The Consequence Of Cats

Whoever was at the door was either someone incensed about something or someone urgent to impart something that they felt very important to one of the residents. Whatever the reason Charlie didn’t appreciate it one bit. He struggled up from the bed and wearily made his way across the bedroom floor and opened the door. “Someone get the damn door!” he called, but no one responded.
“Oh crap nobody’s here, but me.” he said to himself remembering that his wife Shirley was out of town to attend a funeral of a woman who had been a dear friend of hers some years in the past and whom he had never known and their two grand sons who had lived with them for the past seven years since their parents his and Shirley’s daughter and her shiftless ex-husband had been to irresponsible to care for them, no doubt out with some of their teenage friends.
The sound continued dong, dong, donging like a damn church bell run amok swinging like the one who was pulling on the rope of it had gone crazy not giving it time to swing completely through its arc a reasonable amount of time before tugging on it again.
“Hold on–hold on dammit!” he swore at the person beyond the door.
Turning back into the bedroom he found his shirt and pulled it on over his tank top T-shirt and buttoning it as he headed back out again into the living room on toward the door.
“Hold on–hold on for pete’s sake.” he called once more to whomever was out there growing ever angry that they felt this compulsion to continue pressing on the doorbell. Certainly they could hear him stirring inside or at least hear his vocal response to them.
But once he arrived at the door he grew suspicious. Who would ring a door so persistently lest it be a crazy person or someone with ill intent, a criminal in desperate need of money and eager to assault those inside the house and steal from them.

He stopped abruptly before opening the door. He leaned in close to the wood and fixing his right eye on the peep hole looked outside. A woman was at his door, a woman that looked to be around his age in her mid sixties. No need for him to return to the bedroom and perhaps fetch that handgun which came to him as part of his recently deceased brother Alvin’s estate and which Shirley had been vehemently inveighing upon him to get rid of it since it came into his possession six months ago upon Alvin’s death. She was so insistent upon his getting rid of it of course, in his opinion, because she had fell for all the anecdotes of domestic killings, due to handguns in homes.
While it may be a true statistic he was convinced that if we knew the dynamics of each particular case we may well learn the deaths were more due to some other issue rather than a gun, that rather the presence of the gun simply exacerbated the dispute. If not for the gun he was certain the death would have resulted from use of some other weapon. Of course Shirley rebuked that contention as something ludicrous arguing that a gun by virtue of its easy access allows one to react impulsively without thought while the lethal nature of a knife is so apparent as to force one to maybe reconsider. That and the sheer barbarous act of stabbing someone.

The woman’s image was somewhat indistinct because of the glass screen door between the wooden door and the yard. But even though she looked close in age to him that didn’t mean she wasn’t a crazy person or had compatriots in hiding. As he prepared to open the door he reached down to pick up a handy weapon a baseball bat he kept in the umbrella holder to the right of the door. He then took hold of it in his left hand and held it there beside the coat rack out of sight. He held the bat tightly anticipating what he might be facing after he opened the door. Now cautiously he turned the door knob and opened the door. The glass door beyond it if locked barred entry to anyone that might be standing on his stoop who intended harm, that is if his grandsons had locked it before pushing off to visit those friends of theirs for some celebration that was going on in town. But for the life of him he couldn’t remember any holiday at this time in the Fall. Oh crap who knows what kind of nonsense these kids are up to these days?
Using his right hand he took hold of the door knob and pulled it open enough that he stood in a brief enough amount of space he could feel safe as he took a view of the visitor. He rotated the bat which he had a firm hold of like a batter at home plate anticipating a fast ball from the pitcher and still out of sight of the woman who was standing there with an anxious and decidedly frightened countenance.
“I’m not interested.” he told the woman sure she was there soliciting him for something, for some charity perhaps. “See the sign at the front of my yard.” he said nodding toward the lawn beyond her. “No soliciting.” he said loudly. “I’m not here trying to sell you anything sir–I’m here to warn you!” she said her eyes growing ever wider looking upward above her. “What–warn, warn me about what?” he said his voice not the least disguising his astonishment at such a statement and the irritation of having been disturbed. “About that!” the woman said pointing up toward the roof of his house.
Maybe there was something out there that bore his attention, that maybe the woman was an authentic person showing concern over something that needed to be seen and dealt with. And so he opened the unlocked glass door that was between them and came out onto the stoop. He still had the bat in his left hand and the woman seemed genuinely taken aback by the sight of it.
“I doubt that will do you any good.” the woman said fixed on the sight of the bat.

He looked down at it. “Pardon me madam I was just being cautious–we’ve had some break ins on this street and as well a home invasion.” he stuttered out a lie for her edification.
“I assure you I am on the up and up...ah Mister...ah Mister?” she said.
“Oh certainly you are.” he said leaning the bat against the brick wall behind the shrubbery to his right. He moved beyond her out into the yard for a better view of the roof. “Now what is it–what are you talking about madam?” he asked looking to where she had indicated.
She left the stoop and stood beside him on the lawn several feet to the right of the walkway that led from the stoop to the street some thirty feet away. “See it there next to the chimney–see it.” she said pointing with seeming more urgency. “What–what is it?” he said straining to see what she meant for him to see.
But all he saw was a roped finger of blackness protruding from behind the chimney and moving about gracefully like some lure on a fishing line. “That’s its tail. When it heard you it perhaps went behind the chimney to hide.”
He looked at her like she was indeed a crazy person.
“Heard me and hid–what in the hell are you talking about?” he asked.
“It’s an omen–a bad sign, bad luck.” she said taking hold of his right forearm.

He pulled away almost as if the crazy might somehow move from her to him. “A bad sign–bad luck–what are you talking about lady?” he said moving several feet away from her. “That.” she said now drawing his attention back to the chimney.
He looked once more to the roof and there standing next to the chimney and as far as he was concerned was staring directly at him was a large black cat.
It stood perfectly still as if not an actual cat but rather one that was ceramic like those you might find in some shop dealing in oddities and craft products.
But he could tell it wasn’t such, but rather a real cat and no doubt motionless as if alert that he might send a missile its way to frighten it off of the grainy dark green asphalt shingles. And besides that it did not gleam with the reflection of the light that a black ceramic cat might give off even though its present posture was as still as such would maintain as it stood on offer.

There wasn’t much light as the fall season was well into its ascendancy but enough that flickered through the leaves of the cluster of trees in the yard that it allowed it to play on the roof and speckle it like holes through cloth and greatly reflect the near rainbow luster of the black hair of the beast.
The refraction of the light gave it a hint of green in the reflection of the coat like the bejeweled color of a June bug and not just the glare of the sun.
He looked at the woman once more. “Geez lady it’s just a darn cat–a stray maybe lose in the neighborhood. It ain’t nothing so extraordinary that it should make you ring my door bell like a maniac, like the house is on fire.” he said angrily.
“It’s an omen sir–an omen Charlie Crenshaw.” she pointedly said. “It’s far worse than a fire would be.” she added. “An omen of what?” he asked looking directly at her.
“Death, it is the sign of death when it comes as a black cat.” she said with a somber tone.

He laughed. “Well I’ve heard they are bad luck, but only if they should pass in front of you, yet I’ve never heard they are a sign of death.” he said with a chuckle. “Are you proposing death is not bad luck?” she asked him with what could only be described as a humorous kind of sneer.
“I would say it is the worse kind of luck madam, not just bad luck.” he said once more with a chuckle. “Besides the fact that I’ve got some age on me, it hardly means I’m at death’s door.” he informed her.
“It doesn’t necessarily mean your death–it could simply mean that someone inside that domicile is about to die if you don’t pay attention to detail and prevent it.” she said removing herself toward the street. “Very well then.” he said. “Shoo cat–shoo.” he said.
“That won’t do it Charlie Crenshaw.” she said.
And now it struck him. “How is it you know my name madam–I don’t believe I told you my name when you asked.” he asked. “Well it’s on your mail box.” said the woman.

Charlie looked at the mailbox, but knew that it only read C. Crenshaw & Family. “It only says C. Crenshaw & Family. How is it you know what the C. stands for?” he asked.
She nodded sly. “Suffice it to say I deduced it to be Charlie.” she said then putting a gloved hand to her mouth smiling like someone with knowledge of something you aren’t privy to. You know that I’ve Got A Secret! smile and further And wouldn’t you like to know it? But like the show the secret is not kept long because no one can really keep a secret for very long. What was it Twain said, that the only way a secret between three people can succeed is for two of them to be dead? And just like reruns of the old Gary Moore program the fact of the matter persists.
She reminded him of the Asian women he met when stationed over there in the early seventies. In those days these Asian girls were passive and overtly eager to please. But at some point it entirely changed and the young women in those regions of the world had decided to embrace a more independent status comparable with western nations. Another example of the Americanization of the world if you will.
He found her behavior suspicious. Having read a great deal about crime his whole life he knew it was not unknown that one might be confronted by perpetrators one would find unusual to say the least namely a seemingly harmless woman in her early senior years more appropriately a contemporary of his of the opposite gender. Despite this suspicion he decided not to pursue the inquiry. He decided to instead inquire if she was the owner of the cat. “Is the cat yours?” he asked her.

She put two fingers to her chin as if pondering the question. She seemed to be weighing her options as to what she was going to say. “Well now I think I might have seen it once or twice around about.” she said with a modest smile. “It stays near around my habitat.” she said her smile widening. “Well I reside here and I would ask you if you know the owner to contact them and ask them to honor my request that they come and retrieve their beast.” “An apt description I would say Mr. Crenshaw however the creature is not the property of anyone. He is a feral creature and the world is his oyster. He takes various forms and when it is this one, the form of a black cat it portends death.” she said her face growing mysteriously somber the smile replaced by a near grimace.
He was about to start laughing maniacally at the woman’s performance. She was either one terrific huckster about to account to him her ability to dismiss the cat for a fee of course or a genuine lunatic possibly late of the asylum.
He folded his arms and keenly observed her. “And you know this because?” he asked. “Because it is my raison d’etre.” she said now her modest smile returning.
It would have truly been hilarious if not for the complexion of her face, which had somehow grown even paler than it was a few minutes before, paler to a shade he could only perceive as somewhat sinister if one should be inclined to attribute malevolence to an older person. “Look lady what is your name?” he demanded. “Call me Obligation if you will.” she nodded with a even more eastern reaction with a slight bow of humility. “Well that’s a rather unusual name.” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “Oh but I’m well known in the best of circles.” she replied with genuine surprise.
“Oh yeah?” he asked with even greater sarcasm. “Yes indeed and so is that cat.” she said pointing up at it. “We often encounter each other as we travel about among the populace.” “Is that right? And pray tell what’s that beast’s name if it has one?” he asked pointing toward the animal himself.
She smiled at him shyly once more. “Oh now Charlie you know that don’t you?” she said. “No I wouldn’t madam, why would I.” he asked. “Yes, yes you do, everybody does.” she said smiling even more. “Then what is it for pete’s sake?” he near shouted.
“Why Consequence of course. It can be good but only for a price otherwise wretchedness is its preference” she said with a grin. “Look lady I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t leave right now.” he sneered. “As you wish Charlie Crenshaw I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain.” she said turning away. What in the world did that mean? “Look Ms....er Mrs. Obligation if that is your name I don’t like the sound of that, it sounds like an implied threat.” he said his anger stoked. “Oh Mr. Crenshaw on the contrary I simply arrived to appeal to you to do what it is you must do.” “That sounds even more ridiculous madam.” he said. “You must attend to something sir, you are obliged to do something and you procrastinate. I am merely the messenger. He on the other hand.” she said pointing at the now rather ominous looking cat. “Is the consequence headed your way and what type it be dependent on your attending to your duty. It is not often we find ourselves in such close proximity. Take heed sir the time is short for this domicile.” she said with her right index finger raised. And then she turned and proceeded down the walkway to the street.
She turned left then and moved off on down the tree lined street. For a moment he had a chill come on him, goose bumps. He shuttered as one sometimes does at moments like these.

He looked up to the roof once more and the cat that was up there was rubbing up against his chimney like felines do sometimes when near their owners seeking affection or simply scratching themselves on the cuff of your pants. “Shoo cat shoo!” he yelled swinging his arms out no doubt assuming the cat would see it as a threat. But the cat merely looked at him curiously.
He looked over to the pine tree that was close by to the right of his yard between his home and his neighbor’s house. The ground around under it was cluttered with pine cones. He moved quickly across the yard and gathered up several of the cones that were so sharp they irritated the palm of his hands.
He moved back close to the door and put the cones on the ground. standing there now he took on a pose to pitch one of the pine cones at the cat. He mustered up some semblance of the intensity he had when he pitched high school and legion ball. He was a southpaw and so he was oft times wild if he didn’t concentrate really hard.
He kicked up his right leg like he did then and whistled the cone in the direction of the cat that moved up and down the chimney. But it didn’t strike the cat in fact going past it to carom off the peak of the roof and disappear on the other side of the structure.

He threw another one, and then another one, everyone of them simply bouncing somewhere near the cat and not startling it in the least, at last he found himself down to the last one. “You’ll not deter him with those. He is naught but a specter. You must do what you must do lest you suffer from what he represents Bad Luck.” the old woman was saying standing back at the walkway of his home.
He started moving toward the old woman holding up his left hand that held the final pine cone. “Look lady I’m ordering you away from my home. I’m gonna call the cops!” he shouted.
“Very well I’ll be on my way.” she said with her ubiquitous smile. She turned around as she did before and set off down the street. He went to the street now and watched her go alert for her perhaps turning around and returning to where he was. But instead of this time she continued on. He stood there concentrated on her. “Geez what a crackpot.” he said to himself as he watched her move along down the street that was empty of any life save but himself and that woman. And then suddenly she disappeared right there on the street.
It was getting late in the day and the street was bathed in shade, but not so much that a person would suddenly vanish into the ether. He pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket. He put them on, but he was far sighted and seeing at a distance wasn’t the real problem with his eyesight, the glasses were for reading and no other purpose though the DMV required he wear them when driving.
He rubbed his head in confusion. “Where in the world did she go?” He didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t know what to make of this entire event. He stood there bemused and as well rather astonished at what his eyes had seen, remarkable to say to least. He concentrated on the sidewalk ahead when suddenly he heard her once again. “Remember what I’ve told you.” she said from behind him.
Startled he turned around. There she was behind him. How in the hell did she do that, get behind him? But he was not about to concede to having any surprise as to it having happened. He shook his head and turned away from her. He went back toward the house looking up at the chimney once more as he did so. The cat was just sitting there like before like the ceramic cat in the craft store.
He now had a sense of anger intermingled with fear at the ominous image of the solitary animal. At the magic the woman had demonstrated she was capable of. No longer trying to match the fierce nature he took on when playing baseball he just reared back and let the cone fly. It hit just below the cat and ricocheted off to the cat’s left.
Momentarily it came sputtering down the shingles and landed in the yard a few feet away from him. He averted his eyes from the pine cone and looked back at the cat. The ominous thing’s eyes were glowing red. Fiercely and exceedingly red they were. Holy crap–holy crap!

He raced to the door reaching over and grabbing the bat as he did so. He pulled open the glass door and made his way inside. After returning the bat to the umbrella stand he reached over to the light switch and clicked in on to give greater clarity to the living room. But it didn’t come on. “Those bloody fuses. I knew I should have gotten some new ones.” he said to himself. There was a bowl of candy on the coffee table nearby the fireplace which he’d recently had attended to by a modern day chimney sweep in anticipation of winter. He reached in and got a small Milky Way bar ripped off the paper and eagerly ate it. Ah the good ole days when he was a kid and could eat this stuff without thinking of the consequence, the bad luck if you will, which the old woman proposed the black cat represented.
And now strangely enough he heard the muffled purr of the cat as it continued to impose itself upon the brick work of the chimney.
He made his way back to the bedroom having neglected to lock either of the front doors. He picked up his cell phone from the table beside his bed. He found the phone book he kept on the shelf at the bottom of the table and looked up the number of the police. He had decided not to call the 911 emergency number, but rather the general information number.
After several rings a young woman came on the line. He told her of his concern about the woman who had just so recently been at his door. He related her strange behavior further revealing his concern about what had taken place. He however made no mention that he had seen the woman absolutely dissolve before his very eyes as she moved off down the street. And then only to have her reappear just behind him.
He rightly decided that the person he was talking to would think he was just some irrational old man rather than a lucid normal person. She listened politely and then connected him to the detective division.

In several moments a man who identified himself as Detective Sergeant Frazier came on the line. He told this gentleman about the odd encounter and the street on which he lived on. Frazier listened politely and further advised him that if she should return to either call the police again or simply ignore the woman.
He shrugged off the advise concluding that the police weren’t the least bit interested unless he could point to some definitive crime taking place. He moved to the window blinds and looked out at the quickly fading light of day. He saw no manifestation of the woman any more. He told the detective that he would indeed call should she return, but in the final analysis had concluded that it was no big deal save but for her oddly disappearing right before his eyes. But he made no mention of this latter part of his confrontation with the woman certain that if he did the next people to arrive at his home would be some men in white jackets. Perhaps it had just been a dream, a hallucination he thought, nothing more than that, that seemed so real that upon coming completely awake had it prompted him to call the police.

He sat down on the bed. Oh well he decided to just once more lay back down and continue his nap. But just in case he went and fetched his brother’s handgun from its container on the top shelf of the closet and for assurance put it under his pillow.
After a bit of thought now he stood up and made his way to the window that looked out on the yard. He bent two of the venetian blinds and looked out toward the walkway. He didn’t see the old lady. He thought of the cat now.
He henceforth went to the front door. He opened it and made his way into the yard. The cat wasn’t there. He breathed a sigh of relief now almost completely convinced he’d dreamed the whole scenario. But just to be sure he made his way up the walkway to the sidewalk.
He looked down the street where he’d seen the woman disappear. Momentarily he quickly turned and looked behind him as if she might mysteriously appear there again. He saw no one but Fred Winston who lived a half block down from his home turning into his driveway. He shrugged, was he getting senile? He supposed it was a possibility, but if he was this was the first incident of it he could remember ever happening to him.
He sometimes forgot stuff, but not to the point of it being any real problem, little errands and other little nonsensical things, nothing disastrous most assuredly. So at last he thought he was making a mountain out of a mole hill. He made his way inside locking the glass screen door behind him blocking entry to the main door even to someone who had the key to it. That seemed to be the most propitious thing to do at the moment. He didn’t consider his grandsons might would soon return to his home. He returned to his bed and after perhaps fifteen minutes was once again comfortably slumbering.

While he was dreaming he thought of cats he thought of specter cats not mere felines but symbolic of something more profound, portents of things to come. The impression of the hung cat monstrous against the wall of the debris of the burnt residence much larger than life pointing the finger of guilt against the narrator who would later in the Poe tale wall up the next cat with the corpse of his murdered wife. A cat who would betray him to the authorities. He thought of witches toiling away at their cauldron stirring potions into the brew conjuring up spirits.
The temperature was dropping it being the fall of the year. A chill came up prompting him even in the grasp of REM sleep to seek the comfort of the blanket. He saw the full moon and ominous dark clouds sometimes obscuring that moon. He saw and heard the fluttering of bats’ wings awing upon the night.
He heard something, there was some noise nearby. He sat up startled by it. The room was dark. The whole house was drenched in darkness. He piqued his ears. It was coming from the kitchen. Faint laughter and whispering voices. He withdrew the gun from under the pillow. The intruders were coming in through the window that was just over the kitchen sink. He heard the soft rattle of dishware no doubt in a nearby holder. Someone shushed another, more repressed laughter.
He slipped from beneath the warm cover on the bed and tiptoed to the door. He eased it open and listened with the precision his six decade old plus ears allowed. He heard drunken laughter and more shushing one of another. He didn’t want to confront them in the dark considering how his night vision had diminished quite a lot as he grew older. He was reluctant to drive at night and especially if it was raining the glare of the light reflecting in the accumulated puddles of considerable concern for him.
So he returned to his bed and once more slipped beneath the covers determined to get the drop on two people he was certain were drunken burglars. Who else could it be?
He closed his eyes, squinting them in fact and if one could have seen him better they could tell he was not asleep at all certain no one tightly squints their eyes while sleeping. His back was turned to the door. He’d get the drop on them. He had the gun under him. His back was to the door but he was in a sense partially on his stomach. The gun was in the grip of his right hand. There was more whispering and subdued snickering. Once more the sound of shushing. Hands began shaking him gripping his shoulder. “TRICK OR TREAT OLD MAN–TRICK OR TREAT!!” the voices came obviously disguised. And now one of them tossed the huge black cat on him.

He whirled up slapping the cat aside his finger on the trigger of the gun. And as he did this the split second before the gun began spitting lead the blinding flash it in the dark just as the lights came on. He killed them both in a split second the one closet to him, the one who had put his hands on him and he was certain determined to assault him tumbling mere feet backward from him the other a foot or so behind him near the wall. For a split second he wondered what his wife’s reaction would be once she found out the gun his dead brother had left to his care had saved his life from two murderous intruders. And it seems she would have a lot to say to him.

Charlie stood in the light of the living room a somber look on his face. Detective Frazier eyeing the candy dish nodded at him. “You mind sir?” he asked with a subtle smile on his face nodding toward the candy dish. Charlie his eyes down looked up momentarily the very essence of a defeated man and mumbled. “Help yourself Detective Frazier.”
The cop ripped open a Milky Way just as he had and ravenously had at it. When done he licked his fingers and removed a spiral notebook from his coat breast pocket.
Clicking the button of his ballpoint pen he now eyed Charlie suspiciously. “You say the victims are your grandsons Mr. Crenshaw?” he asked.
Charlie looked up and his sad eyes were full of tears, snot was easing from his nose. He was in obvious torment for what had happened. “Yes Bryan and Nathan–they were off somewhere and couldn’t get in...the screen door, the glass door–I locked it because of some crazy lady who had come by earlier talking gibberish nonsensical gibberish. The boys don’t have a key to the back door so they crawled in through the window above the sink. They were wearing those bloody masks. Why the hell they would be doing that I can’t understand. And they threw that wretched cat on me–that awful black cat.” Charlie said now rubbing his head his face taking on that of one whose mind was rapidly eroding with the trauma of his experience.
His face seemed to suddenly wrinkle as if a whole decade had passed in mere minutes. His eyes suddenly had great bags beneath them his lids heavy with the burden of the tragedy.
The cop looked at the candy dish once more, a large candy dish it was there on the coffee table and realized instantly what it was there for. He looked at the date tab on his wrist watch. It was the thirty first of October. It was Halloween, which explained the masks the teens had on and it was obvious they were simply pranking there grandfather who heard them as they slipped in through the kitchen window and mistook them as burglars.
The boys reeked of alcohol so it seemed apparent they were at some teenage party where alcohol was served. They should have knocked on the door rather than coming into the home in such a manner. He insisted to Mr. Crenshaw the deaths would likely be ruled accidental homicides, an unfortunate event but not a criminal act. “They shouldn’t have tossed the cat on you. I’m a dog man myself.” Frazier said then seemingly unaware of the insensitivity of the remark. “Its not our cat–it’s a stray that was on the roof which must have come down the chimney. That’s what the crazy woman was warning me about. The cat she said the cat was bad luck.” he told the detective the revelation of it hitting him. I’d say that it was the detective thought to himself. After a moment however he nervously fidgeted with his tie. Clearing his throat he said. “Well you have my sincere sympathy sir–its just a really horrible accident.” he said folding his notepad.
This was little comfort to Crenshaw the knowledge of what he had done with a gun his wife had kept insisting he get rid of and now he had killed their beloved grandsons with because he had forgotten it was Halloween and the reason the candy was on the coffee table.
He began to swoon and Detective Frazier had to grab him before he hit the floor. He took him by the shoulder to steady him. And now looking toward the fireplace the cop could see the black cat standing there watching him as he comforted poor Crenshaw. Looking at one of the crime scene technicians he motioned for him to open the door. The young man in white overalls rushed over and opened the door. Looking at the cat now he motioned for it to leave certain at the moment the creature could understand him. And it did as he wanted went to the door and raced outside.
And so once more he drew his attention to the unfortunate Mr. Crenshaw. “Easy sir...I know its something hard to comprehend, but you mustn’t torture yourself. Here–here lets get you some fresh air?” the detective insisted now. And so he led him to the front door and out through the glass screen door which he had stupidly locked preventing the two near intoxicated teenagers from access to the front door and unable to use their keys.
They seldom ever came through the back door and so they had no key for that door whose screen door was locked as well. And so instead of knocking on the door to arouse their grandfather they foolishly made the drunkard’s decision to sneak in through a window they knew to be unlocked.
Mr. Crenshaw heard them enter and thinking them burglars and fearful to confront them in the dark due to his age went back to bed hoping to get the drop on them should they attempt to harm him. The teens obviously as a Halloween prank attempted to awaken their grandfather in disguise and in so doing tossed the cat on his prostrate body giving him a terrible scare. This was a mistake for the grandfather startled by their masks as he awoke mortally wounded both teenagers. That would be how Detective Frazier’s report would read. It would be up to the DA to call for a grand jury if he felt there was any need to indict him.
The yard and the street was full of people, emergency responders, even a local tv news van and a cameramen, as well as all the gawking neighbors. The lights swirled the noise was growing ever louder. “Take a deep breath sir–I can only imagine the mental anguish this is going to cause you. It’s the worse kind of bad luck I can imagine. You having that gun and those boys having stupidly drank to much and then tossing the cat on you. That’s the consequence of having a gun in the home sometimes, these tragic domestic homicides.” the detective continued.
Just then Charlie looked to the growing crowd on the street standing there watching him and the gathered cadre of first responders. And there she was that old woman with a sinister smile on her face and holding the cat who was curled up in the arc of her right elbow and purring with obvious contentment.

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