The Tell-Tail Heart: A Cat Cozy (Cattarina Mysteries) (13 page)

Thud, clack, thud, clack.
The
villain stood in silhouette at the top of the stairs. A match strike. The hiss
and crackle of a candlewick. I narrowed my eyes to protect them from the light.

"Hello, kitty cat. What'cha doing here?"

Mr. Limp. What was he doing here?

"I see you found Mr. Ferris. We've been
keeping peculiar company since last night, me and him." He sat on the top
step and took a flask from his pocket. "He talked like a book, that one,
always calling me a border ruffian. Wobbled his chin about President Tyler and
the guv'ment so much, a body couldn't think. So I heshed him up. But he
still
makes noise." He swallowed, sliding his Adam's apple along his throat. "You
know what I'm talking about, don't you? I can see it on your face. You heard
it, too."  When he unscrewed the lid and took a drink, I sneezed and
dropped the eye. I recognized the smell at once from Shakey House and the
plateau of Fairmount Water Works. Eddie sampled the occasional dram of hard alcohol,
but none carried this strength.

"I see corn liquor's not to your satisfaction."
He grinned. "That Abbott fella didn't like it either, 'specially when I spilt
it on him in the tavern. Damn fool had it coming, though. Made me drop the old
bat's eye afore I could give it to Mr. Ferris. I looked under the bar for the
damned thing, but never found it. What else could I do? I had to steal another."
He took a sip and grimaced. "Hoo! Mother's milk to a miner, ain't it? Also
comes in handy for washing blood off knives and hands…and such." He
laughed louder and longer to himself than he should have.

Mr. Limp had changed since rescuing me in the
park. And it wasn't the alcohol. Madness had overtaken him, dimming his eyes, turning
them dark. "I declare. This new leg a mine's giving me terrible blisters."
He tucked the flask away and pushed up his pant leg to reveal a shiny metal prosthetic
with springs at the knee. This had caused the change in his cadence, different from
the night we'd met. "Like it? The invalid who owned it afore just laid in
bed all day." He let the hem drop, covering the limb again. "What
call did he have to use it? None, I tell you. None."

I slunk across the plaster mound and picked up
the eye again. Light from the candle shone down upon his jacket collar,
illuminating the red stain I'd seen that night at the park. I'd initially
thought it my own blood. But now I realized it had come from the poor woman he'd
killed earlier that day. I'd found my murderer, or rather, he'd found me.

"What'cha got there, kitty cat?"

I took the bottom steps, thinking to dash past
him when I reached the top.

"If that's what I think it is, I can't let
you leave." He stood and held out his arms to grab me.

We stared at one another.

Then I ran.

I darted between his legs and into the kitchen
with the precious evidence still in my mouth. He rattled and squeaked behind me
on that metal contraption, gaining momentum in the hallway. By the time I
reached the parlor, only a few paces separated us. Freedom, however, was mine. I
leapt for the window, hit the glass, and fell back to the ground.

"Closed it when I got home," he said
with a wink.

Still clutching my proof, I flew past him and up
the stairs, thinking the climb would slow him down. And it did, just long
enough for me to secure the last bedchamber on the hall. Even more barren than
the first floor, the second held no furnishings in which I could hide. What's
more, I'd begun to salivate, making the eye that much harder to hold. Rounder and
fuller than its glass counterpart, it occupied my mouth to the roof.

Thud, clack, thud, clack.
"Here,
kitty, kitty," Mr. Limp said. He laughed again—a maniac's laugh—as
he strode hallway.

Frantic, I scaled the drapes, cleared the
curtain rod, and dove—physics be damned—onto the candelabra that
hung from the ceiling. I wobbled and kicked with my back legs, depositing my
bottom in the shallow brass bowl that formed the fixture's base. My luck,
however, did not hold. A single taper fell to the ground with a clatter.

Mr. Limp entered and spied the candle at once. He
lifted his gaze. I swung several lengths above his head on a most precarious
perch. Mr. Uppity's ceilings were higher than those in the Poe house, and they provided
my salvation. He jumped, missing by a comfortable margin. "We're gonna
dance now, you and me." He jumped again. His fingertips grazed the lower
arm of the fixture and swung it round, making me queasy. But I held fast, each
claw grasping as it never had before.

"Think you can outsmart me?" He
grinned, flashing pointed canines. "Mr. Ferris thought he could outsmart
me, too. Just 'cause I'm a poor coal buster from the Allegheny don't mean I can't
think for myself. Don't mean I can't fall in love with the young lady of my
choosing."

How I longed to understand Mr. Limp's arguments,
the last to grace my ears for eternity. For despite my peril, I wanted to know
why
he'd killed those women. I trilled, prompting him to speak again.

 "Hesh up, now. I wasn't born a murderer."
He rubbed his face, thick with blond stubble. "The whole thing was Mr.
Ferris's idea. Paid me to cut those women and take their eyes. 'Look for the petite
ones,' he said. 'Look for the ones with the smallest sockets.' I didn't want to
at first, but after I met his niece…" His gaze drifted to the floor. "I
couldn't refuse an angel like that. No man could." After a moment's
reflection, he sat down and began unstrapping the artificial leg from his
misshapen thigh. "I tell you, once a body starts killin' it's hard to stop.
Mr. Ferris shore found
that
out."

Mr. Limp pushed himself to standing using the
prosthesis as a crutch. Slowly and carefully, so as to maintain his balance, he
lifted the metal limb and stood below me on his one good leg. He had more
control of his muscles than I'd thought possible and didn't sway, as one would
expect. "The old man had no call to stop our courtin'. No call! 'Owen,' he
said, 'leave Caroline alone. She's a Ferris, and she's not for you.' And now he's
mocking me from the Great Beyond." He rubbed the blisters on his stump and
grimaced. "I
know
you heard it. Bump-bump, bump-bump. That's his
heart beatin' beneath the floorboards. Don't know how, after I cut him up, but
it keeps a goin'."

I cocked my head. He must have heard the rats,
too.

"Bump-bump, bump-bump. That's why you can't
leave with even
one piece
of that man before I can send him to hell. If
you do, he'll haunt me till I'm old and gray."

I should've waited for Midnight. I should've
waited for Eddie. I should've done a great many things that were no longer
possible, now that I dangled from a brass lamp.

"Don't you see? To stop that infernal sound,
I have to burn the house down. With or without you in it, kitty cat." He
shouldered the metal prosthesis. His intentions couldn't have been clearer. "Now
give me that eye!" he growled.

That
I understood. I would've given
it to him, too, if I thought he'd let me leave without harm. But he'd sunk too
far into his mania. I held my breath and waited for the shattering swing of the
leg. And it would have come, had it not been for the front bell.

Tail's End

I
dropped the eye into the lamp
base and yowled for Eddie with all my being, hoping to breach the windowpane. He
must have noticed me missing after his return from Shakey House and left straightaway
to find me. The fact that I'd gone to Mr. Uppity's home must have been an easy one
to deduce for a man of his intellect. I screeched again for good measure.

Mr. Limp strapped on his leg and paced the
bedchamber floor, slapping the side of his head at each turn. "What do I
do? If it's the constable, I should escape. Sprout little bird wings and fly
away. Ha, ha! But how? And what if it's nice Mrs. Bellinger from next door? Do
I ask her in? Do I kill her? Do I serve her for supper? Ha, ha! The three
little pigs will be next. I'll huff, and I'll puff…" His speech devolved
into a stream of gibberish that sounded less human the more I listened.

Another knock, this one insistent.

Mr. Limp gave me a warning look before
disappearing down the stairs. "Don't get riled!" he shouted to the
visitor. "I'm coming!"

My elation subsided when I pictured Mr. Limp,
half out of his wits, bashing Eddie over the head with the silver leg. Thinking
to warn my friend, I retrieved the evidence, hopped to the ground, and padded
downstairs as the door opened. The caller in the bonnet could not have shocked
me more.

"Hello, I'm looking for a Mr. Gideon
Ferris. I've come about his niece."

Mr. Limp gasped and took the woman by the hand. "Caroline?
Is that you?"

"No. You have me confused with someone
else. My name is Virginia. Mrs. Virginia Poe."

He pulled her into the entryway and fell to his
knees. "Don't deny it's you, Caroline! It's you!" He hugged the bell
of her skirt and began to weep. "I knew you'd leave the hospital when you
found the strength. Now we can be together. Forever."

Besotted and more than a little confused, Mr.
Limp didn't see me enter the foyer behind him. He'd evidently noticed the
similarities between Sissy and Caroline and had mistaken one for the other. In
the midst of his bewilderment, I ran to Sissy and dropped the eye at her feet.

Her face tightened at my offering. But she did
not scream. "Y-yes," she said to Mr. Limp. "I have returned to
you…my love." She tried to loosen his arms, but he held her fast.

"Oh, Caroline! It's over! I never wanted to
kill those women, but your uncle made me. Said he couldn't afford glass eyes,
so we had to get 'em other ways." Mr. Limp dried his tears with her skirt.
"You understand, don't you? We did it for you.
I
did it for you."

Sissy laid her palm on the man's head, her
fingers trembling. "I understand."

I stared at her. Did she not realize our
situation? This was no time for sentiment. I nudged the eye closer with my
nose.

"And the fella in the hospital…
that
was on me. Guess I wanted to be whole, too." He lifted his gaze, his eyes
glittering with tears. "Killin' does things to a man. Frightful things. I'm
not the Owen you fell in love with." He tapped his head. "Once that worm
finds a way in, it turns and turns…"

"I understand," Sissy repeated, her
voice brittle. He let out a high-pitched laugh, a most inappropriate response,
and she flinched at the sound. Given her frail constitution, I feared for the
girl.

"Caroline, dear Caroline, I beg your forgiveness.
I had to tuck your dear Uncle away," he said, "just for a spell. But
don't be afeared. His heart still beats. Can you hear it? Bump-bump, bump-bump."

Sissy addressed him sternly. "Let me go now!
I insist!"

"Hold on," he said. "You're not
thinking straight." He eased back and lifted up his pants leg, keeping one
hand on her skirt.

"I most certainly am," she said. "I'll
have no more of this. Take your hands off of me this instant or I shall scream!"

"Can't do that." He began to unlatch
the dreaded prosthesis.

Curse him; I would not suffer that threat again.
I arched my back and hissed, flattening my ears and bushing my tail in a
frightful and fearsome display.

Sissy glanced at me beneath the hood of her
bonnet, then addressed him with a voice as soft as a kitten's belly. She'd
clearly heeded my warning. "No, my love,
you
are not thinking
straight. I need to pack my belongings at the hospital before I can return here.
If you don't let me go, I can never be yours."

He offered a tender gaze before releasing her. "Hurry
back."

She snapped her fingers to call me along, and we
left, each having saved the other's life. I thought it wise to leave the
eyeball. When we returned a short while later with the constable and a posse of
watchmen, Mr. Limp locked himself in the house and begged for "one last
glimpse of Caroline" before they hauled him away. Another member of our
hunting party, Detective Custer, protested. By the by, he and Constable
Harkness argued most of the way over in the carriage, flinging phrases like "city
jurisdiction" and "district lines" and "not my damn fault."

Sissy, compassionate to the end, spoke with Mr.
Limp through the front window under Constable Harkness's watch. I hopped on the
windowsill to oversee the conversation as well. "You must go away,"
she told Mr. Limp. "But I will think of you often, and you of me. And we
will be together here—" She touched her heart. "Forever."

"I can't leave you," Mr. Limp said. He
took her hand, prompting Constable Harkness to step closer. "Can't we visit
a little longer?"

"No, we can't," Sissy said. She tried
to pull away, but he squeezed her fingers, turning them whiter.

"Unhand her, sir," Constable Harkness
said. "Or I shall be forced to set the watchmen on you."

The three grew silent. I sensed the change in
energy.

I gave Mr. Limp a piteous look, baiting him. I
had no doubt Constable Harkness would dole out punishment on behalf of
Philadelphia. But frankly, Philadelphia hadn't been at the mercy of an
artificial leg all afternoon. And Sissy and I needed to go home. Mr. Limp
lifted his free hand to stroke me one last time, and when he did, I bit him to
the bone. Before he could loosen me, I latched onto his arm and dug in with my
back claws, kicking and scratching like a madcat. Auntie Sass would've been
proud.

Mr. Limp let go of Sissy. Oh, yes, he did.

Once they'd removed him from the premises, Sissy
and I waited in the parlor while the men searched the basement and tore up the
floorboards of the bedchamber, looking for the last of Mr. Uppity. I did not
envy their puzzle. Presently, the watchmen took over the heaviest, dirtiest
work, leaving the constable and the detective to our company. We met in the hallway,
just outside the kitchen: one bonnet, two black hats, one bare head with ears
that swooped to an elegant point. I loved my ears.

"Had it not been for you, Mrs. Poe, we
might never have caught the Glass Eye Killer," Constable Harkness said. "The
Spring Garden District thanks you for your assistance."

"As does the City of Philadelphia," Detective
Custer said. A clean-shaven man, his good looks had been spoiled by a
preponderance of white teeth, which he flashed at every opportunity. "When
we incorporate, these jurisdictional problems should go away. But until
then—"

"Until then, criminals are free to commit an
act one place, and run home to the other," Constable Harkness said. "Without
recrimination."

"I'm just glad he let me go." She
picked me up and hugged me. "Cattarina and I could've been in real
trouble."

"You
were
in real trouble," the
detective said. "But not to worry. Owen Barstow is now a guest of Eastern
State Penitentiary, at least until his trial." He stopped smiling for
once. "You never said, Mrs. Poe. How did you know to come here?"

"I think I may have the answer,"
Constable Harkness said. "You seemed keen on the affair this morning. Did
you get the information from your husband?"

Sissy blushed. "He spoke of the address and
well…I could not resist. However, it was what
you
said, Constable, that
prompted my visit." He lifted his bushy grey eyebrows in surprise, a
gesture that made Sissy smile. "Yes, you said that Gideon Ferris left for
Virginia without saying goodbye to his niece. After all the trouble he went
through procuring her eyes, I could hardly believe such a thing. I thought I
would find him cowering here, in his home, and flush him out with a ruse about
his niece's health. I was set to pose as a nurse from Wills."

"Terribly clever, Mrs. Poe," Detective
Custer said. He patted the top of my head. For Sissy's sake, I let him—but
just the once. He would see
my
teeth if he tried it again.

"I'm more clever than my husband and mother
will appreciate, I'm afraid."

"Can I give you a ride home?"
Constable Harkness asked.

"Yes, but before we go, I'll request you
keep my name out of the papers and away from Mr. Poe. He fears for my health,
and my outing today would upset him, to say the least."

The constable patted her shoulder. "Our
secret, madam."

We arrived home in time for tea, and I'm not
sure who was happier: my stomach or me. With all the weight I'd lost, I felt
practically malnourished. Sissy entered the kitchen and kissed Muddy on the
cheek without any mention of the constable or our harrowing escapade. The old
woman yawned, causing me to do the same. I opened my jaws wide and curled my
tongue in a fantastic yawn.

"How was your nap, Mother?"

"Fine, fine. And yours?"

"Splendid."

Sissy winked at me. I winked back.

The woodstove burned too hot for me today, so I
hopped into my friend's chair instead. The women set about their preparations,
making tea sandwiches from the breakfast ham and biscuits. When they finished, Sissy
requested they make "strong coffee, the strongest possible." Muddy
set a kettle on to boil. Not long after, Eddie entered, his cape half flung
round his shoulders, his hat misplaced.

"What glorious weather!" he said. "Abbot
says it's going to change next week. He's got a sore toe that tells him these
things." He produced a bag of licorice cats and handed them to Sissy. She
curtsied. "I asked if his toe knew whether the Whig party would win in '44,
and he kicked me. Kicked me! Can you believe it?" He twirled Sissy around
the room, humming one of the songs she liked to play on the piano.

Muddy ignored them and sat down, helping herself
to a sandwich. "Tea's on."

Eddie set me on the floor, thanked me for
warming his chair, and joined the women at the table. He frowned at the coffee
pot. "If it's tea, then where is our tea?"

Sissy poured him a cup. "We're out,
remember?"

"Yes, I had forgotten. The neighborhood
quilting bee." He stole a piece of ham from the serving plate and handed
it to me. The world was right again. "How was your rest, Sissy? Do anything
of note while I was away?"

"Oh, nothing to bother you with,"
Sissy said.  "Listen, Eddie, about your story…" She put a
sandwich on his plate and took one for herself.

"The Tell-Tale Eye?" He took a sip
from his cup.

"Well, I—" She giggled. "You'll
think me childish and more than a bit nosy."

"Never." I rubbed against his leg,
angling for another piece of meat. He obliged.

"I think I have a better title." She clasped
her hands and put them in her lap. "And even a few ideas about the plot."

"You?" Muddy asked. Her mouth was full
of biscuit. "That was quite a nap you took."

Eddie ignored the old woman. "Do tell, dear
wife. I await your every suggestion."

She topped off his coffee and smiled. "I
have much to tell, my husband. Join me in your office?"

"I shall be delighted."

Some days later, Eddie sat on the stoop outside
our house, chatting with Mr. Coffin. The season had begun to turn, and
November
graced everyone's lips. I lay in the dry grass near them, along with Snow. We
soaked up heat from the earth.