Shirley Murphy - Cat Breaking Free

"It's lost," Coyote said. He smiled a wolfish smile. "That Luis was mad as a rabid raccoon."

"But didn't you see?" Willow said softly. She glanced across at Abuela, but the old woman slept. "Grandma took the key, I saw her."

"Abuela?" Cotton said. "Are you sure?"

Willow twitched her whiskers. "She slipped it out of the lock and into her pocket. She slid the lock under the cushion of her chair, but when she moved, it fell."

Even as they spoke, Abuela came awake. She looked around the room, looked at the closed door. She slipped her hand under the cushion of her rocker and drew out the key. They stared at each other, rigid. Had she heard them?

She rose, dragging her cane along with her. Was she going to let them out? They were frozen, watching, their five hearts pounding so hard Joe thought everyone in the house would hear them.

She moved to the double-hung window, which was open the few inches from the bottom. Finding the screen unlatched, she frowned. But she reached through. Bending down awkwardly, she managed to reach her arm through and swing. They saw the bright flash as she tossed the key in the direction of the far bushes.

She returned to her chair. The cats were silent until they were sure she slept again, her mouth a little open, a tiny glisten of drool appearing at the corner.

"Oh, my," Willow said softly. "No one will ever find it now." She looked at Joe and Dulcie, a tear running down her pale calico nose. "Now there's no way out."

"Not so," Joe said.

The three cats looked at him.

"We have friends," Joe said.

Dulcie licked her whiskers. "Do you remember a scrawny tortoiseshell kitten who once traveled with your clowder? Who came to Hellhag Hill with you, and stayed there?"

"That scraggy kitten?" Cotton said haughtily.

Willow said, "So that's what happened to her! She went away with you!"

"Sort of," Dulcie said. "She found two humans who… who knew what she was without her telling them. Without her ever speaking."

"Oh, my," Willow said. "How very strange." Her look said that she'd like to find such a human, but that she would be too shy and afraid to make friends.

"That scrap of tortoiseshell," Cotton said. " I thought she went down Hellhag Cave and the ghost got her."

"She's alive and well," Joe said. "If no one else finds us, she will."

Coyote sneezed. His eyes danced with amusement within their cream-and-black circles. "That tortoiseshell… always nosing into everything, asking a million questions." He shook his whiskers, flicked his tall ears. "You don't believe that skinny scrap will save us?"

Dulcie smiled. "When we've been gone long enough, she'll come looking."

"So?" Cotton said. "She'll find you, just like that? And then what?"

"Kit has her ways," Dulcie said. She hoped Kit would be as stubbornly curious as she usually was. Hoped she wasn't preoccupied with some other matter, too busy to notice how long it was since she'd seen them-that soon Kit would indeed decide they were in trouble, and come searching for them.

Charlie had the horses groomed and saddled when Max's truck turned in off the main road and headed down their long dirt drive. What a lovely day, she thought, tightening Bucky's cinch. Lunch with Max, and now a long evening ride together. This was how a happy, newly married couple was supposed to live. Shrugging into her heavy jacket, she led Bucky and Redwing out into the stable yard and slid the main barn door closed behind them. She'd fed them early and lightly, and would feed them again when they got home; they were used to evening rides when the weather was bright. Waiting for Max to take his papers in the house and get a jacket, she stood looking down over their pastures to the sea, filled with a deep contentment.

In the setting sun, the green hills were awash with golden light, and the evening air chill and clear. Calling to the dogs, she let them out the pasture gate. The two fawn-colored half-Danes bowed and danced around her, eager to be off, though they'd been running in the pasture most of the afternoon. She needed the exercise more than they did, after that huge lunch at Tony's. Waiting for Max, she stood thinking about Kit, there in Tony's, crouched among the ferns, spying. What had Kit heard? What had Chichi and Roman Slayter been talking about?

After lunch, when she'd dropped Max and Dallas at the station, she'd stopped by Lucinda's hoping Kit might have come home, but she hadn't. Lucinda hadn't seen her since breakfast. It was an exercise in futility to try to keep track of Kit, she was worse than Joe or Dulcie. Watching Max come out and lock the door behind him, she was filled with dismay that she couldn't share with him the cats' secret. It hurt her that she must lie to Max.

But she could never tell him. Not only would she breach the cats' trust, she had no idea how this particular truth would affect him. Max Harper was a realist, a down-to-earth man who believed in clear and objective thinking, in statements that could be proven. Yet if the cats' secret were proven to him, in the only way it could be, if he were to see and hear his three best snitches speak to him… She didn't like to consider his possible reaction. That truth, to a hardheaded realist, could be more than unsettling. Yet, though such a thought frightened her, there were times when she was so deeply amused at the situation that she had to turn away from him to hide a smile.

Watching Max cross the yard, she admired his long, easy stride, his lean body and leathery face. His brown eyes were fully on her.

As he swung onto Bucky, he gave her a grin that made her stomach twist with love for him-and because there must be this one secret between them. The only secret except, of course, for occasional police business. Winking at her, he moved Bucky out at a fast walk.

The chilly evening made the horses immediately want to run, fussing and rattling their bits. Ahead, the sea shone deep gold as the sun settled into it, the sea's swells reflecting fire. The hills seemed aflame, too; but their long shadows darkened then vanished as the sun dropped. Who needed to fly to Italy or France or the English downs? It was all right here, a perfect world. As long as Max was in it.

When the horses had warmed up, they gave them a nice gallop across the south pasture, and moved on through their locked gate and out onto open land high above the Pacific. Both horses were fast walkers, eating up the miles. As dusk thickened, they trotted along beside fenced acreage, skirting their neighbors' pastures. Max was quiet tonight, as he was when his mind was on department business. He looked over at Charlie quite suddenly.

"What do you think of Clyde's blond bimbo?"

"Chichi?" she said, surprised.

"Give me your impression, a woman's impression."

"Well, she's… First off, I don't think she's Clyde's bimbo. Maybe she was once. Now he seems to want to avoid her at all costs. She's… she seems cheap, but I don't know her well." She laughed. "Even his cat doesn't like her. Don't animals always know?"

"Know what, Charlie?"

The question startled her. "If a person's to be trusted. Dogs seem to know, don't they? Know if a person is threatening, if they should keep away." She looked hard at him. "Surely dogs sense those things? Why wouldn't all animals?"

"Animal sense," he said, and shrugged. "They do sometimes."

She said, "You told me Chichi was watching the village shops, keeping a record of who opens up and what time, of who closes up, how many clerks. What's she up to?" He'd said the snitch had told him what Chichi was doing. "Well," she said, "I guess you can't arrest her for… as an accessory?"

"Accessory to what? Nothing more has happened."

"Arrest her on suspicion? Or on some kind of drummed-up charge, before there are any more break-ins?"