Моника Шонесси - The Tell-Tail Heart

"The district, from what my brother-in-law tells me, knows nothing of the villain. No suspects, no witnesses. Two murders a fortnight apart, two prosthetic eyes taken as plunder, both of them pale blue. That is all."

"Both of them pale blue?" Eddie asked. He gave Mr. Coffin his full attention. "I—I hadn't realized. The paper never stated the color of the prostheses. How very curious."

Mr. Coffin rose and retrieved his hammer. "No matter the color, two women are dead. And when they catch the culprit, I hope they lock him in the Eastern State Penitentiary."

I froze at the utterance of the prison, a name I knew all too well, and a plan began to form. I didn't need brains or bribes to get past Claw; I needed brawn. And the Eastern State residents had plenty.

Hunting the Spider

Big Blue and his extended family lived behind the Eastern State Penitentiary, near the northwest corner, away from the houses and roads. I'd spent long afternoons in the field separating our neighborhood and the prison, observing the band of ferals as one might a bird through a window. An extraordinary strategist, Big Blue moved his troops with the passage of the sun, staying hidden in the building's shadow for much of the day. When individuals ventured into the light, they did so with great speed and cunning. This hearkened back to something my Auntie Sass taught me: unseen cats are safe cats. I hadn't seen Sass since Eddie adopted me, but I thought of the cream-colored longhair often and the wooden crate we shared behind Osgood's Odd Goods. If not for her, I would've starved on the streets after my mother died.

I turned and looked toward home. Eddie and Mr. Coffin, no bigger than fleas at this distance, were exactly where I'd left them. With any luck, my friend would continue chatting and my absence would go unnoticed. I slunk through the tall grass, crossing the boundary between Big Blue's territory and mine, and came to rest at its edge where I yowled an all-purpose greeting.

A gust of wind replied.

This unnerved me more than anything. For all its criminals, the penitentiary was and always had been, from my brief surveillance, eerily quiet. I supposed the men inside were unable to talk, but I did not know why. This caused my imagination to create reasons more horrible than the silence itself, the worst of which involved the de-tonguing of prisoners upon arrival. I yowled again to fill the quiet.

A white cat rose like a specter from a grass patch to my left. She spoke, assuring me of her mortality, "State your business."

"I've come to see Big Blue."

The ruff around her neck rose, almost imperceptibly. "How do you know his name?"

"On a windless day, you can hear most anything—even a name."

She cocked her head. "You look familiar."

"I live across the field. In one of the row houses." I motioned in their direction with my tail.

A look of recognition crossed her face. "Ah! You're the one who sits atop the fence posts and watches." She sniffed my nose in greeting. "I'm Snow."

"I'm Cattarina."

"That's your human name. What's your cat name?"

"I no longer speak it."

"I've seen Big Blue refuse audience to those who've lost their wild streak, their…cattitude." She twitched her whiskers. "So, Cattarina, what name do you give?"

Cattitude? What a load of fur. I had cattitude to spare. I sat back and switched my tail, creating a fan shape in the grass. He had nerve, passing judgment on me for keeping two-legged company. And yet I had no choice. If I wanted to catch Mr. Abbott, I had to play his game.

"It's…it's QuickPaw."

"QuickPaw?" She eyed my ample physique. "I see why you cling to your new name, Cattarina. It suits you better."

I stood, redistributing my waistline. "I'm still a good mouser. The best around by most accounts."

"If you say so." She turned with a flick of her tail. "Follow me."

We trotted deeper into their territory until we arrived at the rear of the prison. A gang of cats patrolled a small brick structure adjacent to the main building. The door of this sturdy shed hung open, revealing hoes, rakes, and other gardening implements. Snow brought me to the entrance and instructed me to sit. I did as she asked, claws out, as she disappeared inside to speak to Big Blue.

The prison overwhelmed not just me but the whole of Fairmount with its size. An intimidating fortress, it reminded me of the castles in Eddie's history books. Four corner towers connected the walls, creating a smooth stone box. However, the building lacked the gargoyles common in medieval architecture and had an altogether utilitarian feel—unsurprising considering its function. I craned my neck to look inside the garden shed. Nothing but darkness and tools. Earlier, the risks in coming here had seemed insignificant. But as I waited for the enigmatic leader to make an appearance, my nerves vibrated like piano strings. I grew wistful at this comparison. How I loved to sit atop Sissy's square piano and watch the inner workings as she played. I licked my paw and wiped my face. Music graced the Poe household less and less these days—a pity.

Presently, Snow left the shed, followed by a large blue-grey cat with velvety fur of a thickness I longed to knead. His broad face and small ears lent him the regal air of a king, a comparison furthered by the castle behind him. Had he emerged with a crown, I wouldn't have blinked. Quiet as smoke, he drifted toward me, studying my features with eyes the color of pumpkin. I'd just thought about slinking away when he spoke. "Why have you come, QuickPaw?"

"To seek your help."

"Go back to your master."

"Master? But how did you—"

"Your shape tells me everything I need to know."

Clearly, a new health regimen was in my future. I steered us away from my oft-maligned midsection. "Current state aside, I once lived free like you. And when I did, I earned my name. The waterfront knew no better mouser."

A couple of the sentries snickered. Big Blue quieted them with a crook of his tail. "Then why seek my help?" he asked.

"While I am an excellent hunter, I lack the necessary skills to defend against a group of attackers." I withdrew my claws and began to pace. "I need to travel past Logan Square and—"

"Claw," Snow hissed under her breath.

I stopped, midstride. "You know him?"

"As much as anyone can know the deranged," she said. She slunk beside the tom and whispered in his ear. "I say we help her, Blue."

"I know you've had your quarrels with Claw," Big Blue said, "but is that any reason—"

" Quarrels? " She switched her tail. "Your memory is clearly shorter than mine." She turned and began grooming herself with a little too much force.

Big Blue watched Snow for a time, then spoke with hesitation. "War is a human folly. But…I'll grant your request, QuickPaw."

Snow quit licking her fur and glanced at us over her shoulder. "You will?"

"Yes," he said to her. "But after she's proven worthy of my help."

He whispered something to Snow. She nodded. I swallowed.

"We have an excellent mouser as well," he said to me. "But there can be only one champion. So I'd like to propose a challenge. If we win, you must tell every cat along the waterfront that my son, Killer, is Top Hunter."

"K-killer?"

"And if you win," he continued, "I'll guarantee your passage beyond Logan Square."

The rules were simple enough: hunt until Bobbin, the lead sentry, completed his rounds, catch as many mice as we could, and let Big Blue decide the winner. Yet his son was my opponent. Given their familial connection, I had serious doubts about the fairness of the competition. After a nod from Snow, the sentries called their goliath from the tall weeds, chanting, "Kill-er! Kill-er!" to summon him. I don't know which shook more, my knees or the spear grass parting before the beast. Catching Mr. Abbott had better be worth this. I steadied myself as my opponent emerged: a grey-striped adolescent with a white chest, no more than a year old.