The Orange Cat and Other Cainsville Tales (Cainsville 3.5)

"A mistake? You mean the loss of the other eye? You blinded--"

"Half blinded. The cat can still see perfectly well. It's not a big deal."

Gabriel was not particularly empathetic. All right, not one bit empathetic. But when the man said that, with a plaintive whine in his voice, it was all Gabriel could do not to say, And if I blinded you in one eye? Would you consider it 'not a big deal'? He decided then that he did not like the man. Which had absolutely no bearing on the case--or on his ability to defend him. If it did, Gabriel would have no business at all.

"I was drunk," the man said. "I came home and it was screeching at me, and I get enough of that from my wife. So I had this penknife in my pocket--"

"I understand," Gabriel said, which was not true, but comprehending the reasons for a client's behavior was as unnecessary--and improbable--as liking him. "So you half-blinded the cat and now it follows you about and stares at you accusingly."

"Not accusingly," the man said. "It's a cat. It doesn't think that way."

"So after half-blinding it, it randomly follows you about. I can see where that would be disconcerting." And I don't blame the cat one bit. "If you wish my legal advice . . ."

"I do."

Gabriel scratched numbers on his pad and then turned it toward the man. "That would be my fee for the advice. Any further consultations would be an additional charge."

The man hesitated at the amount, and then said, "That's fine."

"First, you will provide me with the name of the shelter that took the cat. I will obtain confirmation that you did in fact deliver the animal and that it escaped. In the meantime, you will take the cat to a different shelter, for one last attempt to divest yourself of it."

Gabriel hated to make the next suggestion but saw no reasonable alternative. He continued, "If that fails, you will do what a shelter would have done if unable to find a home for it--have the animal euthanized by a licensed veterinarian. There is no legal issue with euthanizing a healthy cat, but in the event of any such claim, you have proof of your attempts to get it adopted." While Gabriel could not imagine any legal grounds for complaint, suggesting otherwise would have halved his fee. "Does that sound reasonable?"

"My wife won't like me putting the cat down."

"Then I would suggest you don't tell her. Now, if you could provide your personal details and the name of that shelter . . ."

#

Gabriel made the phone call as soon as the shelter opened for the day. Naturally, the woman who answered did not wish to admit they'd lost the cat--twice. She insisted that the man had been playing some sort of game with them.

"He must have come in and taken the cat out," she said.

"Is that possible? Anyone can simply wander in and open the cages?"

"Of course not, but we're a shelter, not a jail. All I know is that the cat was there when we closed for the night and gone when we opened and Mr. Patton insisted it was on his doorstep. Which means not only did it need to open a cage and two locked doors, but it traveled clear across the city in a matter of hours. That is not possible. He must have taken it."

#

The next morning, Gabriel's phone rang almost before he had time to put down his briefcase.

"It came back," Patton said by way of greeting. "I took it all the way out of the damned county and it still came back."

Which was, Gabriel had to admit, odd. Not entirely impossible, despite what the woman from the shelter had said. Still, very improbable.

"You suggested your wife is fond of the cat. Could she be retrieving it from the shelter?"

"I didn't tell her where I was going."

Which did not mean she didn't know, but Gabriel said, "Then do what you must. Just do it properly, at the appropriate facility, and be sure it's documented."

#

Gabriel thought no more of the cat that day. The matter had been dealt with. Naturally, he'd have preferred a conclusion that did not involve the death of an innocent beast. Even more, he'd have preferred a conclusion that didn't involve the death of a wronged beast, since the blinding of the cat gave it every reason to torment Patton. But more desirable steps had failed, and it came to a choice between a painless death and a more terrible conclusion, with Patton losing his temper, as he had that night with the penknife.

Gabriel arrived at the office the second morning after Patton's initial visit to hear the phone ringing. As he unlocked the door, it went to voice mail. Then, as he was removing his jacket, it began to ring again.

Gabriel answered. The voice on the other end rattled off an address. Then, "Get here. Now."