Free Cat Out of Hell by Lynne Truss Page A

accompanied such a violent attack. How big was this cat? It was hard to believe that any animal smaller than a bear could have caused such horrific damage. There were claw-marks on the walls a good six inches across. And to think that all this violence had been done – in a way – to Mary!
    “It’s this bit that freaks me most,” Tawny said. She pointed to the drawer in the desk, which must have been locked when the cat got in. The area around the drawer was cut and slashed so badly that splinters and chips had flown off. Grimacing, Tawny pointed to where, embedded in the shattered wood, there was a large claw, its end coated in dried blood. It hadevidently been dug so deeply into the desk that the cat had not been able to withdraw it.
    “I know I’m being stupid,” she whispered, “But it’s as if it wanted to get into the drawer .”
    “What’s in there?” I said.
    “Nothing. It’s empty,” she said, and drew it out to show me.
    Tawny decided I had seen enough. She shut the door again, and we moved to the corner of the reading room, where we could speak a little more loudly. One thing above all I needed to know.
    “Did Mary know about this?” I said. “Oh God. Tawny, did she see this? ”
    “We think she did,” said Tawny.
    “Oh my God. Oh, Mary.”
    “Actually, I’m sure she did. It was on the Monday morning, you see. Do you remember, I called you and said she had gone home, not feeling well?”
    Of course I remembered. Mary had died later that day.
    “This must have happened over a weekend, you see; and I remember she took the key on the Monday morning and came down here, and I was getting on with something and not really paying attention, but I’m sure she came straight back to the inquiries desk and said she didn’t feel well. She had something with her – a small, slim book, I think, in one of those old university slipcases. She went up the spiral staircase behind the desk – I remember that, because she usually preferred to take the long way round to avoid it. She was gone for a while. And then she came back down and went home. And – oh, Alec. I never saw her again!”
    A tear rolled down her face. I suppose she must have cared for Mary, working with her all that time. It had never occurred to me. I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
    “She took away the key with her, which she shouldn’t havedone. But that’s why we didn’t find out what had happened in there until a few days ago, when Avril came up with a duplicate. The smell – well. We’d noticed the smell, of course, but we didn’t realise it was coming from here. Some of the readers – well, you know what they’re like.”
    I nodded. I did indeed.
    “Anyway, they’re going to clear it out on Sunday when there are no students around. Did you see what it did to the books ?”
    I was still reeling. “I can’t take it in,” I said. There was no doubt that this carrel had been Mary’s. In the debris, I had recognised her handwriting on some of the ravaged papers. But why hadn’t she told me what she was doing in there? Why had she lied to me? Had Dr Winterton really been working on “a project” with Mary? Why had she never told me? I was furious. What had she got herself into? And what, by extension, had she got me into, too? This destructive act had been done, without question, by a large and powerful cat! Oh God. Until this moment, it had been of no real concern to me whether the Captain existed or not. I could believe in him, or disbelieve in him: it was all the same. It had nothing to do with me . But now disbelief was not an option. For heaven’s sake, I had seen one of his actual claws, violently embedded in a piece of venerable oak library furniture!
    “Can you open it again, Tawny?” I said. “I have to know what she was working on in there.”
    Tawny pulled a face. “I don’t think you ought to touch anything, Alec.”
    “I have to see,” I said.
    “Ooh, I’m sorry,” she said. “But technically