Cat Shining Bright

Joe had never before broken a promise, that Clyde knew of. He wanted to honk the horn and shout at the racing little liar. Instead, as Joe swerved into his tower, Clyde pulled quietly into the drive. Getting out, he didn’t click the car door shut, he made no sound. Quick and silent, he unlocked the front door, slipped in, pulled off his shoes, and in stocking feet, headed for the stairs. He paused at the bottom, listening. There was silence for a moment, then—who was he talking to? Had he dialed the dispatcher? But why? The cops were already there.

“. . . Yes,” Joe was saying, “in the attic with him. She called you from there, then she ran out the back.” . . . Silence, then, “Blue Ford hatchback, Rick Alderson driving. Yes, Rick Alderson. Don’t you have Egan in the lockup? You do have a warrant for Rick?” Another silence, Joe gave the license number, then he must have hung up, Clyde heard him drop to the floor.

By the time Clyde reached the top of the stairs the gray tomcat was curled up on the love seat with Rock, lying against Rock’s chest appearing to be sound asleep, the gray dog’s paws wrapped around him. Clyde stood looking down at them. Rock was asleep, snoring slightly, maybe worn out with playing, because the living room was a shambles. The Weimaraner probably hadn’t stirred when Joe Grey slipped in between his big paws.

Clyde pulled the desk chair around, sat down facing the two animals, fixing his gaze on Joe, staring at him intently.

Joe, feigning sleep, could feel Clyde’s gaze sharp as a laser beam. He daren’t even slit an eye open; the minute he stirred a whisker he’d get a dressing-down that would be the grandfather of all lectures.

But what had he done wrong? His promise was that he’d stay in the house, not go through Rock’s door in the patio; they’d agreed that he could go into his tower. So he had pushed a little in his own mind, for purposes of clarification, reasoning that the roof was part of the house. So what was the big deal? And, where had Clyde seen him? Not racing across the neighbors’ roofs, he hoped. Or worse, coming out of Barbara’s house.

Could he help it if, when one thing led to another, he found himself past his own block and into the extended crime scene? Joe ignored the word “deception.” This was simply good detecting.

When Clyde, admiring the faking ability of the gray tomcat, could stand it no longer he picked Joe up from Rock’s protecting forearms and held him dangling, scowling angrily into Joe’s startled yellow eyes.

“What happened to the quarantine promise?”

“We agreed that the tower was part of our house, so I figured the roof was, too. I said I’d keep away from other cats.”

“How did our roof, Joe, turn into three full blocks of rooftops? You want to explain how that could happen?”

“You are so picky. They’re all laced together with tree branches. Where do you draw the line? And that rat . . . You know there’s little chance that rat had rabies. A rabid rat would have been nervous and probably would have attacked us all, it wouldn’t have been busy tearing up boxes. It was only a female rat making a nest.”

He looked intently at Clyde. “This was urgent. This was . . . if I hadn’t called the department they wouldn’t know what kind of car they were driving. Those two are wanted . . . Rick Alderson for grand theft auto, and Lena . . . I don’t know what that charge will be.”

Clyde was silent a long moment. “Rick Alderson?”

“Would you mind not dangling me?”

Clyde, despite his anger, gathered Joe over his shoulder, cradling him in a more comfortable position. “So you sneaked into the crime scene. But where did Rick come from? And who called the medics? Who was hurt? What happened in there?”

“Randall Borden. He was in the attic. He apparently escaped from jail. He’s sick, I don’t know what’s wrong. Lena found him, called the meds then she got the hell out. Rick was waiting, in a blue Ford. Bear in mind, Clyde, the police have warrants for both Rick and Lena.”

“You said that. But where did Rick come from?”

“I haven’t a clue. He was just there. Lena called him Rick. When I looked closely I could see a little difference between him and Egan, a tiny difference to the shape of their noses and ears. I think they’re headed for Voletta’s place. We need to get Courtney and Dulcie, and Kit and Pan away from there. At least the boys are safe with the Firettis. We need to get Wilma and Kate out, I don’t feel good about this. Those people are . . . I thought Lena was going to shoot Randall, going to shoot her own husband.”