To Catch a Cat (18 page)

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Authors: Marian Babson

BOOK: To Catch a Cat
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The day was grey and dismal and probably going to get worse. Rain before the end of the morning no doubt and the downpour would continue all day. A restless wind was rising, sending little chill gusts through the slits at the sides of the ill-fitting windows, making her shiver.
The letter-box rattled and Mags went to collect the post, discovering that the day had worsened already. Two bills for Josh – that would please him, he was in a vile mood now. And a brightly coloured postcard for Robin, showing tropical skies, palm trees and a bustling native market filled with laughing people swarming around stalls heaped high with exotic fruits and vegetables. She gave a faint sigh.
‘All right for some,' Josh sneered as she set the postcard beside Robin's plate. ‘Does she say when she's coming back?'
‘I didn't look.' Mags winced inwardly as Josh reached over and helped himself to the postcard. ‘I don't read other people's mail,' she said pointedly.
‘Mummy taught you better?' Josh scowled at the brief message on the back. ‘This isn't mail – it's a postcard. People never say anything on a postcard they wouldn't want the world to read. Unless they're fools. “Missing you dreadfully, darling. Next time you must come with us. Be a good boy.
See you soon. Love to all …”' Josh skimmed the card back across the table where it hit the edge of Robin's plate and lay face down. ‘Soon – how soon?'
She wished she could answer that. Mags turned the card up so that the sunny face of it would greet Robin. She had hoped for a letter from Eva but, obviously, that had been too much to expect. One postcard was supposed to be enough for all of them.
‘Love to all.' Love, but no information.
There was a clatter on the stairs and Robin's rare laugh rang out. It was echoed by a skittish
Meorrrow
that sounded as though the cat were laughing, too. Together they charged down the stairs and up to the table.
‘You're late for breakfast.' Josh regarded them both without favour. ‘And you're going to be late for school.'
‘No, I won't. I'll run all the way.' His eyes lit up as he reached for the postcard from his mother.
‘Why don't you take the card to school with you and show it to your friends?' Mags slid the bowl of muesli in front of him and watched the brightness fade from his eyes as he read the non-revealing message.
‘All right.' The way he shoved it carelessly into his pocket betrayed that he would do no such thing. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that it would be out of the house and Mummy wouldn't stumble over it and have fresh ammunition for her tirades about Eva's inadequacies as a mother.
‘Merreoow?
' The cat reared up on its hind legs and tapped Robin's arm hopefully with a forepaw, reminding him that it was there and hungry. He started to push back his chair.
‘Finish your breakfast.' Mags put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him down. ‘I'll feed the cat.'
‘If you ask me,' Josh sniffed loudly and glared at the cat, ‘that thing needs a bath more than it needs food.'
‘She's clean!' Robin flared. ‘She's a very clean cat. She's always washing.'
‘Then she's doing a lousy job of it. The thing stinks to high heaven!'
Mags had to admit that there was a very peculiar odour emanating from the cat. Not unpleasant, just peculiar – and very uncatlike, rather as though it had been involved in an accident in some exotic foreign kitchen.
‘Perhaps we can give her a bath later on,' Mags suggested without enthusiasm, dark memories of a similar event in her childhood arising. It had taken weeks for the scratches to fade away.
‘No!' Robin gulped the last of his muesli and stood, gathering up the cat protectively. ‘She won't like it! She doesn't need a bath! I'll take care of her!'
‘You'd better. Your aunt has enough to do.'
‘I'll feed her, too.' Robin started for the fridge. ‘And then I'll put her back in my room. If she stays down here, she might run outside when the door opens and get lost.'
‘Wouldn't that be a shame?' Josh glowered at him. ‘You're the only one to worry about that. Let me tell you, we can do without that cat around here …'
and without you,
too hung in the air.
‘Joshua …' Mags warned.
‘What? What did I say?' Josh glared at her with righteous indignation. ‘Did I say something?'
‘Just be careful.' She locked gazes with him. ‘Very careful, that's all.'
The doorbell rang, breaking the uneasy impasse.
‘Mummy, so early!' Mags gasped.
‘Mummy …' Josh mimicked, but his heart wasn't in it.
‘I'll go!' Robin darted for the door, welcoming the chance to escape from the oppressive adult emotion in the air.
‘Good morning, darling.' Granna beamed down at him. ‘I thought, if I got here early, I could drive you to school. It's a dreary day to walk and we've had so little time together.'
‘Ummm …' Robin backed away. What would the other kids say if his grandmother took him to school? He'd been going on his own since he started.
‘Now finish dressing and we'll be off. If we go now, we'll have time to stop along the way for a little treat.'
Blatant bribery.
Mags came into the hall and stood watching with disapproval. Mummy sent her a charming smile.
‘I
am
dressed,' Robin said.
‘Nonsense, dear, of course you're not. Not properly. Go and put on your socks.'
‘I don't wear socks.' Robin backed a little farther away.
‘I think it's some new school fad.' Now that Mummy drew it to her attention, Mags tried to recall the last time she had seen Robin wearing socks. She hadn't been worrying about such trifles.
‘Fads!' Mummy sniffed disdainfully. ‘That's all very well in the summer, but winter is nearly here. He'll catch his death of cold running around in bare feet.'
‘I don't have any socks,' Robin said truthfully. He had meant to buy a new supply but, with everything else that was happening, he hadn't got round to it.
‘You have plenty of socks.' Mags distinctly remembered unpacking Robin's cases and putting everything away.
‘They're dirty. I can't wear them. They … they smell!'
‘Oh, really!' Mummy sighed in exasperation, looking to Mags. ‘Surely you must have washed them?'
‘The washing machine isn't working.' Mags was automatically on the defensive before she remembered that Robin had never put any socks in with his laundry. What had he been doing with them? In a dirty heap somewhere, she supposed. After Josh left, she must go up to Robin's room and do some cleaning.
‘Mags!' Josh's peremptory bellow demanded her presence in the dining room. She ignored it.
‘Mags! … Mags!'
‘I think your …' Mummy hesitated delicately, ‘your … friend … wants to speak to you, Margaret.'
Leif Eriksson sauntered into the hallway, licking his chops reminiscently, and Robin swooped on him with relief. ‘I'll put Le – Tealeaf up in my room now.' He started up the stairs, then hesitated and turned back to Mags. ‘Don't let Josh give her a bath. He – he'd be too rough I'll take care of it this weekend.'
‘Hurry up, darling,.' Mummy said impatiently and also turned to Margaret.
‘
Mags!' If the choice was between being complained at by Josh or Mummy, it was a hard one to call. However, Josh had the loudest voice.
‘What is it?' Mags re-entered the dining-room, trying not to betray her annoyance to Mummy.
‘Listen – ' In a rare burst of tact, Josh motioned her closer and lowered his voice. ‘She isn't going to come back and hang around here all day, is she? Or all night?'
‘I don't know what Mummy's plans are. We haven't discussed them.'
‘Well, she can't – and you can't, either. And that goes for the kid, too. I want you all out of here for the evening. Here …' He thrust a handful of banknotes at her. ‘Take them to dinner and a movie, or something. Just see to it that they stay clear of here.'
‘What …?' Mags stared down at the money. It was more than he had ever given her for the housekeeping.
‘The interview,' Josh said urgently. ‘Nordling is coming here to tape the interview tonight. If he finds the house full of people, it will scare him off. He'll either leave, or I'll get a lousy interview because he'll be distracted.
‘This has to be an intimate, one-to-one, baring-his-heart-to-his-best-friend sort of thing. Nobody around but me and the tape – when he breaks down in tears.
‘So I want you lot to get the hell out of here – and stay the hell out. Until midnight, at least. Remember, this is our ticket to the Big Time. You've got as much to lose as I have if it all goes pear-shaped.'
Nils arrived so early that he had his choice of places in the car-park. He pulled in and sat there a while, watching the
later arrivals find their places as the parking lot filled up. In case anyone might look at him, he was frowning portentously at a sheaf of papers, giving his best imitation of a businessman going over his notes prior to an important meeting.
No one would ever guess that he was just killing time. Killing …
He threw down the papers and got out of the car, patting his pocket to assure himself that the large bulky brown envelope was still there. All that cash. She didn't deserve it. What she deserved was …
He slammed the door and clung to the handle for a moment, blinking against the gathering red mist.
Would she get in the car with him if he offered her a lift home? With the money in her hands as proof of his good intent, would she lower her guard?
If he could just lure her into the car, knock her out, drive to a secluded spot …
Someone shouted abruptly, startling him. Another driver wanted to park beside him; he was blocking the way standing there.
He gave an apologetic wave and walked briskly towards the mall. Mall! Shopping arcade was more accurate. Like most places in this town, it had ideas above its station. Station …
That damned interview he'd been trapped into agreeing to give for the local radio station was scheduled for tonight. Could he back out of it again?
He paced the length of the mall and back again, trying for calm. He studied the display windows of the dreary little shops. Nothing in any of them that could possibly interest him, or any sensible human being.
Sparrow's Coffee Bar was a schizoid place, unable to decide whether it wanted to be a conventional restaurant, a would-be trendy coffee bar or an old-fashioned tea room. Nevertheless, it was reasonably full of customers seeking one final jolt of caffeine before settling down to the business of the day.
There was no woman sitting alone in there.
He walked past the large plate glass window three times, each time sauntering a bit closer to make sure. There were two corner booths at the back which were not easily seen from the front entrance. Could she be in one of those?
If he were waiting to blackmail someone, expecting a large sum of money to be handed over, that was where he would sit. The tall wooden sides ensured that the booth's occupants would be largely unobserved. No one would be able to see what they had ordered for lunch, never mind the swift transfer of a packet of money from hand to hand.
Nils checked his watch – ten minutes late for his appointment now. Well, she couldn't expect him to be too eager to meet her. However, she ought to be waiting for him, perhaps even growing anxious at his non-appearance. That was all to the good, the more unsettled she was, the better.
He walked in casually, advertising that he was in no hurry, that he was completely relaxed, and strolled towards the booths at the rear. When he got close enough, he could see that they were both occupied. By couples.
Uncertain, he hesitated and looked around at the rest of the customers. They were all in couples or groups. Why wasn't she here? Had she changed her mind? Had something gone wrong?
He became aware that he was being watched. Slowly, he turned back to the booths. The younger couple … the girl with her overgrown lout of a boyfriend … they were staring at him.
He met her eyes. Their dark accusing look shot through him like a bolt of electricity.
I know what you look like.
The lout nodded and, with a quick abrupt motion of his hand, waved Nils to the seat opposite them. He slid in awkwardly, bumping the table and sending their untouched coffee slopping over the sides of the cups. He was damned if he'd apologise.
They sat there, regarding each other uneasily, unsure of the next move, all novices in this dangerous game. The only
thing they were sure of was that this was not an occasion that called for handshakes.
‘You brought it?' the lout growled.
‘Yes, well, some of it …' Nils frowned uneasily. There was something vaguely familiar about the girl – more than the faint resemblance to the misshapen shadow fleeing down the path ahead of him. ‘I explained to her … it isn't so easy …'
‘How much?' The lout frowned back menacingly, a yobbo poised midway between adolescence and being Detained At Her Majesty's Pleasure, aching to hone his grievous bodily harm skills. ‘Let's see it!'
‘Yes, certainly.' As he pulled the thick envelope from his pocket, Nils felt more sure of himself. This ought to mollify the lout.
‘The first five. I've kept it in low denomination notes. That's what your sort likes,isn't it?' He couldn't resist the jibe as he tossed the bulky packet on to the table.
Something was wrong. The two of them stared at the packet as though it were a cobra coiled to strike.
‘What's this, then?' Kerry's hand closed over it an instant before Nils reached out to snatch it back.
‘What is it?' Maureen watched open-mouthed as Kerry tore open the envelope and shook the contents into view. Several twenty-pound notes slid out and scattered across the table, their edges resting in the spilled coffee.
‘Mr Nordling!' Maureen gasped. ‘Are you – ?'
Crazy
? Perhaps he was. He stared at the girl as she picked up the notes and dabbed at them with her paper napkin, then automatically wiped up the pool of coffee. The way she spoke his name … the way she dealt with the spill … nagged uneasily at his memory.
‘You're Maureen … Maureen … whatsit.' Belated recognition came to him. He'd only ever seen her before in an apron with her hair done up in a kerchief. ‘The cleaning lady.'
‘Of course I am. Who did you think – ' Maureen and Kerry looked at each other, then down at the pile of money. ‘What did you think – ?'
‘Yes, yes, I knew who you were.' Nils stretched out his hand, not noticing that it had begun to tremble. ‘I'm sorry, it's the wrong envelope – ' Kerry moved it back out of his reach.
‘You owe Maureen fifty pounds for the work she's done,' Kerry said.
‘Really, it should be sixty-five.' Maureen was mesmerised and emboldened by the sight of all that cash. ‘I told him so.'
‘Yes, right, fine. Just take out your sixty-five and – ' He reached out again.
‘Not so fast.' Kerry hunched over the still-bulky envelope like a guard dog – a pitbull. ‘With Mrs Nordling gone, Maureen doesn't have a job any more. She should get some severance pay.'
‘Yes, yes, you're right,' Nils babbled. He didn't care about the money any more. There'd be plenty more in the future. He had to allay whatever suspicions they might be harbouring. He couldn't sit here talking to them while the red mist curled towards him from the corners of the room, dripped down the walls. He had to get out of here, get away …
‘That's it,' he said. ‘Severance – no, not quite. A present. My – Mrs Nordling – wanted Maureen to have it. The money. That's why I brought it all. I thought you'd like to have it right away, not wait until the will had gone through probate … that could take a long time.'
‘Mrs Nordling left me money?' Maureen was incredulous. ‘All that money?'
‘She liked you. She thought of you as a dau – ' No, no, that was going too far. The girl's recoil told him that. He must get a grip on himself and stop babbling. The two of them were exchanging glances again. What were they thinking?
‘She was very fond of you,' he ended firmly. ‘She wanted you to have it.'
As he spoke, he began sliding along the seat, desperate to get away and put this whole humiliating episode behind him. How could he have imagined that this silly girl was clever enough to have suspected what had happened? That she could be brazen enough to try to blackmail him?
‘Wait a minute!' The lout's hand closed around his wrist. ‘Not so fast!' The hand tightened. ‘You said “the first five”. How much did Mrs Nordling leave her? How much more is there to come?'
‘No more!' He writhed in the iron grasp. ‘It … it was just a manner of speaking … Let go of me!'
‘Kerry – ' Maureen sounded frightened. ‘Don't!'
‘Keep out of this!' Kerry snapped. ‘He's trying to pull a fast one. I can tell! He was always trying to do you out of your rights.'
‘I wasn't! … I'm not!' Nils twisted impotently, caught in his own web of lies. ‘Let go of me! I'll have the police on you for assault!'
‘Kerry …' the female bleated. ‘Please … let him go.' At least, she had some modicum of sense. ‘We'll all get in trouble.'
She spoke more truly than she knew. And the lout was younger than he had thought, Nils perceived, looking at him closely as uncertainty set in and his grip loosened.
‘That's better.' Nils wrenched himself free and stumbled out of the booth.
‘Wait' Kerry snatched for his arm. ‘I want to know – '
‘You know nothing!' He leaned back into the booth briefly, his face contorted with fury. ‘Listen to me – you've got away with it, this time, you miserable little gits,' he hissed. Flecks of saliva sprayed out from his lips, sending the lout and his girlfriend shrinking back. ‘But don't ever let me see or hear from you again! Do you understand? If I ever run across either of you again, I won't be responsible – '
The sheer terror in their faces checked him, warned him that he might be over-reacting to a situation they did not all view in the same light.
‘We understand each other, I'm sure.' He forced a smile, unaware that his bared teeth were as menacing as anything else he had said or done. ‘We'll say no more about this – ever!' He straightened up and nodded his head. He began backing away, and his head seemed to go on nodding of its own volition.
They stared after him, frozen in their places like marble statues.
He walked faster and faster, still nodding. His head had taken on a life of its own, his fingers clutched convulsively.
Ingrid had always said he was a fool. Had he made a fool of himself again?
He broke into a gallop, racing for the car-park and the safety of his car.

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