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Authors: Marian Babson

The Cat Who Wasn't a Dog (19 page)

BOOK: The Cat Who Wasn't a Dog
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‘Of course she'll go on tonight,' Evangeline reassured Dame Cecile. ‘Best thing for her. Keep to the routine, keep her mind off … things.'
‘But you'll come along?' Dame Cecile had a death grip on Evangeline's arm. ‘You know the part – at least, you can fake it.'
‘Faking won't be necessary,' Evangeline said coldly, while I contemplated the understudy's probable reaction to that turn of events. She wouldn't like it. A complaint to Equity might even ensue.
‘Evangeline,' I said cautiously, ‘I'm not sure – '
‘Both of you!' Now I found my own arm caught in that iron grip. ‘She's stunned, horrified, in a state of shock. Anything could happen.'
‘We'll be there,' Evangeline promised. ‘But not because we're worried about Matilda. You got Teddy up to the mark for the opening. I'm concerned to see that he stays there.'
 
First night nerves over and success assured, the cast were clearly enjoying themselves almost as much as the audience. Teddy seemed to have learned his lesson, delivering his lines robustly, although with an occasional nervous sidelong glance at Cecile. Matilda worked smoothly, giving no hint of her private troubles.
Even better, Frella didn't hate me any more. She smiled
pleasantly when introduced and gave no sign of ever having seen me before – offstage, that is.
If I hadn't been so shaken by her earlier hostility, I might have convinced myself I had imagined it. Especially when she included me in the invitation to return home with her and the others for an after-the-show supper.
She and Teddy had rented a pleasant, nondescriptly furnished flat within walking distance of the theatre. I looked around it with more than passing interest. The decor didn't bother me, I was looking for Cho-Cho.
‘Nothing elaborate, I'm afraid,' Frella said briskly – and how right she was. She decanted a couple of cartons of the kind of commercial soup that claims it's home-made into a large saucepan and, opening the fridge, pulled out two containers of store-bought sandwiches packaged in rows of neat triangles.
‘Not much time for domesticity lately.' Teddy herded us into the living room before we could discover any more culinary short cuts and began opening the wine.
At the sound of his voice, a small head poked around the corner and surveyed the room cautiously. Unusually, she hadn't rushed into the kitchen immediately upon hearing the snick of the fridge door opening and closing. Perhaps she had been asleep
‘There's my little darling!' Teddy boomed, catching sight of her.
Now she advanced into the room with increasing boldness, sure of her welcome. I snapped my fingers at her and cooed but, for some reason, she chose to go over to Cecile, who hadn't even noticed her.
‘Won't be long …' Frella called from the kitchen over the rattle of crockery.
‘No hurry,' Teddy called back. ‘We're quite comfortable. I'll bring you your drink.' He poured ours and carried Frella's into the kitchen.
‘Oh!' Dame Cecile gave a muffled exclamation. Cho-Cho had suddenly crouched and leaped into her lap. She started to push her away but, as her fingers touched the
soft fur, the push turned into a tentative stroke, then another. Cecile was missing Fleur so much that any fur was comforting. Cho-Cho settled down in her lap and I tried to control a certain amount of jealousy. Why hadn't Cho-Cho come to me?
‘Soup's on its way.' Teddy carried in a large chipped-edge platter on to which the sandwich triangles had been transferred and garnished with tiny gherkins, cherry tomatoes and some indefinable greenish bits which might have been mustard cress, parsley, or possibly beansprouts. I did not intend to find out.
Matilda had gone very quiet; the adrenalin rush which had carried her through the performance had dissipated and sent her into a low. I wondered if she had realized yet that she was going to have to talk to the police in the morning and tell them what we had discovered. Even though it might start Superintendent Thursby wondering if they ought to look more closely into the housekeeper's death, now that her identity made her someone Matilda might have a motive for disposing of. Thursby was uncomfortably eager to suspect everyone – hitherto Matilda had been the only one he hadn't considered.
For a moment, I allowed myself to explore the possibility. If the housekeeper had moved in and couldn't wait to reveal herself to Matilda, might Matilda have reacted murderously? Already beset by a stepmother she couldn't stand and now faced with an unexpected half-sibling – another unwanted legacy from her problem parent, another millstone around her neck – it would not be completely surprising if something had snapped.
Matilda looked over at me and smiled wanly just then and I felt as guilty as though she could read my mind. But no – the trap had already been set and waiting. Perhaps for Matilda herself? No, I exonerated her to my own satisfaction. Besides, if she were going to start killing her encumbrances, she would have finished off Soroya years ago. But I was afraid Superintendent Thursby wouldn't be so easily convinced.
‘Teddy, could you please – ?' Frella appeared in the doorway and abruptly froze. An almost palpable wave of hatred emanated from her and swept across the room. I was stunned.
This time, she hated Cecile. Was the woman some kind of schizoid?
‘The soup is ready.' Frella lowered her eyelids and turned away, but the shock wave still reverberated through the room.
‘Right.' Teddy hadn't noticed, neither had anyone else. He followed her into the kitchen and returned carrying a heavy tray of mugs which he dealt out to us.
Cho-Cho lifted her head to sniff as Dame Cecile took her mug of soup from the tray, but immediately lost interest. Carrot and coriander didn't do anything for her.
I wasn't sure it did much for me, but I smiled at Teddy as I accepted my own mug.
Evangeline shifted uneasily and looked around the room; the vibes were reaching her, but she couldn't determine their source. She looked at me and raised an inquiring eyebrow. I nodded confirmation, but was not in a position to explain.
Having distributed all the mugs, Teddy now began passing the platter of sandwiches. Cho-Cho abruptly deserted Dame Cecile and went to the man with the food, twining around his ankles.
‘No, no, dear heart, you'll trip me,' Teddy said fondly, managing to scratch her under the chin with the toe of his shoe without quite overbalancing. It was close, though, the sandwiches nearly landed in Matilda's lap and a cherry tomato rolled off on to the carpet.
‘I'll take that!' The blast of hatred detonated again – this time, Teddy was the target. ‘Before you drop it!' Frella snatched the platter from Teddy's unresisting hands which, happily freed, stretched down to pick up Cho-Cho. She snuggled into his arms, accepting his caresses, although I noticed she kept one eye on the sandwiches.
‘Pay no attention to Teddy.' Frella offered Dame Cecile
the sandwiches with a practised smile and no sign of hostility. She hated Teddy now. ‘He thinks more of that cat than he does of me.'
Hardly surprising, the cat had a much nicer personality. It couldn't be easy to be married to a woman whose emotions were about as stable as an erupting volcano. Now she hates you, now she doesn't – and you can never be sure when. How had she ever managed to direct a hit play? The woman wasn't rational.
‘Than any of us,' Frella amended smoothly, as Evangeline selected a couple of triangles.
‘Trixie?' I was aware of little eyes watching as I made my selection. I took the prawn mayonnaise – and that settled it. Cho-Cho twisted from Teddy's arms, leaped to the floor and trotted over to me.
Teddy beamed forgivingly as he saw me slide a fat juicy prawn out of the sandwich to welcome her.
Not so Frella. She drew in her breath with a hiss and I felt the full torrent of her hatred wash over me. Startled, I looked up at her. That Jekyll-and-Hyde transformation had happened again. She was back to hating me.
How could Teddy live with it day after day? And yet, Soroya had been his initial choice – he sure could pick them. Or had they picked him? Perhaps only a doormat type like Teddy could survive in symbiosis with such overpowering personalities.
Cho-Cho felt it, too. She gave Frella a wide berth as she skirted around her legs to reach me. Frella's face was a cold mask, but she could not hide the expression in her eyes as she looked at Cho-Cho. She was jealous as a cat – of a cat. She would willingly – happily – do it harm. Teddy had better not turn his back or Cho-Cho would be in danger.
But he had turned his back once before. And Cho-Cho had barely escaped a hideous fate. If we hadn't come along –
‘
You
did it!' I gasped, rising to my feet to confront Frella. ‘It was
you!
'
‘I believe you're right,' Evangeline said, glaring at Frella.
‘Did what?' Teddy stared at us, blinking, unsure of what had happened to turn a polite and friendly gathering into an armed camp.
‘Don't tell him!' Frella rasped. It was half-plea, half-command. But, unlike some, I wasn't hers to command.
‘What on earth …?' Matilda was as nonplussed as Teddy. Cecile watched quietly, nodding understanding.
‘Tell me what?' Teddy was coming to grips with the situation. He looked at Frella suspiciously. ‘What don't you want me to know?'
‘Nothing!' Frella would not meet his eyes.
Her prawn finished and recognizing that nothing else was likely to be immediately forthcoming, Cho-Cho strolled back to Teddy and nudged his ankle. Automatically, he stooped to pick her up.
‘You and that damned cat!' Frella exploded.
‘I thought you liked her.' Even Teddy couldn't miss the animosity. It bewildered him.
‘Think again!' Evangeline was right there with me. ‘She tried to kill her.'
Frella made a choking sound.
‘What?' Teddy clutched Cho-Cho to him protectively. ‘What are you saying?'
‘She took that cat to Stuff Yours! It was going to be returned to you stuffed and mounted.' Evangeline paused and, for good measure, added, ‘And for some reason, she then murdered Mr Stuff Yours.'
‘I didn't!' Frella cried. ‘I never touched him. He was all right when I left him!'
Evangeline and I exchanged glances. How often had one or the other of us found that line in our scripts? At her hammiest, Evangeline had delivered it with more conviction than Frella.
‘Left him? Then you
were
there …' Teddy was slow, but he was putting two and two together. ‘You admit it! You
were going to – ' He clutched Cho-Cho so tightly she emitted a protesting squeak.
‘And then she set the place on fire!' Dame Cecile supplied.
‘I did not!' Frella's voice rose. She took a tentative step towards Teddy. ‘Teddy, I swear – '
Teddy backed away. Cho-Cho flattened her ears and spat at Frella. I don't know where an innocent young cat learned language like that.
‘You – ' Teddy took another step backwards. ‘You tried to kill Cho-Cho-San!'
‘You care more for that cat than you do for me!' The bitter accusation was hurled at him with force and venom – just before Frella burst into tears.
‘Frella, don't – ' He broke off, visibly trying to harden his heart.
‘Why not? What do you care? You've got your damned cat!'
‘I thought you liked Cho-Cho. You never said anything – '
‘I kept hoping Soroya would get her and take her out of the country and keep her out!'
‘But she never did. And so you took my little Cho-Cho to a – ' Horror filled his voice, his eyes. ‘To a taxidermist!'
‘That's right! Without her, I had a chance of getting some of your attention! But I didn't kill anyone – I swear to you, Teddy. And I didn't set any fires either!'
This time her declaration rang true. She might be a monster, sick with jealousy to the point of destroying an innocent cat, but she drew the line at killing a human being. And she hadn't committed arson, either.
‘So what are you going to do about it?' Frella faced Teddy defiantly.
‘I … I don't know. I can never trust you again.'
‘Not with that cat, no. It's crunch time, Teddy. You have to choose between us. Which is it going to be? Her? Or me?'
Cho-Cho mewled plaintively as his arms tightened. He look down at her, then looked at Frella. More expression than he had ever used on stage flickered across his face. He loved that cat dearly but, sweet and willing though Cho-Cho might be, she couldn't support him financially in his declining years – which were fast approaching – while Frella was firmly on track for growing success in the theatre and lots of lucrative jobs.
BOOK: The Cat Who Wasn't a Dog
12.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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