Six Cats A Slayin'

“Laura was planning to talk to her,” Frank said in an undertone as we neared Sean.

“Thanks for helping with this, son,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

Sean shrugged. “Glad to do it, Dad. Feels good to be outside doing something physical, to tell you the truth. It’s going to seem more like Christmas with the house decorated.”

“Yes, it will. This will be the best Christmas we’ve had in a long time. Having Rosie and Charlie now makes it even more special,” I said.

“I hope so,” Sean said. “Look, I really need to get back home and check on Alex. Are you ready to go, Frank?”

“Soon as we get my tools back in the trunk,” Frank said. “If you’ll put the ladder back in the garage, I’ll pack the rest away.”

Sean nodded, and after thanking them both again, I went back into the house. I decided I might call Laura later this afternoon to find out how things had gone with Alex today.

I heard sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen. I headed there, hoping to find Haskell and Stewart. I wanted to thank them for their hard work and for transporting the kittens downstairs and installing them in their new habitat while I was napping.

Stewart had his head in the fridge, and Haskell occupied his usual place at the table. “There’s some chicken salad left from the other night,” Stewart said over his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Charlie, just foraging for lunch. Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I haven’t,” I replied. A glance at the clock informed me that it was almost one. “I was sound asleep in the den until Frank came and woke me up.”

“Are they finished with the lights?” Haskell said.

“Yes, and they’ve done an excellent job,” I replied. “I wanted to thank you both again for building that corral for the kittens and for toting everything back downstairs again. I’m so embarrassed that I slept through it all.”

Haskell grinned. “Stewart looked in on you, but we decided not to wake you. You were sawing some serious logs.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said. “Look, why don’t you two go out to lunch, on me, if you’re feeling up to it. It’s the least I can do. Anywhere you like.”

Stewart shut the fridge. “Sounds good to me. How about the steakhouse?” He looked at Haskell. “I’m in the mood for a big, juicy steak and a baked potato stuffed with butter, sour cream, and cheese. My cholesterol can take an occasional hit.”

“Works for me,” Haskell said. “Why don’t you come with us, Charlie?”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here with Diesel and the kittens. Y’all go on and enjoy yourselves.” I pulled out my wallet and handed them four twenties.

“If you’re sure you won’t come,” Stewart said, “I guess we’ll head out. Be back in a couple hours.”

Haskell followed him out the door into the garage, and soon I heard Stewart’s car backing out.

I walked back to the living room. Diesel lay stretched out on his side, but he sat up when he heard me enter. The kittens had woken and started to play. They looked secure in their pen. The frames stood about seven feet high. I didn’t think even Ramses would try to climb that high to escape.

“Time for lunch,” I told Diesel after a glance assured me that the kittens had enough water and dry food to last them awhile. Diesel meowed and started for the door.

I was about to follow him when I heard loud voices outside. I moved over to the window and looked out, trying to locate the source of the noise.

I found it across the street at Gerry Albritton’s house. Gerry and a man stood on her walk, only a couple of feet from the sidewalk, yelling and gesturing at each other. I couldn’t make out the words, but from the tone I could tell that they were arguing. While I watched, the man whirled and headed for a car parked on the street in front of the next house. Gerry shot him the finger before she turned and stomped her way up the walk.

As he was getting in the car, the man turned in my direction, and I got a clear look at his face. He was familiar, but it took me a minute to place him. He was Billy Albritton, the city councilman—the man who told Melba he didn’t know Gerry Albritton.

TEN

Over the weekend I thought about the argument I had witnessed. Billy Albritton had obviously lied to Melba about his knowing my neighbor. Surely he wouldn’t engage in a loud argument with a woman he didn’t know, particularly an argument that the neighbors could overhear. I thought about the cause for their quarrel. I could come up with any number of lurid reasons for it. One, for example, was that she was the first wife he had never gotten around to divorcing, and now she was threatening to expose him to his current wife and the town council.