by Nic Saint
“About that smartphone…”
“What about it?” she said, noncommittally.
“There must be some way we can make a deal.”
Gran smiled. Marge was a clever girl. A couple of nights like this and Tex would be willing to do whatever it took to sleep in his own bed again. “Yes?” she said, without taking her eyes of her book. Potential husband number four was married with kids, but his wife had suddenly decided to go back to college, and to dump her entire family.
“Those things are junk, you know that, right? They break down all the time, and besides, the prices they ask are an outrage. Two thousand bucks for a stupid phone.”
“You can afford it,” she said curtly. And I deserve it, she would have added if that argument held any sway with Tex. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Tex had never been all that fond of his mother-in-law, ever since Vesta had thrown him out on his ear back when he was a floppy-haired teenager adamant on dating her daughter. Since at that time his sole ambition had been to become a street artist like Banksy, she’d told her daughter in no uncertain terms what she thought of her dating a so-called artist.
“The thing I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not going to buy you a foldable smartphone,” said Tex, interrupting Vesta’s stream of thoughts.
She looked up in surprise. “You’re not?”
He shook his head. He was lying, his hands under his head, staring up at the ceiling where, for some reason, Odelia had hung a pink paper lamp with Hello Kitty images.
Vesta pursed her lips. “Is that your final word?”
“That’s my final word,” said Tex, who could be as stubborn as his mother-in-law when the mood struck.
She flicked off her bedside lamp. “Fine,” she said curtly. “Be that way.”
“Fine,” said Tex, and turned over, dragging a good portion of comforter along with him.
“Fine,” said Gran, and turned over to her other side, clawing back the comforter.
A fierce battle over the comforter ensued, which of course Gran won.
“I’m cold,” Tex said.
“You should have thought of that before you decided to deny your one and only mother-in-law the one and only little pleasure she has in this world.”
No response.
Finally, and because no one could accuse her of not possessing a heart, Gran muttered, “There’s an extra blanket in the closet,” and promptly dozed off.
It wasn’t long before her loud snores echoed through the room. Next to her, Tex plugged in his earplugs, a dark scowl on his face, got up, dragged an extra blanket from the closet, and returned to a bed that was entirely too small to accommodate both his mother-in-law and himself, and tried to find sleep. When it finally did come, all he could dream about were foldable smartphones that cost a fortune, and that kept breaking down and had to be replaced with an endless stream of new foldable smartphones.
Odelia, who’d watched the light go out in her room, returned to bed. She was worried. Not only about Max not being home, but about her grandmother and her dad sleeping in the same bed.
“They’re not going to kill each other,” said Chase, as if reading her mind.
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Odelia.
“Oh, but I am,” said the cop. “If Vesta kills Tex, there goes her meal ticket, and if Tex kills your grandmother, Marge will kill him.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said as she watched Dooley and Harriet and Brutus trudge into the room and hop up onto the bed.
Chase watched them with an air of annoyance. “Don’t you guys usually sleep in our room?”
“Yes, we do,” said Dooley. “And since this is now your room, here we are.”
“They keep following us wherever we go,” said Chase. “Have you noticed?”
“Mh?” said Odelia, lost in thought. She hated to admit it, but she missed Max. Silly, of course, for a grownup to miss a cat, but there it was. “Do you think Max will be all right?”
“Of course,” said Chase, who didn’t seem to share her concern. “He’s a big boy, and he’ll be fine. Besides, he’s probably happy for this opportunity to see something of the world.”
“He’s seeing something of a cage, Chase,” said Odelia. “Hardly the world.”
“It is a novel experience, and cats love novel experiences,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but this is not the kind of experience they usually favor.”
“He’ll be fine,” he repeated, and picked up a copy of Guns & Ammo from the nightstand and started leafing through it. When that couldn’t satisfy his curiosity, he swapped it for Field & Stream, which seemed to hold his attention more successfully.
“I’m not so sure Max is fine,” said Harriet, much to Odelia’s surprise. Usually she was the one least concerned when it came to the wellbeing of her housemates.
“What makes you say that?” asked Odelia.
“When we left him he seemed… not himself.”
“He was being carted off to be operated on,” said Brutus. “You wouldn’t look like yourself if you were about to be cut open with a scalpel to have three teeth extracted.”
Dooley gulped slightly. “I hope she manages to put Max back together again. He’s not going to like being cut open like a fish.”
Odelia smiled. “Max has been through this before, and besides, Vena is a professional. She would never do anything to hurt Max, or any of you, for that matter.”
“Yeah, but he’s all alone in there, with who knows what animals to keep him company,” said Harriet. “He’ll wake up in the middle of the night, locked in a cage in a place that is unfamiliar.” She gave Odelia a pleading look. “Can’t we go pick him up?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Odelia, who didn’t want to wake up Vena in the middle of the night just because she was having qualms about Max. “Look, I know this is hard,” she said as she sat cross-legged on the bed and addressed her cats, “but it’s all for the best. As soon as that operation is done, Max will feel a lot better. In fact he’ll be so grateful and happy that the pain is finally gone, that he’ll soon forget all about his ordeal.”
They didn’t seem entirely convinced, but still nodded their reluctant agreement.
Soon, she was under the covers herself, next to Chase, and was reading on her phone. She quickly found herself incapable of focusing on the article Dan had written about the upcoming Fall Ball, though, and as her thoughts kept drifting back to Max in his cage she finally came to a decision, and swung her feet from under the covers again.
“Where are you going, babe?” asked Chase, looking up from a no doubt fascinating exposé on tackle and bait.
“I’m going to get Max,” she said, a determined look on her face.
“But I thought you said…”
“I know what I said, and the longer I think about my sweet baby in his cage, the sadder I get. I’m going to call Vena, and ask her if there’s any chance we can take Max home right away.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Chase, and threw off the comforter, too.
She gave him a grateful look. “Thanks, Chase.”
“No sweat,” he said as he got dressed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. “I know how much those cats mean to you, babe.”
“You do realize that when you marry into this family you get four cats in the bargain, right?” said Harriet, who looked elated that her pleas had not fallen on deaf ears.
Odelia laughed, and when she translated Harriet’s words, Chase was smiling. “I knew what I was getting into when I asked you out on our first date, yes,” he said.
“No, you didn’t,” teased Odelia.
“Well, no, I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I do now.”
“And you don’t mind?” asked Brutus.
“What can I say?” said Chase. “I’m starting to appreciate why you like those funny little furballs so much. For one thing, what else has the power to drag you out of bed in the middle of the night to go and wake up a veterinarian on the other side of town?”
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br /> Soon they were dressed and on their way out the door. Odelia had managed to get Vena on the phone, and the vet had graciously agreed to release her patient earlier than anticipated. She knew how Odelia felt about her cats, and didn’t mind a break in her procedure. And then they were off. And as they drove in the direction of Vena’s, they just happened to pass the old Buschmann place. They didn’t pay any attention to the dilapidated building. Nor to the cat that was slinking along the road, looking for a bite to eat. If Odelia had paid closer attention, she would have noticed that this cat looked very familiar indeed. For it was Clarice, Hampton Cove’s most famous feral cat.
Clarice was looking for her next meal. Not that she was hungry, but cats like her were always looking for their next meal. She’d already cycled through her usual places: the dumpsters and back alleys of the town she called her own, and had eaten her fill at each turn. Now she’d decided that what she really needed was something fresh and raw. She liked cooked meat as much as the next vagabond, but she also liked a bit of fresh and succulent meat from time to time. The kind that’s still running around when you swallow it whole. In other words what Clarice wanted was a nice fresh rat, or, if rats were unavailable, a nice fat and juicy mouse.
And she knew just where to find them.
The old Buschmann place had been derelict for years, and derelict houses are a breeding ground for all kinds of vermin. The Buschmann house had long been a favorite and popular hunting ground for the feral cat community of Hampton Cove, which enjoyed the feast that invariably ensued each time they set paw inside the gloomy old mansion. To others, the place might look like a hellhole, but to them it looked like what it was: the best restaurant in town for the connoisseur that was Clarice.
A cat with bald patches, and a reddish tinge where hair was still attached, her finely honed senses detected movement. She’d just entered the basement, and her hunting instincts were on high alert. This is what she lived for: the hunt and the kill. Soon she’d spotted the juiciest, fattest rat she’d seen for a long time. She was already licking her lips, saliva flowing richly into her mouth, her stomach growling in anticipation. And she was just about to jump her prey when suddenly something jumped her! And before she knew what was happening a noose had tightened itself around her neck and she was being dragged along the floor of the ancient cellar. When she tried to wriggle free, hissing and clawing as she did, a stick touched her skin. Sparks flew, and her whole body trembled and shook, then went limp. She didn’t even realize what had happened, and even as she was dumped into a dark room she was out for the count, and probably for the best, too.
Chapter 8
I’d been listening to Harlan recount the story of his life for so long now that I thought I could probably write a book about the garrulous gerbil. Unfortunately his life story was so tedious and lacking those crucial elements of surprise and intrigue, that any book written according to the lines he set out would have been a real clunker and sleep producer. I know it produced sleep in myself and the other victim of Harlan’s storytelling prowess, for even long before I nodded off, my new friend Minna the Pekinese had fallen asleep, too. It was only when a gentle hand rocked me that I finally woke up again.
“Is it morning already?” I asked, still a little groggy from sleeping, and probably from the medication Vena had administered when she’d given me my umpteenth injection.
When I glanced up, I found myself looking at the most beautiful sight of all: Odelia!
I blinked, then actually rubbed my eyes. “Odelia?” I asked. “Is that really you?”
“Oh, look how happy he is to see you,” said Vena, whose face now moved into view right next to Odelia’s.
“Yeah, I think I did the right thing,” said Odelia.
“You did,” Vena agreed. “I don’t usually release my patients in the middle of the night, but I know how special Max is.”
“He is,” said Odelia. “He is truly very special.”
She lifted me up out of my cage, and I was so happy I was purring up a storm even as I settled into her arms.
“So how is his tooth?” asked Odelia.
“Teeth,” Vena corrected her. “I had to pull three. I also got the bloodwork back, and everything looks normal. His values are all well within the norm.” She then handed Odelia a box of medicine. “Five milligrams a day, mixed in with his food, for four days. It’s antibiotics and a painkiller.”
“What about the stitches?”
“They’ll dissolve. No need to have them removed.”
Odelia massaged the crown of my head and I pressed my face into the palm of her hand, drawing oohs and aahs from my captive audience.
“Max!” said a voice from the floor, and when I glanced down I saw that Dooley, Harriet and Brutus had also come along.
“Hey, you guys!” I said, feeling over the moon.
“Everything all right, patient?” asked Brutus.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “She poked and stabbed and jabbed me with enough needles to make me feel like a pincushion, but I guess it was all for the best.”
And the best thing of all: my toothache was finally gone!
“So do you have three fake teeth now, Max?” asked Dooley.
“I don’t think so,” I said. I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. “Odelia? Do I have to get false teeth?”
“Cats don’t wear dentures, do they?” asked Odelia.
Vena laughed. “No, they don’t. I don’t think they’d feel comfortable with dentures. They’d spit them out as soon as they had the chance. No, he’ll just have to learn to live with three teeth less, I’m afraid. But he still has plenty left, so he should be good.”
“Give us a big smile, Max,” said Harriet.
I gave her the requested big smile.
“Mh,” she said. “You don’t even notice the difference.”
Yep. Cats are vain, just like humans, I’m afraid.
I said my goodbyes to Harlan and Minna, and then we were off. During the car ride home, Brutus, Harriet and Dooley kept asking me about my harrowing experience, and I suddenly felt like the belle of the ball, relishing all the attention being lavished upon me.
Soon we arrived home, and but instead of heading into our own house, we moved into the house of Tex and Marge instead, and as Dooley filled me in on the new state of affairs, I found myself curling up at the foot of Tex and Marge’s bed, which had now been occupied by Odelia and Chase. Humans. Hard to keep up with their crazy stunts, right?
But I was sure glad to be home again, even if I’d lost a couple of gnashers in the process. I even got to snuggle up to Odelia. And then, right before I dozed off, she said, “I’m glad you’re back, Maxie,” and I nodded happily. And then she added, as she closed her eyes, with me tucked into her armpit. “Tomorrow we’ll start you on your diet.”
Oh, God. And here I’d hoped she would have forgotten all about that!
Chapter 9
The next morning life had returned to normal. Hampton Cove woke up, its population going about its business as usual. Marge, for one, had decided to throw a nice dinner that night, now that Max was home again, and decided, as usual, to invite her brother Alec to the feast. She secretly hoped that throughout dinner tensions between her husband and Gran would somehow be resolved, and that the good doctor and his recalcitrant mother-in-law could amicably settle their differences and reach some truce.
In fact she’d hoped that conclusion could have been reached the night before, but even though she’d left her brother numerous messages on his phone, he hadn’t returned any of them—or even see them, for that matter. Usually whenever Gran was acting up, Alec was the one who could sit her down and make her see reason, or work out a compromise that made everybody happy.
Marge didn’t give it much thought, though. Alec had probably been watching a game on TV and had left his phone in his jeans pocket. He’d see her messages and call her as soon as he arrived at the police station.
Since the library only opened at elev
en on Wednesdays, she still had time to put in some grocery shopping, and today had decided to drop by that local institution: the Duffer Store, that famous butcher shop. Known for its high-quality meat and especially for its sausages, the Duffer Store had been a mainstay in Hampton Cove for decades. Founded by the current owners’ grandfather, then passed into the hands of the next generation and after that into the current, it was still doing gangbuster business.
The shop’s reputation had spread far and wide over the years, and it now attracted customers from all across the Hamptons, who often came into town with the express purpose of buying one of those famous Duffers: the family’s trademark salami. The recipe had been kept a secret for three generations, and the saucisse was so famous it had won culinary prizes from every culinary magazine and institution in existence.
Marge didn’t often favor the store, as its prices were as exorbitant as its reputation was wide-spread. But on special occasions like today, and to mellow Vesta’s mood and make her more amenable to compromise, she decided to splurge on the Duffer salami.
The delicatessen and butcher shop was packed, as usual, and she took a number from the number dispenser near the door, then glanced at the meat display, where an assortment of the most delicious meats and cold cuts were laid out. The store had been updated numerous times throughout its long history, and now looked modern and light and airy, a delight and an invitation to shop. When it was finally her turn, she ordered three Duffers, and was surprised when the man behind the counter, whom she recognized as Colin Duffer himself, said that regretfully he couldn’t fulfill her order.
“No Duffers?” she asked in a small voice. Disappointment made her feel weak-kneed. She still had one Duffer left in the fridge, if she remembered correctly, but with six adults around the dinner table, and four cats, that single Duffer would be gone in a flash.
“I’m afraid not,” said Colin’s brother Chris, walking in from the back. A skinny man with a funny little tuft of red hair on top of his scalp, Chris was small and diffident, while his brother Colin was large, boisterous and had a big head of frizzy black hair.
