Part 5 (1/2)
I didn't answer and he began to wail.
That caused Miles and Belle to pay attention to him. Once Miles had me in the chair he had turned to Belle and had said bitterly, ”Now you've done it! Have you gone crazy?”
Belle answered, ”Keep your nerve, Chubby. We're going to settle him once and for all.”
”What? If you think I'm going to help in a murder-”
”Stuff it! That would be the logical thing to do... but you don't have the guts for it. Fortunately it's not necessary with that stuff in him.”
”What do you mean?”
”He's our boy now. He'll do what I tell him to. He won't make any more trouble.”
”But... good G.o.d, Belle, you can't keep him doped up forever. Once he comes out of it-”
”Quit talking like a lawyer. I know what this stuff will do; you don't. When he comes out of it he'll do whatever I've told him to do. I'll tell him never to sue us; he'll never sue us. I tell him to quit sticking his nose into our business; okay, he'll leave us alone. I tell him to go to Timbuktu; he'll go there. I tell him to forget all this; he'll forget... but he'll do it just the same.”
I listened, understanding her but not in the least interested. If somebody had shouted, ”The house is on fire!” I would have understood that, too, and I still would not have been interested.
”I don't believe it.”
”You don't, eh?” She looked at him oddly. ”You ought to.”
”Huh? What do you mean?”
”Skip it, skip it. This stuff works, Chubby. But first we've got to-”
It was then that Pete started wailing. You don't hear a cat wail very often; you could go a lifetime and not hear it. They don't do it when fighting, no mailer how badly they are hurt; they never do it out of simple displeasure. A cat does it only in ultimate distress, when the situation is utterly unbearable but beyond its capacity and there is nothing left to do but keen.
It puts one in mind of a banshee. Also it is hardly to be endured; it hits a nerve-racking frequency.
Miles turned and said, ”That confounded cat! We've got to get it out of here.”
Belle said, ”Kill it.”
”Huh? You're always too drastic, Belle. Why, Dan would raise more Cain about that worthless animal than he would if we had stripped him completely. Here-” He turned and picked up Pete's travel bag.
”I'll kill it!” Belle said savagely. ”I've wanted to kill that d.a.m.ned cat for months.” She looked around for a weapon and found one, a poker from the fireplace set; she ran over and grabbed it.
Miles picked up Pete and tried to put him into the bag.
”Tried” is the word. Pete isn't anxious to be picked up by anyone but me or Ricky, and even I would not pick him up while he was wailing, without very careful negotiation; an emotionally disturbed cat is as touchy as mercury fulminate. But even if he were not upset, Pete certainly would never permit himself without protest to be picked up by the scruff of the neck.
Pete got him with claws in the forearm and teeth in the fleshy part of Miles's left thumb. Miles yelped and dropped him.
Belle shrilled, ”Stand clear, Chubby!” and swung at him with the poker.
Belle's intentions were sufficiently forthright and she had the strength and the weapon. But she wasn't skilled with her weapon, whereas Pete is very skilled with his. He ducked under that roundhouse swipe and hit her four ways, two paws for each of her legs.
Belle screamed and dropped the poker.
I didn't see much of the rest of it. I was still looking straight ahead and could see most of the living room, but I couldn't see anything outside that angle because no one told me to look in any other direction. So I followed the rest of it mostly by sound, except once when they doubled back across my cone of vision, two people chasing a cat-then with unbelievable suddenness, two people being chased by a cat. Aside from that one short scene I was aware of the battle by the sounds of crashes, running, shouts, curses, and screams.
But I don't think they ever laid a glove on him.
The worst thing that happened to me that night was that in Pete's finest hour, his greatest battle and greatest victory, I not only did not see all the details, but I was totally unable to appreciate any of it. I saw and I heard but I had no feeling about it; at his supreme Moment of Truth I was numb.
I recall it now and conjure up emotion I could not feel then. But it's not the same thing; I'm forever deprived, like a narcolept on a honeymoon.
The crashes and curses ceased abruptly, and shortly Miles and Belle came back into the living room. Belle said between gasps, ”Who left that censorable screen door unhooked?”
”You did. Shut up about it. It's gone now.” Miles had blood on his face as well as his hands; he dabbed at the fresh scratches on his face and did them no good. At some point he must have tripped and gone down, for his clothes looked it and his coat was split up the back.
”I will like h.e.l.l shut up. Have you got a gun in the house?”
”Huh?”
”I'm going to shoot that d.a.m.ned cat.” Belle was in even worse shape than Miles; she had more skin where Pete could get at it-legs, bare arms and shoulders. It was clear that she would not be wearing strapless dresses again soon, and unless she got expert attention promptly she was likely to have scars. She looked like a harpy after a no-holds-barred row with her sisters.
Miles said, ”Sit down!”
She answered him briefly and, by implication, negatively. ”I'm going to kill that cat.”
”Then don't sit down. Go wash yourself. I'll help you with iodine and stuff and you can help me. But forget that cat; we're well rid of it.”
Belle answered rather incoherently, but Miles understood her. ”You too,” he answered, ”in spades. Look here, Belle, if I did have a gun-I'm not saying that I have-and you went out there and started shooting, whether you got the cat or not you would have the police here inside of ten minutes, snooping around and asking questions. Do you want that with him on our hands?” He jerked a thumb in my direction. ”And if you go outside the house tonight without a gun that beast will probably kill you.” He scowled even more deeply. ”There ought to be a law against keeping an animal like that. He's a public danger. Listen to him.”
We could all hear Pete prowling around the house. He was not wailing now; he was voicing his war cry-inviting them to choose weapons and come outside, singly or in bunches.
Belle listened to it and shuddered. Miles said, ”Don't worry; he can't get in. I not only hooked the screen you left open, I locked the door.”
”I did not leave it open!”
”Have it your own way.” Miles went around checking the window fastenings. Presently Belle left the room and so did he. Sometime while they were gone Pete shut up. I don't know how long they were gone; time didn't mean anything to me.
Belle came back first. Her make-up and hairdo were perfect; she had put on a long-sleeved, high-necked dress and had replaced the ruined stockings. Except for Band-Aid strips on her face, the results of battle did not show. Had it not been for the grim look on her phiz I would have considered her, under other circ.u.mstances, a delectable sight.
She came straight toward me and told me to stand up, so I did. She went through me quickly and expertly, not forgetting watch pocket, s.h.i.+rt pockets, and the diagonal one on the left inside of the jacket which most suits do not have. The take was not much; my wallet with a small amount of cash, ID cards, driver's license, and such, keys, small change, a nasal inhaler against the smog, minor miscellaneous junk, and the envelope containing the certified check which she herself had bought and had sent to me. She turned it over, read the closed endors.e.m.e.nt I had made on it, and looked puzzled.
”What's this, Dan? Buying a slug of insurance?”
”No.” I would have told her the rest, but answering the last question asked of me was the best I could do.
She frowned and put it with the rest of the contents of my pockets. Then she caught sight of Pete's bag and apparently recalled the flap in it I used for a brief case, for she picked it up and opened the flap.
At once she found the quadruplicate sets of the dozen and a half forms I had signed for Mutual a.s.surance Company. She sat down and started to read them. I stood where she had left me, a tailor's dummy waiting to be put away.
Presently Miles came in wearing bathrobe and slippers and quite a large amount of gauze and adhesive tape. He looked like a fourth-rate middleweight whose manager has let him be outmatched. He was wearing one bandage like a scalp lock, fore and aft on his bald head; Pete must have got to him while he was down.
Belle glanced up, waved him to silence, and indicated the stack of papers she was through with. He sat down and started to read. He caught up with her and finished the last one reading over her shoulder.