Shirley Murphy - Murphy_Shirley_Rousseau_Cat_Coming_Home_BookFi

Carlene was saying, “… and they gave you a very nice interview, Maudie. Of course it’s only a local magazine, but still, that was very kind of them.”

“The gallery arranged it,” Maudie said, “while I was still in L.A. It’s such a beautiful magazine, so slick and bright, and they did a lovely spread. So many color photographs of my quilts. Every village shop of importance seems to advertise in it. I feel flattered to be included.”

“I’m surprised you arranged for an exhibit, with Martin barely in his grave.”

Maudie put her arm around Benny, giving him a hug as she smiled across at Carlene. “This show was scheduled some months before … some months before Easter of this year,” she said, glancing down at Benny. “The gallery had a contact down there, he took the photographs in February.

“After the shooting, I wasn’t sure I could get the show together—or get myself together. But I knew Martin wouldn’t want me to cancel. And I knew we’d be moving up here, I knew at once, when Martin died, that we couldn’t stay in L.A.”

“Aren’t you afraid,” Carlene asked, “that if that terrible person who shot Martin—that they might see the magazine, even this little local one, and learn where you are? Aren’t you afraid this kind of publicity will draw them to you?”

Maudie looked at her sister for some time. “I wasn’t the target, Carlene. It was Martin and Caroline who were murdered.”

“But you were right there, you must have seen the killer.”

“I didn’t. It was dark. I didn’t see anything, just the flash of the gun and a white empty afterglow as I grabbed the kids and ducked down.”

“But you could have seen him. How would he know you didn’t? If you—”

“All I saw were split second flashes of gunfire.” Maudie laid down her fork. “I did not see the killer’s face, Carlene. Don’t start imagining what isn’t so.” Beside her, Benny looked very small, the child sat very still, huddled into himself. Maudie hugged him again and took his hand, but she didn’t back off from the discussion; as if, Joe Grey thought, she would not encourage him to hide from this new and ugly turn his life had taken.

“But they don’t know what you might have seen,” Carlene pressed stubbornly, with, apparently, no notion how her questions might upset the little boy beside Maudie.

Across the table, Jared gave his mother a look of disgust. “She said it was dark, Ma. Let it go.”

Next to Jared, Kent lazily stirred his mashed potatoes and gravy into mush, with the manners of a three-year-old. Carlene said automatically, “Don’t play with your food,” as she must have done for Kent’s entire life; she gave Jared a despairing look that he returned with a little smile of understanding. Maudie changed the subject, tossing the conflict back into Carlene’s lap.

“How’s Victor doing?” she asked innocently. “How much longer does he have to serve, down at Soledad?” Had the two sisters been like this all their lives, at each other with this mean one-upmanship?

At the other end of the table, James said, “It was on the local news, Maudie. You must have seen it. Victor’s being transferred out, to another prison.” He said it without emotion, his thin, sharply carved features unrevealing. James Colletto had a nose as straight as a new ruler.

“I haven’t had the TV on,” Maudie told him softly, as if embarrassed that she’d broached something more painful, even, than she’d thought. Beside her, Benny had finished his mashed potatoes. Maudie picked up the serving bowl that sat within her reach, and dished him another helping. Jared reached across the table to pass her the gravy, while James sliced more roast beef for the child. The little boy, apparently paying no attention to the adults, was shoveling in the good hot food—a real sit-down dinner, the cats thought, smiling.

“There was a stabbing in the prison yard,” James said quietly. “Three men against one, and Victor among them. Apparently it was Victor who did the stabbing. We don’t know much more than that.” He laid his fork down. “We’re told he’ll go back to court, that he could be convicted on a new charge.” His voice was flat with resignation.

“Of course they’re blaming Victor,” Carlene said. “That’s what they’ve done all along. The cops, the judge, everyone. The night that pizza place was robbed, Victor wasn’t anywhere near it. Was he, Kent? I’d never have thought we had crooked police, right here in our little village, I never would have guessed that Max Harper …” She stopped, staring at Maudie. The cats couldn’t see Maudie’s face, but in her lap, her left hand was balled into a fist, and beneath the table her sandaled foot tapped silently on the thick rug.

“What’s wrong?” Carlene said, staring at her sister. “You weren’t here. You haven’t been reading the paper, you don’t know half what’s going on.”

Maudie’s foot continued to tap. She made no reply. Jared looked sympathetic, but he, too, remained silent. Kent smirked at Maudie in such a superior way that Dulcie and Kit wanted to claw his contemptuous face. The silence at the table went on for so long that even Benny began to squirm. Carlene let her gaze settle on the child, honing in coldly on the little boy.

“Do you like your new home, Benny? Do you have a nice room? Are you in school yet? Tell us about your new school.”

The child looked down at the table.

“Can’t you speak to your great-aunt? Tell us what grade you’re in? Do you like your new teacher?” Carlene didn’t have the courtesy to gently draw the child out or to wait for a reply; she went after Benny like a bulldog after a little cat. Benny shifted awkwardly, looking up to his grandmother for help, as if silently begging permission to leave the table.

“Doesn’t the child talk?” Carlene asked. “Can’t you talk to me, Benny?”

Maudie took Benny’s hand, shaking her head. His eyes fixed on her, Benny settled down, only the stiffness of his thin back showing his continued discomfort. Carlene’s unkindness made the cats wonder how the Colletto boys had managed to survive in this household; it sure explained why Victor might be in prison, and Kent was so sullen. James Colletto didn’t seem strong enough, the cats thought, to counter this unfeeling woman.

“Benny hasn’t started school yet,” Maudie said, putting her arm around the child. “He’s been helping Lori Reed, the young girl who works for Ryan Flannery, up at the cottage. Benny—”

“A young girl works for a carpenter? How young?”

“Thirteen,” Benny said. “Lori—”

“But that’s dangerous, that’s against the law.”

“She has permission from the school,” Maudie said. “She works during certain class hours, and on weekends. Ryan is more than responsible, she sees that Lori’s work is safe.”

“Ryan can do anything,” Benny said as if the change of subject stirred his confidence. “Ryan saved Grandma yesterday when that truck almost hit her, she—”

“What happened?” Carlene said, laying down her fork. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“A car swipe!” Benny said eagerly. “Ryan called it a hit-and-run, a car tried to hit Grandma, he came right at her and tried to hit her. Grandma—”

“It was nothing,” Maudie said quickly, trying to hush Benny. “It was an accident, someone looking the other way, driving too fast—”

“Nothing!” Carlene said. “A car nearly hit you, and it was nothing? What did the police say? Did they catch the driver? Crime is completely out of control in this village, the police are doing nothing. An assault on my very own sister, after all your suffering over Martin’s murder …”