“She’s coming down.” Bettina rushed back into the kitchen and pushed the roasting pan at Zoe. “Take this back. Please. If she sees it again, I’ll never hear the end of it. Please. Put it back. I’ll explain later.”
“And what about my mother? Oh, all right.” Zoe took the pan with ill grace. “I’ll hide it under the broccoli. She hates that, so she’d never touch it.”
The middle stair creaked loudly. Zoe opened the back door and darted out. Bettina sank weakly into a chair, limp with relief.
Abruptly, she felt a sneeze coming on and snatched automatically for the paper handkerchief in her pocket. As she pulled it out, she was suddenly aware that something else had come out with it; something that curved in a glittering arc from the fold of the handkerchief to the floor.
Sneeze forgotten, she lurched forward to retrieve it Too late. Adolf pounced, gulping at it.
“No, Adolf! No!” She grabbed at him.
He backed away swiftly and gave her a defiant look. Then there was the telltale muscle movement of his throat as he swallowed.
“No! No!” She was on her knees beside him, pleading. “No, you can’t! Spit it out. Come on.” She began patting him vigorously on the back. “Cough it up!”
“Bettina! What are you doing?”
“Adolf—” Bettina said. “Adolf—” She could not explain. Adolf gave a choking wheeze and backed farther away, looking as though he might be having second thoughts about that last cat treat.
“That cat isn’t going to be sick, is he?”
“I hope so.”
“What?”
“I’m afraid Adolf has just swallowed … a stone.”
“Greedy monster!” Mrs. Bilby was untroubled by the news. She was more upset by the state of the floor. “That Zoe has been tracking in mud again. I wish that girl would learn to wipe her feet on the mat. You’d think she’d been brought up in a barn.”
Adolf sauntered over to the water bowl and settled down for a long drinking session. Bettina watched him anxiously.
“Don’t worry about that cat,” her mother said. “He’s tougher than you are. A little stone isn’t going to bother him. It will come out all right at the end.” She gave one of her rare barks of laughter at her own joke.
Yes, and Adolf would require close supervision to make sure that it did. Bettina’s fingers explored the two loose stones remaining in her pocket. Both had sharp pointed ends. That meant Adolf had swallowed the emerald cut. Of them all, it was the safest for him, with no sharp point to pierce his intestines. There was a sporting chance it would make its way through his system without doing him any harm.
“I’ll give him some cod-liver oil,” Bettina decided. “That should help ease it through.”
“Castor oil would be better.”
“We don’t have any—and I doubt that he’d take it. Perhaps I should call the vet.”
“We’re not running up any vet’s bills! If May Cassidy feels she can afford them, she can call the vet when she gets back. It’s only a few more days. Surely the cat can last until then.”
Adolf finished drinking, hiccoughed, and retreated a few paces to sit down and begin washing his face. He seemed all right … so far.
“Here, Adolf.” Bettina poured a dollop of cod-liver oil into a saucer and set it down in front of him. Then, noticing Pasha’s injured look, poured more into a separate saucer for him. Enza promptly began licking at it from the opposite side of the saucer and it developed into a race for Pasha to get his fair share.
“That’s the cat you ought to be worrying about.” Mrs. Bilby indicated Pasha. “We’re being paid to take care of him.”
The money was actually for Pasha’s food and cod-liver oil, but Bettina knew better than to argue with her mother who was falling into a moderately good mood at the thought of the extra cash.
What would Mrs. Bilby do if she knew about the diamonds? Unidentifiable … untraceable. Could she be trusted not to try to appropriate them for her own use? It was better not to risk the arguments. Especially now that Adolf had swallowed one of them. There had always been a certain ring in her mother’s voice when she read out the bedtime story about killing the goose that laid the golden eggs which suggested she felt her own technique with a carving knife might have achieved the hoped-for result.
No, Adolf had brought enough trouble on himself without adding that. He still looked fine, however, and seemed to be breathing normally. Judging from the way he was gulping down the cod-liver oil, he was having no difficulty swallowing, nor was his throat sore. He might just get away with it.
“I’ll keep Adolf in my room tonight,” Bettina decided. “I can watch him and, if he seems to be having any problems, I can call the vet then.”
“You’re a fool over those cats! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
By nightfall, Adolf was the happiest cat in the house. An afternoon of being cuddled in Bettina’s lap, followed every time he moved away, and constantly caressed, had convinced him that he was Top Cat and was finally being shown the favouritism he deserved. He was not to know that the stroking fingers were probing gently at his abdomen, trying to discover the progress of the diamond through his intestinal tract.
It was useless, though; she couldn’t feel a thing. Adolf was too well muscled, too padded, too furred; his secrets were his own.
Enza had curled up on the sofa next to Mrs. Bilby, who was condescending to pat her occasionally as she watched television. Pasha was sunk in dejection as he enviously watched the stroking fingers. Even Mrs. Bilby noticed.
“You ought to be paying more attention to Pasha,” she said during a commercial break. “He’s the valuable cat.”
Little did she know. Bettina forced a smile.
“Worth his weight in diamonds,” Mrs. Bilby quoted derisively.
Adolf yelped as the probing fingers dug in suddenly.
The telephone rang and Bettina started up. “Zoe, probably,” she told her mother. “I’ll answer it.”
“Can you talk?” Zoe asked without preamble.
“Not really.”
“Oh, too bad. Mine’s gone to bed. I thought possibly—”
“Television,” Bettina said briefly. “The Noel Coward season started tonight. She’s watching.”
“So am I. Off and on. Shall we meet for lunch tomorrow? We can talk then.”
“Yes. No!” Bettina abruptly realized that she could not go to work in the morning. Not unless Adolf had delivered himself of the diamond. She was going to have to stay within monitoring range until Adolf had excreted the gem.
“Look,” Bettina said. “I can’t explain now, but something’s come up—or gone down,” she corrected with a mirthless laugh. “I’m not going to work tomorrow, perhaps not for a couple of days. I’ll ring you when I get a chance and we can—”
“You mean I have to keep that thing in my freezer indefinitely? That can’t be sanitary. There must be all kinds of health regulations against it. Why don’t you—”
“Sorry.” Bettina was conscious of a shadow beyond the glass of the front door. “Someone’s at the door. I’ll talk to you later. Maybe tomorrow.” She hung up just as the bell rang.
“I’ll get it,” she called to her mother, who had no intention of moving. She released the guard chain as she recognized the caller and swung the door open.
“Good evening, Graeme,” she said. “Had any luck finding Sylvia?”
“Not really.” Graeme stepped inside and looked around sharply, as though he expected to find Sylvia lurking in the shadows. “I went down to Erith and talked to her aunt, but she hadn’t seen or heard from her in weeks. I had the devil of a time getting away and she was no help at all.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“You’re sure you haven’t heard from her?” He stared at Bettina intently, as though seeking to catch her out in some lie.
“Not a word.” Bettina felt a faint stir of indignation. “Why should I?”
“Pasha,” he said. “She wouldn’
t have gone away and left Pasha. That is,” he corrected himself, “not for long. She was planning to collect him from you in the morning. I thought she might have telephoned to change the arrangement—or, at least, ask how he is.”
“Well she hasn’t. I’m sorry, Graeme, but—”
“Bettina!” her mother called. “Who’s out there?”
“It’s just Graeme, Mother. He’s still looking for Sylvia.”
“Well, he’d better look somewhere else. She still isn’t here.”
Pasha appeared in the doorway, drawn by the familiar voice. He stared at Graeme and moved forward to circle him warily, sniffing at his shoes. He, too, was looking for Sylvia.
“Poor baby,” Bettina said. “He misses her dreadfully.”
“As well he might.” Graeme looked down at Pasha without affection. “No one else will ever spoil him the way she does.”
Pasha gave a despairing little cry and retreated back to the living room. Mrs. Bilby greeted him with a remark that was inaudible but clearly uncomplimentary.
Adolf sauntered into the hallway with a faintly arrogant air; it had been a whole five minutes since his last cuddle, his new slave was falling down on the job.
“All these cats.” Graeme glanced at him. “I hope they’re not too destructive.”
“They’re very well behaved,” Bettina said, just as Adolf began sharpening his claws on the stair carpet.
“You shouldn’t have much trouble with Pasha.” Graeme stared into her eyes earnestly. “He couldn’t catch a mouse or a bird if you put it in his mouth for him. He isn’t good for much of anything, in fact.”
“Poor Pasha.” Bettina wondered if Graeme and Sylvia had quarrelled over the cat, if that had something to do with her disappearance. “He has his problems.”
“Not half as many as he’s given us,” Graeme complained. “We have three people threatening law suits for return of their stud fees. They’re not entitled, of course. Pasha covered their queens without any difficulty. It’s just that there weren’t any results. These things happen sometimes.”
Bettina nodded sympathetically. They were happening too often with Pasha and word was getting round. Was it possible that her mother was right and Sylvia had decided to cut all her losses—unsatisfactory cat as well as unsatisfactory husband?
“If you should hear from Sylvia,” Graeme said nervously, “you will let me know?”
“Of course.” Bettina tried to sound reassuring. “But I’m sure you’ll hear before I will.”
“Yes.” He nodded, but still seemed reluctant to leave, looking around anxiously again. “There’s been some sort of ridiculous mix-up. We’ll get it sorted out.”
Bettina was asleep, a contented Adolf curled against the small of her back, when a deeper, louder purr disturbed her dreams and made her stir uneasily. She didn’t wake, but something deep in her unconscious mind followed the sound of a heavy motor cruising past the house, down to the end of the street, back again, and over to the next street. Up and down … up down …
Chapter 11
“Bettina! Bettina! You’ll be late for work.” Her mother rattled the doorknob, thwarted at finding the door locked. “Bettina! Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” Ignoring Adolf’s protests, Bettina threw back the covers and stumbled to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open.
“You locked your door!” Mrs. Bilby accused.
“If I don’t, it springs open sometimes,” Bettina defended. “I didn’t want Adolf to get out.”
“Blasted cat!” Mrs. Bilby regarded Adolf without favour as he fought his way free of the covers and stretched luxuriously. “You’d better worry more about yourself and less about him. What will you do if you lose your job? Hurry up or you’ll be really late.”
“I’m not going in today,” Bettina said. “I—I don’t feel too well. I’ll ring up and tell them.”
“What’s wrong?” Her mother looked at her sharply.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She couldn’t tell the truth: I can’t leave Adolf. That would really send her mother berserk.
“My head aches … and I feel terribly tired … sort of drained …” It wasn’t really a lie, even as she spoke a vague malaise came over her. It would be so nice to go back to bed, back to sleep, and leave the world and all its problems for someone else to face. She sighed and drooped, without realizing she was doing so.
“I hope you’re not coming down with something. After all that running around in the wet gardens, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit. You’re old enough to know better.”
“There wasn’t much else I could do.” Her mother spoke as though finding a dead body was something that could be ignored until the weather improved.
“Perhaps not.” Her mother suddenly looked indecisive. “Do you want to go back to bed? Shall I bring you a cup of tea?” She must really be worried.
“Thanks, but I’ll get dressed and come downstairs. I’m not that bad, I’m just not bright enough to face a full day at the office.” Particularly not when there wasn’t a full day’s work there to occupy her; but, if she admitted that, her mother’s worries would only increase. It was best not to let her suspect that the firm was faltering.
Adolf leaped from the bed and strolled purposefully towards the open door. Bettina checked quickly; he had not used the litter tray during the night.
“Don’t let him out!” She moved quickly, darting around her mother and slamming the door just before Adolf reached it. He halted and glared at her, affronted.
“Really!” Her mother was scarcely less affronted. “What on earth … ?”
“I don’t want him out of my sight. Not until I’m sure he’s going to be all right.”
Adolf sat down with his back to them and stared pointedly at the door. After a moment, he uttered a loud cry of complaint.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Bettina picked him up, still protesting. “You’ll go downstairs when I do.” She added to her mother, hoping she’d take the hint: “I’ll get dressed now and be right down.”
“I’ll go and put the kettle on then.” Her mother gave Adolf an old-fashioned look and went out of the room quickly, while he tried to struggle free from Bettina’s embrace.
“Not yet, you don’t.” She set him down firmly in the litter tray. “Now try!”
He glared at her and stepped out of the tray, shaking each paw fastidiously and complaining again. He didn’t know what her problem was, but she was getting no cooperation from him.
After breakfast, Bettina called Mr. Norris and, in a weak voice, explained that she wasn’t feeling well and might be in tomorrow … if she improved.
“Take your time,” Mr. Norris said gloomily. “There won’t be much business transacted this week. Too many people are busy mopping up after the storm. Do you still have your electricity?”
“It went out the first night, but we got it back in the morning. After that, it flickered a few times, but we didn’t lose it again.”
“You’re lucky. Ours went on Saturday night and we haven’t got it back yet. I’m taking Lucy to lunch—she’s desperate for a proper cooked meal—and I’ll probably take the rest of the day off and go home with her. She doesn’t like being alone in the house without any light or central heating. Thank God for the fireplaces. We were able to cook sausages and toast on forks. Between that and the wine cellar, we made it through the weekend.”
He was considerably more cheerful when he rang off. Bettina recognized that the telling of the What-Did-You-Do-in-the-Great-Storm? story was going to brighten the post-holiday letdown for the next few days whenever people met. It was too bad she wouldn’t be able to relate her own experiences.
She felt more cheerful herself as she went back into the living room; it was perfectly true that the outside world was not going to get back to normal for some time. In an obscure way, that seemed to extend her absolution from the immediate necessity to do anything about the diamonds.
Also, there was the added complicati
on of Adolf. Even if she should discover the owner of the gems, she could not hand over most of the diamonds—and someone else’s cat. The stone Adolf had swallowed was one of the largest; she had an uneasy suspicion that its value was in the tens of thousands. If she couldn’t get it back from Adolf, she might be accused of stealing it for herself. If she ever found the right person to give it back to.
“Where’s Adolf?” she asked abruptly. None of the cats were in the living room.
“I hope you don’t expect me to keep track of those cats. It’s bad enough—”
“You didn’t let them out!” Bettina started for the kitchen.
“No, I didn’t! That Adolf was agitating to go out for all he was worth, though. Cheeky little monkey!” Mrs. Bilby’s tone betrayed the fact that her sole reason for not letting them out was to thwart Adolf. If he hadn’t wanted to go out, she’d have swept him out in a minute.
Pasha came to meet Bettina hopefully.
“Good boy.” She gave him a perfunctory pat. “Where’s Adolf?”
Pasha turned away as though he had expected nothing better and went to sit beside his empty food dish, staring at it glumly.
“Adolf?” She looked around anxiously, fighting down a pang of guilt about Pasha. He was feeling neglected, he was being neglected. She must find time to give him some attention, but she couldn’t lose sight of Adolf.
“Adolf?” she called again. He was nowhere in sight, but she knew how to smoke him out. It would cheer Pasha, too. She took down the box of cat treats and, rattling them noisily, poured some into each bowl.
The curtains at the window moved and Adolf emerged from behind them. Enza came out of her carrying case. Pasha brightened.
“What’s outside?” Bettina remembered the last time Adolf had been so engrossed in the scene from the kitchen window. Had he actually seen the man fall into the puddle and drown? Or had he simply known that the body was there? Rather nervously, she went over to the window to look out.
All seemed peaceful and quiet out there. The ground had absorbed most of the water but still looked spongy and muddy. The hedge was too thick to see through to the other side, but she knew the view would be the same, except for the footprints in the mud surrounding the spot where the man had lain.
The Diamond Cat Page 11
