along. I’ll open the jar of caviar my Russian publisher sent me …’

  The offer might have tempted the cats, but Lorinda was able to resist it. She recognized Dorian’s magnanimity however. He really must be desperate. For a moment, she had thought he was actually going to utter the word ‘please’.

  ‘Just for a few minutes … half an hour … and I’ll … I’ll …’ Somewhere in the distance behind him, a door slammed loudly. ‘Oh, very well then – ’ His voice changed. ‘I see I can’t persuade you, so we’ll make it another time.’

  ‘Adèle has just gone out,’ Lorinda surmised.

  ‘Er … actually, yes. And – ’ his voice brightened even more – ‘she’s getting into that car she hired. That means she’ll be gone for some time, perhaps the rest of the day.’

  ‘Congratulations – ’ But he had already rung off.

  Lorinda shrugged and replaced her own receiver. It was only a temporary reprieve, but it was better than nothing. And next time he issued an invitation, the weather might be better.

  The yawn caught her by surprise, just as she was wondering whether or not to ring Freddie and suggest a drink.

  That settled it. She didn’t really want to go out in this monsoon, not even the short distance to Freddie’s house. Nor would it be kind to make Freddie venture out again into the storm.

  The cats had the right idea: a cat nap.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When she woke it was pitch-black outside and still raining, but not so heavily.

  She turned on the lights and was closing the curtains when a flicker of movement at the far end of the front path caught her attention.

  Someone was out there. Someone who had hastily stepped back into the shadows when she had appeared at the window. Someone who did not want to be seen?

  Frowning, she pulled the curtains together and turned to the still-sleepy cats, who were just beginning to stir and stretch. Only Roscoe was reluctant to move: he remained in a tightly curled ball and opened one wary eye.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Lorinda told him. ‘I wouldn’t turn you out into a night like this. You can stay until Macho comes to collect you.’ In fact, he could stay the night. She wasn’t going to ring and tell anyone where he was.

  Perhaps it had been Cressie lurking outside, coming to peek through the window to see if Roscoe – and perhaps Macho – was here. It seemed like the sort of thing Cressie would do.

  The curious thing was that Macho had not come looking for him. Or had Macho disappeared again, first freeing Roscoe to seek a refuge of his own?

  The cats followed her into the kitchen where, feeling a bit foolish, she crossed to look out of the window before turning on the light. The back garden held no skulking form and the view over Macho’s and Freddie’s gardens showed them to be empty and peaceful.

  She was just opening the fridge door when she froze. The cats heard the sound, too. They turned towards the back door, fur bristling as the sound came again. Someone was scratching at the door.

  She started for the door slowly, telling herself not to be silly. It was probably only Macho, come to reclaim his cat. If so, why was Roscoe’s fur beginning to stand on end? And why didn’t Macho just knock?

  They all converged silently at the door. Lorinda stared helplessly at the doorknob, waiting to see it turn.

  ‘Macho …?’ she called tentatively. ‘Macho … is that you?’

  The scratching came again … and … a snuffling noise.

  ‘Macho …?’ Suppose he were lying there, wounded in some way, unable to call out. The sounds seemed to be at the base of the door.

  A low rumbling growl came from Roscoe’s throat. It was not Macho out there.

  On the other side of the door, the scratching became more insistent.

  ‘Go away …’ Lorinda said faintly. She backed away from the door, looking around for a weapon before she –

  No! Be sensible. There were wiser ways to handle this situation than opening the door to go rushing out, weapon or not, into the unknown. She wasn’t going to behave like the victim in one of those paperbacks she had brought back
. She went to the phone and dialled briskly.

  ‘Freddie? Listen – can you take your phone to the window? I’ll turn on the light over my back door and you can tell me what you see there.’

  ‘Right!’ Freddie said. ‘Don’t bother with explanations. I just love guessing games.’

  ‘There’s something odd going on. I think someone is at the back door … or something …’

  ‘All right, I’m at the window,’ Freddie said. ‘Turn on the light.’

  Lorinda put down the receiver and hurried back to the kitchen. As soon as she snapped the light switch, any report from Freddie became unnecessary.

  Sudden yelps, yaps and an outbreak of canine hysteria told her what was on the other side of the door – and explained those unsettling snuffling noises. Encouraged by the light, the pugs howled to be let in, forepaws thudding against the door as they hurled themselves at it.

  On the kitchen side, the cats ranged themselves for battle, snarling and spitting curses at all dogs who would dare to encroach on their territory.

  ‘Gemma?’ Why hadn’t she said anything? ‘Gemma, are you all right?’ Lorinda opened the door. It was a mistake. The cats shot forward as though jet-propelled, clawing and howling. The pugs yelped, yipped and tried to stand their ground before being forced into ignominious noisy retreat, the cats chasing after them, equally noisy.

  ‘I must say – ’ Freddie, raincoat flung over her head and shoulders, appeared in the doorway – ‘having you back has certainly livened up the neighbourhood.’

  ‘But where’s Gemma?’ Lorinda was squinting into the darkness, which brightened as another door opened and light streamed from that source. Macho and Cressie peered out to see what all the commotion was about.

  ‘That’s right.’ Freddie was looking around, too. ‘Where is she? You don’t suppose those rotten beasties have knocked her off her pins again and left her lying in a puddle? I wouldn’t put it past them.’

  ‘Here, Roscoe …’ Macho bleated into the night after his unheeding cat. ‘Here, Roscoe! Come to Daddy …’

  ‘Eeeyuch!’ Cressie made retching noises. ‘You and that damned cat! How can – ’

  ‘Gemma,’ Lorinda said loudly. ‘We must find Gemma. She could be hurt.’

  ‘Gemma?’ Macho was called back to order. He snatched up an umbrella from the stand inside his door and hurried to join them.

  ‘Where is Gemma?’ Cressie was trailing after him, struggling into a waterproof poncho. ‘I thought she never let her darling pooches roam about on their own.’

  ‘You’re getting the picture,’ Freddie applauded. ‘Gemma isn’t here – and the dogs are. She’s missing and we’re all there is for a Search Party – so let’s start searching!’

  ‘We could follow the pugs,’ Lorinda suggested. ‘If only the cats would stop chasing them. They might lead us to her.’

  ‘I don’t believe you people!’ Cressie shook her head. ‘You’re unreal!’

  ‘You’ve got a better idea?’ Freddie challenged. ‘Speak up – do give us the benefit of your wisdom. We’d love to hear it.’

  ‘Cressie – shut up!’ Macho ordered. ‘Either come with us or go back to the house and – and – ’

  ‘I’m coming!’ Cressie snapped. ‘You shut up!’ She hurried after them as they headed towards the High Street. ‘Don’t go so fast – wait for me!’

  At the border of what they considered their personal territory, the cats suddenly seemed to notice that it was raining and they were getting wet. They peeled off and turned back towards warmth, food and shelter.

  The pugs, still feeling pursued, although by two-legged tormentors rather than feline enemies, continued on their way. They were making for Coffers Court now and running faster as their goal came into sight.

  Only for a brief moment did they pause to sniff at a huddled heap of rags, lying half in the gutter and half on the pavement as they came close to their destination. Dismissing it as of no importance, they resumed their flight.

  The humans halted and remained staring down at the sodden bundle of cloth which, as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, gradually revealed that it was bunched around a still form.

  Uncaring, the pugs raced off.

  ‘Well,’ Freddie said. ‘I guess we’ve found Gemma.’

  ‘Guess again.’ Macho was bending over the inert body. ‘This is Cousin Opal.’

  ‘She looks … she looks …’ Cressie faltered. ‘Is she … dead?’

  ‘That’s for the experts to say.’ Macho tried to position his umbrella on the pavement to belatedly shield the body from the rain. ‘But …’

  It was not long before the sound of an ambulance whooping through the night once again disturbed the peace of Brimful Coffers.

  ‘It’s my fault!’ Gemma wailed. ‘It’s all my fault!’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Macho said, ‘you didn’t kill her.’ Then ruined it by adding, ‘Did you?’

  ‘Of course not! Not that way – but I sent her out to walk the dogs.’ Gemma fondled the pugs distractedly. ‘She didn’t want to do it – but I’d walked them this afternoon and I got so wet … I felt a chill coming on. I was afraid it would turn into a streaming cold, if I went out again. But the dogs had to be walked – ’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Lorinda soothed, more thankful than ever for her cats. ‘You couldn’t have known this would happen.’

  ‘But what’s so awful – ’ Gemma would not be comforted. – ‘is … is that I lost my temper with her when she tried to get out of doing it. I told her she ought to start pulling her weight and doing something useful, rather than just sitting around complaining about Adele. I … I almost shouted at her. I … I sent her to her death!’

  ‘Here.’ Freddie thrust a drink into Gemma’s hand. ‘Get this down you!’

  ‘Oh, but I’ve already had – Oh, what does it matter!’ Gemma accepted the fresh drink and took a big gulp. ‘I should have gone out with the dogs myself. Opal didn’t know the terrain, the places where the kerb is extra-steep, where the holes in the road are. And … and sometimes the dogs can be a bit hard to control. Especially if you’re not used to them.’ She took another gulp and coughed. ‘Oh, that is strong!’

  ‘It’s meant to be,’ Freddie said. ‘And when you’ve finished that, you’ll have another. And another. The only thing your friends can do for you now is knock you out until morning.’

  ‘Oh, you are kind,’ Gemma sighed. ‘But, you know, Opal and I weren’t really that close. It’s the shock – and I feel terrible because I feel so guilty. But really, we were more like casual friends than close relatives. I was really surprised when she contacted me to ask about properties in Brimful Coffers. Of course – ’ she preened herself briefly – ‘word is getting around that this is the place to live, if you’re in the mystery world. But, before that, we hadn’t seen each other in years. And then only at family reunions. The family – ’ She took a huge gulp and choked again. ‘I’ll have to tell them – ’

  ‘Time enough in the morning.’ Freddie patted her shoulder consolingly and looked across to Lorinda. ‘Shall I stay with her tonight – or will you?’

  ‘No, no!’ Gemma gasped. ‘That isn’t necessary You’ve done quite enough … so kind … I’m sure I’ll sleep … probably.’

  ‘Cressie will stay,’ Macho volunteered recklessly.

  ‘Now wait a minute – ’ Cressie protested.

  ‘Really,’ Gemma demurred weakly, accepting a fresh drink. ‘She doesn’t have to – ’

  ‘Oh, yes, she does.’ Macho fixed Cressie with the sort of cold stare that carried a hundred unspoken messages – none of them pleasant.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Cressie said ungraciously, glaring back at Macho.

  ‘You’ll sleep better tonight,’ Lorinda said, ‘knowing that Cressie is here.’

  ‘So will Macho,’ Cressie sneered.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t …’ Gemma’s protests were growing weaker. ‘You mustn’t all worry about me. I’m quite all …’ Her head
dropped against the cushions abruptly and her just-emptied glass fell to the floor.

  The pugs whimpered and sniffed anxiously at her face. Then, assured that she was only unconscious, settled down – one on each side of her – to get some sleep themselves.

  Lorinda watched and forgave them their seemingly callous desertion of Opal. They had obviously realized that nothing could be done to help her – and besides, she was not Gemma. She meant little to them.

  ‘You’re not staying there,’ Freddie told them. ‘And neither is she. As for you – ’ She turned to Cressie. ‘We’ll put Gemma to bed and leave the night light on. All you’ll have to do is look in on her occasionally and make sure she’s all right.’

  ‘Macho?’ Cressie looked to him uncertainly. ‘Macho – you’re not really going to leave me here alone?’

  ‘You’re a big girl now,’ Freddie answered before Macho could weaken. ‘You’ve made your reputation – such as it is – by insisting on that. Now prove it. After all,’ she added maliciously, ‘it’s not as though we were asking you to sit up with the corpse, is it?’

  ‘Oh!’ Cressie lost colour at the thought – what price her posturing with Angostura bitters now?

  ‘Come along.’ Lorinda stepped forward to take Gemma’s other arm as Freddie levered her out of the armchair, murmuring soothingly. ‘Time for beddie-byes.’

  ‘I’ll take her.’ Macho caught Gemma’s limp form and half dragged, half carried her into the bedroom.

  It was, Lorinda suspected, easier for him than staying in the living room and facing Cressie’s recriminations. The suspicion was reinforced when, having dumped Gemma on her bed, he remained in the bedroom, turning his back like a gentleman while she and Freddie undressed Gemma, put her into a nightgown and settled the duvet over her.

  When they left the bedroom, Macho was close on their heels, as though moving in convoy.

  ‘I don’t think she’ll wake,’ Freddie told Cressie. ‘But, if she does, just top her up with the scotch. That will send her off again.’