Officer Wendell had found the second door to the medicine cabinet in the laundry office, behind the cubbyholes. After some discussion, a laundry employee had been willing to talk. He told Harper the money was wrapped as laundry, loaded into the delivery trucks, and distributed on the regular route to five other restaurants along with clean uniforms, dinner napkins, and tablecloths. He said that was all he knew.
Police assumed that the money was locked in the cabinet from the men's room side when Wark or Jimmie went for coffee. Harper never did find out who made the anonymous phone call to the station, the call that urged him to search the men's room. The dispatcher said it was a male voice. "Kind of gravelly," she told Harper. "He just said to search the men's room, that it was urgent. Then he hung up."
Joe was still stressed from that call. He'd had to wait while the cops finished searching the front of the restaurant and moved on to the kitchen. As he placed the call from the phone behind the counter, Dulcie followed Harper to be sure he received Joe's message from the dispatcher.
After the money was found, they overheard Captain Harper send two men over to the Osborne house, to pick up Jimmie and Sheril Beckwhite for questioning. Harper kept Lee Wark cuffed in the back of a squad car until they finished up and headed back to the station.
The cats lay stretched out in the sun atop the cab of the tow truck, feeling smug, when Joe glanced up and saw Kate coming from the showroom, walking hesitantly. She stood talking with Clyde and Captain Harper for some time. Then she and Clyde came on across the shop yard. She looked pale. Clyde put his arm around her.
She leaned against his shoulder. "I thought I'd be glad they arrested Jimmie. I don't know how I feel."
She looked at Clyde helplessly. "I gave Harper the evidence to convict my own husband. I'm sending Jimmie to jail." She buried her face against Clyde's shoulder.
Then she moved away, and blew her nose. "Sheril was with him." She started to laugh. "They arrested Sheril." She shook with what Joe thought was pent-up nerves. "The police arrested Jimmie and Sheril…" She doubled over, laughing. "Arrested them-in our conjugal bed."
She stopped laughing and clung to Clyde, shivering. "What did I do? What did I do to Jimmie?"
Clyde held her and patted her head.
Joe wanted to say, "Who's sending him to jail. Jimmie's sending himself to jail."
But he hurt for Kate. And he watched her with increasing curiosity, remembering Jimmie's words, the night they followed him in the fog-Where did the unnatural things come from? How do you think that makes me feel, my own wife…
When at last Kate noticed him, she held out her hand. "Hello, Joe Grey," she said, stroking him. He twisted around, sniffing her fingers, sniffing up her arm. That made her smile. He wanted to tell her she was well rid of Jimmie, that Jimmie Osborne was no good, and that she could do better. He let her pet him and rub his ears until Dulcie growled.
Kate looked startled, and drew her hand back. Joe glared at Dulcie, but Dulcie's dark tabby coat stood straight up, and her tail was huge. Her growl rumbled so fiercely it shook her.
And Kate stopped looking surprised, gave Dulcie a knowing look, and moved away.
But it was not until two nights later, in Jolly's alley, that Dulcie and Kate began to be friends; and that Joe and Dulcie were put to the final terrifying test of their strange metamorphosis.
27
Old Mr. Jolly, coming out to the softly lit alley to deposit his garbage before he closed up for the night, and to leave a nice plate of scraps for the village cats, paused, puzzled.
The alley was empty, yet just as he stepped out he had heard laughter. It had seemed to be right outside the door.
There was no one passing on the well-lit street. He stepped to the street and looked both ways, but there was no one on this block. Maybe his hearing was going bad, playing tricks.
The only occupants of the alley were two cats, prancing across the bricks batting a leaf back and forth, chasing it through the glow of the wall lamps. Jolly put down his plate of scraps beside the jasmine vine and stood watching them, amused by their antics.
He guessed they weren't very hungry. Certainly they could smell the good veal and ham, but they didn't rush to the plate. He knew these two, and they weren't shy about tying into a nice snack. Both were eager guests at his feline buffet. The little brown tabby belonged to Wilma Getz, who worked in the reference department of the library. He watched the tabby roll over coyly on the brick, glancing sideways at the tom as she reached to bat the leaf. What a flirt; her green eyes were dancing. She seemed as happy as if she owned the world. So maybe she did own it, who knew about cats? The gray tom circled her, feinting at the leaf, then leaped at her and they scuffled. Jolly laughed; it pleased him to see animals so filled with joy, so happy with being alive.
The cats played for a few minutes, then sat regarding him. And at last they trotted on over, looked up at him bright-eyed and smiling, and tied into the scraps of warm veal roll and the hickory-smoked ham and the crab salad. He liked the way cats enjoyed their food. The tom smacked and gobbled, but the little tabby ate delicately. Interesting that the tom, though he was bigger, shared equally with the tabby, leaving half for her.
The tidbits he set out were never large, but when they were arranged all together onto a paper plate they made a respectable meal. He found it curious that people left good food on their plates. It was never the fat folks-they cleaned up every bite. It was the thin women, the ones who looked like they needed a little nourishment. They left the nicest scraps.
As the two cats feasted, a third cat appeared out of the dark vines at the end of the alley. As it paused beneath the light, its creamy color shone bright, and its eyes gleamed golden. This was a new cat; Jolly did not know this one. It had to be a female, so round and sweet-faced, such a pretty cat. As she drew closer he could see that her cream-colored fur was streaked with orange, like rich whipped cream folded with a dash of apricot jam.
She might be a stranger, but she trotted right on down the alley bold as you please, toward the scrap plate. She stopped once to rub her shoulder against the container of a potted tree, obliquely observing the two cats as if assessing them. The two feasting cats watched her indirectly, their ears twisting toward her, but they did not stop eating.
The cream cat was bold as brass-she trotted right up to the plate, pushed the gray tom aside, and took what was left of his share. The tom didn't object, but the tabby cat lashed her tail, laid back her ears, screamed, and lit into the cream cat, biting and clawing. Jolly didn't know whether to stop her or let them alone.
Before he could make up his mind, the scuffle was finished. The two backed off glaring at each other and then looked at the tom. And something strange happened.
The two females, without any more preliminaries, suddenly seemed to make friends. They approached each other with their ears and whiskers forward in a friendly way, sat down near one another, and began to wash their paws. The tom stood looking on, seeming as amused by them as Jolly felt.
Cats. Who knew what went on in those furry little heads.
He picked up the empty paper plate, dropped it in the garbage, and went back inside, leaving the night to the cats, to those amazing beasts.
When Jolly had gone, the three cats trotted away up the alley side by side and disappeared into the dark shadows beneath the jasmine vine.
There, sheltered by tangles of small, dense leaves dotted with yellow blossoms, the cream cat lay down and washed herself more thoroughly. She did not speak for some time. She looked Dulcie and Joe over, her face registering a dozen expressions. They looked back uneasily, and Dulcie shivered. She was both afraid of what would happen, and excited. Joe regarded the cream cat with puzzled unease, and he had to keep reminding himself that this was Kate. This was Kate Osborne.