He hadn’t been quick enough, the glass shattered and the hammer struck him, and now he lay beneath the bushes hurting very bad and wishing Tansy was with him. Wishing he had someone to care that he was hurt, and to help him.
22
ON THE HIGH narrow balcony of the Longley house, Kit was trying to claw open the bathroom window when lights flashed along the street below and paused, hitting the edge of the roof as a car pulled into the driveway. The intrusion so startled Kit that she aborted her leap to the window, dropping back to the balcony. Crouching, she jumped higher, hit the roof snatching at the gutter, pulling herself onto the shingles. Joe, Dulcie, and Tansy followed, their hind paws clawing at empty air as they scrabbled up beside her and they trotted to the edge to peer over.
A dark brown recreation vehicle stood below, a compact RV with two camp chairs tied on top. They heard the electric garage door open. The RV pulled in, and the door rolled down again. The cats, directly above, could not see into the cab.
“Is that the Longleys?” Dulcie said. “They just left for their vacation. What, did they rent an RV? Has something happened to bring them back?”
“Maybe they gave some friend the key,” Joe said doubtfully.
“They would have told Charlie,” Dulcie said. “And she would have told us, she knew we were coming here.” She cut a look at Joe. “Shall we go in anyway?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“We could just crack the bathroom window open and listen, find out if it is the Longleys. If they come upstairs, we’ll hear them talking and we-”
Joe shrugged, and turned, and slipped back across the roof walking softly as he headed for the trellis. They dare not gallop, even a crow hopping on the shingles would be heard from within, in a series of little drumbeats. They were about to drop down to the balcony and try the high window when another pair of lights came up the street, and a second car paused in front of the house. They heard a police radio, and the reflection of a spotlight glanced up through the trees as its bright beam swept the yard.
Slipping back across the roof, the cats looked down on a black-and-white. It stood at the curb, portly Officer Brennan sitting behind the wheel, shining his torch along the house, across the doors and windows. Did he know there was someone here who might not belong? Brennan got out and dutifully circled the house, shining his light up and down so it glanced along the edges of the roof. Then he eased himself back into his car, looking bored. As if he had found nothing out of order, as if this was only a routine check. That angered Dulcie, that he’d found nothing amiss. “He’s just going to leave?” she said angrily, her tail lashing, her ears flat.
“How would he know?” Joe said. “Even Brennan can’t see through walls.”
Starting his engine, Brennan headed down the street, pulling up at the Waterman house. The cats watched him go through the same routine there. He was simply doing a vacation check, possibly at Charlie’s request. When he headed for the Chapmans’, they returned to the balcony and its high window.
“Are we going in, or what?” Dulcie said impatiently. “We can’t learn anything out here.”
“In,” Tansy said boldly. “I know places to hide.”
“So they see us? We’re only cats,” Kit said, forgetting times past when such a discovery of unexplained feline entry had led to disaster-when one such incident had frazzled her little cat nerves so badly that she remained jumpy for weeks, flinching at every shadow.
Dulcie looked at Joe. When Joe shrugged, and nodded, the tabby leaped to the little window, her claws in the sill, her hind legs braced against the house. It was an awkward angle, but more swiftly than her companions expected she dug her claws into the window frame, gave one hard jerk, and was surprised to see the glass slide open beneath her paws.
They crowded onto the sill, dropped to the tile counter, and slipped softly down onto the bathroom rug. The bathroom door was cracked open. Crouched in the chill little room, they could hear from downstairs hard footsteps cross the wooden floor, heard someone walking back and forth, back and forth, as if slowly pacing. Then came the scraping of metal against metal, then several little thunks, then a click, as if a door had been opened.
“Stay here,” Joe said. “Wait here.” And he was out of the bathroom and down the hall before Dulcie could stop him.
The three lady cats followed, to see him disappear down the curved stairs. Pausing on the top step, they tried to see where he’d gone. Dulcie’s and Kit’s dark coats were nearly invisible on the dark runner, but pale little Tansy shone as bright as the moonlight that was shining in through the high windows. The curved stairway led down to a wide entry, where a cream-colored Chinese rug shone against the dark parquet floor. Arches opened into two adjoining rooms, flanking a carved settee that stood against the wall. Joe appeared beneath the settee, and paused in the entrance to the living room where moonlight brightened a wall of bookshelves and glass-fronted cupboards. A man stood there, his back to them, opening the glass door of a cupboard, a tall man dressed in jeans and a dark windbreaker.
As he began removing the books within, Joe slipped up behind him and vanished beneath a spindly leather love seat that was stacked with empty cardboard boxes. The door on the other side of the fireplace stood open as well. These shelves were empty, and on a chair nearby, a carton marked VODKA was neatly filled with small, round, glass objects nestled among folds of bubble wrap.
They watched him fill three small grocery boxes with books and stack them one on top of the other. Picking up the cardboard tower, he headed away through the second arch. They heard his retreating footsteps but heard no door open, heard him step from the hardwood onto a nearly soundless surface. Then there was a little scraping sound such as hard shoes might make on concrete. He was in the garage? Even from the top of the stairs they could detect a cold-cement smell creeping up. Joe had vanished, the shadows beneath the love seat were empty.
They heard a car door open, then a sliding sound, as if the man was shoving his boxes into the RV. Dulcie looked helplessly for Joe. The living room had grown darker as clouds floated across the moon. Kit said, “So many books. Can they all be worth stealing?”
“And those little glass balls,” Tansy said, “with tiny little people in them, naked and doing private things. What did you call them? Who would pay money for those?” Again she dropped her ears. If a cat could blush, Tansy’s pale little face would be pink with embarrassment.
They were about to creep down the stairs when they heard the man returning fast, nearly running. Tansy crouched. Kit hissed, her ears back. There was a bang, the man shouted in triumph, and Joe came racing in through the arch, the man behind him-he grabbed a heavy ashtray and threw it as Joe dove into the alcove beneath the stairs.
“Go!” Dulcie hissed at Kit and Tansy. “Get out, both of you!” She slapped at them, driving them up the stairs toward the bathroom, and she flew down to join Joe. But Kit didn’t leave; she came galloping down alone and pushed close behind Dulcie. Together they bolted beneath the stairs beside Joe.
Joe wasn’t there. The dusty space was empty. Dulcie pressed into the darkest empty corner to make sure, then crouched close to Kit, peering out into the living room.
The tall windows had darkened, the moon nearly hidden, the man only a dark, prowling shadow, looking for Joe, kicking into the blackness beneath the furniture.
Why? Why was he so angry? They were only cats.