The Black Cats (8 page)

“GOOD MORNING, CATTARINA,” SISSY
said. I flicked my ear in response. I’d crawled into bed with her last night
after licking the soot from my fur. Too tired to knead the covers, I fell fast
asleep until dawn. Luckily, my tail suffered no permanent damage. My back paws
were not so fortunate. I discovered the seared pads on my walk home from the Arnold
bonfire. “I asked Muddy to leave the kitchen window open for you last night,”
she said. “I knew you’d come home late. Catting around with a handsome fellow,
are we?” She lifted my chin and studied my face. “Why, Cattarina Poe, where are
your whiskers?” She turned me over and examined me. “And your back paws are
burnt, poor thing. What happened to you last night?”

Sissy
left the bed. “Mother will make a salve. She is an excellent nursemaid, even if
she dotes on her patients a trifle much.” She crossed to the wardrobe. Since destroying
her
town
dress yesterday, only her
everyday
dress remained, along with an
extra pair of stockings and white chemise. I think she looked fine without clothing.
I also thought the Delaware should flow with milk and shad should grow on
trees.

Pots
clattered in the kitchen below. Muddy had risen before dawn, as she always did,
to build a fire and make breakfast. I yawned and stretched, reveling in the
warmth of the cotton-stuffed mattress. I was the only cat I knew with two jobs:
muse by day, chest heater by night. Since his wife’s illness, Eddy had given up
marital cohabitation so Muddy could nurse her daughter through nighttime
spells. The old woman stayed in the adjoining bedroom and entered at the first
cough. I did what I could to keep Sissy warm while she slept, but it was not
enough; it would never be enough, and I carried this truth in my heart. Death
is a natural process until it happens in one’s family, then it’s a tragedy.

Once Sissy
twisted her hair into a coil, she carried me from the topmost floor, past Eddy’s
chambers on the middle floor, to the bottom floor. We found Eddy at the kitchen
table with tea and newspaper, sitting among the vestiges of breakfast. Muddy fussed
with a kettle of water. Now that the black cat’s death had vanished into the
past, life at Poe House had returned to normal. She set me in front of a bowl
filled with scrambled eggs, and I gobbled the food without a good morning rub
to Eddy’s leg. I possessed a hunger so severe that I finished before the dear
girl took her chair. She sat next to Eddy and poured a cup of tea from the pot
on the table. “Cattarina has lost her whiskers,” she said.

I disappeared
beneath the kitchen table for my post-breakfast routine. Seated upon the straw rug,
I started my usual preen. But I abandoned this activity when my whisker stubs
pricked my paw. How I missed them. I brushed against Eddy’s pants and Sissy’s skirt
instead, marking them with fur for the day.

Sissy
continued, “What’s more, she’s burnt her paws.”

“How very
curious.” Eddy peeked under the table at me, eyes narrowed. “The Arnolds’ house
burned down last night.”

“How do
you know? Is it in the paper? What happened?” The words left Sissy’s mouth in a
tumble. “Do tell!”

I
emerged from my hiding place to see Eddy tip a non-existent hat. “I sit before
you, Mrs. Poe, a proud member of the bucket brigade. The engine company needed
help, and the menfolk obliged. We saved the neighborhood.” He looked at Muddy.
“What time was it? Around midnight?”

I
stared at him. What did he know about my pal from Rittenhouse?

“Half-past,”
Muddy said. “You didn’t come home until two.”

“Tabitha
Arnold escaped unharmed,” he said. “Abner Arnold was not so fortunate.”

Abner Arnold
? I
crept under the table again, dreading a talking-to from Eddy.
Yes, I burnt down the neighbor’s house. No,
I am not sorry. Now then, what is for lunch?
But he didn’t bother. I
wondered if I’d paid the neighbors a favor by ousting the cobblers from Green
Street. I’d certainly paid the cats a favor. I took the center of the room
again and commenced with a stretching regimen.

Eddy
tipped his cup and took the last sip. “They sent him to Almshouse last night, but
I do not know how he fared.”

“What
heroics! Why didn’t you wake me?” She dropped a sugar lump in her tea and
stirred it. “I would have helped.”

“That’s
exactly
why we didn’t wake you.” Muddy
wiped her hands on her apron and joined them, pulling up a chair. “It would
have been too taxing for you.”

“And to
think I spoke to Mrs. Arnold yesterday,” Sissy said. “Hours before it
happened.”

“Where, Virginia?” her mother asked. “At
the market?”

“No,” Eddy
said. “It was later in the day, wasn’t it, my love? Your mysterious seven
o’clock errand?”

“Yes,
I-I needed to speak to her about a pair of shoes.” She took the last piece of
fried bread from the plate and slathered it with jam. “They were supposed to be
a surprise for you, Eddy, but now you’ve gone and spoiled it.”

“Is
that so?” He scooped me up to examine my paws. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, indicating
a night of interrupted sleep. “Catters must have been near the fire last night.
But why?”

“Constable
Claw,” Sissy said under her breath.

Muddy
cupped her hand around her ear. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,
Mother, nothing.” She turned to her husband. “Cattarina followed me to
Tabitha’s house and stayed behind. That’s the simplest explanation.” She smiled
at him, but mirth did not crinkle the corners of her eyes. “Did you know Tabitha
Arnold attends the Sons of Temperance meetings?”

Eddy
ignored her query and rose to set me on the sideboard, his brow knitted.

“
I
didn’t know she attended,” Muddy said.
She patted her daughter’s arm with a hand roughed by housework. “The Sons meet
at Saint George’s Methodist, don’t they?”

I
settled onto a lace doily while they prattled about
teetotaling
again. One day, I should like to know its meaning. As
the women talked, Eddy kept his back to them, focusing on me. He scratched the
top of my head, paying close attention to my ears. I rewarded him with a purr.
In this relaxed state, my thoughts wandered to yesterday. I had solved a crime,
and the wrongdoer had received punishment, though to what extent I did not
know. Death would have been fitting, considering Mr. Arnold’s transgression,
but I would settle for disfigurement. Another triumph for Philadelphia’s
favorite rationator.

“I learned
another interesting tidbit from Tabitha,” Sissy said.

“What’s
that?” Muddy asked. “That their shoes fall apart when you wear them?” She
lifted her foot and showed off the split sole of her shoe.

“I
learned they owned the black cat. And his name was Pluto.”

Eddy faced
them. “That
is
disturbing, but not
altogether surprising. Did the old woman admit to killing the creature?”

“No,
she blamed Mr. Fitzgerald. Something about a rivalry over a tree.” Sissy
spooned eggs onto her plate from the serving platter. “Mother, will you make a
salve for Cattarina? Her paws are in need of ointment.”

Muddy
nodded. “I think I have the ingredients.”

“Well, I,
too, discovered a tidbit,” Eddy said. He crossed his arms and leaned against
the sideboard. “Whoever killed Pluto bought the rope from Mr. Fitzgerald’s
hardware shop.”

“Or Mr.
Fitzgerald took it from his own store,” Sissy offered.

“I know
Fitz all to pieces,” Eddy said. “He is not a cat killer. Mr. Arnold is the more
likely culprit.”

“What
is this fascination with dead animals?” Muddy said. “It’s unnatural and
unhealthy. Why can’t we discuss pleasanter things? I hear Mr. Crumley’s getting
tossed in debtor’s prison for skipping rent. And Mrs. Porter’s husband left her
for—” The whistle of the teakettle cut her off. “Oh, fiddle.” Heeding its
call, she gathered every dish but Sissy’s and deposited the lot into the basin.
Then she doused them with water from the kettle and commenced to washing,
leaving husband and wife to converse in private.

“Speaking
of the black cat, how is your eulogy coming?” Sissy asked Eddy.

“It is not.”
He kissed his wife’s head. “What are your plans today, sweet Virginia?”

“Oh,” she
said, “I will be mending. Or knitting. Or mending my knitting. Do not worry,
husband.” She took a bite of egg.

“Well,
try and rest.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “I do not like your color this
morning.”

I
watched below the table. Sissy clutched a handful of skirt fabric in response
to Eddy’s comment. As the household’s most astute observer, I learned my
humans’ secrets without them even knowing they’d shared. No matter. I kept them
all. She released the fabric and asked him, “What are
your
plans?”

“Cattarina
and I have business at Mr. Jolley’s.” He put his finger to his lips before she
could object. “I will touch neither drop nor dram. I promise. When I return, I
will know about the fire and Mr. Arnold’s current state. If I am lucky, I will
also hear about the black cat, for his story vexes me greatly.” He whisked me into
his arms and laid me over his shoulder. “Muddy! Catters and I will await your
salve in the parlor.”

***

The tallow,
lard, and beeswax Muddy applied to my paws smelled good enough to eat, but I
resisted the salve, for it soothed my burns. It would also provide sustenance
later, should the need arise. Blasted appetite. Eddy carried me to keep my
tender paws off the ground, and we arrived at Jolley Spirits. As we entered the
tavern, the shrunken old apple gave us a
tsk-tsk
.
I noted a bandage on his arm, the arm I shredded yesterday. “Good morning, Mr.
Poe. It’s a little early for drink, but I’m happy to oblige a customer and his money—
I mean cat.” Mr. Jolley touched his wound and sneered at me. “As long as it
stays far, far away from me. If it doesn’t, it will meet with my boot.”

“She
will behave,” Eddy said. “You have my word.”

“What
can I bring you?”

“No
refreshment this morning, good sir. Just water.”

“Water?”
Mr. Jolley grumbled. “You’ll be back later for something stronger, I trust?”

“Of
course.”

This
seemed to satisfy Mr. Jolley. He started to leave then thought better of it. “What’s
that smell? It’s awful.” He curled his upper lip.

Eddy
glanced at my paws and cleared his throat, his cheeks red. “I suspect it’s coming
from your kitchen. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He ignored Mr. Jolley’s scowl and walked
to the bar, setting me on the oaken surface. I waited for the ancient barkeep
to hobble back with Eddy’s order. When he did, Mr. Jolley delivered a glass of
water, not liquor, and I let him go with a warning glare.

“We
must keep our wits about us, Catters,” Eddy said to me. “We’ve important work ahead.”

For
most of the morning, we eavesdropped on the other patrons. Many instances I caught
fire
and
Abner Arnold
and even
cat
.
These I had anticipated; humans love their gossip. But Eddy seemed to expect them,
too, for he did not show interest until he heard
supernatural
. Upon the expression, my companion struck up
conversation with the fellow who’d spoken it—a portly gentleman with ruddy
cheeks and a diamond stickpin in his lapel. They shook hands and introduced
themselves.

“Orson
Pettigrew, dentist,” the man said to Eddy.

“Edgar
Allan Poe, petrified of the dentist.”

Mr.
Pettigrew laughed. “Ah, Mr. Poe! I read ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ in the
Pioneer
last winter. Unnerving story.
How did you think of it?”

“Yes,
how
did
I?” Eddy laid a hand on my
back. “It’s a mystery.”

Mr.
Jolley dispensed two glasses of whiskey to Mr. Pettigrew and withdrew to break
up a heated discussion between two coalminers—something about
westward expansion
and
Oregon Trail
. Mr. Pettigrew downed the
first drink. “One for me,” he said. The other he poured into a flask pulled
from his vest pocket. “And one for my patient. I’ve got an extraction in an
hour.”

Eddy loosened
his cravat with a crooked finger. “Mr. Pettigrew, I heard you tell another
gentleman that supernatural elements caused the Arnold house fire. Why would
you say that?”

Mr.
Pettigrew elbowed Eddy. “Working on another story, eh?”

“A
eulogy.”

“But the
old codger survived, Mr. Poe.” Mr. Pettigrew took a swig from the flask. “Lost
his hair and burnt himself, but he’s alive, by God.”

“It’s
not for Abner Arnold. It’s for another man,” Eddy said. “Pluto…Katzenheimer. Black
hair, green eyes, trim physique? I’m sure you’ve met him.”

Mr.
Pettigrew scratched his head.

“Forgive
me, but I am in a hurry. The supernatural?”

Mr.
Pettigrew leaned into Eddy and lowered his voice. “It’s payback, Mr. Poe, for
the cat.” He grinned, exposing several teeth trimmed with gold. “I heard about
the hanging from a patient—horrible woman with bleeding gums. Elmira…?
Well, it doesn’t matter. I wanted a peek as much as the next man. So I closed office
yesterday afternoon and ran into Reverend Gerry on the way over. We got to
talking.” He took another drink from the flask. “When he described the hanged cat,
I knew it belonged to Tabitha and Abner Arnold. I’d seen the creature at their
shop when I picked up my new boots.” He lifted his shoe, showing Eddy the
peeling sole. “They’re less than two weeks old. I’ll never buy another pair
from those crooks.”