The Cat on the Grave
Dana stared at the forlorn Victorian house through the windshield of her Audi. The rain had slowed to a mere drizzle after pouring down all morning. People said a shower made everything new, but this house was not improved at all. The paint peeled in huge patches all over the front and the shutters drooped. The porch sagged as if it wanted to sink into oblivion. Gaping holes in the eaves seemed to invite squirrels and raccoons to warm themselves in the immense attic. No house had ever seemed less hospitable. It was downright threatening.
This was to be her home for a while. She would make the best of it. If it hadn’t been for a strange twist of fate, the house on Apple Tree Lane would still be hers and her ex-husband would have this one. He was living the life of Reilly in her house. Her blood pressure was rising just thinking about the settlement screw up. And looking at this house wasn’t making it any better. Some clerk had gotten their names mixed up on the final decree and the judge had signed it. Now Alex was fighting her on correcting the mistake. He was thrilled to see he had her house. He never wanted this one that his grandmother left him. A memory of him after the reading of the will rose from her subconscious saying “It’s an ancient monstrosity. I aught to have it bulldozed, but the land isn’t worth the work. No one would pay for an overgrown mosquito farm like that.” His sneering face shimmered in her mind’s eye and then faded. Now the overgrown mosquito farm was hers.
A curtain fluttered in an upstairs window as if someone were watching her. She leaned forward to see better out of the rain spattered windshield. No one was there. The windows were empty and the curtains still. It was only her imagination and the dreary day preying on her. She opened the door and headed for the relative shelter of the porch. Pulling a large skeleton key out of her coat pocket, she thought of the day Alex had presented it to her with a big red ribbon tied to it, that same sneer on his face that had become so common at the end of their marriage. Dana pushed the memory away as she opened the front door.
A wave of stale air rolled over her. The interior was dark, dank and colder than the autumn rain. Dust swirled in the sparse shaft of light coming in from behind her. Cobwebs grabbed at her hair as she stepped cautiously into the foyer. Something small and furry skittered in the shadows under a table, disappearing through a hole in the baseboard.
Dana felt around and found the antiquated light switch. She turned it and the room was flooded with light from the chandelier above. It was only slightly more hospitable with the lights on. The rooms were large with high ornate ceilings. Faded red wallpaper dominated space, making her feel she was in an abandoned bordello. The floor under her feet squeaked as she walked, drawing her attention to the inlaid wood under the dust. The house had been a showplace in it’s day. Now it was just a sad reminder of days gone by.
“Hello there.”
Dana jumped a mile and swung around. Standing in the door was a very small, very old woman wearing a faded dress and galoshes. She shook the black umbrella in her hand and set it outside the door.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Mrs. Potts. I live next door.” She held out a bony hand.
Dana frowned as she shook it. The nearest house was a quarter of a mile down the road. “Dana Randall. I didn’t know there was another house close.”
“Well, no. Not exactly. I live in the house you passed driving in. I walk your drive four times every day. That’s a mile, you see, and there’s no traffic to worry about. My doctor told me to get some exercise.” She looked around. “This place needs a good cleaning and then it will be right homey. I’m glad to see someone back in it again.” Her sharp hazel eyes trained on Dana. “Just you? Or will you have a Mr. Randall coming later?”
“No. It’s just me. For a while, anyway.” This woman was definitely different. She seemed very sweet but a little odd somehow. Dana just couldn’t put her finger gave her that impression.
“What about Ruth’s grandson? Isn’t he the owner of this place? Are you renting from him?”
“Mrs. Potts, I’m his ex-wife. And right now, I own this house.” She was getting annoyed by all the questions the old woman was firing at her. “If you don’t mind, I have a lot to do, as you can see.”
Mrs. Potts jumped as if she’d been poked with a pin, realizing she was being a nuisance. “I’m sorry. I can be a little nosy, or so my sister tells me. When you get settled, come down and have supper with my sister and me. We’ll consider it a welcome to the neighborhood meal.” She picked up her umbrella. “My sister doesn’t get out much anymore. Bad knees. I know she would love to meet you.” She turned and started down the steps, rather spry for someone so frail in appearance. At the bottom, she turned back and trained a very serious gaze at Dana. “Be sure to lock up at night. Not everyone here is as nice as us. Understand? Lock up tight.” She pointed a knotted finger at the door lock. Then she was walking briskly down the drive with a step most people half her age would envy.
The next few days went by in a blur of cleaning, scrubbing and waxing. Windows were washed and old mouse infested mattresses were hauled away. The fireplaces were cleaned by the local chimney sweep and the boiler checked out and lit by the plumber. A carpenter temporarily patched up the varmint holes to keep out drafts with the recommendation she needed it done properly as soon as possible. The kitchen was cleaned from top to bottom and sparkled like a diamond. Dana scrubbed the master bedroom and bath and replaced the mattress and linens on the huge antique bed. The house was beginning to be livable.
A week after arriving, a large black cat sauntered in the front door left open for ventilation while Dana pulled down the heavy velvet curtains in the living room. Dust drifted around him as he sat just inside the doorway. He seemed very interested in what she was doing.
“Hi. Where did you come from?”
The cat blinked bright blue eyes at her. He looked at the front door and then her.
“Ah. You came from outside. Well, stupid me. While you’re here, why not catch a few mice. I seem to have an overabundance of them at the time being.” She turned back to her task, fully expecting the cat to wander out the door. Instead, he moved farther into the room and began looking under furniture. Within minutes, he was streaking after an unfortunate rodent. The chase lasted only seconds before the cat sealed the mouse’s fate with one mighty pounce. Soon, all traces of it were gone.
Dana wondered at the irony of it. Catching a mouse right after she had invited him to was just too strange. “Thank you. One down, a thousand to go.”
Before the day was out, the cat had caught three more mice and deposited the remains on the hearth for her to dispose of. He had apparently had his fill with the first one. She picked them up carefully with a trash bag over her hand and took them out to the garbage can at the side of the house.
A car pulled up as she came around to the front. To her surprise, it was a sheriff’s cruiser. The officer unfolded himself from behind the wheel and stood up, revealing a six foot frame. He waved to her when he noticed her approaching. What was she being served with now? Had Alex come up with another ploy to keep her from returning home?
“Good afternoon.” His voice was deep and rumbled over the clearing. “You Mrs. Randall?” Between his voice and size, he was an intimidating man.
Dana wiped her hands on her jeans before extending her right hand to the sheriff. “Yes. What can I do for you, Officer?”
His hand was warm and solid in hers when he shook it. “I’m Sheriff Danvers. I hate to welcome you to the neighborhood this way, ma’am, but I have a missing person. Richard Mills, a local real estate agent. He disappeared eight days ago. We found his car about two miles from here on an old logging road.”
“How can I put this without sounding crass? What help can I be? He disappeared before I arrived.”
He looked around at the woods surrounding them. “Well, have you noticed anyone strange around or heard someone in the woods? We’re still hoping he got lost in the forest, but we’re starting to doubt that.”
“Stranger than Mrs. Potts, Sheriff? No. Besides, being new to here I don’t know what would be considered strange. And I haven’t seen or heard anyone on the property that I haven’t asked here.” Dana tried to think of anything unusual, besides the cat, who had come out to sit on the porch to watch the proceedings.
He looked at her a moment before replying. “I guess your right. Do you care if searchers look on your property?”
“By all means. They can park in the drive and I’ll make sure they have something to eat and drink.”
“The Baptist church is feeding everyone, but I think they’d appreciate it if they could set up here.”
“Of course. Anything they need.” Dana got the feeling they weren’t looking for a live body but a dead one. “Sheriff, do you think he met foul play?”
He looked at her a moment. “Just keep your doors locked, Mrs. Randall.” He nodded his head and made to walk away when he saw the cat. “That looks just like Miz Ruth’s cat, Shadow. He disappeared after she died. The sisters down the road wanted to take him in, but he took off.”
“This cat showed up today. He’s made himself useful as a mouse exterminator.” She smiled. “I guess if he sticks around I’ll keep him.”
“Huh. Well, the searchers will be here in the morning. Keep an eye out for anything strange.”
With a final wave, he folded himself back into the cruiser and left.
Dana took a final look at the woods surrounding the old house. A gentle fall breeze stirred the leaves and the crickets sang, but nothing else moved. There was no sign of a bedraggled man who had wandered for days in the tangled jungle of briars and poison ivy.
She found when she approached the porch that the cat watched her with those blue eyes. “So, are you staying?” When he made no move to leave the porch, she smiled. “What shall I call you? Son of Shadow?” Cat didn’t move. “Just Shadow?” That got a very loud ‘Mrow’ from him.
Dana shook her head, amazed. “Okay, Shadow. I have a can of tuna with your name on it. Let’s go into the kitchen and have some.” The cat shot into the house and straight down the hall, skidding on the freshly waxed floor as he made the turn into the kitchen.
Following more slowly, Dana thought how beautiful and unique this house really was. Maybe she didn’t get the bad end of the deal after all. Since everything else was split fifty-fifty and only the houses were mixed up, maybe she would just drop the legalities and stay. Aside from missing persons and strange little old ladies, the country life was growing on her.
The phone ringing on the hall table startled her. “Hello.”
“Mrs. Randall? This is Pearl Croft, Dora Potts sister. How are you?” The voice was melodic and soft.
“I’m fine. I see your sister every day on her walk.”
“We were hoping you would like a home cooked meal tonight. I’ve been baking today, so we have fresh peach cobbler. Would you like to join us?” There was a hopeful note in her voice.
The fresh cobbler sounded wonderful. “I would love to. Is there anything I can bring?”
“Oh no, thank you, dear. I already have everything cooking. Dora has the table set and the tea made. So all you have to do is show up.”
Dana smiled. “What time would you like me there?”
“Any time. Just come as you are. No need to get fancied up.”
Dana grinned. She liked this lady. “I’ve been cleaning dusty curtains, so I will change my clothes. I don’t want you to think I’m a complete pig when I arrive for dinner.”
“Oh, alright. We will see you soon.”
When Dana replaced the receiver, Shadow was sitting in the kitchen door with his tail wrapped around him. He looked thoroughly disapproving.
“Okay. I’m sorry for the delay, your majesty. Tuna coming up!” She went to the pantry and procured said tuna with a flourish. The cat was still sitting in the same place, not having moved an inch. “What’s the matter?” She opened the can, dumped the contents on a plate and set it on the floor. “Come on. This is the good stuff.”
Shadow rose and walked stiff-legged to the plate. He pinned her with a blue stare and sniffed disdainfully before dropping his head delicately to the plate.
“You act like you don’t want me to go. Well, cat, peach cobbler calls.” She reached down and stroked his silken coat. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
The sisters house was at the end of Dana’s driveway. It was a quaint white cottage with the proverbial picket fence and English flower garden. Stepping stones lead up to the house with mums on either side. The front porch sported a swing and wicker chairs, all with flowered cushions.
Dora had thrown the door open as soon as Dana pulled into the drive. “Good to see you again. Come in. Come in.” She stepped aside to let Dana in. “Pearl’s in the kitchen. She just can’t wait to meet you. She’s thrilled that we finally have a neighbor in the old house.” Dora led the way through the house. The wonderful smell of fresh bread mixed with cinnamon and peaches in a mouthwatering perfume.
The kitchen was bright and airy in shades of yellow and rose. Standing at the stove was a small birdlike woman in a vivacious floral dress that made her look even thinner. A cane hung on the edge of the counter next to her. She put the lid back on a pan and turned around to greet them. Sharp green eyes assessed Dana very quickly.
“Dana! It’s good to finally meet you. Sit down and have a cup of tea while supper finishes up.” She grabbed her cane from where it hung and hobbled over to her. She enfolded a surprised Dana in a hug. Her embrace was incredibly strong for such a small woman.
Dora brought a china tea pot to the table and poured tea into cups already placed on the table. She then sat down on Dana’s right and Pearl took the seat on her left. They talked amicably for a while before dinner. Once the pot roast was declared done, Dora helped bring the food to the table. Pearl carved the roast and served each a healthy portion of the succulent meat. Mashed potatoes, baked zucchini and fresh bread finished off the meal, of which Dana enjoyed every bite.
After dinner, the conversation turned to ex-husbands. Dora cleared her throat. “Well, how did you end up with the dirt bag’s family home?”
Pearl leaned forward. “Don’t take offense, dear. All ex-husbands are dirt bags to Dora.” She said in a conspiratorial whisper “Hers divorced her and ran off with his secretary.”
“Thank you, Miss Nosy.” Dora huffed. “At least mine divorced me first. Yours ran away and divorced you by mail.” After giving her sister an evil look, she returned her attention to Dana. “Now, back to you.”
“It was a courthouse foul-up. I was to get the house in the city and he was to keep his aunt’s house, which he hated. The properties were switched in the final papers and he refuses to correct it without a court battle.” She sighed. “I have to say I’m beginning to like this house, though. It’s charming, once you get through all the dust and dirt, and very conducive to work. I’m a graphic artist so I need a place like that.”
“You’ve gotten the better end of the bargain, let me tell you.” Dora rose to get the coffee and peach cobbler. “The house is wonderful. You have lots of land near a quaint small town where everyone knows their neighbor.” She placed a large piece of cobbler and a fragrant cup of Columbian coffee in front of Dana. “Yes, we have our jerks and crack pots, but they’re harmless.”
Pearl giggled. “If their too big of a nuisance, we get rid of them.”
Dora frowned at her sister as if to reprimand her. “She means we run them out of town.” She put a cup in front of Pearl with a clatter. “No need to put up with them.”
Dana laughed. “Sounds like that’s the best advise for ex-husbands, too. Just get rid of them.”
Several seconds of silence met her statement. Dora and Pearl glanced at each other then laughed loudly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Just get rid of them.” Dora sat down and tucked into her cobbler, still chuckling.
The next morning, Dana’s front yard was invaded at daybreak by searchers and police. The church parishioners set up tents with amazing speed. Tables and chairs were placed under one for the police command center. The other became the food tent with tables laden with home made sandwiches, chips, soups, casseroles and all kinds of drinks. Within half an hour of arriving, the command center was running and the searchers were combing the woods behind the house.
Dana helped out where she could. She gave the volunteers access to her kitchen and, of course, the bathrooms. She dished up soup and poured coffee for weary searchers. By afternoon, her feet hurt and her voice was getting raspy from constant conversation. As she handed a bottle of water to the sheriff, his radio squawked and a voice said, “This is Masters. I’ve found something.”
Sheriff Danvers snatched the radio off of his belt. “What have you got, Masters?”
Static crackled as Masters answered. “I think you need to see this. I’m not sure what it is.”
“What do you mean?”
The radio was silent for a moment. “It looks like a grave.” There was another pause. “And a black cat is sitting on it.”
The sheriff turned to a deputy and pointed at her. “Get me his location. What grid area was his?” He raised the radio again. “I’m on my way. Don’t move and keep everyone away. I don’t want the scene compromised.” With that, he went into action.
Soon, only the female was left in the command center. She monitored the radio and alerted the other searchers to stop and wait where they were. Half an hour later, the sheriff called her and requested the state crime scene investigators be called in. What had been found was bigger than his department could handle.
Dana put down the newspaper a week later. The story of the grizzly discovery took up the whole front page. Five graves had been found in total. Three had been there for years and two were new. Richard Mills was in one of the new graves with a crushed skull and the other new resident had yet to be identified. The skeletons were identified by items found in the graves. They turned out to be Dora’s husband and Pearl’s husband and his secretary. The old ladies had been arrested on suspicion of murder and were now ensconced in the local jail. They refused to claim the fifth body, stating that they didn’t know that man and wouldn’t bury just anybody with their husbands. They hadn’t really even wanted to bury Richard Mills there and they had known him for years. The district attorney didn’t believe them and had charged the sisters with five counts of murder.
A smile played around Dana’s mouth. She knew who the fifth person was and why he was there. Only a dirty rat ex-husband would conspire with the real estate agent to cheat two nice old ladies out of their home and build a ski resort on both properties. And only a suspicious ex-wife would be spying on them with binoculars and a listening device when they met in the woods behind the house the day before she supposedly arrived at her new home. Dana heard how Alex would ‘give’ her back the city house after a bout of guilt. Mills would get the sisters to sell their house to him, one way or another. Then a big developer would back them in building a multi-million dollar resort. They were drooling over getting rich.
It was fortune that made her follow the realtor to the cottage and see Pearl whack him with a shovel. Richard Mills dropped like a stone. Dana watched them clean up the mess, load him into a wagon attached to Pearl’s scooter and bury him in the makeshift graveyard deep in the woods. They even had a little service once they were done.
She came to a decision then and there that this was the answer to her problems. It hadn’t been hard to ‘borrow’ the shovel. It did the job quite well and was back before morning. The worst part of the job was digging the hole. Thank goodness for gardening gloves or she would still have blisters.
And that is how Alex Randall became body number five. The only other one who really knew what happened was a shadowy figure sitting under a bush waiting for robins. And he wasn’t talking.
