9cb261f7cd45f33ca37c87fa6590aac1

Zeke continued, “You’re probably wondering how we are going to identify the informant once he leaves the house, since a black cat looks like any other black cat.” He smiled. “Maybe to a black cat another black cat doesn’t, the same as a Chinese to a Chinese, but to me they do. We’re taking care of that by applying phosphorescent paint to the hair on the tip of his tail.”

10

Zeke’s lank frame looked strange in the blue quilted chintz chair as he huddled over a two-way radio that he had set up alongside the extension phone in Patti’s bedroom. In the doorway Ingrid and Mike watched avidly, Mike’s eyes on the equipment, Inky’s on the man.

Sprawled on the bed was D.C. with his white-tipped tail curled around so he could reach it with his tongue. No mat­ter how strenuously he washed it, he culd not lick it clean, and he was pained deeply. They had ruined him for life. Not since Mike was ten had he been painted. He could never explain it to his friends. What would Poker Face, who lived in the next block, think? Poker Face wouldn’t say anything, of course, since D.C. invited him into the house occasionally for a bowl of milk, a liquid D.C. loathed.

Zeke said into the mike, “Car fourteen. Come in, fourteen.”

The answer came immediately. “Car fourteen in. We’re in position. All set.”

Zeke said, “Car fifteen. Come in, fifteen.”

And so it went as Zeke checked each car. As he was fin­ishing, he heard the front door slam. Ingrid swung about but thought better of the idea. Any other night she would have run to meet Patti, to hug her and hear what was the latest in the world of fashion and business. Inky could scarcely wait to get a job modeling, and the fervent hope that she could had inspired her to give up virtually all food, except an occasional hot fudge nut sundae.

As Patti came down the hall, she called, “Inky, what’s been going on in the bathroom?” She was wearing her no-nonsense voice.

She entered the bedroom and stopped short on seeing Zeke. He spoke up quickly. “I’m to blame, Miss Randall. We finger­printed D.C. in there. I should’ve cleaned it up.” He added, “We had a little difficulty.”

Mike put in, “It’s a good thing Mom isn’t here.” Ingrid said hurriedly, “It was my idea, sis.” She turned to Zeke, “You’re a doll to take the blame but I won’t let you, al­though I admire a man who protects a woman. Not many men do.”

“Horse-radish,” Mike said.

Patti tossed her jacket on the bed beside D.C. and stooped to rub his ears. D.C. stretched and purred loudly. She was without doubt the best ear rubber in the business. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up later.”

“Huh!” Mike exclaimed. “If I so much as breathe in the bathroom I have to wipe up the moisture.”

Zeke said to Patti, “I’m sorry about taking over your bed­room. I’ll put everything back like it was when I finish.” Patti smiled sweetly. “Would I be upsetting the FBI too much if I get a change of clothes?”

Zeke grinned. “Come and go any time you want to. Make yourself at home.”

Mike asked, “You wearing your black lace panties to­night?”

She stood motionless, her hands poised stiff over the draw­er they had been about to explore. Ingrid screamed, “Michael Randall! How could you?”

Zeke said quietly, “Don’t let it bother you, Miss Randall. I had an older sister – and I said the same things.” She turned, and the look was a kiss.

Mike went to her. He was as near crying as a man of twelve dared to come. “I was just teasing, Pat. I’m a louse.” She put her hand to his cheek. “So run along and let’s forget it, huh?”

When he was gone Inky said, “The maturing process is hard. You say things and wonder why. I was the same at his age. He’ll grow out of it.”

Zeke shook his head as he returned to the radio. “I don’t know. Most of us don’t. I’ve been saying things all my life I shouldn’t have.”

At that moment the phone rang, and Ingrid picked it up on its first note. Her voice dropped, and she carried the phone over to the far window.

“It’s a boy,” Patti said. “I can always tell. She sounds like Sandra Dee.”

Zeke sneezed, and the sneeze reminded him. “I was won­dering about the cat’s dinner.”

She fished a dress out of the closet and shut the door behind her, standing very straight in a patch of evening sun. “You promised to call him by his name.”

Zeke shifted uneasily. “I did, didn’t I?” He couldn’t take his eyes from hers. Afterwards he thought they were blue, but he was never sure. “About D.C.‘s dinner. What if you didn’t feed him at all tonight? Wouldn’t he go out earlier look­ing for something?”

“That’s not what he looks for,” she said without thinking. “I mean

“

Zeke grinned. “I know what you mean.”

In the background Ingrid’s voice grew louder. “I don’t know whether I can go at all, Eddie. I’ll have to ask my sister

. I can’t help it, I never do anything without asking my sister. Okay, I’ll let you know, Eddie. Good-by.”

Patti stared in disbelief. “Since when have you ever asked my permission to do anything?”