Short Stories from Wing's Authors.

Belling The Cat

by

John Paulits

"Meow."

Mark Louis was lying on the comfortable blue sofa in the library of the Allen estate in Saddle River, New Jersey, going over the script of AWB Rep's next play, The Winter's Tale. He lowered his hand and rubbed the black cat's head. The cat, Juliet by name, was satisfied and sauntered off with a pronounced limp. After a moment to ponder and prepare, the cat leaped onto a table that stood against the wall, settled down, and closed her eyes.

Kristy King, Mark's roommate and colleague at AWB Rep, a staple of New York City's East Village, walked into the room. Mark admired her form and face, a product of Asian/Caucasian parentage, and smiled up at her.

"Any news?" he asked.

Kristy shook her head and plopped down on the sofa atop his legs. Mark grunted and wriggled into a more comfortable position.

"Something awful must have happened, Mark," said Kristy. "She's been gone almost twenty-four hours." It was late on a Monday afternoon in January, and the snow lay deep on the ground.

"The police are still looking, aren't they?" Mark asked.

Kristy nodded. "Ronald and Barbara had this little get together at the wrong time."

Ronald and Barbara Astaire, major patrons of AWB Rep, had invited Mark and Kristy to the home of Georgia Allen, Barbara's mother, for a few days. They were due back in the city on Wednesday in time for the evening performance of Blithe Spirit.

"No insights?" Kristy smiled wanly. Mark had a reputation as a crime solver, achieved when his theatre was plagued by successive murders over a span of months, and he had managed to bring the killers to justice in both cases.

"We can go over it again, if you want," Mark suggested with a shrug.

"Mrs. Allen went out alone yesterday afternoon," Kristy began.

"To walk to the village, ten minutes away, to buy cat food for Juliet."

The seventy-two-year-old widow had explained about the death of Frisky, her seventeen-years-long cat companion, and his replacement two months ago with Juliet, adopted from a nearby shelter. Juliet, it seemed, was a lover of dry cat food, while Frisky had been partial to wet. Mrs. Allen had complained about how her son-in-law had, out of habit, bought a mountain of wet food and no dry food, and now she would have to "traipse" into town "through the snow" to get some, since it was near Juliet's dinner time, and Ronald and Barbara were out until nine at a local fund-raising cocktail party they had not been able to get out of. Mark and Kristy, having passed on an invitation to tag along to the party, offered to go to the store for her, but Mrs. Allen said no.

She left the house and had not been seen since.

Ronald and Barbara strode into the library. They were in their early fifties, double Mark's and Kristy's age, but the couples had gotten friendly at various theatre fund-raising gatherings. Mark nudged Kristy, who moved so that he could sit up.

"The police are idiots," fumed Barbara. "She no more had Alzheimer's disease than I do."

Ronald explained. "They think she wandered off. Old people do it all the time, they say."

"Mark," Barbara said plaintively. "Can't you…?"

"Did the police add anything new?" Mark asked.

Ronald answered. "She did stop at the grocery in town to buy cat food. She met the local veterinarian in the store, and they chatted. She left with her cat food--the storekeeper said she seemed angry at something the whole while--and that's the last anyone saw of her."

An older man in heavy work boots entered the room.

Mark noticed Juliet lift her head, scamper down from the table and scoot through the cat door that led to the snowy fields outside.

"Oh, Martin. Any news?" asked Barbara. They had asked Martin Bestler, Mrs. Allen's handyman, gardener, and groundskeeper to search the area.

Martin, a large, dull-eyed man over sixty said, "I didn't find anything. I'm sorry."

Barbara looked down at Martin's work boots. This caused Martin to took, too. A small puddle, melted snow, was forming on the library floor.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am. I usually take them off in the hallway, but I wanted to tell you right away. I'll clean up."

"No, no. Don't bother," said Barbara.

Martin nodded and left. Barbara fell into a chair.

Kristy bobbed her head at Mark, indicating he should be helpful and clean the snow melt from the floor.

Mark got up, took some napkins left over from the Sunday cocktail hour and crossed the room.

"Oh, Mark, don't. It's all right," said Barbara.

"No problem." Mark squatted and sopped up the water. Kristy saw him pause, take a dry napkin, touch it to the floor, crumple it, and stuff it into his pocket. Mark rose and went to deposit the sopping napkins in a brass trash can next to a teak desk by the corner window.

Quiet tears ran down Barbara's cheeks, and for an hour she offered memories of her mother as her husband and friends offered what sympathy they could. Finally, the conversation waned.

To break the silence Ronald said, "Even the cat is off its feed. Came home limping and wouldn't eat a thing last night. Ate this morning, though. Where is it anyway?"

"It went out a while ago," said Mark, indicating the cat door. "Where does it go, by the way?"

"Oh, Lord, I don't know," said Ronald. "Georgia always let her cat roam outside. It comes home on its own, or she rang a bell at feeding time to call it back. She would lock it up for the night to keep it safe from predators."

The concept of a predator in the neighborhood silenced everyone again.

"Watch." Ronald got up and retrieved a small hand bell from the teak desktop. He opened the library door and cold air swept into the room. Everyone listened to the bell.

"This new cat already knows to come," said Ronald. He replaced the bell and joined the others in the gloomy silence.

A few moments later the cat door swung in and Juliet appeared. She leaped back onto the table she had claimed before.

"She should go eat," said Barbara as she idly rose and latched the cat door.

"She didn't eat last night either," Ronald repeated.

No one seemed to hear him and the grim evening wore on.

~ * ~

Next morning, Mark walked into town early. He paid a visit to Dr. White the veterinarian. When he returned, the groundskeeper Martin was in the large, crescent-shaped driveway, removing the two inches of new snow that had fallen overnight.

"Good morning, Martin," said Mark.

"Morning."

"No news, I suppose."

Martin shook his head and continued shoveling.

"How long have you worked here?"

Martin stopped shoveling and glared at Mark. "Few years."

Mark nodded in a friendly way and smiled. "Well, don't overdo it." He left Martin and went back inside the house, careful to dry his snowy shoes. Then he went in search of Barbara.

He found her with Kristy, sitting on the library sofa. Kristy was holding Barbara's hand. Juliet limped into the room, licking her chops, followed by Ronald.

"Well, she ate this morning but not last night again," Ronald said. "Shall I let her out?" He didn't expect or wait for an answer but went and unlatched the cat door. Juliet, though, decided that it was time for her morning nap and leaped up onto her favorite table.

"Any news?" Mark asked.

Barbara sighed and gave a loud sniff. "No. No. Captain Bevins called. No trace. Nothing new."

Mark waggled a finger at Ronald, who moved into a corner of the room with him.

"Ronald, does Ms. Allen have any cat collars with bells on?"

"Oh, Lord. A drawer full of them. Why?"

"Will you show me?"

~ * ~

An hour later Mark had taken off Juliet's plain red collar and loaded her with three belled collars, the most that would fit, around her neck. Then he waited.

Just after lunch Kristy took him aside.

"Am I crazy or are you following that cat around? And why all those collars? What did you pick up from the floor yesterday when you were cleaning the puddle?"

"You noticed that? I'll tell you later. Listen, when the cat goes out, I'm going out with it. You, too. My coat's already in the library. Put yours there."

Kristy and Mark sat in the library while the Astaires were off on a visit to the police station. Juliet, still on the table, rose to all fours and stretched. She leaped carefully down to the floor and limped toward the cat door.

"She's going out," Mark said and donned his coat. Kristy followed suit. Mark went to the desk and took the bell Ronald had used the previous night to summon the cat back home.

"Here we go," said Mark. "Be gentle. Don't spook her."

Kristy nodded, still not knowing why.

Juliet went through the cat door, and Mark and Kristy followed through the library doors.

They trailed Juliet as quietly as they could, the new-fallen snow helping their efforts immensely.

"Will you please tell me what we're doing?" Kristy implored.

"I want to find out where Juliet is going."

"You think she goes to Barbara's mother's body, don't you. It's found its mistress."

"The cat's only been living here two months. You think it would become so attached that it would stand guard over her body?"

"Well, two months? I don't know. No, I guess not."

"I guess not, too. Shhh," Mark cautioned. They were in a hollow about a quarter mile behind the house. They followed the cat's footprints through the snow to the base of the hollow and saw that the prints disappeared behind a tangle of leafless underbrush.

Mark gently sifted through the underbrush, producing a light cascade of snow. Kristy stood behind him, holding her breath.

"I thought you said…" she whispered.

"Listen."

The gentle tinkle of bells.

"Where's it coming from?" Mark whispered.

He and Kristy stood still and listened. Again, a gentle tinkle of bells. Kristy gave Mark a puzzled look.

"Watch and see where she comes from," Mark whispered. He took the bell he'd brought and jangled it. They waited.

"There," said Kristy.

Juliet appeared behind a snowdrift just to their right.

"Meow."

Mark bent to scratch Juliet's head. "She went through this tangle and somehow got into that pile of snow from the side. Let's go look."

"But what are we looking for if you don't think…"

"It wasn't Mrs. Allen she'd be interested in."

"What then?"

"Just dig."

He and Kristy began scooping snow away. Kristy gasped as she uncovered a wisp of gray hair. Shoved into an old drainage pipe, now covered by two feet of drifted snow, was the body of Georgia Allen, a broken bag of cat food stuffed in next to her.

~ * ~

Captain Bevins had delivered Martin Bestler, handcuffed, into the custody of two officers. He joined everyone in the library, the tearful Astaires, Mark, Kristy, and a reporter from the local weekly newspaper.

"You'll have to tell everyone else how you knew where to look for the body, Mr. Louis," said Captain Bevins.

"I can't wait to write this up," said the reporter, an eager, lanky, blond man no more than Mark's age.

"Yes, Mark, please. I want to know," said a broken-hearted Barbara.

Mark drew a breath. "Well."

Kristy nodded at him to get on with it.

"The cat was a friendly cat. Came to me to be scratched right away. But as soon as Martin entered the room yesterday afternoon, the cat took off. Didn't seem to like him. When I mopped up the floor, I found something interesting." He looked Kristy's way. "Kristy noticed me pick it up. It was a piece of dry cat food. It was a bit wet and squishy, but it was clear what it was. There hadn't been any in the house, as you well know, Ronald."

Ronald nodded. "I got scolded roundly for that."

"That piece of cat food came out of the grooved sole of one of Martin's work boots. He didn't pick it up in the house. He couldn't have because not only was there none but he said he usually took his snowy boots off in the hallway. When the snow started melting on the floor, out it came. One piece. How did it get stuck in his boot? It could only have come from outside.

"This morning I went to speak with the vet, Dr. White. He'd met your mother in the grocery store. She asked about Frisky's ashes. He didn't know what she was talking about and said she seemed to get angry. It turns out that she'd given the corpse of the cat to Martin to have it disposed of by Dr. White.

"Your mother, Barbara, made her purchase and then either went looking for Martin or simply bumped into him. As Martin told the Captain, he didn't feel like making a cold and wet trip to the vet for such nonsense as delivering a dead cat and simply tossed the body into the nearest trash can he could find. Your mother wanted to fire him immediately. They argued. He struck her.

"At first he denied knowing anything at all about Mrs. Allen's death, but when the Captain laid out the story as I described it to him, piece by piece, Martin broke down and admitted what he did.

"He panicked and hid the body. Working here, he knew about that drainage pipe. Juliet showed up when he was hiding the body and got a kick for good measure, thus her new limp and her desire to quit the room when Martin stepped in. I figured Martin hid your mother's package, the dry cat food, along with the body. I was sure of it when Ronald pointed out that Juliet was not eating dinner after her day out. But after being locked in the house all night, though, she would eat breakfast. The bag of food must not have stayed sealed, allowing the cat to fill up on it and so forgo dinner, and allowing a piece or two to lodge in Martin's boot. So it was a full cat and that piece of food in Martin's boot that led me to believe he'd killed Mrs. Allen. The conversation with the vet clinched it. I put some bells on the cat, and Kristy and I followed her and found what we found. Captain Bevins confronted Martine and that was it."

The reporter was writing as fast as he could.

"Meow."

Juliet pranced into the room, her limp still detectable. She surveyed the crowd and then walked over and leaped into Mark's lap. She spun in a half circle and settled down.

"I guess sometimes cats know," said Captain Bevins with a shrug.

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