A FEAST PREPARED

A FEAST PREPARED

“Something smells mighty good.”

“Hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

“You always say that, and it always does. Where’s Pearl?”

Sally Denton came out of the kitchen to welcome her husband Carl home from work. “Hang on to your hat. She told me a while ago she was going over to the church.”

“She finally decided to go to the cemetery I guess.”

“She just said church.” Sally opened the door to the hall closet for Carl to hang up his coat. As always, he draped it over a chair instead.

“I’m sure I’ll be doing something outside after supper. No use prying this coat in and prying it out again.” Carl put Sally’s right hand up to his lips and kissed it, as was his custom. “I always asked you to have patience with your cousin.”

“I don’t recall your asking. I do recall some telling.”

“You know when I tell you to do something, I’m really just asking. Got to keep up my masculine image, you know. Head of the house.”

“I guess that’s why you always refuse to hang up your coat.”

“I hang it up when it’s ready to bed. Smells like pot roast.”

“I guess we’ve had enough bonding for the day.”

“There’s never enough bonding. But we can bond over pot roast, can’t we?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Pearl?’

“Why don’t we say Grace and then I’ll go to the church to see what’s up with your cousin.”

Knowing how Pearl felt about saying Grace and knowing what she’d been through, Sally and Carl always prayed over their meal well before it was on the table. It was Sally’s turn.

Dear Lord, Thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed on us. Thank

you for any adversity we face. We know adversity brings us down to earth

when we’ve been flying too high. Most of all, Lord, bless those who don’t know

what it’s like to fly. Amen

“That’s definitely not the kind of Grace you’d say in front of Pearl.”

“I’m not sure I could say a Grace that would meet with her approval. Perhaps a Quaker-style Grace. A moment of silence.”

“I hate to sound so selfish after Grace, but I’m hungry.”

“I never would have guessed. Let me get everything ready while you go look for Pearl.”

“I knew I’d need to put that coat back on.”

Carl arrived at the church building. On entering the entrance hall – he called it the entry hall but some called it the narthex, too clinical sounding for him, and some called it the vestibule, too Roman for him – he realized how strange it was to be at the church this time of day. It was quiet. Over the central double doors to the sanctuary hung a cross-stitched plaque prepared by the long-time organist and choir director, Pansy Potter.

Miss Potter, called that even though she was married, served the church from the time her feet could barely touch the organ pedals until a month before her death. What she lacked in native talent, she more than made up for with hard work and dedication. As an encouragement for congregants to enter the sanctuary quietly, she created the plaque with the following words:

Welcome all to this house of worship.

Kindly remove your outer raiments

and greet each other with warmth and love.

Upon entering the sanctuary, be prepared for

to feast on God’s word.

Members of the church were so touched that when the building was remodeled, additions were made to the entrance hall, two large side areas allowed folks to deposit coats, umbrellas, boots and other “outer raiments.” There was also plenty of room for all to “greet each other with warmth and love.”

Carl looked at other plaques that graced the walls of the entry way. Bible verses that meant something special to congregants had been cross-stitched by the men of the church. When this idea had been first suggested, most of the men balked at doing women’s work. The women then suggested a trade off. They could do yard work and basic repairs. This became an annual event.

Carl opened one of the doors to the sanctuary slowly and cautiously. The room was was bathed in late afternoon light. Fine particles of illuminated dust created a touch of mystery. He scanned the pews and noticed Pearl sitting at the back left. Her head was facing forward and her eyes seemed to be closed. An open hymnal rested on her lap. It was the most rested looking he'd ever seen her. Rather than disturb her, he retreated back into the entry way.

After about five minutes, the door from the sanctuary to the entry way opened. Pearl walked out and saw Carl in one of the side areas. She walked over to him.

“Shocked?” she asked.

“In a way.”

“I hadn’t been in that room since Dan’s funeral. You surely remember I refused to come to Dempsey’s funeral.”

Carl didn’t know quite what to say, so he said nothing.

“I have no idea why I decided to come here today. It just felt right. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been a heathen a long time and I’m not about to change my spots. No pre-death confession for this lady.”

“No one’s asking you to do anything you don’t feel compelled to do.”

“Don’t bother. When I came into the church, the entrance hall – I always liked the term ‘vestibule’ for some reason – looked different. I didn’t remember the large side areas.”

“They were added about twelve years ago.”

“I remember all the construction but couldn’t envision the changes nor was I curious about them. I like it.”

“This was done out of love for Miss Potter. You remember her, don’t you?”

“Who could forget her? A lovely lady.”

“What about the sanctuary?”

“It seemed about the same until I really took a look at it. Back when I was a child and came here, it was always filled with people and flowers and all. The sanctuary itself was lost on my nine-year-old eyes. Now, I had it all to myself. Well, according to some, not quite all to myself.”

“I guess you were in here quite a while?”

“I got to witness the day beginning to fade. ‘Abide with me, fast falls the evening tide.’ The windows are so sparkling clear that the ebbing sun pouring through them was touching. Let’s sit if you don’t mind. I know you probably came over to fetch me for supper but, can we?”

“Naturally.” Pearl and Carl sat so they could take in the cross-stitched Bible verses.

“I sat in the back pew so I could have a good view of it all. It was nice not being crammed between adults who would give me nasty looks if I even looked as though I was going to fidget. I took a hymnal from the rack and thumbed through it, searching for some of my favorites. I’m glad you’re using the same hymnal.”

“They’re actually about ten years old, but it’s the same basic hymnal. There’s something about familiarity that is comforting to many people.”

“I could still hear Miss Potter accompanying us – no leading us – in the hymn singing. That tiny dynamo expressed every note and word. My little mind loved the ideas of ‘Blessed assurance,’ ‘Be Thou my vision,’ and ‘A Mighty Fortress.’ I wasn’t too keen on ‘The Old Rugged Cross,’ or ‘I’m saved, saved, saved.’ My favorite was ‘It is well with my soul.’ It was all well and good until that day when the deacons stood at the entrance to keep out black people. That wasn’t ‘well with my soul.’ No warm, loving greetings for them. The gates to the fortress were closed. That began my crawl away from the church. It wasn’t until I was an adult and the ‘storms of life started raging’ and never seemed to stop, that I stopped.”

“You’ve weathered many storms, Pearl.”

“I tried ‘leaning on Jesus’ but kept falling. Where was the safety net? Mom dies when I’m fourteen. Dad goes crazy without her and has to be put away when I’m eighteen. I marry Dan, in the church, at nineteen. He’s killed a week after my twenty-second birthday. Our precious son Dempsey dies at the age of five. I develop arthritis so painful I can barely move my hands. It’s been as if I’ve been experiencing the trials of Job. The problem is, I’d washed myself of the church after Dan. There was no faith to renounce. No God to curse. No turning back. I had to lean on myself.”

“No one denies what you’ve been through.”

“We won’t mention what I did six years ago. It was the only mistake I ever consciously and deliberately made.”

“You survived.”

“You’ve always been able to look past my whining and whimpering. Sometimes self pity is the only emotion you can count on.” Pearl reached for Carl’s hand. “You and Sally and so many others have been so nice to me. I shouldn’t unload on you like this.”

“Well, since you don’t believe in God, we’re the very people you should unload on.”

“I have noticed some black people going into the church. I hope they’ve been well received and don’t feel as though they have to sit in a certain section.”

“Some things take more time than they should. Like those cross-stitched Bible verses hanging in the entry way, things aren’t perfect and never will be on this earth. But things are better. Latrice Brunson is the best Sunday School teacher I’ve ever had. We stopped segregating Sunday School classes by gender about six years ago.”

Pearl stood up and waved for Carl to do the same. “I know you’re ready to get home to Sally and supper. Let’s head out.”

As they walked away from the church, Pearl paused and turned to look at the building. By now, a full moon was illuminating the front, from steps to steeple.

“I really enjoyed thinking about those favorite hymns of my childhood and singing them to myself. Truth be told, I love them more than the Bible. They may be second-hand scripture but I’ve always felt I truly knew the people who wrote those verses and wrote the music. They were experiencing what I wanted to experience. I loved my childhood faith. I never could be promoted to adult faith. I think people would be better off just keeping their early faith. Jesus was right when he said ‘suffer the little children.’ I think I remember Paul saying something about ‘putting away childish things.’ I’m not so sure I agree with that.”

“That’s an interesting observation, Pearl. I sort of agree with you in a way.”

“Not enough to recommend me as a Sunday School teacher, I bet.”

The laughed as they began their walk again.

“You’re always welcome to go back to the church any time, Pearl.”

“Don’t look to see me on Sundays.”

“Any time, I said.”

“I assume you and Sally said Grace already, as is your custom.”

“We can say it again when we get around the table.”

“No. One Grace is sufficient. I gave thanks just before I left the sanctuary. There’d been a feast prepared for me and I was truly thankful. The Lord didn’t have to MAKE me say it, either.”

THE LIFE SAVER

THE LIFE SAVER



“Where the hell did you get that shirt?”








“The thrift store”

“And where the hell did you get the money to buy it?”








“Mr. Nyman paid me to cut his grass.”

“And you spent it on a damn shirt, for yourself?”








“I bought some groceries. That’s where most of the money went.”

“Oh, pardon me.  Damn!  I just dropped screw do in this motor.  Come here. My fat fingers won’t reach it, but I bet your long, skinny, sissy fingers can.”

David reached into a whole in the engine motor his father was trying to repair and was able to pull out the screw.

“Glad those skinny, sissy fingers are good for something. You know, I fixed Nyman’s lawn mower last week. You couldn’t have cut his grass if I hadn’t done that. You know that?”





“Yes, sir.”

“Get in there and help your mother with supper. You can do that, I suppose?”

David went into the house and was washing his hands at the kitchen sink when he heard a moan. He looked out the window and saw his father on the ground in front of the garage.

“Mom, call 911! I think Dad might be having a heart attack.”

David ran outside and began administering CPR on his father.

“What the hell are you doing?  Do you know what the hell you’re doing?”





“Yes, sir. Mom’s just called 911”

David kept doing what he’d been trained to do in a First Aid class.  Within five minutes, a fire truck and ambulance pulled up to the house. A paramedic took over and one of the firemen asked David what had happened.  David’s father was taken to the hospital.

“Mr. Bracey, your wife’s here.”

“Good god. What a mess.”

“Stew, the doctor tells me you’re going to need some surgery.  You had a major heart attack.”








“Maybe I should just pull he plug. We don’t got no insurance. We’ve got no money.”

“Let’s just take things one step at the time.”

“Easy for you to say. And where’s the boy? Afraid to see his old man?”








“David’s at home. I’ll bring him by when you’re more stable.”

“When’ll that be, huh?”

“I”ll be back in a little while.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

A few hours later, Dorothy Bracey returned to the hospital.

“And where’s the boy? Still afraid?”








“His name is David. He’s gone to stay with my parents for a while.”

“Those fruitloops?”

“You’re talking about my parents, you know.”

“I wanna see my boy.”

“He’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“Got the bills yet?”





“Stew, don’t think about that. We’ll work things out.”

“The best thing is to pull the plug. I don’t want no surgery.”

“No one wants surgery, Stew. Once it’s done, the doctors say you’ll be better than ever.”

“And deep in debt. We’ll probably have to remortgage the house.”

“Let’s get you well.”

“Let’s stop kidding ourselves.  I’m on disability. Got diabetes and who knows what else. I ain’t been better than ever, ever.”

“Stop with the self pity, Stew.”

“Oh, here it comes. Kick me when I’m down.”

“What goes around, comes around.”





“Just lay it on thick, why don’t you?”

“Get some rest. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“And bring the boy!”








The next morning, Dorothy returned to the hospital without David.


“Okay, where is he?”








“Why do you want to see him so badly. Did you want to thank him for saving your life?”








“I want to see him, cause a boy needs to see his father when his old man’s sick. He can’t just run scared like some sissy.”

“Stew?”








“Yes?”








“I’m going to leave now. I want you to think about things. That’s all I’m going to say.”








Dorothy stopped by three times a day and spoke with the doctors and nurses. She did not visit her husband. After three days, it was time for Stew to return home. No plans for surgery had been made. Dorothy asked Stew’s friend Michael to pick him up and bring him home.


“Sorry to drag you into this, Mike. I don’t know what I’m going home to. The boy’s with his grandparents and my old lady’s, well ...”

“I don’t want to stick my nose in.”

“So don’t. Just get me home. I’ll deal with it.”

“Do you love Dorothy? Do you even like her?”

“Where the hell did that come from? What business is that of yours? Just get me home.”

“I’m not budging until you tell me how you feel about Dorothy.”

“Did she put you up to this?”

“You know better than that.”

“Get me home, dammit.”

“We’ll sit in this lobby until you tell me.”

“No, I don’t love Dorothy. I don’t even like her. I’m sick of everything.”

“If that’s the case, I’m taking you home with me.”

“Oh, no you don’t. You’ve got a crippled wife. You don’t need another cripple.”

“I’m not taking you to a wife you don’t like, much less love. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“Well, then. Just leave me right here. I’ll get a cab.”

“David!”

“Yes, Dad, it’s me.”

“Where’s your mother. I knew she’d come get me.”

“I came with granddad. He’s waiting in the car.”

“So, you two are going to take me home.”








“No, we can’t do that.”

“It’s my damn house. I paid for it. I get to live there.”

“Fine. Mike, take Dad to the house.”

“Are you sure, David?”








“Yes. Mother and I are staying with Grandma and Granddad.”

“Well, ain’t that peachy. Mike’s taking me to an empty house.”








“It’s not empty, Dad. There’s groceries and all. You’ll manage.”

“Did you get those groceries mowing Nyman’s grass?”








“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“You and your mother are just going to leave me there.”

“It’s your house.”

“It’s all of ours house.”

“Right now, it’s yours.”

“And how much penance do I gotta do?”

“It’s not penance, Dad.”

“What do you call it, then?”

“Getting your life back.”

Stew moved the wheelchair he had been sitting in away from David and Michael. After about ten minutes, he wheeled himself back. His eyes were moist.

“David?”








“Yes?”








“I don’t want to go back to the house.”

“Then you’ll go to Mike’s?”








“No.”

“Then where?”

Stew reached for his son’s hand, rubbed it with his wrinkled ones and just held it between them. 

“I’m ready to go home. Do you know what that means, David?”

“I think so, sir.”

“That shirt looks great on you, son.”

THE ME I SHOULD HAVE BEEN

THE ME I SHOULD HAVE BEEN

We sat on the front porch of John Smith’s house. It was a Saturday morning and I’d stopped by to visit my old friend while I was in town on business. Over fifty years had gone by since we’d last seen each other. Even way back then, we’d not been close friends and the only reason I even thought about him was an announcement I saw in our college alumni magazine. I got in touch with him and he said he’d be “pleased as punch” to see me again.

Here we were. John scrunched himself in a porch swing and I sat in a rocking chair. The weather was cool, with a slight breeze. Good catch-up weather.

“Notice something about this house, Ed?” John asked after we’d settled into comfortable silence – the kind of silence where you feel like you can say nothing and it will still mean something.

“It’s nice. Well built. I like the porch.”

“It’s the only house on the block, really in this whole neighborhood, with a front porch. It was built in the 1960s during a time when front porches were deemed of no use. If you had a porch, it was on the back.”

As he spoke, I looked up and down the street. He was right. A covered front stoop was as much of a porch as one could see.

“I bought this house because it had a front porch. And it had a back porch. I could contemplate nature from the back porch and human nature from the front porch.”

I heard a garage door open on the house next door to John’s. A car emerged and passed on the street right in front of John’s house. He waved, but his neighbor apparently didn’t notice.

“He might have seen me, or he might not have. It really doesn’t matter. I paid my respects.”

“It’s a good custom.”

“To most of my neighbors, I’m just an old man. I might be invisible to them, but they are visible to me. Oh well.”

A boy rode down the street on a bicycle. Again, John waved and the boy did nothing.

“I have to feel that my wave means something, even if it isn’t acknowledged.”

“You’re still the philosopher, aren’t you.” My memories of John in college were slowly rolling back into my consciousness. He was quiet and bookish, I recalled. He was part of the little group I hung out with, but he never seemed to be totally connected to the group. The group did everything together. He did some things, but would skip out on others.

“I was too much the philosopher for my own good, I fear. I should have been more foolish.”

I laughed at a memory. “You got drunk once, I remember.”

John laughed back. “It was a fake drunk. I had maybe a beer and a half, and on a full stomach. But I did act the fool for a few minutes.”

“Maybe you should have been an actor – a brooding Shakespearean type perhaps.

“Too much stage fright,” John countered. “I know it’s the philosopher in me, but I do think about what I should have done with my life.”

I was surprised by that remark. John had never married, to my knowledge, but he had a nice life as a public servant, making judgements on unemployment claims was what he told me. I had been an accountant for a department store, which was not exactly thrilling. It helped support a marriage and children. And I met lots of interesting people along the way. I never regretted a day. John seems to have.’

“I hope your life has been happy.” I realized as soon as those words left my mouth how morbid they must sound.

“Ed, when you go by the name ‘John Smith,’ your identity gets lost. Just like my wave gets lost.” John stretched a leg, then returned it to the swing. I could have gone by my first name, ‘Caleb,’ but I hated that name when I was a boy. It sounded so old. I didn’t like Johnny, either. So I chose my own destiny, name wise.”

“You could have switched at some point.”

“Not really. ‘John’ was it.”

I was curious to see where John was going with this line of talk, so I asked, “Might Caleb Smith turned out differently from John Smith?”

“Perhaps. I might have become the captain of a ship. ‘John Smith’ is too obvious for that.”

“I never knew you were interested in sailing.” I said that, because the college we attended was on the coast and there were lots of opportunities for tsaking to the seas.

“Caleb might have been. John, no.”

A car from down the street passed by. Its driver looked over. John waved and the driver nodded his head.

“One for three,” John said with a grin. “Too dangerous to let loose of the steering wheel to wave back I suppose. We’ll forget he didn’t keep his eyes on the road ahead.”

“Do you regret not getting married?” Once again, I spoke before thinking. I had no business getting that personal.

“Every day of my life. But then, if I’d gotten married I might have regretted it every say of my life as well. I was never even a close relative to Don Juan.”

“Me either, but I got married and had several children. My wife died five years ago. My children have turned out well, so far” Why did I continue saying things I didn’t mean to say?

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife, but glad your children are doing okay. I’m the end of the line for my family, I fear.”

I looked at my watch as unobtrusively as I could. John saw me, however, and swung his legs from the seat of the porch swing and gave the swing a push with them. “I thank you for coming by, Ed. It has meant a lot. I don’t hear anything from people of my early years. As always, I’ve got friends I do things with from time to time, but not real close friends. The fact that you remembered me and have taken this time is truly wonderful.”

“John, It’s been great seeing you. The highlight of my visit here. We need to stay in touch. Let me give you my card.”

“Thanks, John. I don’t have a card, but I’ll put your number in my phone. I don’t do e-mail.”

“Please call me sometime. I mean that. You’re a great guy.”

“I will,” John replied. We shook hands as we stood on the porch in front of the steps. I might have given him a hug, but that seemed too final. I didn’t want to make another blunder.

I got in my car. As I started to pull away, John waved. I stopped the car, put in park, and waved back with a big grin. A few blocks down the street, the adjoining neighborhood was a little rougher looking than John’s neat well-kept one. I couldn’t help but notice a house that had a front porch just like John’s. There was a sign on it that read “Caleb’s Front Porch. A place to sit a spell and talk things over.” Curious, I stopped and asked a passerby about it. The told me that a man named Caleb Smith had created this place where runaways, the homeless, the lonely, anyone could find a friendly face to spend some time with. The house served as a shelter. The sign was shaped like an old three-masted schooner. “Home is the sailor. Home from the sea,.” I thought to myself. The “me he should have been” turned out to be the “me” he truly was.

CAT O'NINE TALES

CAT O’NINE TALES

NUMBER ONE

     “There’s a Mr. Wooster wanting to see you.”

     “Ah yes, his mother said he’d come calling. No appointment I expect.”

     “No.”

     “Well, have him make an appointment and I’ll see him.”

     “I told him that, but he insisted I check with you.”

     “You’ve checked. He needs an appointment.”

     “Mr. Wooster?”
     

     "Might I see Mr. Canfield now?”

     “As I told you, you need an appointment.”

     “I drove seven hours to get here. Started driving at 2:00 in the morning to get here by 9:00. I’ll wait here all day if I have to.”

     “Mr. Canfield’s schedule is full.” Ms. Bremmis, Owen Canfield’s secretary, checked the attorney’s schedule. “He’s got a short appointment on Thursday at 9:00. How’s that, Mr. Wooster?”

     “I drive all the way here. I can’t afford a hotel. I’m missing work. That’s how that is. I won’t keep him long. I just have two questions for him and then I’m gone. Please check again.”

     “Have a seat Mr. Wooster. I’ll go back.” Charlene Bremmis was doing her best to placate Daniel Wooster. His parents had been some of their best clients over the years.

     “Mr. Canfield?”

     “Yes. He’s still here, isn’t he? He won’t keep me long, will he?”

     “He said he has two questions and that he can’t afford to stay over.”

     “Against my better judgment, I’ll give him ten minutes.But he needs to wait. I’m finishing up something now.”

     Two clients of Owen Canfield had entered the office while Ms. Bremmis talked things over with the attorney. “Mr. Dillard and Mrs. Martin, Mr. Canfield will be ready to see you at your scheduled appointment times of 10:30 and 11:30. Please have some coffee while you wait. And Mr. Wooster?”

“Um, yes.” Lack of sleep brought on edges of drowsiness.

“Mr. Canfield can see you for ten minutes at 10:20. He has an appointment at 10:30.”

     “I’ll wait. Might I have some coffee? I haven’t had any sleep and drove for seven hours to get here first thing.”

     “I know. You told me. Help yourself.”

     He’d noted the other two clients waiting and was trying to watch his tone, but the stress of the drive caused a lapse of decorum. “I bet if I had buckets of money like these two folks, Canfield would be happy to see me.”

     “Indeed he would, Mr. Wooster.” Ms. Bremmis said with a wry smile. “If you had an appointment.”

     After about fifteen minutes, Charlene Bremmis picked up the phone. “”Oh, Mr. Canfield, I see. I’ll let them know. I hope everything is okay?”

     She hung up the phone and paused before telling Mr. Dillard and Mrs. Martin that Owen Canfield needed to leave the office on an emergency. “He apologizes and is truly sorry.”

Checking the calendar, she said,“I know you have both been waiting quite a while for these appointments. Mr. Canfield is quite happy to meet with you this evening or tomorrow evening. He’s booked up during the day until Thursday.”

     “This evening, say 7:00 will be okay with me,” said Mrs. Martin.

     “I can meet him at 8:00, I guess,” added Mr. Dillard.

     “Mr. Wooster?” There was no need calling out Daniel’s name. He’d rushed out the office and headed toward the parking lot.

     “He’s taken a back exit, I know. Lawyers always have a back door exit.”

     Daniel saw Canfield heading toward his car. He ran and blocked the driver’s door of Canfield’s car.

     “Sir, I’m sorry but I have an emergency. Please get out of my way.”

     “I’ll get out of your way when you answer two simple questions. Why was I left out of my mother’s will and why was her stupid cat named sole beneficiary?”

     “Because that’s what she wanted. Didn’t you get a letter I sent regarding this matter? Give Ms. Bremmis your address and she’ll send you a copy of Mrs. Worcester’s Will. I assume you have proper ID? Now, I really must go.” Owen Canfield retrieved his cellphone from his suit pocket and punched 911. “Do you really want to get the police involved?”

     Daniel Wooster moved from in front of the car door and walked away. “What about the cat?”

     “Read the Will.”

     Daniel went to his car and drove to the house where he’d grown up, or as his mother put it, “lived in for 19 years while refusing to grow up.”

     There it stood, grand and noble. He hadn’t seen it for ten years. That had been the last time he’d seen his mother as well. He’d tried, but she refused to answer the door. At first, she slid an envelope with some money in it under the front door. With the passage of time, the amount in the envelope got smaller until there was only a note saying “Make your own way, son.” He stopped coming to the house.

     He walked up to the door, half-way expecting another envelope to appear shortly after he rang the bell. Instead, Mrs. Valdez, Dorothea Worcester’s long-time housekeeper, answered.

     “What do you want, as if I didn’t know?”

     “All I want is to speak to you.”

     “You never spoke to me when you lived here. I was the hired help. You gave orders but never even bothered to ask me how I was. Now you want to speak to me. I don’t think so.”

     With that, the door closed firmly. Daniel could hear the deadbolt latch and Mrs. Valdez’ heavy footsteps walk away on the marble floor of the foyer. He remembered how polished and slippery it always was. You either had to glide or plant your feet with each step. Normal walking never worked.

     As he looked back at the house, Daniel remembered a window into the basement on the side. It was surrounded by hedges and was always dark at night. He’d come back later.

     At 9:00 that evening, Daniel parked his car several blocks from the house. He knew a back way so that he could enter undetected. He’d used it countless times as a child and teenager to sneak in and out. He found the window. It still opened and he could slither into the basement, though not as easily as in his youth. With a small, dim flashlight, he made his way through the basement. It looked exactly as it had ten years before. Making his way up the stairs to the main floor of the house, he remembered which steps creaked. He remembered that the door always squeaked when it was opened about two-thirds of the way. He’d been caught once because of the creeky steps and squeaky door. He learned his lesson.

     Slowly walking down the hall – down memory lane – he had no idea why he’d entered the house in the first place. Curiosity, he guessed. With the light from the flashlight dimly guiding him, he passed by a room that had served as a guest room. All of a sudden, he heard a piercing cry from the room. The cat had let out a most disagreeable sound. It reverberated through the house, and quite soon Mrs. Valdez bolted from her room armed with a machete. She looked Daniel straight in the eye.

     “I used this thing many times when I was a young girl. Never on a human or an animal.” She stood before him framed by the light radiating from her room. “There’s always a first time. Get out of this house right now. I’m retired and open to new experiences.”

     Daniel knew her well enough to know she wasn’t kidding. He ran down the hall --sliding on the floor of the foyer-- unlatched the deadbolt, and fled down the street.

     Mrs. Valdez called the police but hung up before there was a response. No use complicating things. She knew how he’d gotten in and would take care of that problem the next day.

     Daniel got in his car but couldn’t resist the temptation to drive slowly by the house, even knowing the police might be arriving any second. As he looked over, he could see the cat peering out the window of it’s room in what was now it’s house, a room lit by the soft glow of a night light.

NUMBER TWO

     Daniel drove all night back home, or what passed for home. As he had the habit of changing domiciles every few months, no place was home to him. Once in his cramped studio apartment, he just had time to shower, shave. and change clothes for work. He put on the jacket he’d been wearing as he just had it cleaned before his trip to Marley.

     Traffic to work was terrible. He arrived ten minutes late. The first person he met was Bob Davis, his boss and the owner of the company.

     “Wooster?”

     “Yes, Mr. Davis?”

     “When does your work day begin here?”

“I’m sorry I’m late, sir. Traffic from my apartment was ...”

     “I know, a nightmare. I give you yesterday off and you show your appreciation by coming in late.”

     “Only ten minutes, sir.”

     “Oh, excuse me. Is there a sliding time in your contract?”

     “I don’t have a contract sir.”

     “I’m well aware of that. You also no longer have a job. One of your fellow workers managed to get his work done yesterday, and yours.”

     “Sir, I know I’ve been less of an employee recently. I’ve had things on my mind.”

     “Now you have one more. Looking for a new job.”

     “Please sir.”

     “Wooster, against my better judgment …” Daniel felt it. He was getting another chance, He breathed an inward sigh of relief.

     “Choo!” Bob Davis let out a sneeze that sprayed mist for yards. “What’s that all over your jacket, Wooster?”

     “Well, sir ...”

     “I know perfectly well what it is. It’s cat hair. I’m severely allergic to cat hair. Choo!” This time he’d pulled out a handkerchief to catch the fallout. He also stepped a few feet away from Daniel. “As I recall, the last time I went against my better judgment was when I hired you. Get out of here, and take that feline fur collector with you. Choo!”

     Feeling he had nothing to lose, Daniel asked, “Do I at least get a severance check?”

     “Why not an all-expenses paid trip to Europe? How does that sound? Choo!”

     Mr. Davis reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here’s $100.00, Wooster.” He held his handkerchief over his nose.”You can pick up what’s due you in your regular check on Friday. Now beat it before I take back that $100.00 to pay for my allergy medication.”

     As Daniel walked from the factory, he muttered to himself. “I must have gotten some cat hairs on my coat when I made my way up from the basement into the main hall of the house. That cat not only took my inheritance away from me but just cost me my job. He obviously considers me his enemy.”

NUMBER THREE

     Daniel got got in his car. It wouldn’t start. “Of course. How’d the cat manage this?” He slapped a “For Sale” sign on it and walked to his apartment. It was near the end of the month and rent would be coming due. Why not walk away from it all? The car wasn’t even his. A nice older lady in his apartment building let him use it. He wrote her a note and left the keys in the envelope and stuck it in her mailbox. At least she had cats so any fur residue wouldn’t bother her. 

     Packing up what he could stuff in his only suitcase and a duffle bag, he headed for the bus station and purchased a ticket for Marley. He called the factory and asked the secretary if she could deposit his check for him.

     When he arrived in Marley, he found a cheap motel to crash in while he sorted things out. After a shower and bowl of soup, he walked back to his house.

     Standing in front of it, he saw the cat lying on the window sill in its room.The cat spotted Daniel and immediately began to claw at the window and cry out. Somehow, this cry was different. It wasn’t the hateful scream he’d heard when he broke in. Something was wrong.

     He went to the front door and rang the doorbell. After several attempts, he knocked on the door. Still no reply. Only the faint, plaintive cries of the cat. He went to a living room window and peered in. He could see Mrs. Valdez lying on the marble floor of the foyer. Knowing he’d better not try to enter, he called 911 and gave the responder some information and left. He hoped he hadn’t been seen.

     The next day, Daniel went to the Marley’s only hospital. Entering Mrs. Valdez’ room, he was greeted by an icy stare.

     “Get out of here, you devil!”

     “Mrs. Valdez. It was I who called 911. If I hadn’t, you might be dead.”

     “So you’re the big hero! I need to offer you my eternal gratitude. But maybe, Mrs. Worcester’s house and the rest of her estate will suffice.”

     “I’m no hero, Mrs. Valdez. If there’s any hero it’s the cat.”

     “Puma?”

     “Is that it’s name?”

     “No, it’s mine. You’re truly an idiot. I can believe that Puma is a hero. She saved Mrs. Worcester several times. That’s one of the reasons Mrs. Worcester left her house and estate to her, with me as caretaker. Now, go.”

     At that time, one of Mrs. Valdez’ friends came in the room. “Gabby, how are you? Who is this man?”

     “He’s no one. He was just leaving.”

     Daniel left the room but lingered in the hall to pick up their conversation.

     “Gabby, I know you want me to look after the house and Puma, but that cat can be wild. It attacked me when I tried to tend to it this morning.”

     “Puma? Not possible.”

     “I wouldn’t say so if it weren’t true. Perhaps she can be placed in a cat kennel while you’re in the hospital.”

     “No, no, no. I’m fine. I’ll just check myself out and get home. Thank you for trying, Lydia.”

     “You can’t do that, Gabby. You’re not well. Maybe Margot can come over. She’s good with animals. I’m still happy to look after the house.”

     “That’s a good idea, Lydia."

     "I’ll call Margot. Now, here are some flowers. I’ll come back later. Please forgive me if I’ve worried you.”

     “No worry. Facts are facts.”

     As Lydia left the hospital, Daniel walked with her and explained that he was Dorothea Worcester’s son.

     “So you’re the sorry so and so Gabby has spoken of from time to time, especially right after Mrs. Worcester passed away.”

     “My mother and I weren’t on the best of terms, I’ll admit. But I did love her.”

     “Love has a way of expressing itself once someone is deceased, doesn’t it?”

     “I know things seem bad to you, and to Mrs. Valdez.”

     “They are bad.”

     “Could I come to the house? I think I can work with the cat.”

     “What does Gabby, Mrs. Valdez, have to say about that.”

     “She doesn’t like me.”

     “That settles it then, doesn’t it?”

Lydia walked quickly away from Daniel and joined a friend who’d been waiting for her.

     Daniel thought about what had happened. The cat somehow trusted Daniel to do the right thing.

NUMBER FOUR

     Daniel found a job in Marley at a garden center. He’d always been good with plants and loved working outside. He got a room and resisted the temptation to go back to the house.

     One afternoon after work, he decided he couldn’t stay away any longer. He walked to the house. He figured Mrs. Valdez was likely back home. The cat, Puma, was lying on the window sill, just as she had been that day he saw Mrs. Valdez lying on the floor.

     Puma stared at Daniel, who walked over to the window. She pawed the window easily. Daniel considered it a “thank you.” He scratched the window and Puma duplicated Daniel’s slow gentle glide down the glass on the other side of the pane. It became almost a dance.

     Daniel saw the door to Puma’s room begin to open so he moved away. He decided he and Puma had had enough “bonding” for the day.

     He continued his visits to the house, always hoping no one would pay attention. Of course, in any neighborhood, someone is always paying attention. One day, as Daniel did his window dance with Puma, a finger tapped on his shoulder. Startled, Daniel turned and found Mr. Truesdale, a neighbor Daniel remembered from his childhood.

     “Mr. Truesdale. Wow.” He was quite relieved to see who it was.

     “Danny Worcester,” Alden Truesdale said as he reached for Daniel’s hand. “You and Puma seem to be getting along quite well. I’ve seen you a number of times.”

     “What can I say?”

     “Whatever it is, why don’t you say it over some coffee or tea. I’ve nothing stronger to offer you.”

     “Mr. Truesdale, I’ve gotten myself messed up more times than I can count, but I can never blame alcohol or drugs.”

     “That’s good to hear, Danny. Now, let’s go over to my place.”

     Alden Truesdale listened as Daniel recounted his life story since he’d left home. He never commented, only nodded and smiled. Finally, he said, “Danny, it wasn’t easy growing up in a house where so many demands were placed on you from an early age, was it?”

     “How did you know that, sir?”

     “I knew your mother and father. I mean no disrespect, but they messed up many more times than you have, I assure you.”

     “I never saw it.They were always so perfect.”

     “That’s one of the ways they messed up.They could never admit they were human. Again, no disrespect intended, but they were carved from ice. We lived across the street for ages and I bet they never said anything more than a mild ‘hello’ to me or my wife. We’d invite them over for Christmas parties and they’d always RSVP, ‘Sorry, unavailable.’ We felt so sorry for you having to dress up like Little Lord Fauntleroy all the time.”

     “I have no one to blame for my failures but myself, sir. I was a rotten son.”

     “Not to us, you weren’t. You helped me rake leaves, until your parents caught you. They chided you for acting like a common laborer, Your also carried Ilene’s packages in if you were around.”

     “Mrs. Truesdale used to give me cookies and you’d slip me some pocket change.”

     “That cat likes you, Danny. And I’ll tell you another thing that might surprise you. Mrs. Valdez likes you.”

     “No way.”

     “Oh yes." Truesdale chuckled then let out a sigh."She was groomed for years to act in a certain manner.That was part of her job. Remember when she had her breakdown a while back. I know you do, because Irene and I both saw you at the house calling the ambulance.”
    

     “I knew I’d be seen.”

     “We went over when the ambulance came and saw Mrs. Valdez being taken out on a stretcher. She was crying and saying, “That poor boy. That poor, poor boy.”

     “Was it me?”

     “Of course. Mrs. Valdez is still in servant mode. She’d still taking orders from the grave as it were. What she says doesn’t always come from her heart.”

     “Mr. Truesdale, when my mother died, I was bitter she didn’t leave me anything and that she’d left everything to Puma.”

     “Did you really expect anything else?”

     “Not really. But a cat?”

     Truesdale stood up and walked over to the front window of the living room, He could see Puma sprawled out on the window sill catching the sun. “ Danny, you never knew Puma and you never really knew Mrs. Valdez.”

     “I think I might have an easier time winning Puma over than Mrs. Valdez.”

     “You’ve already won Puma over. Let her help you. Give Mrs. Valdez some time.”

NUMBER FIVE

     Daniel took Alden Truesdale’s advice and allowed Puma to work her magic on the caretaker. One day, as he watered the plants in the nursery, he saw Mrs. Valdez wandering around looking here and there, but not at him.  He’d never seen her at the nursery and thought she might just be there to see him, if not to talk to him. He put down the hose and walked over.

     “Mrs. Valdez. Nice to see you. You’re looking good.”

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can’t make up for the years you looked past me.”

     Daniel ignored the remark. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

     “Some peace and quiet.”

     “I’ll let you enjoy the plants. Let me know if I can be of help.”

     Daniel walked away and continued his watering. He watched Mrs. Valdez and noticed her standing in front of one plant for a while. He was tempted to walk once again over to her. She looked at him and he detected the hint of a slight smile, one tinged with sorrow. Before he could go to her she walked away and out of the nursery.

     A few minutes later she walked back in and headed straight toward Daniel.

     “Puma’s sick.”

     “What’s wrong with her?”

     “I took her to the vet. All she could say is that Puma’s depressed. Otherwise, she’s fine.”

     “Depressed? I’ve heard of dogs getting depressed, but not cats. They’re so independent and arrogant. Is she eating?”

     “She picks.”

     Daniel was letting Mrs. Valdez take the lead. He wanted to see Puma but that needed to be suggested by her.

     “I thought you’d want to know  I'm not sure why, exactly.”

     “I’m so sorry. Please hug her for me.”

     Mrs.Valdez walked away but abruptly turned around.“Okay. Why don’t you come over and hug her yourself? Just a quick visit mind you.”

     “I’ll come over when I get off work, if that’s okay.”

     “Just a quick visit.”

      It was clear do Daniel that Mrs. Valdez's concern over Puma was far greater than any lingering animosity she had toward him. Puma was setting this up through her "depression."

     After leaving the nursery, Daniel stopped by his room to change clothes and wash up.

    Mrs. Valdez opened the front door of the house as she watched Daniel walking toward it.

“Puma’s in her room. You remember where it is I’m sure.” None of her stony demeanor had dissolved. The house had an effect on her.

    Daniel gently opened the door and saw Puma lying on the window sill. She looked over at Daniel. There was a stillness. Finally, Puma let out a gentle “meow.” Daniel walked up to her and let his hand glide over her back. He sat in a chair. Puma immediately jumped down and into Daniel’s lap. Mrs. Valdez was watching at the door. Her stony features began to soften. Daniel played with Puma and the cat took delight.

     “Looks like Puma takes to you. This places me in a dilemma.” Mrs. Valdez walked away, just as she’d done at the nursery. She returned shortly. “You can visit every day. Just quick visits. No meals. No chats in the kitchen.”

     “That would be nice.Thank you, Mrs. Valdez"

     “I’m only taking orders from Puma as I did with the Worcester’s.”

     “You’re only looking after Puma’s happiness, just as you did my parents.”

     “There was no happiness to look after with your parents. Oh, please forgive.That was out of turn.”

     “Truth telling is never out of turn. You looked after their views of themselves. That was your job. I did the same thing.”

     Daniel let Puma jump to the floor. “Keep your chin up, Puma. I’ll be back.”

     “Puma let out another “meow.”

     Mrs. Valdez showed Daniel to the door. She managed a hint of a smile as Daniel said goodbye. Daniel came over every day for a few minutes. Once in a while, he’d see Mr. Truesdale or his wife. He’d give Daniel a thumb’s up and she’d blow him a kiss. Puma would always be perched on the window sill and would to greet him as he entered the foyer. Her favorite trick was to run and then stop abruptly so she could slide up to Daniel. Even Mrs. Valdez had to laugh at this routine.

NUMBER SIX

     One morning, as Daniel got ready for work, he heard a knock at his door. On opening the door, two policemen blocked the entrance.

     “Daniel Wooster?”

     “Yes.”

     “May we come in? We have a few questions.”

     Thinking this might take some time, Daniel asked the police if he could call his boss to let him know he’d be a bit late. He had a perfect record and got along well with the nursery manager, but memories of past jobs still haunted him.

     “We’re just here to ask a few questions. Nothing more, Mr. Wooster. Do you mind if we record this interview?”

     “Of course not. Might I ask what this about?”

     “We can’t tell you now.”

     “Okay, ask your questions. Would you like some coffee?”

     “We won’t be here long. Mr. Wooster, where were you last evening and night?”

     “When I got off work, I went to the house where I grew up. I then came here, where I spent the entire night.”

     “Why did you go to the house where you grew up?”

     “This might seem funny, but I went to play with the cat. She’s sort of lonely and likes it when I come over for a bit. Mrs. Valdez, keeper of the house, can verify that.”

     “You’re sure you came right back to your apartment after visiting the house and playing with the cat?”

     “Yes. I was tired. I fixed some supper, watched a little TV and went to bed.”

     The policemen got up and packed up their digital recorder and notebook. “Thank you for the time. We’ll be back in touch if we need to ask anything else.” They both smiled as they walked toward the door. The policeman who’d remained quiet spoke. “You’re in no trouble, Mr. Wooster. We’re only conducting an investigation.”

     “Of what?”

     “We can’t say. You can read about it in the paper if you like.”

     Daniel hurried to work and wasn’t late. His boss asked him if everything was okay. Daniel asked his boss if he happened to have a morning paper. He did. Buried inside the paper was a report of a robbery at 3217 Amesbury Avenue. The report stated that the robbery had taken place sometime the previous night. A number of small items were taken. The occupant of the house told police the thief or thieves might have been scared away by a cat that lives in the house. The cat’s yell alerted her to the robbery. By the time she got to the entrance of the house, the thieves had fled. She saw a dark van heading down the avenue but could provide no further details. Daniel called Mrs. Valdez but there was no answer. He wanted to rush over but decided to wait until after work.

     As he pulled up to the house, he saw the Truesdales standing in their front yard. Alden Truesdale came over and gave Daniel a hug. He told Daniel he was only awakened by the police cars that responded to the robbery. Neither her nor his wife had seen anything before, nor had any of the neighbors to his knowledge. Mrs. Valdez was okay.

     “And Puma?”

     “She’s fine, we think.”

     Daniel looked over at then window where Puma normally perched, anticipating his afternoon visits. She wasn’t there. He said goodbye to Mr. Truesdale and waved to Ilene Truesdale as he raced to the front door. Mrs. Valdez opened it as Daniel approached and Puma raced out to greet him, jumping in his arms.

     “Daniel. In thirty years. There’s been no robbery here or on this street. I’m still shaking.” She looked fragile and fearful.

     She allowed Daniel to put an arm around her shoulder as they walked into the foyer.

      “Just take your time, Mrs. Valdez.”

     As Daniel looked around the marble floored entrance way that lay between the living room and dining room, he noticed some things missing immediately. The house had barely changed in the ten years since he’d left. It had, however, lost its patina of perfection. Mrs. Valdez went to the kitchen to make some tea and Daniel looked around the two front rooms, being careful not to touch anything. It had been so long. He'd paid no attention to the rooms whenever he came over to play with Puma. She was the focus, not the house.

     In the kitchen, over hot tea, Mrs. Valdez recounted the previous night. “It was a normal night. I locked everything up, put on some small nightlights, and made sure Puma was okay in her room. I went to my room and read for a while before turning in. Around 2:00 in the morning Puma screamed out. It was even more of a scream than when you broke in. There was some commotion. I could here footsteps racing from the house. By the time I got to the foyer – with my machete of course – all I saw was an open door and a dark van racing away. I closed the door, called 911, and checked on Puma. Then I looked around to see what might have been taken. It was all small stuff, but quite valuable. These thieves were selective. They took mostly silver pieces and a few small sculptures. Puma’s cry might have prevented them from taking any more things.” 

     Mrs. Valdez then broke down.

     Handing her a dampened kitchen cloth, Daniel tried to comfort her. “You’ve always been so careful. I know you had the window in the basement fixed after I got in that way. These thieves must have been pros.”

     “When something like this happens Daniel, it changes you.”

     “Everything will be fine. This neighborhood is quite safe.”

     “One robbery.That’s all it takes.”

     “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Valdez?”

     “No, Daniel.”

     “Would you like me to stay here tonight?”

     “No.The police are going to be watching for the next several days."

     "You're right, Mrs. Valdez. I only came over now because they know I visit Puma every day at this time. Were any other rooms robbed?”

    “Only the living room and dining room. The rest of the house was untouched.”

     “Do you mind if I go to my room?”

     “It’s empty. Mrs. Worcester wanted to keep it empty.”

     Daniel walked down the hall, Puma following, He entered his room to find it empty, just as Mrs. Valdez said. It had been repainted. He stared out the window that looked out over the back yard. He’d spent many hours alone in his room staring out, just as he was doing now. Puma rubbed up against him. Daniel picked her up and let her look out the window.

     Still holding her, he opened the closet door. It was empty but hadn’t been repainted.

Suddenly, Puma jumped up onto a closet shelf. When Daniel reached to get her he found a piece of construction paper lying at the back corner of the shelf. Pulling it out, he discovered a drawing the Truesdale's young daughter had done when he was about four of five. It was a drawing of the house with his mother, father, and him  standing in front. He remembered how talented he thought his neighbor was and had begged her to make the drawing. His parents weren't too keen on posing but relented. In this drawing, his parents were rigid and didn’t smile. He stood by their side and not in front of them. He remembered he was smiling because of the artist. 

     Mrs. Valdez came into the room. “Daniel, you’d better go. Thank you for coming. I’ll be fine.”

     She didn’t notice the piece of construction paper in his hand. Or if she did, she said nothing about it. Daniel said his goodbyes and went “home” to his room.

NUMBER SEVEN

     Or he would have. As they carefully made their way over the slippery marble floor of the foyer, Puma ran over to a grandfather clock that presided over the corner, to the right of the double entrance door. She ran her paw underneath the clock.

     “She’s trying to grab hold of something.” Daniel crouched down and saw a ballpoint pen.

     “I can reach it but don’t want my fingerprints on it. Mrs. Valdez, Gabby, can you find a cloth for me to grab it with?”

     Mrs. Valdez brought Daniel a dusting cloth and he gingerly retrieved the pen at its end.

     “It says Otto’s Auto Repair. One of the thieves must have slipped on the floor and the pen flew out of his pocket. That was the commotion you heard.”

     “That has to be. I keep this house spotless and always clean under the clock. I wonder why the police didn’t check?”

     “Why would they? This is Marley, Mrs. Valdez, not CSI."

     The two looked up Otto’s Auto Repair in the phone book and found it located three miles away. Mrs. Worcester didn’t drive, and Mrs. Valdez had never been to that place.

“I wonder if the thieves have anything to do with this shop? Perhaps one of them, or all of them work there.”

     “Daniel, let’s take a drive. We could tell the police, or I could tell the police, but I have my suspicions about something.” She picked up the cat and headed down the hall. “Puma, you need to stay in your room.”

     Puma would have none of that. Daniel had opened the front door and Puma took 
advantage. She leapt from Mrs. Valdez’ arms and raced out door.

     Mrs. Valdez immediately panicked. “Daniel! Please go after her. If anything happens to ...”

     “Mrs. Valdez. I know what to do.” Daniel went outside to Mrs. Valdez’ car and opened the door. Puma hurled herself into the car.

     “Oh well,” Mrs. Valdez said with a sigh. “You hold Puma and I’ll drive. We’ll keep the windows up.”

     Once they arrived at Otto’s Auto Repair, they saw several young men standing outside. Puma made an effort to look out the window but Daniel kept her head down.

     “Oh, my gosh.”

     “What, Gabby?” Daniel had started referring to Mrs. Valdez as Gabby quite naturally.

     “I recognize one of those men. Boys really.”

     “Do you know his name?”

     “It’s Bret Canfield. He’s the one walking with the slight limp.”

     “Is he any relation to Owen Canfield the attorney?”

     “He’s his son. The only reason I know him is that I saw him a couple of times when I went to Mr. Canfield’s office concerning Mrs. Worcester’s estate. He was all dressed up then. Not wearing mechanic’s clothes.” Mrs. Valdez sighed. “Mr. Canfield seemed none too happy with his son the times I saw them together.”

     “Could Bret Canfield possibly be one of the robbers?”

     With those words, Puma cried out and suddenly peered out the window. Daniel gently pushed her down as Bret Canfield looked over.

    “Gabby, I think he recognizes your car. We’d better go.”

     “We shouldn’t have come here. You should have left the house and I should have called the police.”

     “Well, Gabby, we didn’t. Let’s go home. I’ll leave and you can make the call.”

     A block away, Mrs. Valdez pulled into a parking lot and called the police on her cellphone. She told them about the pen and that she’d driven by the auto shop where she saw someone. She said nothing about Daniel or about Bret Canfield.

     “Canfield saw me, I know. He knows there were two of us in the car and maybe even Puma. He’s probably running away right now. If the police catch up with him, I don’t know what he’ll do. All I know is that I’m sure to be involved.”

     “We must tell the truth, Daniel. "The absolute truth. Puma trusts you and I trust you."

They went back to the Worcester house. A police car was parked in front of the house. Once they pulled in the driveway, an officer emerged from his vehicle and came toward them.

     “Please step out of the car.”

     They followed the officer’s instructions. Daniel held Puma tightly to keep her from jumping out of his hands.

     “Sir, I think we’ve met before. I’m Office Ronald Merrick.”

     “At my room.”

     “And Mrs. Valdez, we’ve spoken several times.”

     “Yes, Officer Merrick.”

     “Might I ask where you two, I mean three, have been?”

     “I think you know, officer,” Mrs. Valdez said.

     “You were at Otto’s Auto Repair, correct?”

     “Yes, sir.” Again, Mrs. Valdez spoke.

     “Having some repair work done?”

     “I think you know the answer to that, also, officer.”

     Puma began crying.

     “Officer Marrick,” Daniel said, “is it okay to go into the house so we can put Puma in her room?”

     “As long as she’s available for questioning,” the officer said with a laugh.

     They all went inside. Daniel placed Puma in her room and closed the door.

     They stood awkwardly in the living room.

     “Folks, we got a tip about a suspicious person at Otto’s Auto Repair. The responding patrol car was only a block away. He could tell whose cellphone number it was from our records. He asked me to come over here immediately. He picked up a fellow running with a pronounced limp down Carver St. and is now questioning him.”

     “You’re mighty quick, officer,” Mrs. Valdez commented.

     “Slow day. Now, I’ve got lots of questions for both of you. We might as well sit down.”

     As Officer Merrick questioned the two, Puma began to meow The police officer had some questions for Mrs. Valdez.

     “You haven’t gotten to it yet,” Mrs. Valdez said, “but the pen is right up there on the mantle. We were careful not to put any prints on it or remove any. That’s how we knew about Otto’s Auto Repair.”

     “Exactly where did you find this pen?”

     “Puma found it. She was poking under the grandfather clock. Daniel carefully removed it with a cloth at the end.”

     “Is that right, Daniel?” By now, Daniel had returned with Puma.

     “Yes..”

     “You’ve been mighty quiet, Mr. Wooster. And by the way, you are Dorothea Worcester’s son. Correct?”

     “Yes, … sir."

     Why do you spell your name different than she did?”

     “When I left home, I got tired of having to spell my name all the time and having it mispronounced so I just shortened it to Wooster. Made life simpler.”

     “Okay, Mr. Wooster, or Worcester. You retrieved the pen from beneath the clock, very carefully. You read the inscription on the pen, “Otto’s Auto Repair and so forth.”

     “Sir?”

     “Yes, Mr. Wooster.”

     “You’re asking us all these questions. And I understand. You’re investigating. I just want to make sure we’re not under suspicion for anything.”

     “Not yet,” Officer Merrick replied with a little smirk. “When you are, I’ll read you your rights.”

     “But, is everything we say, can everything we say, be used against us?”

     “Right now, we’re investigating. Any questions I asked you are not targeted at you as suspects. Impeding an investigation is a crime, you know.”

     Mrs. Valdez stood up. “We are happy to help. We should have contacted you when we found the pen. It was wrong to go to that repair place.”

     “Yes, and yes. And here we are.”

     “Officer?”

     “Yes, Mrs. Valdez”

     “You said you picked up a man running with a limp. Is he a suspect?”

     “I can’t tell you anything about that.”

     Puma's meowing had become more pronounced. When Daniel went to check on her, she raced out the door and jumped into Officer Merrick’s lap. She gave him a hard look.”

     “I guess your cat tells me that’s all we can deal with now. We’ll be in touch.”

     Puma fell off Officer Merrick’s lap as he stood. Daniel picked her up. She continued her hard stare at Officer Merrick, who seemed unnerved by this.

     “We’ll put everything in order and continue with our investigation tomorrow.”

Puma once again jumped from Daniel’s arms and pounced on a table near the entrance. She stared at at the officer, who went over to the table. On it was a business card Owen Canfield had left with Mrs. Valdez after a visit earlier in the day. He, too, had read of the robbery and wanted to make sure Mrs. Valdez and Puma were okay and if he could help in any way. Officer Merrick looked down at the table and saw the card. With a smile, he said, “You’re doing my job for me, Puma. I bet you’ve got it all figured out. We humans need more time.”

     Once again, Daniel pickup up Puma and Officer Merrick left the house.

     “Daniel, I’m sorry we drove to that place. Something is wrong here. I feel it.”

NUMBER EIGHT

     Bret Canfield was taken to the police station for questioning. His father had already arrived by the time the officers [ulled up to the station with Bret.

     “Before you speak to my son, officers, can you speak with me privately?”

     “How old is your son?” The officers knew Bret's age but were merely reminding Owen Canfield that his son was an adult, not a juvenile.

     “He’s twenty.”

     “We’ll let you know what we’re able to divulge, Mr. Canfield. You know that.”

     “Is he charged with anything?”

     “He’s here for questioning, right now.”

     “I’m calling my attorney”

     “That might be a good idea, sir.”

     The officers questioning Bret Canfield were polite and by the book. They asked him general questions and were astonished when the young Canfield blurted out, “That Warchester man is framing me! He’s somehow got the old lady on his side and that cat. They set this whole thing up.”

     “Are you making a charge here, sir?” The officers didn’t mention Daniel Wooster’s name or any connection he might have with Mrs. Valdez or Puma.

     “Damn right I am.”  Here was the voice of a privileged, entitled brat who knew his old man would back him up.

     The officers patiently listened to young Canfield’s charge.He consented to everything being videotaped. He was playing offense. By this time, Owen Canfield’s attorney arrived and asked for time with his client. With the attorney present, the young Canfield was told he would be held overnight and questioned further the following day.

     “And what about Warchester? He just gets off Scot free? I’m making a charge.”

     “Sir, you haven’t been charged with anything.” They would still not divulge Daniel’s name. They were curious how the young Canfield knew about Daniel Wooster.

     “So Mr. Benton (the attorney), can they keep me? Are they right about all this?”

     “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bret.” With that, the attorney placed his hand on Bret’s shoulder and left. With this action, some of the cockiness drained from Bret Canfield's face.

     Daniel left the Worcester home for his room. He tried reading, but was too rattled. About 11:00 pm. there was a knock at the door.

     “Mr. Canfield.”

     “Might I come in, Daniel?”

     “Do you have an appointment?”

     “Forgive me, Daniel. I was under your mother’s spell for quite a long time. And then, I’ve also been dealing with some distressing personal matters.”

     “Concerning your son?” Daniel at first thought he’d put his foot in it but then figured he might as well go ahead and say what was on his mind.

     “It’s very complicated.”

     Daniel let Owen Canfield into his room.

     “Please excuse. The maid had the day off.”

     “Looks fine to me, Daniel. You’ve been working at Noland’s Garden Center for a while haven’t you. This is a small city.”

     “I got the job after someone else was let go.”

     “We know who that was.”

     “I didn’t take your son’s job, Mr. Canfield. This isn’t some plot to get at you. We did get off on the wrong foot.”

     “It is a plot, Daniel. But not of your devising. My son is troubled. He’s got issues, as they say.”

     “I’m sorry about that, Mr. Canfield. I truly am.”

     Owen Canfield and Daniel Wooster talked for over an hour and said nothing. When he left, Daniel could only wonder why he’d stopped by in the first place.

     At 7:00 the next morning, Officer Merrick and another officer arrived at the Worcester home. “Please pardon the earliness of our call, Mrs. Valdez, but we need to take a look at the front rooms once again. It would be helpful if you could let us alone.”

     “I could say something here, but I know you are doing your jobs. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

     The officers spent about thirty minutes in the rooms and then asked Mrs. Valdez if Puma could come out.

     “You weren’t kidding when you said Puma knows things we don’t were you, Officer Merrick?”

     The officers spent another thirty minutes with Puma in the rooms before going to the kitchen.

     “Was Puma of help?”

     “We can’t say, ma’am”

     “That means yes, doesn’t it? Would you like some coffee? Mrs. Worcester never allowed coffee in the house, but Puma likes the aroma and I like the taste.”

     The officers said nothing as they sipped their coffee. Puma eyed them from a kitchen counter.

     At the police station, Owen Canfield and his attorney arrived early to speak with Bret.

     “I am going to be released, aren’t I? And what about my charge against Warchester?”

     “We will speak with the police soon, son.”

     The police chief came to the room where the three were talking and asked to speak to Bret and the attorney. “You can stay, Mr. Canfield, but cannot intervene.”

     “I understand.”

     “The officers investigating the crime scene have discovered more evidence placing you, Bret Canfield at the home. The evidence is quite convincing.”

     “And what if I say I’ve never been there. This is all part of a frame.”

     “This evidence can’t be framed.”

     What they’d discovered was the younger Canfield’s fingerprints on a leg of the grandfather clock and also a hand and fingerprint on the floor near the clock. They concluded that Bret had fallen and had grabbed the clock and placed his hand on the floor to pick himself up. The ballpoint pen had Bret’s prints on it and showed no signs of being wiped clean. There was also a small amount of saliva near the base of the clock. It was being tested for DNA. Puma had led the officers to all this evidence.

     “I’d like to confer with my client, if that’s okay?”

     “You should. We’ll be back to bring charges against Bret and another person.”

     “Another person?” the attorney asked.

     “We’re bringing him in now.”

     About 9:00, the officers returned to the Worcester home. “Mrs. Valdez, we have some more questions for you.”

     “My time is your time. Come on in. Watch the floor.”

     “Has anyone, to your knowledge, beside you, Daniel Wooster and Puma been in this house recently?”

     “Only when I was sick a while back. The ambulance came with paramedics. Oh yes, then my friend Lydia Carlyle came over to watch the house and look after Puma. She said that Puma was quite nasty to her so she asked her, our, friend Margot Blanchard to come over. She’s good with animals.”

     As the officers took notes and recorded the interview, Officer Merrick asked Mrs. Valdez,”Was Puma usually nasty to your friend Lydia? I mean, they must have been together or you wouldn’t have asked her to look after her.”

     “I thought that was strange, too. Puma and Lydia always got along just fine. She was nasty that day Lydia came over when I was away.”

     “We’ll need to speak with your friends Lydia and Margot, and of course the ambulance people. Please don’t let them know we’ll be calling on them.”

     “Of course. I can give you their numbers, and even addresses.”

     The officers called Lydia Carlyle.

     “Mrs. Carlyle?”

     “It’s Ms.”

     “Sorry. We’re investigating a robbery and need to ask you some questions.”

     “The Worcester house, right?  Come in.”

     “Well, yes. It’s the only robbery in Marley in the last two months. Except for shoplifting, of course.”

     “Anything to help my friend Gabriela Valdez. I call her Gabby.”

     “Ms. Carlyle, have you visited the Worcester house recently?”

     “The last time I was there, I was over to check on Puma, the cat. Gabby was in the hospital.”

     “Were you there by yourself?”

     “Well, no. My nephew Carter drove me there but stayed in the car while I went inside.”

     “He stayed in the car.”

     “Yes. Wait a minute, I went to Puma’s room. She was fine. Then she got all upset and almost bit me. Turned just like that. I raced out of the room and shut the door. My nephew was in the house. He needed to use the bathroom.”

     “How long were you with Puma in her room?”

     “Maybe five minutes.”

     “Thank you, Ms. Carlyle.”

     The officers also called Margot Blanchard but were sure Carter Bobbitt, Ms. Carlyle’s nephew, was involved. He had a minor record and, they discovered, worked at Otto’s Auto Repair along with Bret Canfield. 

     While they were at the Worcester house earlier that morning, Puma had led them to a window in the living room. It was locked, but closer examination revealed the lock had been tampered with at some point. There was also some dirt on the sill. They tested the window and could detect residue of a lubricant that allowed the window to be opened and closed quietly and effortlessly. Both officers were embarrassed they hadn’t picked up on that earlier. The job was neatly done, but not neat enough for Puma not to have noticed. Puma’s tantrum was not because of Ms. Carlyle, but because of what was going on in the living room, discretely.

NUMBER NINE

     Carter Bobbitt was brought to the police station. Because of his prior record, he agreed to bargain for a lighter sentence. He admitted he and Bret Canfield concocted the crime. He’d told the younger Canfield what he’d done with the window at the Worcester house and asked him if he wanted in on an easy job. “Easy pickin’s” were his words. Canfield was all in. For him it was personal. He knew the Worcester family, or Warchester as he called them sarcastically, had been clients of his father for years. He remembered how “old lady Warchester” used to call him names when he happened to be at his father’s office at the same time as she. He remembered a much younger Daniel Worcester, “always dressed up with nowhere to go.”

     The police presented their findings to Bret’s attorney. The attorney wanted to call it a silly  prank but was reminded that the young Canfield and his accomplice were adults and that thousands of dollars of valuable objects had been stolen. On top of that, the two unloaded the “goods” to purchase pot and other illegal substances for resale.

     After consulting with his client, the attorney accepted a deal of probation and community service. Because of his prior conviction, Bobbitt was offered a small jail sentence and probation with community service. He accepted. Owen Canfield wrangled the name of the person who’d bought the objects. It turned out to be an alias, but Bobbitt knew the real name. A large theft ring was broken up as a result.

     Mrs. Valdez stood outside the front of the Worcester house watching Daniel climb a ladder up a tree to rescue Puma. Owen Canfield drove up and spoke with Mrs. Valdez as Daniel carefully brought Puma down to the ground.

     “Mr. Wooster,” Canfield said, “did you ever read your mother’s Will?”

     “I never got it. So, no. I only received the letter saying I wasn’t named in the Will even though I was her only surviving heir.”

“Are you still upset about that?”

     “I wasn’t ever upset about that. I was upset that my mother preferred a cat to me.”

     “Are you still upset?”

     “Now that I know Puma, and Mrs. Valdez – Gabby – I understand. Knowing my mother especially.”

     “So you are not going to contest the Will?”

     “No point. It’s all good as far as I’m concerned.”

     “I have some news for you. Mrs. Worcester left me with some instructions, all signed, witnessed, and notarized. In these instructions she left it up to Mrs. Valdez to decide if you had matured enough to receive from benefits from her estate. I just spoke with Mrs. Valdez and …”

     “Wait a minute. I want no part of the estate. All I’d like is to be able to see Puma as I've been doing, thanks to Gabby. I also like being with Gabby.”

     Mrs. Valdez had to enter the conversation. “Daniel, that’s wonderful, but you really deserve to share in the estate. I’m quite sure that’s what Puma wants.”

     Puma looked at the group and then at the sidewalk in front of the house. It appeared her sitting on the window sill in her room each day was not merely to bask in the sun and await Daniel’s arrival. The Truesdale’s daughter, Carrie, had been visiting for a few weeks and Puma noticed her morning walks, sometimes with her parents and sometimes alone. Puma had one more mission to accomplish. Carrie was the young talented neighbor who had made the drawing of Daniel and his parents in front of their house. It was the drawing Puma had led Daniel to in his room. Puma looked at Carrie and then, with a glimmer in her eyes, gave Daniel a look. And thereby hangs at least one more tale.