Shirley Murphy - Cat Breaking Free

At least Hernando was gone, for a while. And now Delfino gone, too. From the way Luis and that Tommie McCord talked, she guessed Delfino was in jail again. Though he never seemed to stay there long. She wished they were all three in jail. Then she would let those cats free and not have to smell that cage anymore. And Maria would not have to take care of them. Crazy. Hernando and Luis trapping cats. Muy loco.

And now, more cats, looking in the window. What could they be looking at? If they had any sense, they'd get away before Luis saw them and caught them, too. Glancing under her lashes at her old, frail Bible that was written comfortably in her own language and that had been her own grandmother's, she wondered what life had come to. She was eighty-two years old, was losing control of her own life, and was still wondering what life was really about. Wondering what God had in store for her. She'd borne and raised and buried five children, and that was God's will, but she kept wondering if there wasn't something more. Father Mahoney would be shocked that she did not always cling to the thoughts the Church expected of her.

She did not like sharing her bedroom, even with Maria, though she loved Maria. Nor did she like that those cats in the cage watched her-as if they thought she could let them out of there. Estrella Nava crossed herself. She could only go to sleep at night with her back to them, and even then she could feel them watching.

Luis slept with the key in his pocket. Maria had already slipped into his room at night to try to get it, but Luis kept his pants under his pillow. If Maria got caught, he'd beat her, maybe beat them both. It was shameful for a man to beat his own sister. He would surely burn in hell for that-not that Luis cared.

He never went to confession. Wouldn't drive her to mass, either. If Maria took one of the cars, he checked the mileage before they left and again when they returned. They'd rather walk, but it was fifteen blocks to the mission.

She startled when, outside the window, those cats leaped suddenly onto the sill, peering in at her. But when she struggled up out of her chair to chase them away, they spun around before she could reach the window and leaped to the pepper tree, shaking its branches, and again to the roof, and were gone. She was dozing when Maria called her to breakfast.

Maria had made fresh coffee and had baked empanadas for the two of them. It was nice when Luis and Tommie didn't eat with them. Maria didn't like to cook properly for Tommie and her brothers, she bought things in cans and packages. How would they know the difference when they washed everything down with beer?

Estrella said grace with Maria, and she said to herself a little prayer of her own, regarding Maria's fate. But her prayer for Maria's brothers was a different matter, a different kind of fate. Maria didn't need to hear that.

When the old woman had left the room, Joe and Dulcie returned to the windowsill to press against the glass, studying the cage and the three cats. The cats had waked when the old woman came to the window; they looked steadily back at them through the bars, with an intelligence and pleading that left no doubt of their true nature.

With swift claws Joe ripped a hole in the screen. Reaching through, catching his fur along the torn wire, he flipped the screen's latch free of its little ring. Pulling the screen out a few inches and slipping underneath, he and Dulcie clawed and pushed at the double-hung window. It stuck so hard they thought it must be nailed.

"More!" Joe hissed. "Push harder!" She pushed, they fought the double-hung panel until at last they were able to slide it up a few inches-but no farther. Something was stopping it; when they examined the molding, they could see where nails had been driven in to prevent it from rising higher. No human could get through, but fresh air could blow in.

Slipping under, they hit the floor as softly as they could, and leaped to the table that held the cage. They stood nose to nose with the three captives.

None of the three cringed away in fear or charged the bars with territorial rage as an ordinary cat might do, on first meeting. No one made a sound; no hiss, no threatening yowl. No claws or teeth bared in confrontation. But no one spoke. The three captives glanced toward the partially open door where at any moment the old woman or Luis might appear.

The one male was as white as snow, his long fur surprisingly fluffed and clean despite the crowded conditions. His blue eyes stared back at Joe with challenge, but it was only a good-natured tomcat challenge. The tabby male was darker than Dulcie, and long-furred, with a huge, fluffy tail. His ears were as tall and erect as those of a coyote. A strange cat, with eyes that were black-rimmed and then circled with palest cream. The female did not approach Joe and Dulcie, but pressed away against the bars as if she was afraid. She was a lovely, faded calico with a long face and a questioning look in her green eyes, the look of a cat who trusts no one.

For a long time, the three feral cats stood silently assessing Joe and Dulcie, taking their measure. The look in their eyes was a hunger for freedom, as powerful as that of three convicts on death row. It was Joe who spoke.

"Where is the key?" he said softly. "Tell me quickly." They could hear the two women talking out in the kitchen, could hear their cups clink on their saucers.

"He keeps the key in his pocket," the white tom said. "I am Cotton. I would kill him, if I could get my claws on him. The key is always there in his pocket. Maria says he puts his pants under his pillow when he goes to bed." The cat sneezed with disgust. "Can you get the key? Or get the lock open?" Intently, he studied Joe. "Would you dare to free us?"

The tabby tom said, "I hear them talking late at night, Maria and the old woman. They would free us, if Maria wasn't so afraid of her brother."

Joe and Dulcie circled the cage, examining the lock and hinges, and how the bars were set in place. Every joint was securely soldered, and there was no way those strong, thin bars could be bent or broken. Not without human hands and the right tools. There was no way to separate the barred walls at the corners; the hinges were soldered or welded, just as was the hasp. No way out of that prison, except with the key.

"Bolt cutters?" Dulcie said.

"If we had a pair of bolt cutters, how do you propose to lift them?" Joe snapped. "Let alone put enough pressure on them!" He stared in frustration at his paws. It wasn't fair, this human ability to use tools, while a clever and intelligent cat was so cruelly hampered.

"Maybe there's a second key," Dulcie said. She had that determined, stubborn look. "If there isn't, then we have to toss Luis's bedroom, slip his pants out from under the pillow."

Joe looked at her. "Is Luis someone you'd want to catch you while you're stealing his pants?"

Dulcie flicked a nonchalant whisker. "Bring him on, I'll shred him." But her green eyes reflected fear. The truth was, this Luis Rivas, with his interest in speaking cats, left her chilled and cringing.

Hanni Coon's Interiors occupied a handsome, used brick storefront two blocks off Ocean, the shop's softly tinted windows displaying unique and intriguing fabrics and accessories. This week Hanni had arranged a lush tangle of hand-woven cottons and carved furniture from the coast of Africa. Some weeks, it was all silks and damasks and period pieces; other times, an esoteric collection from Italy or Latin America. As flamboyant and self-assured as Hanni herself, the shop could exhibit any number of elegant personas.

It was barely seven in the morning when Charlie and Ryan parked Ryan's truck in front of the design studio. Approaching the elegant entry with its potted trees and theatrical displays, the two women looked out of place indeed dressed in their old, worn jeans and wrinkled boots; but neither cared, nor did Hanni. Peering in through the leaded-glass door, Ryan grinned at her sister. Hanni unlocked the door and opened it to the wonderful smells of freshly brewed coffee, something with onions and cheese, and the warm French rolls for which the corner bakery was famous. She was dressed in persimmon silk pants and flowing tunic, and sandals, with dangling gold circle earrings setting off her vivid complexion and short white hair. Ryan and Charlie moved quickly to the blazing fire and stood rubbing their cold hands.