W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

“Why do you have a cat at all?”

“This is the stray Charlie took in months ago. Lewis has been opposed all along, which just goes to show what a heartless fellow he is.”

I said, “Ah. This is the cat Nell toppled over when she broke her hip.”

“Well, yes, but it wasn’t the cat’s fault. Even Nell admitted she should have watched where she was stepping.”

William scratched affectionately on the top of the canvas duffel, which caused the cat to rocket around the interior and then ricochet from end to end. “Very playful,” he remarked.

The cat began to claw at the side of the carrier so vigorously, the zipper inched down a hair. I’d have tugged it back into place but I didn’t dare put my hand anywhere near the carrier. I didn’t think the cat could reach me with its claws, but I wasn’t sure the cat knew that.

I returned the carrier to the wheelchair and pushed it as far as the entrance. In no way was I going to tote the cat through the parking lot to the car. I left William on a bench outside, the duffel at his feet, while I retrieved the Mustang, paid the parking fee, and brought it around to the front. William leaned over and said something to the cat, then jumped back as I had. He was apparently so caught up in the cat’s playful antics that he’d forgotten about his infirmity. I put his rolling bag in the trunk and wedged the cat carrier into the space behind the driver’s seat while William took his place in the front, wincing in pain.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Don’t mind me.”

I put the car in gear and eased away from the curb. I hadn’t driven ten feet before the cat let out a long continuous howl, its tone moving up and down the scale as though yodeling. “Does it always do that?”

“Oh no. Just in the car on the way to the airport and all three flights. Airline passengers can be very unpleasant when things don’t go their way. The woman in front of me had a horrid little girl who screamed and cried the whole time, but did anyone complain about that? No, sir.”

“Is it male or female?”

“I’m not sure. I think you’re supposed to peek at something underneath, but the cat doesn’t care for the idea. Charlie would know. He took it to the vet.”

“Does it have a name? Joe? Sally? That might be a clue.”

“We referred to the cat as ‘the cat.’ I’m sure Nell or Charlie would have come up with a name, but Lewis kept threatening to toss it out and neither of them wanted to get attached. If you think about it, I saved its life, a selfless act on my part.”

“Good for you,” I said. “I must say I’m surprised Rosie agreed to go along with the plan. Where are you going to keep it?”

William and Rosie occupied a two-bedroom apartment above the tavern. I’d never actually seen the place, but Henry assures me the rooms are small and dark and crowded with oversize furniture.

William said, “Oh, it’s not for me. I thought Henry would enjoy the companionship.”

“Does Henry know about this?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh, boy.”

“You think that’s a problem?”

“Far be it from me to say.”

We drove for a while in silence except for the cat, which was now growling and making relentless work of canvas scratching in between thumps and flinging itself from side to side. I was trying to visualize Henry’s reaction, which I knew would be genuine and heartfelt and probably high pitched. I’ve never lived with a cat myself, but I’d always assumed there was paraphernalia involved. I looked over at William, saying, “What about a litter box? Isn’t that where cats do their business?”

He blinked. “That’s not necessary, do you think? Nell let it out in the backyard.”

“But we live on a busy street. The cat will get hit by a car. Henry’s going to have enough adjustments to make without the cat doing caca on his couch.”

“You may have a point. We better stop at the market. You can go in while I mind the cat.”

I think it was occurring to William that his plan was ill advised because his back problem seemed to take a sudden turn for the worse. He emitted a short yelp and sucked air through his teeth.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you at the house and come back?” The minute I suggested it I knew William would be too smart to introduce the cat without someone else close at hand. Henry would tone down his response if I was present.

“The pain comes and goes. Sometimes it’s no more than a mild tingling or dull ache. Sometimes a burning sensation. The urgent-care doctor said it could be due to a slipped disc or spinal stenosis. I’ll have to have tests.”