Shirley Murphy - Cat Breaking Free

When Luis and Tommie finished breakfast and went to bed because they'd been up all night, she picked up their plates, folded the newspaper, and wiped egg and crumbs from the table. She didn't want to read any more of that paper.

She made Abuela's breakfast and went to bring her into the kitchen. While Abuela was eating, Maria returned to her and Abuela's bedroom and fed the cats, scooping the dry food through the bars into the dirty bowl. She couldn't clean the sandbox until Luis got up again, with the key, until he stood right over her, making a face and telling her to hurry up.

As she spooned the dry food through the bars, the three cats looked up at her, then at the cage door. They looked like they were asking her to open it; quickly she crossed herself.

"Luis has the key," she told them; but it scared her even more that she was speaking to them. As if some voodoo spell was on her. The biggest cat's eyes burned into hers like he understood her, too. As if he wanted to say, "Can't you take the key? Can't you let us out?" She grew frightened, indeed, watching him. It did no good to remind herself that they were only cats, only stray cats.

There were stray cats all over Mexico, they hunted rats and mice, and they died. In Mexico, there were always more cats.

It was Hernando who trapped the cats, away in the green hills beyond the village, which she could see from the window. Some of the cats had gotten away, slipped out of the traps. Then Hernando bought different ones. He said those cats knew how to open traps, but no cat could do that. Someone had let them loose.

Hernando believed it, though; he said they weren't regular cats. He talked real crazy, said they were worth money. But now that Hernando had gone away somewhere, why didn't Luis turn the cats loose, get rid of them?

She wished, with Hernando gone and Dufio in jail, that Luis would go away, too. She wanted to pray to the Virgin that Luis and his men would all go to jail for the jewel robbery and she and Abuela would be free. But she guessed she would go to hell if she prayed for such a thing. When she looked at the biggest cat, his eyes were so like a person's that she backed away from him, whispering her Hail Marys.

Binnie’s italian was a small, family-operated cafe that had been a fixture in Molena Point for three generations. The Gianinni family had been a part of the village since the dirt streets of Molena Point were traversed by horse and buggy. In the early days, many Italian families had emigrated from the old country to California's central coast, to farm and work and open businesses, to become doctors and lawyers and bankers, to settle in and help create the lively economy that now existed.

Other, fancier restaurants than Binnie's came and went, but Binnie's was part of the community, a constant favorite with its roasted-vegetable pizzas and seafood pastas and locally made wines and beers. A few years ago, Binnie's had redecorated, shocking the old-timers with bright abstract murals that covered the walls and ceiling and even the tabletops. Every surface became a feast of color, every chair a work of art painted differently. The effect was cozy and welcoming, a warm and cheerful retreat.

On this chill spring evening, Ryan Flannery entered Binnie's as Roman Slayter held the door for her in his most courteous manner. Having erased a dozen of Slayter's messages from her machine over the last four days, Ryan had at last given in, driven by curiosity at Slayter's latest message. She knew the taped message was a ruse, but she couldn't resist: "I think I know something about this burglary, Ryan. The jewelry store? Some facts… Well, I don't want to go to the police myself. I can't explain exactly why. You'd have to trust me on that. I thought if you passed on the information, it might be helpful…"

Oh, right, she thought. What kind of scam is this? But still, she had to know what he would say.

He'd reserved a table at the back, complete with a little bowl of flowers and a candle. Pulling out her chair for her, then folding his slim six-foot-four frame onto a red-and-blue ladder-back bench, Roman grinned at her, his brown eyes more familiar than she liked. He was wearing a tan cashmere sport coat over a black shirt and cream slacks. A flashy gold Rolex watch gleamed on his tanned wrist, and he wore some kind of gold signet ring with an onyx stone.

Up at the ranch, she hadn't noticed his jewelry, she'd been too angry and then too shocked at Rock's chameleon behavior. She still didn't understand what had gotten into Rock. She'd seen him, too many times, threaten to attack strange men who approached her. Tonight, she'd dropped the big dog off at Clyde's before Clyde got home from work. Had left a message on Clyde's machine. She hoped he didn't mind keeping Rock. It had been days since she'd seen him, and he hadn't once called her. She probably could have left Rock at home, he was much more dependable than when she'd first taken him in. But even now, when left alone, he was still inclined to panic and tear up the yard or the furniture.

Slayter had ordered wine as they were seated. Now she glanced briefly at her menu, then sat watching him. "What did you have to tell me? What was so urgent?"

Slayter had begun to speak when the waiter approached, uncorking a nice merlot. He remained silent, nodding and tasting at the right moments. Ryan watched the little ritual impatiently The dark-haired young waiter was nervous, was probably new at this-one of Binnie's many nephews, young men who had, over the years, worked in the restaurant while they were in high school or college. She kept a cool gaze on Roman.

When the waiter left, Slayter lifted a little toast to her, which she ignored. "The night of the burglary," he said, "I saw a woman running… Not from the store itself, but from that direction, that block." His brown eyes never left her, a soft, disingenuous look, concerned and innocent. He'd apparently just had a haircut, she could see the tiny white line below his neat, dark hair-and he smelled of some expensive, musky aftershave. "Just as the sirens started, I saw her running down the street from the direction of the jewelry store, keeping to the shadows. She was carrying a small black bag, a shapeless cloth pouch that bulged at the bottom. She was darkly dressed, with a hood pulled around her face. Running south, away from Ocean.

"Two blocks south of Ocean she ducked into a driveway, old shingled cottage next to a two-story house on Doris, that Spanish-style place with a new shake roof."

Ryan startled. That was Clyde's house, Slayter had to know that. It was the only two-story house for several blocks south of Ocean, the only house with a new shake roof. She looked at Slayter, frowning.

Could the woman he saw, if he had seen anyone, could that be Clyde's blond neighbor? She didn't know what Slayter was up to, but she didn't think she wanted to hear this.

No matter how much she disliked that woman, she liked even less what she was hearing.

"I was just headed back to the motel after dinner," Roman said. "Heard the sirens and turned up there instead." He gave her a boyish smile. "Idle curiosity. Rubbernecking, I guess. She ran into the driveway of the brown house, disappeared at the back, I heard a door close somewhere at the back. There was a woman in the front of the house, watching TV, I could see her silhouette through the shade."

Ryan frowned. She'd thought Chichi was staying there alone, that the owners were up in the city. "If you thought she was running from the burglary, why didn't you call the police? Why are you telling me?"

"I… I was in some trouble not long ago," Roman said diffidently. "Not of my doing, but the police thought it was. I… didn't want to get involved. The police…"

"You could have called them anonymously. They might have caught her. Might even have recovered the jewels." She watched him intently. "What is this, Roman? What kind of scam is this?"