Read Online Cat Raise the Dead by Shirley Rousseau Murphy - Free Book Online Page B

clothing selections from the “latest fashion” rack of the local charity outlet. Her skirt hem dipped so rakishly around her thick-stockinged ankles that one could imagine this style as the precursor of a new trend; and her shoes might soon be the “in” look, too, thick and serviceable and of a variety favored by the unfortunate homeless. Rummaging through the closet, the old lady carefully lifted a little gold lamé dress dangling on its hanger.
    As she turned to the mirror above the dresser, they could see clearly her reflection. Smiling with impish delight she held the slim little cocktail number up against her thick body, turning and vamping, pressing the svelte garment against her lumpy form.
    Watching her, Joe choked back a laugh. But Dulcie crept closer, the tip of her tail twitching gently, her green eyes round with sympathy, with a deep femaleunderstanding. The old woman’s longing filled her to her very soul; she understood like a sister the frumpy lady’s hunger for that sleek little gold lamé frock. Watching the dumpy old creature, Dulcie was one with her, cat and cat burglar were, in that instant, of one spirit.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you?”
    Dulcie jumped, stared at him as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Nothing. Nothing’s the matter.”
    He looked at her uneasily.
    â€œSo she makes me feel sad. So all right?”
    He widened his eyes, but said no more. They watched the old woman fold the gold dress into a neat little square, lift her baggy sweater, and tuck the folded garment underneath into a bag she wore against her slip. They watched, fascinated, as she searched the dresser drawers, lifting out necklaces and bracelets, stuffing them into the same bag, watched her tuck away two soft-looking sweaters, a gold tie clip, a gold belt, a tiny gold evening clutch. When she moved suddenly toward the window, coming straight at them, the cats ducked away, clinging against the wall. She flew at the open window uttering a string of hisses so violent, so like the cries of a maddened tomcat that their fur stood up. In feline language this was a grade-one kamikaze attack. This woman knew cats. This old woman knew how to communicate the most horrifying threat of feline violence, knew something deep and basic that struck straight at the heart of cat terrors, knew the deep secrets of their own murderous language. They stared at her for only an instant, then fled down the roof tiles and onto the Mercedes. Racing its length, they hit the ground running, heading straight uphill, past the white house, into a wilderness with bushes so thick that nothing could reach them.
    Crouching in the dark beneath jabbing tangled branches, they watched the old woman leave the house smiling, watched her slip away up the street looking as smug as if she had swallowed the canary.
    Dulcie shivered. “She scared the hell out of me.” She licked her whiskers nervously. “Where did she learn to do that?”
    â€œWherever, she’s out of business now. As soon as we call Harper with the make on that blue Honda, it’s bye-bye, cat burglar.”
    But Dulcie’s eyes grew huge, almost frightened. “Maybe we…She’s just an old lady.” She paused, began to fidget.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œWill the court…Do you think the court would go easy with her? She’s so old.”
    â€œShe’s not that old. Just frowsy. And what difference does it make? Old or young, she’s a thief.”
    He fixed a piercing yellow gaze on Dulcie. “This morning you were plenty hot to nail the old girl. You’re the one who always wants to bring in the law. ‘Call Harper, Joe. Give the facts to Captain Harper. Let the cops in on it.’
    â€œSo why the sudden change? You’re really getting soft.”
    â€œBut she’s so…They wouldn’t put her in jail for the rest of her life? How could they? To be