Chapter 8
Lamplighters were out doing their nightly work when the septet emerged into the misty evening air of Low Street.
The chill breeze carried scents of kitchen fires and blended spices, suggesting the hour was turning toward dinnertime.
Mrs. Chrysler looked around them to get her bearings, while Ruben struck the cobbles angrily with his cane, his eyes shining and his cheeks flushed.
“What a selfish, self-righteous, son of a… barracuda,” he said, catching Katherine’s eye. “You sure showed him, Caterina. And Mrs. C. too,” he went on hastily, as Mrs. Chrysler turned to face him. “Tuck’s deserved a telling off like that for a long time.”
Katherine snorted. “He’s a brute.” She reached down to gently stroke Mouser, who was still clinging to her scarf.
Despite Mrs. Chrysler’s insistence, it seemed she’d adopted another cat after all.
And she knew just the box at home she’d tuck a cozy blanket into for him when they got back, to help him convalesce.
“Although…” Ruben quickly deflated and dragged himself onto a nearby bench, sitting saggily down. “So much for coming clean,” he muttered, “and having the proof of what happened. I just can’t believe he burned everything.”
“‘Paperwork is sacred in Pim,’” Mrs. Chrysler scoffed reproachfully. “Our hometown might not be perfect, Katty, but at least we don’t have this nonsense.”
“Agreed, Imogene.”
Ruben sighed, and with a flick of his nearly naked tail, Mouser disengaged himself from Katherine’s attentions and ambled over to him, climbing unsteadily into the man’s lap and leaving chunks of brown fur on his white robe.
Katherine stood upright again, agape. The cat was choosing Ruben…
over her? The old man seemed completely unsurprised by the cat’s choice.
He offered his knuckles for a cheek rub, and Mouser actually began to purr.
Katherine couldn’t remember such a thing ever happening before.
The shock of it soon blended with a fascinated awe.
“Are you a cat person, Ruben?” she asked slowly.
The old man shrugged, obviously unaware of how important the question was to her. He continued to stew on his bench.
“Now, now,” Mrs. Chrysler said kindly to Ruben, sitting down beside him, but giving the cat a suspect glance, “we knew this might happen, right?” He grimaced, then nodded sadly.
“There, there.” Mrs. Chrysler looked to Katherine for some support, but Katherine was in no mood to comfort anyone, except perhaps Mouser.
She tore her gaze away from the cat curled happily on Ruben’s lap and bundled the new map away in her bag. “If only it could have been that easy,” she said. “The so-called ‘pack-rat nephew’ evidently has some scruples about what he packs away.”
“Well, he was a pack rat,” Mrs. Chrysler said, “like Ruben said. At least where family heirlooms were concerned.” She gave Katherine a wink as Ruben watched her, nonplussed.
“Ah, yes.” Katherine drew the object she’d pilfered from her pocket, weighed it in her hand a moment, then proffered it for her companions to examine in the lamplight. “Be careful. You could knock someone out with this.”
“My stamp!” Ruben gasped, reaching for the shiny polished wood and turning it over in his hands. It began to glow at his touch. “However did you get that?”
Katherine, unbelieving, turned to Mrs. Chrysler, who was actually laughing. “You really should pay attention to body language when people talk, Ruben,” Katherine said. “That’s good advice for anyone, but especially a thief.”
“Now, now, Katty,” Mrs. Chrysler said, wiping away a tear. “You stole that stamp from young Mr. Hoode in brilliant fashion. No need to make Ruben feel bad about missing it.”
Ruben looked up at Katherine with admiration. “You lifted this? Just now? From Tuck’s house? Where was it?”
“On the mantelpiece,” Katherine said.
“The mantelpiece?”
“Never mind about that, Ruben,” Mrs. Chrysler interrupted. “Here, you’d better give that to me for safekeeping.” Brows knitted, Ruben surrendered the stamp, but not before giving it one more affectionate caress. The glowing stopped when it left his fingers.
“It’s nice to have that back,” he said as Mrs. Chrysler tucked it into her yarn bag.
“Yes, very nice,” Katherine said. “But we’re right back where we started, aren’t we? Four days, Sister Agatha said. Four days.”
“Including today,” Ruben said.
“Yes, including today. I certainly don’t want to let Sister Agatha down again. Do you want to go back to that convent empty-handed?”
Mrs. Chrysler shuddered. “No.”
Ruben shivered, and Mouser stopped purring.
Katherine paced a little next to the bench. “I’ve never been called a hag before,” she said, the sting to her vanity still fresh and throbbing.
“Tucker was way out of line on that one, Caterina—er, Katherine,” Ruben said. “You’re as lovely now as you’ve always been. He just has a way of… getting under people’s skin.”
Katherine warmed to the compliment but said nothing, and simply nodded vaguely.
“It’s getting late, Katty,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “Maybe we could plan our next move somewhere a bit more comfortable? I could do with a cup of tea.” She turned in her seat. “How ’bout you, Ruben?” The old man, who was helping Mouser clamber up onto his bony shoulders, nodded.
“It’s not late,” Katherine said. “It’s just dark.
That happens this time of year.” She continued to stump back and forth in front of them, Tilly keeping pace behind her.
Mr. Scruffles and Ember sat under the lamppost nearby, washing each other in the pool of yellow light.
“And darkness,” Katherine said to herself, “may be just what we want right now.” She stopped pacing, and Tilly, caught unawares, bumped into the back of her legs.
“Sorry, Tilly dear.” The purple tail bobbed around her ankles and wrapped itself around invisible paws as she took a seat next to her friends under the lamp.
“What are you on about, Katty?”
“It’s the only thing to do, far as I can see it,” Katherine said, louder now as she turned to the pair on the bench. “We should go back to Eagle Heights—”
“Oh no,” Ruben groaned.
“—and do some snooping around under cover of darkness.”
“I haven’t been out of there even a whole day yet. Isn’t there some other way we can—”
“You’ve got to follow our lead, Ruben,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “Redemption, remember?”
The old man nodded resignedly, eyes fixed on Katherine.
“But Katty,” Mrs. Chrysler added, “we snooped around there already.”
“The main building, yes. A bit. What about all those other buildings, the smaller ones?”
“Hmm. What are those buildings, Ruben?” Mrs. Chrysler turned to him, curiosity piqued. “Residences?”
“How should I know?” he answered.
“You lived there,” Katherine said.
“C’mon, Ruben,” said Mrs. Chrysler. “Sooner we get this sorted, the sooner Sister Agatha puts in a good word.” Once again, Katherine heard the echoes of mother-talk in her friend’s voice.
“I don’t know. Really, I don’t. There was a rumor that if you were lucky you could get a private apartment in one of those buildings, rather than a shared room in the main house.
But I never knew anyone that did. Apartments, storage sheds, whatever they were, those buildings didn’t affect my life at all. ”
“There were quite a few of them, as I recall from our short visit,” Katherine said thoughtfully. “And scattered about rather higgledy-piggledy. Not a neat little neighborhood as you might expect.”
“Probably because the ground’s so soft there,” Ruben said. “Restricts building, I’d imagine.”
“Well, I’d like to find out for myself,” said Katherine. “Now that our one lead for helping Sister Agatha has dried up, we’ve got to find another. And quickly. It’s dark. We can slip through the grounds unnoticed. I don’t want to hang about till tomorrow to try something else.”
“Right you are, Katty. It’s a good idea. I like it.”
“Must it be tonight?” Ruben said. “My feet do ache something awful.”
Katherine and Mrs. Chrysler exchanged glances.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ruben,” Katherine said slowly, “but we really don’t have time to wait around, and I don’t think we should leave you here on your own.”
“What she means to say,” Mrs. Chrysler said quickly, “is that we may need you. You may know more than you think.” She grimaced meaningfully at Katherine behind Ruben’s back.
“There is another problem, besides my feet,” the old man said.
“What’s that?”
“Won’t I rather… stick out, in the dark?”
Katherine regarded the white robe Sister Agatha had given him. It was a glistening beacon compared to her and Imogene’s own less showy clothing. The most camouflaging thing about him was the brown cat on his shoulders—and “brown” was generous.
“Not a very stealthy getup, I’ll admit,” Mrs. Chrysler said.
“Well, we can soon fix that. Shove over.” They made room on the bench for Katherine to sit down under the lamppost, Ruben scooting Mrs. Chrysler along so that Katherine could sit next to him, and she plopped the bundle she’d been carrying on her lap and rummaged through her bag for her pincushion and thread.
“Hey, my battle poncho. That’d be camouflage enough all right.”
“It would,” Katherine said, “if it were better made. This eyesore is coming apart at the seams.” She wet her thread and eyed the needle suspiciously. “Ember, dear, would you come here, please?”
Duty calls, Ember said. The tawny red dragon gave her mate another lick before scampering up to Katherine.
Whatever you say, my love, he replied and plopped his rump on the cobbles to finish his bath on his own.
“A bit of light, please, Ember.”
Ember coughed politely and the erupting flame illuminated the needle just long enough for Katherine to plunge the thread through the eye. Mouser jumped slightly at the sudden flame, but Ruben soothed him with gentle fingers.
“She’s a dragon,” Ruben whispered.
I know that, I know that, the cat returned defensively, shifting his weight on Ruben’s bony shoulders.
Ember alighted on Ruben’s lap and the two animals touched noses.
“Dragons have healing powers,” Ruben went on.
I know that too.
It’s all right, Mouser. Ember gave his good ear a playful rub. You were in a bad situation before. But you don’t have to worry now. I think you’ll find your fur will even start to come back soon.
The old cat’s claws retracted and he visibly relaxed. Ruben tucked the scarf more securely around him.
“You and me, Mouser,” Ruben said. “Two old poops Tuck didn’t want around anymore.”
Katherine’s stitching paused at the remark, and she pursed her lips to drive away the pricking in her eyes.
This man and cat belonged together. Where else did they belong?
Mouser began purring again, a loud rumbling rattle, like coins jangling in a can.
Ember hopped down and, after laying her warm paws on Ruben’s arthritic toes for a moment, sauntered back to Mr. Scruffles.
“I don’t have my treadle machine, of course,” Katherine was saying now, pulling herself together and working the thread through the bundle as quickly as she could, “but this’ll have to do. At least I can secure the worst of the rips. Keep that white robe from peeking out too much.”
“Much appreciated, Cateri—er, Katherine,” Ruben said. “It’ll be as good as new, I’m sure.”
“Not really, but it’ll do.” She worked silently for a while, then passed the refurbished poncho over. Ruben began to struggle into it.
“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Mrs. Chrysler grabbed his hands so he would stop, lifted the agitated Mouser off of his shoulders, pulled his head through the neck hole, and replaced the cat. “I have never had to dress a grown man in my entire life,” she scolded.
Katherine sniggered as she put her sewing kit away.
“What?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
“How do I look?” Ruben was pulling the scarf out of the poncho a bit so that Mouser could nestle in it. Beneath the blue stole, the vest itself and adjoining fabric were various shades of dirty tan and beige, and the loose fit was not generally flattering. But it did make him far less conspicuous.
Well, they weren’t going into battle, so no one would likely laugh if they saw him. “You look perfect,” Katherine lied.
“Ready for a night’s reconnaissance at the old folks’ home,” Mrs. Chrysler agreed.
The getup creaked slightly as Ruben stood to his much-refreshed feet.
“All right.” He grabbed his cane. “Let’s do it!”