Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  From what I could tell about the body I was in, cats didn’t tear up when they got emotional, but if I could’ve, I would’ve. “You’d be okay with a partner that was a dirty cop?”

  Val petted me more. “I don’t believe for a second that you were a dirty cop. I’m sure the ritual went off as expected and that you, my little familiar, are going to prove to be quite the Spirit of Justice.”

  My chest vibrated with a purr and then stopped and then vibrated again. What the—? I jumped up and found Val’s little calculator phone underneath me.

  “Is it about to explode?” I asked, backing away from the so-called phone.

  Val laughed as she picked it up. “No, it’s just some messages about our case.”

  “Messages?” Man, these phones were the weirdest thing I’d experienced since I woke up as a cat.

  Chapter Six

  After a rather surprisingly tasty meal of sushi, Val began to show me more about the space tech phone she carried. Apparently, there was a phone that did explode, but this one wasn’t that type and they had to fix the battery to make it safe. Asking if it took triple-A’s or something was the wrong question, but it amused Val to no end.

  There was something truly awe-inspiring about how they’d managed to put an 8-track, reel-to-reel, phone, post office, library, and TV all into something smaller than a shoe. Sure, there was something cool about bringing a dead cop back as a cat, but these phones were everywhere. Pay phones had been mostly eliminated, which, of course, left me wondering where Superman changed his clothes now. I could only imagine how much better the police were at their jobs with portable computers like this at their beck and call. There was also an Internet thing, which to my disappointment was not comparable to Dragnet. So much I couldn’t wrap my head around, but there was going to be time for that after the case.

  Mason had been right about her notion of a pattern here in Glendale. It seemed the criminals had set off alarms at each building two to three days before breaking in and robbing the place. Mostly, it’d been dogs and a couple of cats setting off the alarms, but one building had been broken into by a raccoon. That one strangely had not been robbed later.

  With three buildings having had alarms set off in the right timeframe, we set out on a good old-fashioned stakeout. My tail in the heated seat of the Impala, I no longer missed my old patrol car. This would’ve been such a welcome addition during a winter stakeout I’d been on with… What’s his name? No. It wasn’t important.

  “All right, Mason,” I said, placing my paws on the dashboard. “Where we headed? Up on the left was where I clocked a suspicious character.”

  “That’s close to one of the buildings that had been triggered,” Val said, checking her phone for the list of buildings. “Do you want to take a lap and see if it’s been marked like the sign coming into town?”

  She rattled off the address and opened her door, telling me she’d be kitty-corner to the store when I was done.

  I double checked the street and bolted across to the access way to the back of the store. For once, being a black cat was going to pay off better than being a human cop. I was naturally camouflaged and able to silently move from shadow to shadow.

  The back door of the building sported a rather impressive looking keypad, but shining in the darkness were small, glowing marks on the keypad and the wall next to it. With a couple lithe leaps across boxes and trash cans, I peered up at the keypad, noting that the 1,4,7,9, and # keys were all glowing. On the wall next to it was a series of dots that implied the order for the buttons.

  We’d found the next target. I just had to get back to the Impala and wait for the criminals to hit the store.

  “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” came a low growl from behind.

  Spinning around, I found a square-headed Rottweiler pacing toward me. Something about the face rang a bell, but my attention remained firmly on the bared teeth. I needed to get away from this mutt and make it back to Mason to let her know they were hitting this store. But first, I needed to deal with the age old stereotype of dogs chasing cats.

  Before I could do much of anything, however, the dog rippled like the pavement on a hot summer day, and suddenly, the suspicious guy I’d seen earlier stood in front of me. Crap. He was one of those shifters.

  “I thought I’d seen a tail earlier,” he guffawed over his shoulder, and another greasy looking human emerged from behind the trash cans.

  “Whaddya doin’ ’ere, liddle kiddy?” the other human said through a deformed mouth. It looked like he’d lost a fight with… well, probably the Rottweiler he was answering to.

  They moved like a pack, flanking me to cut off my chance of escaping to either side of them.

  “Why the silent treatment?” Rottweiler asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

  He and Greasy laughed uproariously at the joke. Cruel laughter, like they were already thinking about what part of me tasted best. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could feel Mason coming closer. Oh no. If she didn’t know what was back here, she might find herself on the wrong end of a muzzle. But I didn’t know how to communicate through the familiar bond. I had to do something, or we were both sunk.

  “Ey, kiddy kiddy,” Greasy said. “We know you ain’t no cat.”

  “So what are you doing here?” growled Rottweiler.

  Think like a criminal, my brain shouted at me. I’d done a bit of undercover work before, but nothing like this. I steeled myself and took a deep breath.

  “The Boss sent me to handle this one and said that you two were hittin’ the place over on Fifth,” I quickly lied, trying to remember the other places Val had mentioned. “Said this one needed a delicate touch and that you two meatheads weren’t able to handle something like that.”

  Confusion flickered in their eyes. It was almost believable—at least I sincerely hoped so. Hopefully, their dog sides would force a bit more loyalty and they would rather do what they thought the boss needed.

  “C’mon, Rocky,” Greasy said. “If he wants da cat to handle dis one, we need to let ’im.”

  Rocky, the Rottweiler, leaned in close to me and gave a sniff. “That’s not what he told me.”

  “Why else do you think I was out here?” I shot back. “I ain’t into jogging and certainly ain’t joining a couple of dogs for a job. Too much slobber.”

  “I dunno,” Rocky growled. “Something about this don’t smell right.”

  “You think the cops in this podunk town got a shifter on payroll?” I scoffed. “Get your head outta this one’s butt and maybe you’ll see why I was sent and you two are supposed to be on Fifth.”

  Greasy tugged on the back of Rocky’s jacket. “C’mon, Rock. If Misser Vega says we hit Fifth, dat’s what we do.”

  A moment passed between us, like a standoff in a western. Oh, how I wished I had my old revolver.

  “Okay, Cat,” Rocky finally said, allowing his buddy to drag him away. “We’ll take Fifth. But if I find out you’re lying, I’ll eat you alive. And I ain’t making one of those metaphors or whatever.”

  I watched as the two disappeared down the alleyway, shifting back into their dog forms before running off down the street. My legs wobbled and I felt like I was about to pass out. At least in dangerous situations as a cop, I’d had a gun or at the very least the ability to throw a mean sucker punch.

  “That was some quick thinking, Jack,” Val whispered in my ear, materializing seemingly out of nowhere. “Let’s get to the car and we’ll follow them from their hit on Fifth. You did great, partner.”

  A pleasant feeling of warmth flooded my body as Val picked me up and cradled me as she ran back to the running car.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time we reached the store on Fifth, police were on the scene, red and blue lights flashing. Rocky was nowhere to be seen, but his greasy friend was being perp walked into the back of an ambulance.

  “Wait here, Jack.” Val pulled a badge out of the glove compartment.

  I nodded as she got out of the
car. There was broken glass everywhere around the building and there were signs of fire, although nothing was currently burning. Val flashed her badge around and took notes as the officers on scene pointed to parts of the building and talked animatedly with their hands. I saw the normal pantomimes for explosions and guns. Odd. We should’ve been able to hear an explosion like that on the way here.

  Movement on the side of the road caught my eye. A large mass of fur and muscle limped along through an empty lot. Rocky. He’d made it out, and because he was a dog, they hadn’t thought to pick him up. After all, what dog is robbing stores?

  With one paw, I slid a leg behind the door handle and then slid another leg in beside it and wrapped my paws around the handle. I braced my hind paws on the door and pushed backward, feeling the satisfying clunk as the door popped open. The dinging started, but I wasn’t about to let Rocky hobble off and lose our only lead. I took off like a shot but underestimated how fast I was as a cat.

  Like a fur missile of justice, I slammed full force into the large dog, bowling him onto his back before he managed even one strangled yelp. Not exactly like you’d see in a National Geographic, but lions on the Serengeti didn’t hold a candle to a cop running down a suspect.

  “Lemme go,” Rocky whined pathetically. Buckshot peppered his fur like bad road rash.

  “You get no mercy from me, pal,” I hissed through bared fangs. “You threatened to eat me. Maybe I should repay the favor.”

  “I’m sorry, really, I am,” he said trying to squirm away, the small stump of his tail firmly tucked under himself.

  “Not sorry enough,” I retorted. “Now, I’ve got some questions and you’re gonna give me the right answers to ’em, or maybe I get the cops to help this poor injured doggy. Hmm, I don’t see a collar, so they’ll probably think you’re a stray and take you to the pound. You know what they do to dogs in the pound don’t ya?”

  “I’m not a dog. I could escape from there when the regular humans weren’t looking,” he mumbled weakly.

  I flexed my claws in the most threatening way I could. “They give strays the ole snip snip in the pound. So even if you can escape from there, not all of you will.”

  Rocky growled his defiance but quickly changed his tune when I raked my claws across his snout. “Okay, okay! What do you want?”

  “Good boy,” I said, matching his mocking tone from earlier. “Where’s Mr. Vega?”

  He looked around, showing the whites of his eyes. The smell of abject fear wafted off him. That wasn’t a welcome change, but it could be useful. “I-I thought you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, you thought,” I growled. “Now. Where. Is. Vega?” I punctuated each syllable with a clawed jab to the ribs.

  “Caraway!” Rocky yowled. “He’s on Caraway!”

  “It’s a big island, Rocky.” I tsked. Or at least I tried to, but it came out more as a hiss. “Should I get the officers for you? Hey Officer—”

  “No! Please, don’t,” he whimpered more. The acrid stench of urine filled my nostrils as he wet himself. Thank god I didn’t come back as a dog. They were disgusting.

  “Tell me exactly where this Mr. Vega is,” I said, hopping off the large Rottweiler. “Or our conversation is over and you get to have one with my partner.” I turned to leave when he didn’t answer quick enough.

  “The ferry!” Rocky blurted out. “He runs the ferry and the docks on Caraway. I don’t know more than that. Really, I don’t. He had us put the goods in hold F on the ferry, that’s how we moved them. We didn’t meet anywhere other than the docks.”

  “What’s up, Jack?” Val asked as she walked up, badge clipped to her belt.

  Rocky started whimpering again when he saw her.

  “Oh, you know,” I said. “Just tryin’ to help an animal in need. Right, Rocky?”

  “Did he give us any information we can use?” Val did her best to hide the smile growing on her features.

  “Sang like a canary,” I joked. “But he probably needs medical care. Looks like he caught some buckshot with his body.”

  “Sounds about right.” Val nodded. “The cops say you boys caused quite the mess. Officer Bouchard!”

  “But you said—” Rocky started whining.

  “Then turn human and go to prison. It’s better than bleeding out,” I said softly.

  “I can’t,” he grunted. “The buckshot.”

  “All the more reason to get it treated,” I whispered.

  The officer was already to us, so I stopped talking. I wasn’t sure if he was in on the whole magic thing, and I didn’t want to screw up the investigation by cluing in the human police.

  “What’s up, Agent Mason?” Bouchard said, turning down the radio on his belt.

  “Found a wounded animal over here,” she said. “It looks like the poor thing was caught in the commotion over at the robbery gone bad. Probably has a belly full of buckshot and it’s bleeding pretty bad. Can you get animal control out here to take care of it?”

  “No problem. I’ll sit with him until they come out.” He ran a hand softly over the Rottweiler’s head. Part of me wondered how the officer would react to the shifter suddenly being in his human form. “What’s with the cat?”

  “That’s Blackjack,” Val said smoothly. “He’s with me.”

  “You don’t worry about him running off or anything?” Bouchard asked as he absently stroked the shifter.

  “He’s well trained,” Val replied with a smile.

  “Yeah, I hear that’s the trend these days,” he said as we headed back to the Impala.

  Chapter Eight

  “That was good work with that shifter, Jack,” Val said as we packed up the hotel room. Okay, she did the packing. I mostly lay on things she was about to put into her bag. It wasn’t intentional. At least I don’t think it was intentional.

  “I got off lucky,” I replied from atop a folded pile of clothes. “To be quite honest, I didn’t know how fast I could run. I mean, I’ve given my fair share of bum rushes, just never as a furry missile.”

  Val laughed as she shooed me off the clothes. “You know, it’s so weird how you’re more at home with being a cat than you are with the twenty-first century. But I guess your spirit chose right when it went with cat.”

  Right, the whole Spirit of Justice thing. I chewed absently at the back of my paw. “I guess I was just a cat at heart.”

  “You betrayed us!”

  Maybe I was supposed to be a rat at heart. Over and over again in my head those words rang out, making me wonder just how I’d ended up like this. Was there a reason I’d been given a second chance when the memories showed I’d screwed up my first chance so badly?

  “Hey.” Mason snapped her fingers near me to get my attention. “You okay, Jack?”

  “Just lost in thought, I guess,” I responded quietly.

  “The memories?” Val put the rest of the clothes in the bag and zipped it.

  I nodded as my tail curled around me. There might’ve been a need for Val to have a partner in this case, but she deserved a good cop, not some… Not me. I glanced over and Val was back on her phone, tapping away at it as if it were a typewriter.

  “What year?” she asked suddenly.

  “What year what?” I asked, perking up a bit.

  “What year do you last remember?” There was a fire in her eyes I hadn’t expected to see. Something was bothering her, and I could feel it through the bond.

  “I don’t know, it’s all kinda mushed up in my head. ’74? Maybe ’75?” I really didn’t like the direction this was heading. Could her phone get her information about me from almost fifty years ago?

  “Do you remember any names?” she asked, moving her fingers like she was casting some sort of spell on the phone.

  “You took an oath, Davis.”

  “Captain Flaherty, I found Scavo’s mole in the department.”

  The words echoed through my head again. “Scavo, Captain Flaherty,” I said with a sigh. “And…Davis.”

  “Hmm
,” Val grunted as she moved her fingers over the phone. “I’m going to need my computer.”

  “What?” I asked. “I thought you said that thing was better than the computer they used in those Apollo missions?”

  “It is.” She chuckled. “But this one,” she said as she slid a large silver metal plate out of one of the bags, “is better than my phone.”

  “What is this, some sort of Star Trek thing?” Some of the guys at work had been into that show, but I’d always been more of a Mission: Impossible and Get Smart kinda guy.

  “Something like that,” Val muttered. “I’m just bringing up the news from Boston in that time frame. Do you remember who won the World Series?”

  “I wasn’t much of a baseball guy,” I said with a yawn. “But I remember the Celtics winning.”

  “Really?” she asked. “You’re a basketball fan? That’s interesting. Hmm, let’s see here. Captain Flaherty retired in 1989, died in 1997. I’m fairly certain that’s not you. Scavo… Hmm, that’s a weird one. The Scavo crime family was active until 1990 and then disappeared.”

  I twitched my tail and stretched. “Yeah, maybe I’m not remembering right. I don’t know. It might be a common name or somethin’. I don’t wanna jump to conclusions, you know?”

  That left only one name. No doubt she was about to find out about my past. What would happen then? Would she banish me back to wherever I’d been before being a cat, or would she just drop me altogether and leave me to fend for myself?

  “Mason,” I started, putting a paw on the top of her computer. “Val. I just want you to know that what I remember about my past isn’t good and I don’t want you to think less of me. I’ve done my best to be a good partner for you. I just… I don’t know.”

  “Officer Davis,” she began. “Looks like he retired in 1980. And was then arrested on charges of tax evasion and criminal racketeering.”