Six Cats A Slayin'

I contemplated yogurt, granola, and fruit, but not for long. I suppressed the little voice that was urging me to follow Stewart’s example. I prepared cheese grits, a couple of slices of buttered wheat toast, and two sausage patties. Diesel sniffed appreciatively, but he would be disappointed. No sausage for him. They were too highly seasoned.

By the time I finished eating and drinking another cup of coffee, I could see sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. The weather forecast had promised a clear, chilly day. That was good, because if everything went as planned, Sean and Frank, my son-in-law, would arrive at nine to start installing Christmas lights on the front of the house. Frank, with his experience in stagecraft and set design, had drawn up a tasteful plan for illumination. Had it not been for his enthusiasm and Sean’s willingness to assist, I probably wouldn’t have bothered. Time enough for that when baby Charlie and Rosie were old enough to enjoy the holiday.

After clearing up the small mess I had made cooking and eating breakfast, I headed through the hall to the living room, accompanied by Diesel. We stopped in the doorway to survey the progress.

My volunteer carpenters had put down a drop cloth to protect the hardwood floor. From what I could see, Haskell and Stewart had completed one segment of the frame and were now working on the second one.

“You’re making good progress,” I said.

Haskell glanced up. “It’s not a complicated design, but it should be sturdy enough to do what you want.”

Diesel padded over to inspect the completed segment, for the moment propped against the wall. He sniffed it, then prodded it with a paw. He looked my way and chirped, as if to tell me he approved of the work. Haskell and Stewart continued to work, oblivious to the cat’s actions.

“Is there anything I can get you?” I asked. “Water? Coffee? Juice?”

“No, thanks,” Stewart said. “Soon as we finish this bit we’re going to take a break and have breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll be around, though, if you need me,” I said. “Come on, Diesel. We’ll be in the den for a while.”

I retrieved my laptop, and the cat and I got comfortable on the couch. While I caught up on e-mail, Diesel snoozed beside me. I had nearly finished with e-mail when my cell phone rang. I set the laptop aside because the caller was Melba. I knew the conversation could last awhile.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Morning, Charlie,” Melba replied, sounding perky.

After an exchange of the usual pleasantries, Melba said, “I got to thinking about Billy Albritton.”

“What about him?” I asked, puzzled.

“About why he kind of brushed me off,” Melba said. “I got to thinking about it last night, and it seemed to me he didn’t mind talking to me—he’s always been flirty, you know—until I brought up Geraldine Albritton.”

“Obviously you think that means he knows something about her and didn’t want to let on that he did,” I said. “Right?”

“Right. He’s slick, all right, else I would have caught it then, but at the time I believed him when he said he was in a hurry.” Melba laughed. “I’m not going to let him get away with it, though.”

I tried not to chuckle. “What are you going to do? Show up at his house and bang on the door until he lets you in?”

“If I thought that was what it would take to get a real answer out of him, I’d do it.” Melba’s tone held a touch of frost. “You know I would.”

“Yes, you sure would,” I replied.

“I’m going by his appliance store first thing Monday morning,” she said. “I don’t think he’s there on Saturday. I’ll insist that I have to talk to him, and only him, about replacing my washer and dryer. If he thinks he’s going to get some money out of me, he’ll be more willing to talk.”

“Fond of a dollar, is he?” I didn’t know the councilman myself.

Melba’s snort resounded in my ear. “You better bet he is. Like all the Albrittons. Most of them started out poor, and some of them still are. The ones like Billy who’ve managed to make a few bucks hang on to them as hard as they can.”

“I have no doubt you’ll wear him down,” I said.

“I’ll let you know,” she replied. “In the meantime, you mind if I come over and see those babies you’re fostering?”

“Sure, come on,” I said. “Are you thinking about adopting one?”

“I might,” Melba said. “There’ll never be another Diesel, but it might be nice to have a cat of my own around the house.”

“I think you’d love having a cat.”

Diesel meowed loudly.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

Melba chuckled. “I did. Tell that sweet boy I’ll be seeing him in about twenty minutes. That okay?”

“Sure, see you soon.” I ended the call. “Your friend Melba’s coming over to see you and the kittens.”

Diesel meowed again. He knew Melba’s name.

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and make some fresh coffee for Melba.” I rose from the couch. Diesel oozed off onto the floor, rolled onto his back, and stretched. I laughed and headed out the door.