The Black Cats (13 page)

AT FIRST LIGHT, I awoke at the
foot of Sissy’s bed. Between my apprehension and hers, I got very little sleep.
My bedmate must’ve nodded off during the night, however, for she slumbered beside
me now. I looked across the room at old Muddy. I’d beaten her to the dawn. With
my thoughts still on Midnight, I slunk downstairs, unbeknownst to anyone. Eddy
snored from the parlor, right where the women had left him last night. Before
the family could wake, I unlatched the front door, loosening it with a jump and
jab, and fled into the neighborhood.

Water
shimmered on the empty cobblestone streets, reflecting the rosy hues of sunrise.
The storm had blown over. I noted a few broken tree limbs and flipped umbrellas
as I headed north, but otherwise the Spring Garden area appeared normal—save
for the carnage at the Arnold house. I began to run and did not stop until I
reached the cobblers’ stone walkway. Setting aside thoughts of my own safety, I
leapt through the hole I’d made in the window last night and alighted to the
kitchen floor. The room stood empty. “Midnight!” I called.

No
answer.

“Midnight!
Are you here?”

Silence.

I
searched the tiny single-story for any sign of the Arnolds, Midnight…even Mr. Fitzgerald.
When that failed, I looked in the cellar. Not one person. Not one cat. Not one
drop of blood.

***

Mr. Fitzgerald
stopped sweeping to watch me enter the courtyard in front of his shop. “Hello,
Catterina,” he said. “You’re out early this morning.” I sat nearest the cobbler
shop and studied the man next door. At least I had found one of the humans in
question. Had he killed Midnight and the Arnolds last night? Or had Abner and
Tabitha taken Midnight for a stroll in the Spring Garden market, as Eddy and
Sissy had done with me? Since the latter scenario was unlikely, the former
scenario, however unfortunate, took root. Nevertheless, I clung to hope. In
order to conduct a search for my friend, I needed some measure of it to
function.

I examined
the area in front of the shoemaker workshop, looking and sniffing for any sign
of my pal. The shop’s dark interior, observed through the plate glass window,
confounded me. Tabitha Arnold always closed shop on “the Lord’s day,” or at
least that’s what Muddy called it. Yet that day had not come. I knew because the
eldest member of our house hadn’t laid out her
town
dress or her black book last night in preparation.

A man brushed
by me as I turned to leave. I recognized the stocky gentleman at once—Mr.
Pettigrew. He jiggled the handle to the Arnolds’ shop and scowled. After uttering
a few terse words I shall not repeat, he surveyed the courtyard and located Mr.
Fitzgerald. “You there!” he bellowed. “Do you know when the shoemaker will arrive?
I’ve got a bone to pick with him. Rain seeped in my shoes last night and ruined
my stockings.”

“I
imagine the store will be closed today,” Mr. Fitzgerald said. “The Arnolds are
suffering from…maladies. I called on them last night, and they were doing poorly.
Come back tomorrow.” He brushed the collected debris into the street and
entered his shop.

“Maladies,”
Mr. Pettigrew said under his breath. He looked me. “Stay away from here, pussycat.
Mr. Arnold doesn’t like your kind.” With a tip of his hat, he left the way he
came, the soles of his shoe flapping on the sidewalk.

Though
I could not imagine Mr. Fitzgerald cleaving anyone, least of all Midnight, I entered
his shop just in case. It presented no new evidence, so I left for Mr. Beal’s
house to speak to George and Margaret, cutting through the alley. The Quaker
Cats, too, had set out early, and I caught them near the razed Arnold home. The
lot had been cleared shortly after the fire. In recent days, bricklayers had built
a maze upon the blank earth. I’d watched them at their work, a dull affair
second only to Muddy’s scrubbing of the walkway.

“We
were coming to find you,” George said. “The Coon Cats are still with Mr. Eakins
and won’t be leaving today. Maybe not even tomorrow. Any word on Midnight?”

“No,
haven’t seen him. And worse, the Arnold house is empty.”

“Empty?”
Margaret said with a sniffle. “Where could they have gone?”

“I
intend to find out,” I said. “But I need your help.”

“We are
always here to help,” George said. He lowered his head. “Except for last night.
Margaret and I are sorry, Cattarina.”

“Truly
sorry,” Margaret said. “But Mr. Beale locked all the windows and
doors—even the shutters—with the coming storm. We couldn’t leave.
And with my cold, it would’ve been too dangerous.” She sneezed, illustrating
her point.

“If
it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.” I sighed. “It was my plan.”

“And
now Midnight’s dead,” Margaret said forlornly.

“No, we
mustn’t think like that,” I said. “Grief will slow our efforts.”

“Don’t
worry, Cattarina. We’ll turn over all of Philadelphia if we have to,” George
said. “Midnight will surface.”

***

George
and Margaret agreed to search the streets while I returned to the Arnolds’ residence
to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. Since I’d botched things last night, I
decided to once again enlist human help. Sissy’s keen eye rivaled my own, and Eddy’s
mind worked in ways beyond comprehension. At this point, I would even take
Muddy if I could push her from the kitchen. Across the street from Poe House, I
caught Eddy and Sissy leaving a cab. From their costume, they had come from a
grand affair. Eddy wore his brocade waistcoat he saved for readings, and Sissy had
donned her new river dress. Arm in arm, the couple lingered on the sidewalk, in
no particular hurry to go home. I watched them for longer than I should have,
considering Midnight’s predicament. Perhaps sentimentality had gotten the best
of me, but I had never seen Eddy so happy, so far from the melancholies of last
autumn. I wanted him to stay that way forever. My one regret? That
I
had not been the one to bring about
the change.

The
carriage driver snapped the whip and urged the horse down the street. Then a
pony cart driven by a freckle-faced girl whizzed past. What traffic! When the
road cleared, I joined the pair mid-conversation. “Was the meeting to your
liking?” Sissy asked Eddy. She’d curled her hair. Two black locks hung in spirals
on either side of her ears. A closed fan dangled from her wrist.

“The
Sons of Temperance is a fine organization,” Eddy said. “I should’ve attended a
meeting sooner, but I was waiting for the right moment.”

“And it
came.”

He
patted her hand. “I am sorry, Virginia.”

She
gazed at him. “Today we start anew, Edgar.”

It did
this cat good to see her companion so full of merriment. But I had a task and
could not be deterred. I waited for them to begin walking then introduced
myself to their cadence. This step could not be skipped when attempting a feat
of this complexity. It was one thing to bring a human from parlor to kitchen;
it was quite another to guide them through the neighborhood.

“Good day,
Catters,” Eddy said. “I trust you slept well.”

“Oh,
she didn’t sleep well at all,” Sissy said, looking me over. “Poor thing
wouldn’t stay put last night. Must’ve been the storm.”

I
ziggety-zagged in front of them, orchestrating their strides without raising
suspicion. They paid me no mind and continued chatting as they passed Poe
House.

“It’s
odd that Tabitha Arnold wasn’t at the meeting,” she said. “She even urged me to
go. Told me she’d meet me there.”

“I
didn’t mind,” he said. “It gave me more time with my beloved.”

I pushed
them north past the intersection of Green Street.

“An afternoon
stroll is an exquisite idea,” Sissy said. She opened her fan and waved herself.

“I
thought it was your idea,” Eddy said.

“As
long as it was
someone’s
idea.” She
laughed and hugged her husband’s arm tighter.

We
navigated wicker buggies filled with tots and toddlers wielding horehound
sticks. The tiny humans delighted Sissy, for she smiled and pointed at each
one, remarking on their
cherub cheeks
and
angelic smiles
. I stayed the
course, thinking solely of Midnight, and detoured them west toward the Arnolds’
home.

She
closed her fan. “Do you ever want children?”

“What
has gotten into you, Virginia?”

“On
days like this, when you are…” She cast her eyes downward. “…healthy, I think
what a wonderful father you would make.”

“We’ve
been through this before,” Eddy said. “It would be too taxing for you.”

She bit
her lip then said, “Are you sad?”

“I am
always sad, my wife. But you and you alone make me better. You are my queen in
this kingdom by the sea.” He gave her a wink.

“That’s
a lovely sentiment, Edgar. You must think about putting it to verse.” She laid
her head on his shoulder and continued in silence.

Ziggety-zag,
ziggety-zag, all the way to the cobblers’ home. Exhausting work, but I’d done
it. I deposited them in front of Abner Arnold’s house and turned up the
walkway. They did not follow. Running out of both patience and time, I yowled.
And good.

“I
think she means for us to join her,” Sissy said. She pulled Eddy to the door. “Who
could live here, I wonder? Do we know anyone on Logan Street? What a gay
adventure!”

“I am game
for an escapade.” He rapped the door with his knuckles. His enthusiasm vanished
when Abner Arnold answered the door.

Frightened,
I dashed behind the folds of Sissy’s skirt. We would never gain access to the
home, now that the cobbler was home. Midnight could be inside, in need of my
help, and I could not give it. I peeked around the volume of silk and watched
the exchange.

“What
do you want?” Mr. Arnold said. His shirt had come untucked and hung about his
waist like a short dressing gown. Even from behind Sissy’s skirt, I caught the
scent of rum. He scratched the peeling scabs on his chin and neck.

Sissy regained
her composure first. “We are looking for your wife, Tabitha,” she said. “Is she
here?”

“No, and you can thank Mr. Fitzgerald for
that,” he said. “She ran off with him last night. Can’t trust the Irish, can
you?” He swayed, leaning against the doorframe for support. “If he tells you
any different, he’s a liar the size of Pennsylvania.” He rubbed his stomach and
winced.

“Your
wife left you?” Eddy asked.

Mr. Arnold
pushed the door open with his foot. “You see her inside? You see her at the
shop?” He scowled. “Didn’t think so.”

“Did
she give a reason?” Eddy asked. I could not see his face, but his voice held
genuine concern.

“Women
don’t need a reason, do they?” Mr. Arnold said, casting an eye at Sissy. “Don’t
drink, Abner, it’s not good for you,” he said in a high timbre. “Don’t go to
Jolley’s tonight, Abner, you’ll put us in the poor house.” He spat on the
ground and lowered his pitch to normal. “Bah! Good riddance to her, and good
riddance to you.” With that, he slammed the door in our face.

Eddy
didn’t move. He looked at his shoes. Mr. Arnold had given him something to
think about, though I knew not what.

Sissy
took his hand. “Husband? Are you well?”

He lifted
his gaze and searched her face, his eyes glassy and wet. “I am
very
well today, thank you, Mrs. Poe.”

***

Sissy
waited until we’d reached North Seventh before speaking of the cobblers. “Husband,
something is wrong. I do not trust Mr. Arnold’s story. Why would Mrs. Arnold
run away with Mr. Fitzgerald? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I’ll
say. I never pegged ol’ Fitz as a lover.” His mood had brightened since our chat
with the cat killer.

“Eddy!”
she said. “That is not what I mean! And lower your voice. I don’t want anyone
hearing you say
that
word in public.”

“What?
Fitz
?” Eddy said.

“Oh,
how you tease.” Sissy slapped him on the arm with her fan.

I
trailed several lengths behind them, disheartened by countless failures. If I
didn’t find Midnight soon, I’d have start looking for his grave. What had I
done? When I thought of George and Margaret, I trotted ahead, in line with my
companion. Maybe the Quaker Cats had discovered Midnight this morning, alive
and well.

“I
think Tabitha Arnold could be in real trouble,” Sissy said. “Mr. Arnold gave me
a queer feeling. He had an untamed look about him, like a hungry tiger.”

“A hungry
tiger! What wild imaginings!” Eddy chuckled. “May I remind you, Mrs. Poe, that you
wrongly suspected Mr. Fitzgerald of killing Pluto. Not everyone can rationalize
like my Detective Dupin.” He steered them around a window-shopping couple
before resuming their path on the sidewalk. I stepped onto the cobblestones to
accommodate the detour. “Mind the street, Catters,” he said to me. “Mr. Arnold
may drive his carriage down the street and kill the lot of us.” He waved his
hand. “In one pass.”