Shirley Murphy - Cat Pay the Devil

When the tomcat heard the ringing on the speaker, he jerked awake and pushed up out of the carrier, stretching tall and yawning. Stretching again as he listened to Mabel Farthy’s brief answer.

“It’s Clyde; I’m just coming through Salinas, headed home.”

Mabel’s voice was bright with excitement. When she said, “Wilma’s safe! Charlie’s safe!” Clyde almost wrecked the car.

“They…Hold a minute,” Mabel said, as she switched to another line. She was gone maybe twenty seconds, then cut back in. “The captain’s there with them, Dallas on his way. Jones is in custody, headed for emergency, gunshot in the face. Hold…”

Another short delay, then she came back on. “Sears is in custody, too.”

“Where? ” Clyde snapped. “Where are they?”

“Don’t go up there, Clyde. Half the force is up there on a narrow road, can hardly turn a car around, you’d only be in the way.”

“Up where ?”

“Hold again…” Over a minute this time. As Clyde sped up, west of Salinas, a truck passed him, cutting close. He let off the gas until there was again ample space between them. Mabel came back on. “Gotta go, three lines flashing…”

“If you don’t tell me where, I’ll keep calling, jam your lines.”

Mabel sighed. “Pamillon ruins. Come on into the station, Clyde. They should be down here by the time you get back. They…Gotta go,” she said, and cut off.

He turned the speaker off, grumbling. Beside him Joe sat erect in the carrier, staring at Clyde, then staring out the window, then back at Clyde, his look saying clearly, Step on it. Get this heap moving.

“I’m not wrecking us to get there faster. The excitement’s over. They’re safe. Thank your cat god or whatever, and keep your fur on.”

“But they…Dulcie and Kit…She couldn’t tell us what’s happened to them. Where they are, Clyde? What if…?”

“I’m not driving any faster. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

The tomcat began to wash his paws. “There was a time, you’d have floor-boarded this buggy.”

“There was a time I’d kill a quart of whiskey, get up the next morning and hunker down on the back of the meanest bull in the string. I’m older now and smarter.”

Silence.

“Does it occur to you that my more sensible driving keeps your worthless neck safe? Or does that not mean anything?”

Joe Grey sighed, curled up in his carrier, lifted a disdainful paw, and pulled the top over. He remained thus secluded until Clyde bypassed Molena Point and, at around ten forty, turned up the hills, toward the Pamillon estate. Then Joe came alive, staring high above them at the scattered car lights, pricking up his ears at the wail of an ambulance that came zigzagging down, forcing them onto the shoulder. The minute they stopped, he crouched, to leap out.

T he house was silent around Greeley, no sound from the dark upstairs rooms. Probably Lilly was asleep, but he waited a while longer to make sure-he’d waited long enough for her to stop knitting and go to bed, he guessed a few minutes more wouldn’t matter. He’d conned her into letting him stay overnight, but she hadn’t shown no hospitality; hadn’t offered one of the upstairs rooms, which were likely bigger.

Well, this downstairs cubbyhole suited him better, farther away from her room. Having spotted the safe earlier as those two cats prowled the basement, he meant to start there. Finesse open the safe, and that was likely where he’d hit pay dirt. If that turned up empty, he’d have to plow through that whole damn basement full of junk, and maybe the rest of the house, too. He wondered if she was one of them early risers, up before daylight. He hoped to hell not. The time now was just after one.

He wondered if Lilly knew where the stash was. Not likely. He’d never known Cage to tell her nothing.

Well, he’d find them trinkets before she was out of bed, he had to. Find them, and be out of there before first light. And the old man’s face brightened in an evil smile. Maybe he’d leave her a note, thank her all proper for her hospitality.

He had one more little drink, from the bottle he’d brought in his coat pocket, waited a few minutes more, listening to the silence of the house, then, swinging off the bed, he opened the door without a sound, and slipped out.

It was eleven thirty when Clyde pulled off the narrow dirt road onto the soft shoulder below the Pamillon estate, to make room for a police car coming down. Above them in the blackness, flashlight beams glanced across broken walls and twisted trees in a surreal tangle; they could see cops moving about, and half a dozen people gathered where the lights were concentrated and still. They passed the Greenlaws’ car parked off to the side, just after the ambulance went by, and they stopped, Clyde grabbing Joe before he could drop out the window.

Lucinda looked out the driver’s window at Clyde. “Wilma’s up there somewhere. She’s safe. And the cats-we brought Kit and Dulcie, they would have taken off up the hills by themselves…I never could have locked them inside, any more than I could lock a person in. You know how hardheaded they are…”

“But so much has gone on,” Pedric said. “We don’t dare go up there and be in the way. All we can do is sit and worry. It’s been mighty hard to hear gunshots, when the cats are up there…” Joe Grey stood up again with his paws on the window. “They’ll be among the rocks somewhere, hiding,” he said softly. He hoped to hell they were.

Lucinda reached across and touched Joe’s cheek, then Clyde pulled away, heading on up, studying the turmoil of flashing torches, trying to make sense of what was happening. Joe rode with his paws on the door, ready to leap out.

Clyde gave him a look, and restrained the tomcat by the nape of the neck as he parked behind a row of squad cars. “Let’s take a little time here.” Killing the engine, his hand tightening on Joe, he sat scanning the blackness as Joe hissed, and pawed to get free. “Just stay still a minute and look,” Clyde said. “There, on that nearest wall.” Above them, surrounded by twisted oaks and picked out by the flashing lights, five cats prowled along the wall, were lost, and then silhouetted again against the night sky.

“Dulcie and Kit?” Clyde said.

Joe nodded, twitching his ears with relief.

“And the other three? The ferals?” Clyde said with amazement. “What other cats could it be? But they…those wild creatures wouldn’t stay there, with all that’s going on!”

“Let me loose, Clyde, before I hurt you. The excitement’s over, someone’s coming down with a prisoner. Let me go!” They watched a squad car approach. “Look, there in the back…”

The squad car passed them, two officers in front, a thin man in the back, behind the security screen, sitting rigidly, as if shackled.

“Eddie Sears?” Clyde said, smiling. “But where-”

“Let me out now.” Joe twisted around, lifting an armored paw.

Clyde freed him and Joe was gone, leaping down, racing through the night to Dulcie.

Clyde looked after him, sighing. He remained in the car until three more police units passed, heading for the village. He watched two riders come out of the woods, breathing with relief when he saw Charlie. But where was Wilma? Was she safe? A cold hand touched his heart. Snatching the keys out of the ignition, leaving the windows down for Joe to get in, he hurried up the dark little road trying to look everywhere at once, watching for any eruption of violence. He was passing the last squad car when Wilma’s voice spun him around. “Clyde?”

She opened the door and stepped out, and the next minutes were a tangle of hugs and both of them talking at once; but then suddenly Wilma was shivering and had to sit down again. Sliding into the backseat she moved over to make room for him. “I guess it’s catching up with me.” Her hands in his were cold.