Six Cats A Slayin'

“I know what you mean,” I said. “All this excess is beyond me. I’m not sure what point people are trying to make when they go so far overboard.”

“I guess they reckon it’s pretty,” Azalea said, though her expression revealed her doubts about this.

“The good thing is, she waited until only a few days before Christmas to have it all put up,” I said. “Hopefully it will all be coming down the day after.”

Azalea nodded and turned back to the stove. I headed upstairs, Diesel beside me, to change out of my work clothes. At home, unless I was entertaining company, I preferred much more casual attire, usually sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. I wouldn’t win any points for sartorial splendor, but I was comfortable.

After my delicious dinner I spent a quiet evening in the den. Diesel went back and forth between the den and the living room while I read. I had resisted the urge to look out the window at the horror across the street until I was ready to go to bed. I took one long look before I shut the blinds and pulled the curtains. They dimmed the glare considerably, but my bedroom was nowhere near as dark as I preferred when I slept.

The double-glazed windows helped with the noise from traffic on the street. During my nightly phone call with Helen Louise, we briefly discussed the party tomorrow night. I didn’t have to tell her about the installation across the street. She saw it for herself when she drove home from the bistro after work.

Overwhelming was her word. “I really like what Frank and Sean did for your house, but I have to say I don’t think most people will even notice it. They’ll be too awestruck by what’s across the street from you.”

“Gerry’s welcome to the attention, if that’s what she wants,” I said.

“I imagine that’s exactly what she does want.” Helen Louise chuckled. “Not everyone on your block has decorated outside, but those who have are more in line with your style. Her house will definitely stand out.”

We chatted a few minutes more before we ended the call. I settled down to sleep. I tried to keep my mind clear of anything to do with Gerry Albritton and her decorations and was eventually able to drift off.

The next morning, I awoke around seven, half an hour later than usual, feeling refreshed. I had slept soundly, and whatever my dreams, I didn’t recall them. The coffee was ready when I went downstairs. Diesel went straight to the living room. I prepared my cup and had a few sips before going to feed the kittens and clean their litter boxes.

With all that done, I went to fetch the newspaper. The sun was on its way up. I grabbed the paper and started to turn to go back into the house. Then I looked across the street at Gerry Albritton’s house, not quite sure that I was seeing clearly.

I blinked and took several steps down the walk to get a closer look. No, I wasn’t imagining things, I decided. During the night, vandals had wrecked Gerry’s decorations.

ELEVEN

After the first shock of the mess in Gerry Albritton’s yard began to wear off, I began to see that the decorations weren’t wrecked so much as they were dismantled. The figures lay deflated on the dormant grass, and the lights hung drunkenly from a few spots on the façade.

No wonder I hadn’t heard anything, I mused. Nothing was smashed or destroyed, as far as I could tell. But why not? This was not the work of typical vandals.

Maybe the person behind this wanted to delay the party or cause Gerry to cancel it. I suspected that neither of these would happen, that the party would go ahead as planned tonight.

I wondered whether I should go over and knock on the door to inform Gerry of what had happened. I couldn’t see any signs that she or any other occupants of the house had stirred. The time couldn’t be more than about seven fifteen or seven twenty. I stood, indecisive, for about thirty seconds, and then it occurred to me that I really wasn’t dressed to go knocking on a woman’s door at this hour. Especially not the door of Gerry Albritton. She might well misinterpret my attire—bathrobe over the shorts and shirt I slept in—as something I did not in the least intend.

No, better to call. Safer to converse with Gerry from a distance. I turned and walked back into the house. I had barely shut the front door, however, when I heard a scream of what sounded like outrage from the direction of Gerry’s house. I moved into the living room to look out the front window. Sure enough, Gerry stood in the middle of her yard, surveying the damage.

I wouldn’t mind playing the good neighbor and going out to talk to her, but I wasn’t going to do it without being properly dressed. I hurried upstairs to change. Diesel seemed happy to be keeping an eye on the kittens, so I didn’t have to worry about him.