Моника Шонесси - The Tell-Tail Heart

"I have never heard of such an illness," Eddie said.

"There are infinite ways to die, Mr. Poe," she said, "and we are still learning them. You, of all people, should know that." She sighed and crossed her ankles under the blankets. "I sit before you now, an invalid at the age of twenty-five. Uncle Gideon wants to take care of me, but cannot, the poor dear. He talks of enrolling me in Perkins School for the Blind so that I can care for myself one day. But sadly, that day is not today." She clasped her hands across her stomach, signaling the end of her tale.

Sensing an immanent departure, I rose and arched my back, working out the knots in my spine. I prayed Mr. Uppity's home would be our next stop. If the serendipitous meeting with Caroline didn't persuade Eddie, our cause lacked hope.

"That was quite a tragedy, Miss Ferris. Worthy of pen and paper," Eddie said. He uncrossed his legs, creaking the chair. "Where is your uncle now?"

"He visited just last night and brought me my second eye. It does not fit as well as the first, but I cannot complain." She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oceania. I shall tell Uncle about it when he visits before dinner. He promised he would."

Eddie rose and put on his coat. "I can see that you are tired, so if you'll excuse me."

She felt for his hand one last time, shook it, then let it drop feebly in her lap.

"Come, Catters," he whispered to me. "It is time we left." On the way out of the hospital, he stopped by the front desk to speak to the narrow-shouldered woman again. "I was touched by Miss Ferris's story. May I have the address of her benefactor? I would like to speak to him about a donation."

"Benefactor?" she said. "Miss Ferris is a charity case. Her uncle could no more pay for lunch than hospital care, as least not from what Dr. Burton says. Said the man sold his piano to pay for her eyes, but I have my doubts."

"Oh?" he said. "How do you think he got them?"

"Won the money in a card game. My fella lives in Rittenhouse, and he knows Mr. Ferris as a gambler. Everyone does."

"I see." Eddie rubbed his chin. "Still, I'd like to pay him a visit. Do you have his address?"

She opened a small wooden box on her desk, flipped through several cards inside, and said, "Walnut Street, near Rittenhouse Square. That's all he wrote."

"You have been a great help," Eddie said. He turned to leave, snapping his fingers to bring me along.

"Oh, and Mr. Poe?" she called after us. "Visitors are welcome. But next time, leave your hell cat at home."

Answers and Questions

"We found the murderer, Catters," Eddie said to me. He'd hired another public carriage after leaving the hospital, and we rode in it now, heading north toward Fairmount—the opposite direction of Mr. Uppity's home. "If it hadn't been for you and your naughty streak, I might have left without meeting Miss Ferris and learning her ghoulish secret. I can't help but feel for Gideon Ferris, though. Who knows what lengths I would go to if Sissy were in that bed instead of Caroline. Even so, murder is murder."

We hit a loose cobblestone, bouncing us to the roof of the coach. I had grown weary of "full chisel." The driver slowed the horse and mumbled an apology we scarcely heard through the glass.

"Once we tell Constable Harkness about the affair," Eddie continued, "it will be over. I never dreamed to catch a murderer. Sissy will be thrilled, and Muddy will be… Well, Muddy will be asking if there's money in it."

I meowed. Yes, catch a murderer . But Mr. Uppity did not live to the north. He lived to the south, a direction from which we were heading away. Had the visit with Caroline been for naught? I sat near him and formed a strong mental picture of Rittenhouse Square, hoping my friend would take it into his own mind. Telepathy between cats is common, but I had never tried it with a human, and certainly not with Eddie. Due to our similar interests and tastes, we operated in tandem so often that alternative communication hadn't been necessary.

Eddie laid his hand on my back. "I hope the constable pays Mr. Ferris a visit before he flees, for surely he will when Miss Ferris tells him of my visit. I was overly curious about her eyes, and that detail will not escape a businessman like him." He pressed his mouth into a grim line and stared out the window. "Think of it, Catters, that black-hearted fellow may be leaving Philadelphia—right now—as we journey to Constable Harkness's house." A half block later, he rapped on the glass. "Driver, turn around and take us to Rittenhouse Square, Walnut Street."

I rubbed my head along his arm, cheered by the discussion of Rittenhouse and the swerve of the carriage. My gambit had worked! When we reached the park, the driver stopped at the end of the block, nowhere near the correct address. Very well. Eddie had taken me this far; I would take him the rest of the way. As he exchanged money with the driver, I hopped to the sidewalk and dashed down the street until I arrived at Mr. Uppity's home. In the bright afternoon sun, the structure looked even more ramshackle than it had before. Paint peeled from the shutters like dead snakeskin and cracks disgraced the walkway. When Eddie approached, I climbed the front steps to the porch and waited.

"Catters!" he shouted. "You must stop running from me. My heart cannot take it." He leaned on the brick fence that closed the yard and studied the house. When he'd caught his breath, he joined me at the door and read the tarnished brass plate beneath the bell box. "Mr. Gideon Ferris." The astonishment on his face amused me beyond description. "I don't believe it. I simply do not believe it," he said. "How did you know?"

I meowed, prompting him to turn the ringer. Did I have to do everything myself? When the bell failed to summon anyone, Eddie knocked. No response. Minding an overgrown thistle patch, he crossed the lawn and shouted into a partially open front window. Again, no response. Eager for answers, I jumped to the sill and listened through the gap. Bump-bump. A sound not altogether human reverberated from the structure. Mr. Uppity may not have been home, but something was inside.

"I tell you, Sissy," Eddie said, "Caroline Ferris was as beautiful as she was sad. But a single glance of her dull, lifeless eyes is enough to send a man to his grave."

Eddie hadn't given me a chance to investigate the odd bump-bump . He'd whisked me from the sill and down the street where we hailed an omnibus to Constable Harkness's neighborhood. I say this in warning: the omnibus is a torture device wherein humans squeeze together on little bench seats, sneeze and cough at intervals, and natter on about the weather. Private transport agrees with me so much more. Once we arrived at our destination, Eddie told the constable countless stories of Mr. Ferris while I listened from the front windowsill. Throughout the day, I began to understand that Mr. Ferris and Mr. Uppity were one and the same. But he would always be Mr. Uppity to me. Shortly after, the Poe family gathered in the front room of our little house on Coates.

"Send a man to his grave?" Sissy sat on the chaise and fanned herself with a lace fan, her face flushed. "How you exaggerate, husband."

"A skill for which I am paid," Eddie said.

"Not often enough," Muddy said. She rocked her chair. Squeak, squeak. I sat on the hearth near her, swiping my tail back and forth in a little game with the rails. They'd caught me once. But only once.

"Mother," Sissy said, "must you always turn the talk? Let Eddie finish."

"Actually, Virginia, she reminded me a little of you." He leaned back in his desk chair, hands clasped behind his head, and began the full account of our adventures. Even though the fire had died, the hearth retained enough heat to warm me during the retelling. From the length of his speech, he'd spared no detail. He finished by adding me to the story. "We have Catters to thank for the outcome. If not for her, I wouldn't have met Miss Ferris or known where to find her uncle." He looked at me. "You ran right to 207 Walnut and waited for me, didn't you?"