1 A Paw-sible Theory (3 page)

“There are many intelligent species in the universe. They are all owned by cats.”

––
Anonymous

CHAPTER SIX:
 
Too Much Said

Maggie put the phone on speaker while she refilled our empty food and water bowls.

“Ethan, it’s almost seven o’clock, where are you?”

He said he was still at the police station but would be leaving shortly and asked if there was any change in Alyx’s condition.
 

“No, Ethan; she was the same when I left her,” Maggie answered in a matter-of-fact way. The conversation ended; she slipped the phone in her purse; and picked up the magazine she had brought along and left the room.

Finished with dinner, I padded to my favorite chair for a nap and found it occupied; Maggie was sitting in it, her head bowed almost as if praying, though she had never struck me as the religious type.

She lifted her head when I landed on the arm of the chair. “She has to wake up, Murfy. I can’t handle it all. Ethan might be in trouble. Smarts asked too many questions about him, and I may have given him too much information.” She shook her head as if trying to shake the thought out.

Tired from all the activity, I ambled to my favorite hiding spot under Alyx’s bed and tried to sort out what happened as best I could. I woke up when I heard Ethan’s voice, surprised that I had actually fallen asleep. Apparently, all that thinking had exhausted me, and I realized that I didn’t have as much control over my natural make-up as I thought I did.

I scampered to the living room so as not to miss anything and in case I did, Misty was already there.

“What happened at the police station? Why did it take so long to give a statement and get fingerprinted?” Maggie asked Ethan.

“To begin with, I waited for over an hour for Detective Smarts to show up and when he finally did, we were constantly interrupted by some other cop or ringing phone.” Ethan sat forward a little. “He said they interviewed the neighbors as to what they saw or heard. And they checked the house and pot fragments for finger prints.”

Ethan hesitated a moment as if the thought had just occurred to him, and panic crept in his voice. “You know, they were asking me questions like I might have had something to do with it.”

Maggie appeared to dismiss the idea. “That’s absurd. You? Hurt your mother?”
  

“It’s not that ridiculous; they interviewed me for two hours and kept asking me the same questions over and over. They took my fingerprints and Smarts commented on the fact that there was no evidence of a break-in; whoever it was got in with a key or someone let them in. Since I made the pot used to hit her, my fingerprints are all over it and the rest of the house. Add to that, nothing was taken, nothing was disturbed.”

“How do you know it’s one of your pots?”

“I recognized the fragments. You told me at the hospital that they fingerprinted you too. Did Smarts say why?”

“He said it was because we were the ones who found her, whatever that means.”

Ethan walked to the window and looked out. A puzzled look wrinkled his brow when he turned to face Maggie.

“He asked me about my bout with depression. He wouldn’t tell me how he knew, but I guessed it must have been you. The neighbors don’t know. Why did you tell him?”

“It just came out. He asked if you and your mother did any fighting and one thing led to another. I’m sorry, Ethan. I shouldn’t have said anything but even if I hadn’t, they would have found out somehow.”

“I thought medical records were confidential. I guess it doesn’t matter now, but I don’t think they would have. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they checked my credit and found out I’m in over my head.”

“I don’t know anything about that. Does your mother know?”

He shrugged. “I think she might have an idea. That’s what she wanted to talk to me about this morning.”

He slowly paced back to his seat. “I don’t get it. What do you think happened, Maggie? Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Mom?”

“I don’t know; your mom never even hinted at any problems with anyone, and I certainly never saw a problem with any of the people we know.”
  

“What about that confrontation with Dan Ramsey at the Downtown Merchants Association meeting a couple of months ago?”

“Yes, there’s that, but I really don’t think he had murder on his mind. Did you mention it to Detective Smarts?”

“No, I forgot. Did you?”

She shook her head. “I forgot, too.”

“That Detective Smarts kept referring to the fact that there was no evidence of a break-in, no evidence of a struggle. He asked me if I knew of anyone she might have given a key to the house.”

She looked down at her shoes. When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “I thought Mom gave you a key when she and Charvette went to that antique show in Georgia.”

Still, no comment from Maggie.

“I guess you gave it back, so that just leaves me with a key to the house.”
 

She looked away. “That’s to be expected; you’re her son, and you should have a key to the house.”

I wondered why Maggie acted so strange when Ethan asked her about the key. It was no big deal if she didn’t give the key back, so why?

When Ethan told Maggie he had decided it would be best if he stayed at the house so he could take care of us, and to make the hospital trips easier, she looked at him in alarm.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? We don’t know what happened here, Ethan. What if whoever did that to your mom comes back?” She reached for his hand. “Ethan, I don’t feel right about you staying here.”

He pulled his hand back and sank to the floor, flat on his back. I signaled Misty and we crept over closer to Ethan.

“Don’t worry,” he said; “I’ll be okay. Besides, I have the cats to protect me.” We meowed in agreement, bringing a smile to the humans’ faces.

“See? They agree,” he said.

Maggie didn’t push it any further. “Okay, I can see you’ve made up your mind.”

Ethan looked exhausted, as if the day’s events had hit him all at once.

“This has been a very long day,” Maggie said. “Why don’t you go lie down while I make something to eat?”

Ethan didn’t argue. Maggie waited for him to close the bedroom door, checked her phone, and walked out to the lanai to make a call. I slipped thru the door before she closed it and took cover next to the ornamental tree in the corner, not exactly hidden but not in full view either. Maggie conveniently sat at the bistro table next to the tree, and I edged closer so I could hear both sides of the conversation.

“Hi, George; it’s Maggie. I’m just calling to thank you for the wonderful dinner last night. I had no idea you were such a good cook.”

The name
George
didn’t ring a bell at first, and then I remembered. George Lucas was Alyx’s friend, the man who turned “trash into cash,” so to speak.

“It was my pleasure, Maggie,” I could hear his voice respond weakly through the phone. “I hope we can do it again, soon.”

“I’d like that very much but something awful has happened and I’m afraid I may not have time to see you.”

It sounded like an excuse but George didn’t seem to take it that way.

“What happened, Maggie?”

Maggie told him the whole story. She concluded with, “I’m at Alyx’s house now, and I convinced Ethan to take a nap. I swear, George, that boy has a stubborn streak in him that makes it hard to deal with him sometimes.”

“What do you want him to do that he doesn’t want to do?”

“He wants to stay at his mother’s house and there’s no changing his mind.”

“As I’m sure you know, he was given responsibility at a young age. He thinks he knows best concerning himself.”

“I know. Alyx told me that when she had to go back to work, the only job she could find was working as a clerk with the Police Department where they lived at the time. She had to be at work at seven in the morning. To be sure Ethan made it to school, and on time, she woke him up at six, made sure he was dressed, had breakfast and was ready to leave for school an hour after she left. Ethan never missed a day, unless he was sick, in which case, she had to depend on a kind neighbor to look in on him because she risked being fired if she took too much time off.”

“At least he had breakfast,” said George. “I read an article in
The Beachside Journal
that thousands of kids go to school without breakfast and just recently, the school board instituted a policy of free breakfasts for all students––the philosophy being that you can’t learn on an empty stomach. It sounds like a good idea; only time will tell if it makes any difference.”

“I don’t have kids so I can’t speak from experience, but it seems to me that experts are always looking for an explanation as to why kids don’t do well in school. The educators blame the parents who in turn blame the teachers, and no one blames the student on whom rest the ultimate decision to learn.”

“I didn’t mean to change the subject, so all that aside, don’t worry about Ethan; he was brought up well, and he really can take care of himself.”

“I hope you’re right, George. I don’t want Alyx to get mad at me any more than she is already.”

“What do you mean?”
 

I snuggled my head and ears a bit closer so I could hear the following conversation.

“Remember last night I told you that a real estate agent contacted me last week about selling our building?”

“Yes, you said Rupert approached you, with a tempting offer.”

“Right. What I didn’t tell you is that Alyx didn’t want to hear it. I told her that our customers and clients would follow us no matter where the store was located. She wouldn’t listen. I’ve never seen Alyx react that strongly to anything before, and I really didn’t know what to make of it. More than that, my own reaction scared me––how angry I got at Alyx for not allowing me to explain that I didn’t want to sell the building any more than she did, but that we should at least discuss it.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the chance to clear it up once she comes out of her coma.”

“I hope it’s soon, George. There’s a ton of work left to do and we just accepted two new clients a few days ago.”

“Is there anything I can help you with? I want to see more of you and I don’t want to see you buried under with work.”

“Thank you, George. You can help by taking me to breakfast tomorrow, but it has to be early.”

“In that case, maybe I should come over and spend the night so we don’t waste any time.”

For some reason beyond my knowledge of humans, Maggie turned red.

“It doesn’t have to be that early, George.” She said that with a smile that lingered until she went back inside.

“There are two means of refuge from the misery of life – music and cats.”

––
Albert Schweitzer

CHAPTER SEVEN:
 
A Sleepless Night

Ethan’s restlessness had kept me up all night. Still awake at three o’clock Sunday morning, I could barely keep my eyes open when Ethan rolled out of bed and powered on the computer.

I crept up behind him and perched on the back of the desk chair. The pictures on the screen looked like the machines I had seen in Alyx’s room and I assumed he was looking up information that further explained what Dr. Casey had said about his mother’s condition.

Ethan read aloud, “The wires attached to the scalp act like an antenna recording the brain’s electrical activity at different frequencies, called alpha, beta, theta and delta activity.”

That was all my brain could process, so I jumped off the chair onto the floor. I stopped listening, but Ethan continued reading. When he finally shut down the computer, I curled up with Misty who had been sleeping blissfully at the foot of the bed.

I didn’t fall asleep right away as I thought I would. I couldn’t stop thinking about the day’s events. Foremost in my mind was who had tried to kill Alyx––and why?

I usually slept on Alyx’s bed, so I was slightly disoriented when I opened my eyes and didn’t see her there. Ethan was already up and, as was the routine when he lived at home, I jumped on the bathroom vanity for a drink of fresh water from the faucet before he stepped into the shower.

I
missed Ethan when he moved out, but I would have missed Misty and Alyx just as much if he hadn’t changed his mind about taking me along. Alyx had reluctantly agreed that he could take me with him when he moved out, but he a hard time finding a place that allowed pets. Actually, he told me in private that he’d found several places that allowed small pets; but he just couldn’t bring himself to take me away from Alyx, let alone Misty––
a small gray cat with blue eyes and a quirky personality.

Alyx had found Misty at a garage sale on one of her endless searches for unique items she planned to sell in the store later. I was elated when Alyx brought her home. I had often heard Ethan express his desire for a dog, and I was glad Alyx had always talked him out of it, telling him it wouldn’t be good for the animal to be indoors alone all day since she and Ethan were both frequently out of the house. I figured I could have gotten along with a dog if I had to, but I definitely preferred the company of my own kind.

It was time for breakfast and I meandered to the food bowl in the kitchen where Misty was waiting for me. It seemed odd not to see Pooky sitting nearby. She always waited until everyone else had eaten before she approached the food bowl, her behavior that of a guest, careful not to overstep her bounds.

Misty and I had long been aware of Pooky’s presence outside, waiting for Alyx to get the paper in the morning, and then again in the evening when she came home from the store. She was dirty and emaciated, her eyes––one green, and one gold––were glazed and unfocused, and what was left of her fur, matted, the few guard hairs around her neck sticking straight out. All in all, she looked pitiful. As Misty said, she looked like road-kill, and walked like a queen.

Pooky flourished under Alyx’s care. Her black fur had grown long and glossy, her tail full and majestic and her eyes, still two different colors, once again bright.

The thing that bothered me most about Pooky was the fact that she liked to cuddle. I felt some pressure there because I just wasn’t the type for all that mushy stuff and I thought she might make me look too aloof. Of course, my humans knew I cared for them. After all, didn’t I share some of the stray lizards I caught on the screened porch with them? Didn’t I, now and then, allow them the privilege of holding me for a minute or two? And didn’t I reward them with uncensored purring? Still, I was fully cognizant of the fact that humans liked their cats to cuddle with them and Pooky had that role down pat.

There was no peace those first few months when Pooky came to live with us. Always called on to referee, I hated all that tail whipping, hissing, and spitting that went on with the two girls. They acted as if they were going to kill each other but never really did any damage; it was mostly noise and posturing. Unfortunately, things hadn’t changed all that much, they still antagonized each other.

To my knowledge, no one had noticed that Pooky was missing, and obviously they weren’t going to notice that morning either. They probably thought she was just hiding somewhere. Cats did that––hid in places humans never suspected, and then reappeared out of nowhere, their hideaway remaining a secret. The craziest and most dangerous place that I can think of where one of us hid was when Misty decided to take a nap in the washing machine.

I didn’t see her jump in when Alyx left the laundry room to answer the phone, but I was there when she returned to finish loading the washer. Misty flew out and stomped away, clearly perturbed at being disturbed from her nap.

Dressed in the change of clothes his mother had suggested he leave in the closet just in case, Ethan was looking at the collection of his pottery displayed on the upper kitchen cabinets, near the ceiling. I thought that he was probably trying to figure out where the one that had been used as a weapon might have been.

I followed him back to the living room and out to the screened porch some called a lanai, which had originally been just a covered porch. Here was another of his larger pots, this time used in a corner display with plants and antique water cans––one of which, complete with paint spatters that Alyx had found in her parents’ garage and was at least one hundred years old.

“How do you figure it, Murfy? Where did Mom have that pot? It could have been anywhere in the house; you know how she likes to move things around. Someone could have just grabbed the pot and waited for the right time to hit her with it.”

Since nothing much ever escapes a cat’s notice, I had a pretty good idea about the pot’s most recent location, no matter how many times it might have been moved. Nevertheless, I made a mental note to ask the other felines about it.

I padded back to the kitchen; Ethan followed and, thinking aloud, he came to the same conclusion I had, that someone could have come into the kitchen from three different areas––guestroom, hallway, or dining room.

“If they came in from the guestroom or the hallway, Mom would have seen them, which means they must have come up behind her from the dining room, the question being, how did they get in without Mom hearing them, and with all the doors locked––that is, if they were locked? And why would someone want to hurt her?”

Those were all good questions that I hoped Detective Smarts was investigating.