Six Cats A Slayin'

I nodded. “Yes, I want an update on Alex and Rosie.”

“I’d like that, too,” Stewart said.

We didn’t have long to wait. My phone buzzed to announce a new text message. In fact, it buzzed three times, so I knew the message was a long one.

I read through it slowly, making sure I took in the details. Then I heaved a sigh of relief. The gist of it was that Alex was continuing to improve physically, gaining some strength, and beginning to have an appetite again. Her psychological gains were slower but steady, thanks to her therapy sessions. I knew she would need counseling for a while, perhaps months, before she returned to her usual self. Rosie was doing fine with Cherelle, and Sean was extremely pleased with her.

I passed the phone over to Stewart so he could read the update for himself. He scanned the messages quickly. With a smile, he passed the phone back to me. “Excellent news.”

“Yes, I’m very pleased,” I said. “I was hoping Alex might be able to come here for Christmas, but that might be too much to ask.”

“It is the season for miracles,” Stewart said.

“I’ll be praying for one,” I said. “I forgot to ask Sean if she was up to having visitors.” I picked up the phone and tapped out another text.

Sean responded quickly, saying that Alex would love to see me. I decided to run over to their house then, before I got caught up in something else. I was anxious to see Alex.

I announced my intentions to Stewart and hurried through the rest of my salad. I decided not to take Diesel with me. Better not to overwhelm Alex, and I wouldn’t stay long anyway. I didn’t want to tire her unnecessarily. I was about to run upstairs to brush my teeth when I heard the doorbell. I hoped whoever was at the door wasn’t going to take up a lot of my time, because I wanted to get to Sean’s place. Diesel came loping out of the kitchen the moment he heard the bell.

When I opened the door, I saw a small figure wearing a jacket with a black hood. The gremlin face was gone, replaced by the solemn mien of a child.

THIRTY-ONE

I recognized the boy immediately. He sang in the choir at Helen Louise’s church. In fact, he was the boy soprano soloist, and he had a hauntingly angelic singing voice.

“Hi, Tommy.” His name was Tommy Russum, and he lived several blocks away with his mother and stepfather. His mother was a friend of Helen Louise. “Would you like to come in?”

The boy nodded and stepped inside the house. I shut the door, and he pushed back the hood to expose his dark auburn mop of hair. Small for his age—around eleven, I thought—he stood looking up at me, a mute appeal in his expression.

“Let’s go see the kittens, shall we?” I said.

“Yes, please,” he said softly.

I led the way. Diesel walked beside Tommy, and the boy stroked his head. Diesel purred his thanks.

The minute Tommy saw the kittens, he hurried to the cage and dropped to his knees, his hands against the wire mesh. The kittens squeaked and chirped as they tried to reach his hands. He looked up at me again. “Thank you for taking care of them.”

“I’m happy to do it. Why don’t we let them out so you can play with them?”

“Yes, please.” He scooted back, and I opened the door. Diesel watched anxiously as the kittens scrambled to get to Tommy, now sitting with his legs stretched out. They crawled over his legs, and Ramses tried to crawl up his arm, claws grabbing at the thick fabric of the jacket.

Tommy laughed as he picked them up in turn and let them lick his face. As I watched, I wondered how an adult could be so cruel to a child, to deprive him of such love and joy. The family wasn’t poor as far as I knew. Tommy’s stepfather, if I recalled correctly, was a cardiologist and reputedly an excellent one. He could surely afford kitten food for this bunch. He must be the he Tommy had referred to in the original note to me.

I pulled a chair close to where Tommy continued to play with the kittens. Diesel stood watch, ready to pounce if one of them tried to make a break for it. At the moment, however, they seemed happy to play with Tommy.

“They haven’t forgotten you,” I said. “I hope you weren’t worried about that.”

Tommy regarded me solemnly, his smile gone. “I was kinda worried about that.”

“Did you have names for them?” I asked.

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“I didn’t know what to call them, so I gave them names, too.”

“What do you call them?” he asked.

I told him the names and explained the origin of them. He smiled when I mentioned Fred and George Weasley. “I love Harry Potter,” he said. “I like your names better. Mine were kinda lame.”

“They’re your kittens, so you call them whatever you want. I won’t mind if you’d rather call them something else.”

He shook his head. “No, your names are better.” He pulled Ramses off his shoulder to stop the kitten from trying to groom his head. “Tell me about Ramses again and where his name comes from, please.”