Милдред Гордон - Undercover Cat

Zeke said into the mike, “Car fourteen. Come in, fourteen.”

The answer came immediately. “Car fourteen in. We’re in position. All set.”

Zeke said, “Car fifteen. Come in, fifteen.”

And so it went as Zeke checked each car. As he was fin­ishing, he heard the front door slam. Ingrid swung about but thought better of the idea. Any other night she would have run to meet Patti, to hug her and hear what was the latest in the world of fashion and business. Inky could scarcely wait to get a job modeling, and the fervent hope that she could had inspired her to give up virtually all food, except an occasional hot fudge nut sundae.

As Patti came down the hall, she called, “Inky, what’s been going on in the bathroom?” She was wearing her no-nonsense voice.

She entered the bedroom and stopped short on seeing Zeke. He spoke up quickly. “I’m to blame, Miss Randall. We finger­printed D.C. in there. I should’ve cleaned it up.” He added, “We had a little difficulty.”

Mike put in, “It’s a good thing Mom isn’t here.” Ingrid said hurriedly, “It was my idea, sis.” She turned to Zeke, “You’re a doll to take the blame but I won’t let you, al­though I admire a man who protects a woman. Not many men do.”

“Horse-radish,” Mike said.

Patti tossed her jacket on the bed beside D.C. and stooped to rub his ears. D.C. stretched and purred loudly. She was without doubt the best ear rubber in the business. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up later.”

“Huh!” Mike exclaimed. “If I so much as breathe in the bathroom I have to wipe up the moisture.”

Zeke said to Patti, “I’m sorry about taking over your bed­room. I’ll put everything back like it was when I finish.” Patti smiled sweetly. “Would I be upsetting the FBI too much if I get a change of clothes?”

Zeke grinned. “Come and go any time you want to. Make yourself at home.”

Mike asked, “You wearing your black lace panties to­night?”

She stood motionless, her hands poised stiff over the draw­er they had been about to explore. Ingrid screamed, “Michael Randall! How could you?”

Zeke said quietly, “Don’t let it bother you, Miss Randall. I had an older sister – and I said the same things.” She turned, and the look was a kiss.

Mike went to her. He was as near crying as a man of twelve dared to come. “I was just teasing, Pat. I’m a louse.” She put her hand to his cheek. “So run along and let’s forget it, huh?”

When he was gone Inky said, “The maturing process is hard. You say things and wonder why. I was the same at his age. He’ll grow out of it.”

Zeke shook his head as he returned to the radio. “I don’t know. Most of us don’t. I’ve been saying things all my life I shouldn’t have.”

At that moment the phone rang, and Ingrid picked it up on its first note. Her voice dropped, and she carried the phone over to the far window.

“It’s a boy,” Patti said. “I can always tell. She sounds like Sandra Dee.”

Zeke sneezed, and the sneeze reminded him. “I was won­dering about the cat’s dinner.”

She fished a dress out of the closet and shut the door behind her, standing very straight in a patch of evening sun. “You promised to call him by his name.”

Zeke shifted uneasily. “I did, didn’t I?” He couldn’t take his eyes from hers. Afterwards he thought they were blue, but he was never sure. “About D.C.‘s dinner. What if you didn’t feed him at all tonight? Wouldn’t he go out earlier look­ing for something?”

“That’s not what he looks for,” she said without thinking. “I mean

“

Zeke grinned. “I know what you mean.”

In the background Ingrid’s voice grew louder. “I don’t know whether I can go at all, Eddie. I’ll have to ask my sister

. I can’t help it, I never do anything without asking my sister. Okay, I’ll let you know, Eddie. Good-by.”

Patti stared in disbelief. “Since when have you ever asked my permission to do anything?”

Ingrid returned the phone to the night table. “Well, you didn’t want me to tell him the truth, did you? Eddie’s all right, I guess, if you want to run around with an encyclopedia, but I don’t want to go with him to the prom, unless nobody else asks me.”

“And I’m the villain, if you need one?”

Ingrid turned. “You don’t mind, do you, sis?” She displayed her most ingratiating smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re so sweet to me.”

“Horse-radish!”

As Ingrid started for the door, Zeke called to her, “Miss Randall.” At the “Miss,” her eyes lighted. At last, here was someone who knew and respected her age. And he was smil­ing. He was a living doll. She would write’ Mr. Hoover when this was over and tell him.

Zeke said, “As a special favor, would you keep your phone conversations brief? We’re running our own phone in here later but right now we have to depend on this one.”

“Why, of course, Mr. Kelso. I’ll do anything you want me to. Anything.”

“And no dates here tonight, please. No boy friends.”

She shot Patti a glance. I’m not permitted boy friends on a Tuesday night due to certain customs in this family that date back to medieval times. The thinking in this family – ” She never finished. An explosion shook the room, set the pictures on the wall to trembling and. the cosmetics on the make-up table to clinking. Zeke tensed as his thoughts scram­bled to place and identify the sound. Ingrid did it for him. “It’s nothing. Mike set off another rocket. He’s going to blow up the whole neighborhood someday but we must make sacri­fices for science.”

“I want to speak to him,” Zeke said sharply. “Call him in, will you?”

Ingrid disappeared the same moment that the front door­bell buzzed. “Excuse me,” Patti said.

Zeke followed her silently down the hall, keeping out of sight as she opened the front door. He relaxed when the con­versation between the two identified the caller as a tree man. “It’s dead, Miss Randall. No life in it at all. Nothing to do but take it out.” Zeke couldn’t hear what she said but the man answered, “I don’t know. Might have been. But these apricots, they get old like the rest of us and die.”

Mike came in then, trailed by Ingrid. Zeke asked his co­operation. Would he mind foregoing rocket research tonight? “I don’t want D.C.‘s nerves shattered,” Zeke explained, re­turning to the bedroom. He noted that for some inexplicable reason D.C. did not seem particularly disturbed. He was still washing away on that tail. He should have taken to the sub­terranean depths when the rocket went off. But he hadn’t. He had just sat there calmly and washed that long tail. This laundry bit, pursued over an extended period, was begin­ning to bother Zeke.

Zeke continued, “It’s important that we don’t do anything to upset his nerves tonight.”

“He hasn’t got any,” Mike countered.

Ingrid nodded. “You don’t get that kind for two dollars at the SPCA note 6 ôàêòîð VII (ñâåðòûâàþùåé ñèñòåìû êðîâè) , àíòèôèáðèíîëèçèí, ïðîêîíâåðòèí].”

Mike continued, “I’ve got one more rocket to go. He doesn’t mind, do you, you old skunk.” He roughed up D.C., and D.C. was pleased no end. He never missed a lick, transferring his tongue action from his tail to his boy. He shot a mis­chievous glance at Mike and grabbed his hand with his two front paws, sheathing the claws so he wouldn’t hurt him, and then seized a finger and gently tightened his teeth.

“Oh, so you want to get rough, huh?” Mike fell to the bed and began wrestling with D.C.

“Please,” Zeke shouted, the sweat breaking out on him. “You’re getting him all upset.”