Shirley Murphy - Cat Breaking Free

But whatever the truth, Chichi was conspiring with these crooks, was diligently helping them. Dulcie watched warily as Joe approached Luis again, his paw reaching; and she moved close behind him. If Luis woke and snatched Joe, the more teeth and claws the better.

Luis lay on his back, his snores loud and rhythmic. The cats were so close that their noses stung not only with the smell of his feet but with his garlic breath. Rearing up with his left paw against the edge of the mattress, Joe eased his right paw toward Luis's pants pocket. And Dulcie slipped silently up onto the nightstand, ready to spring into Luis's face if he grabbed for Joe.

Ready to defend her tomcat, she looked as lethal as a coiled snake.

Faster than she could blink, Joe's paw slipped into Luis's pocket.

Reaching delicately to the bottom of the pocket, Joe felt two car keys on their chain. Then, among a tangle of loose change, he could feel another key fob. Round, with some kind of raised emblem, attached by its short chain to a lone, fat, stubby key. That sure felt like a padlock key.

Soft as butterfly wings, his paw caressed the hard metal. Gently he hooked his claws into the chain. Luis grunted, stopped snoring and scratched his leg. He turned over, reaching automatically to his pocket, in his sleep. He nearly touched Joe. The tomcat panicked, reared away from him and dropped off the bed-without the key.

Angry at his own clumsiness, Joe wondered if he had tickled Luis. He crouched beside the bed, scowling, until Luis began snoring again with little uneven huffs, then he slipped up for another try.

Luis's snores continued unbroken until Joe's paw was again in his pocket; but suddenly Luis jerked upright, thrashing his arm, flailing out, then rubbing his eyes. Joe was gone, vanished beneath the bed, Dulcie beside him.

Directly above them, Luis sat up, bouncing the springs so close to their heads they ducked. Swinging his legs to the floor, he sat on the edge of the bed yawning, then, in his socks and his pants but no shirt, he headed down the hall to the bathroom. Not until they heard the shower running did the cats come out from under the bed, to crouch before the closed bathroom door.

Dulcie didn't want to go into that small closed space with Luis. Joe leaped, grabbing at the knob until he had a secure grip between his clutching paws. Swinging with all his weight, he turned the knob. Beside him, Dulcie pushed the door open.

The shower water pounded, its thunder hiding whatever noise they might make, its steam and the mottled shower door hiding them from Luis's view-they hoped. The room was like a sauna, steam blurring the porcelain fixtures. Behind the obscure glass door, the ghost of Luis's squat, broad figure genuflected and scrubbed.

On the closed toilet seat lay Luis's wadded-up pants. Faster than the speed of the pounding water, Joe's paw was into the pocket among the tangle of keys and loose change. This time he knew what he was looking for. Beyond the shower door Luis bent one knee as if washing his feet-an indication to Joe that he was about to finish up and step out, that any minute he would slide the door open and snatch a towel from the rod. Glancing at Dulcie, he saw a sharp mix of fear and predatory determination in her wide green eyes.

Pawing deeper into the pocket, he tried to separate the little fob with its single fat key from the other keys, and to catch its chain in his claws. At last, with it securely hooked, he drew it out.

The fob at the other end of the chain held the carved picture of a long-tailed quetzal bird, its image half worn away from use. Gripping the bird in his teeth, he pushed quickly out the door, Dulcie by his side. When, behind them, the shower door slid open, Dulcie swallowed a mewl. They shouldered the bathroom door closed and were gone, twin shadows streaking down the hall into the empty living room and behind the couch, the first piece of furniture they encountered.

Crouched in the shadows, they listened to the two women in the kitchen. "… Must be tired, Maria," Chichi was saying. "Abuela to take care of, Luis and Tommie to cook for, and those cats to tend, cleaning their cages… Would you like to get out for a while?" There was a jingle of keys. "Go on, take some time for yourself. Bring home some groceries, you can say you were doing the shopping. Go have a sundae, a look in the store windows. I'll take care of Abuela, see that she's comfortable, make her a nice cup of tea."

Slipping through the living room and into the dining room, the cats peered through a second door into the kitchen. Maria stood by the table, pulling on a red jacket over her blue sweat suit. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Go while you have the chance." Chichi hugged Maria. "Before Luis comes out of the shower. I'll tell them you had to go to the store."

"That we were out of beans and milk," Maria said quickly. "Chorizo. Onions. And sand, that cat sand."

"Why does he keep them? What's he mean to do with them, now that Hernando's…" pausing, Chichi glanced toward Abuela's bedroom.

Maria's expression went solemn. "He… Hernando said they were worth money. Luis believed him. He's too stubborn to turn them loose, he's sure he can sell them, make a bundle. I guess that's all," she said uncertainly.

"Stray cats! Not worth shooting. And the poor things stuffed in that cage. I'll clean the cage before I go, so it won't smell so bad."

"You can't clean it, Luis has the key. Can't clean it properly. You can reach the scoop in between the bars, though."

Chichi sighed. "How can a grown man be so stupid?" She gave Maria a little shove. "Go on, before he comes out." The two women looked at each other with a bond of friendship, and Maria slipped away, out the front door. The cats heard her start the car and back down the drive.

In the kitchen, Chichi immediately resumed her search, going through the pockets of Luis's windbreaker that he'd left hanging over a chair. When she pulled out a small, empty, black silk bag, Joe swallowed back a hiss of surprise that almost gave them away.

"So," the tomcat said when they were behind the couch again, "she did give the bag to Luis. And Luis came in this morning counting money." Luis had gone back to bed, they could hear his snores chorusing off-key with Tommie's. "Is she looking for the money? Or something else, too? Go on, Dulcie. Follow her. I'll go in Abuela's room; if she's asleep I'll open the lock."

Dulcie looked at him uncertainly. She didn't like to split up. And she was afraid of Chichi.

But what was the woman going to do if she saw her? She was a cat, totally innocent; and she was faster and more agile than Chichi. Not liking to act the coward in front of Joe, she slipped quickly away following Chichi, padding down the shadowed hall toward the stairs with only a small shiver, only a few beads of sweat on her paws.

Dallas Garza was preparing to release Dufio Rivas. The detective had sent three men up the hills to watch the old house where Charlie had spotted the brown pickup. Two officers were wearing gray fatigues marked with Molena Point Gas Service logos, and were driving a gas company truck. The third officer, stationed just down the block, was dressed in greasy jeans and was changing the tire on an old car he had pulled to the curb. Dallas had a fourth man waiting near the jail to follow Dufio when he left.

He had checked the ownership of the hillside house, and knew it belonged to an Estrella Nava, an eighty-two-year-old village resident who had lived there alone since her husband died twenty years before. The detective had run the Washington state plates of the truck Charlie spotted, and had run the Nevada plates of the car they picked up the night of the burglary. That night, the truck's plate had not been visible. Both plates came up stolen. Neither belonged to the vehicle to which it was affixed. Dallas had some concern that when they released Dufio, he would spot the tails they had on him. Max didn't think so. "We could probably send him home with a chaperone, he wouldn't catch on."