Read Online Cat in the Dark by Shirley Rousseau Murphy - Free Book Online Page A

artist.”
    â€œHow do you know they don’t?”
    â€œDon’t be so paranoid.”
    â€œIt’s you that’s paranoid—getting jumpy because I purr and grousing about cat hair.”
    The old man smoothed his thin gloves where they had wrinkled over his fingers and closed the register, and the two slipped out the front door.
    â€œDon’t forget to lock it,” the cat hissed.
    â€œDon’t be so damn bossy.”
    â€œDon’t get smart with me, old man. You’ll be running this party alone.”
    The man and cat stiffened as, half a block away, a prowling police car turned into the street. As it shone its light along the storefronts in routine inspection, the two burglars slid through the shadows into the alley, were gone as completely as if they had never been there.
    The patrol car didn’t slow. The moment it had passed, the two appeared again, heading up Ocean. As they moved away, Joe and Dulcie followed, slipping along beneath the parked cars. Joe was determined to stay with them tonight, to see where they went to ground. Dulcie didn’t like this, but she was unwilling to stay behind.
    The two burglars proceeded up Ocean for four blocks, then turned down toward the Fish Shack. The old man paused before entering. “You want the cod or the shrimp?”
    â€œThe shrimp—what these stateside yokels pass offas shrimp. Poor substitute for what we get at home.”
    â€œYou’re not at home, so stop bitching.” The little man disappeared inside. The cat turned away to the curb where he sniffed at the messages left by passing four-legged citizens. If he scented Joe and Dulcie over the smell of other cats and dogs and fish and axle grease, he gave no indication. His partner returned dangling a white paper bag liberally splotched with grease.
    â€œNo shrimp. You’ll have to eat fish and chips.”
    â€œCouldn’t you have gotten crab?”
    â€œDidn’t think to ask. Let’s get on, before the law comes back.” And off they went, man and cat walking side by side bickering companionably, two swaggering lowlifes with the cocky walk of drunks leaving a cheap bar.

6
    B EYOND WILMA’S open shutters, the neighborhood was drowned by fog, the cottages and trees hidden in the thick mist, the gnarled branches of the oak tree that ruled her front garden faded as white as if the tree had vanished and only its ghost remained. Standing at the window sipping her morning coffee, she thought that it was the coastal fog, as much as Molena Point’s balmy days, that had drawn her back to her childhood village to spend her retirement years. She had always loved the fog, loved its mystery—had wandered the foggy neighborhoods as a little girl pretending she had slipped into a secret and magical world.
    At dawn this morning, she had taken a long walk along the shore listening to the breakers muffled and hidden within the white vail, then home again to a hot cup of coffee and to prepare breakfast for her company.
    Behind her, the Sunday paper lay scattered comfortably across her Kirman rug, and beside the fire, Clyde sprawled on the velvet loveseat reading the sports page. On the other side of the hearth, lounging in theflowered chaise, Bernine Sage pored over the financial section. Neither had spoken in some time. Clyde’s preoccupation was normal; Bernine’s silence came across as self-centered and cold.
    She would not ordinarily have invited Bernine to breakfast or for any meal, but this morning she’d had no choice. Bernine had been at her door late last night when she arrived home from the opening. Having fought with her current lover, needing a place to stay, she seemed to think that it was Wilma’s responsibility to offer her a bed; she hadn’t asked if Wilma had company or if her presence would be inconvenient. “Why I ever moved in with that idiot—what a selfish clod. And not a motel room left. I’ve