Free Only the Cat Knows by Marian Babson Page A

yelping and pulling me down into the moat. There you were, all blood and mud and dead white. I wouldn’t have given a tinker’s damn for your chances, but you’ve scrubbed up real well. How are you feeling?’
    ‘I’ve felt better.’ I fended off another of Brutus’s advances. He was practically in my lap. I wondered if he would snap my hand off if I pushed his muzzle away.
    ‘Not surprising.’ The guard nodded and pulled Brutus back again. ‘They tell me you can’t remember anything about it.’
    ‘That’s right, I’m afraid. But I can’t thank you enough, Mr …’
    ‘Bud, just Bud,’ he said. ‘No thanks necessary. Just doingmy job. And Mr Oversall gave us a nice bonus — best steak for Brutus and an extra month’s wages for me. Glad we got to you in time.’
    ‘So am I.’ I shuddered. If Nessa had lain there much longer, her chances would have been nil.
    Sudden activity over on the forecourt drew my attention. The front door had opened and Dr Anderson emerged in a far more leisurely manner than he had arrived.
    ‘Why there’s Dr Anderson,’ I said in innocent surprise. ‘But this isn’t one of his usual visiting days, is it? What’s going on, do you know?’
    ‘Oh, usual hysterics and such. Houseful of women — what do you expect?’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘One of the silly little cows tried to top herself.’
    ‘What? Who?’
    But he had tugged at Brutus’s chain and they were walking away at a brisk clip. Too brisk for a supposed invalid to catch up with them.

Chapter Nine
    Before I was halfway across the sitting room, I knew I was in trouble.
    Gloriana stalked forward, nose quivering, whiskers twitching, fur bristling. Her accusing glare brought on an attack of instant guilt — and I didn’t even know what I had done.
    I was going to find out. She advanced relentlessly, upper lip curled back, nose working overtime.
    ‘What’s the matter with you?’ But I knew.
I
was the matter.
    She stopped in front of me, just out of reach, and gave me
that
look. The look of a betrayed bride whose husband has just reeled home reeking of gin and another woman’s perfume. And with lipstick on his collar.
    ‘Now look —’ I followed her gaze and saw the damning evidence of dog hairs sprinkled all over my kaftan.
    That was it. I was guilty of consorting with the enemy. Treason, treachery and betrayal. The evidence was in clear sight, even for those with no sense of smell.
    It wasn’t my fault,’ I said. ‘I can explain. I didn’t encourage him. I don’t even like him.’
    That’s your story! She turned away, her tail jerking upwards in the feline version of a two-fingered salute, and stalked away. The divorce papers were in the post.
    I hurled the offending kaftan into the laundry bag and donned a fresh, uncontaminated one.
    She’d come round. Wouldn’t she?

    There was a full complement at dinner that evening, I was relieved to see. Either someone had made a quick recovery, or the ‘silly little cow’ was a member of staff.
    Even Madame was already at the table when I arrived, not inordinately late. In line with Monica’s suggestion that I could use some extra rest, I had skipped the drinks session in the library.
    There was a low murmur of greetings as I took my seat, then the silence descended again. It appeared that they all had a lot to think about.
    So had I.
    Two women had now nearly lost their lives in this establishment. Surely that was above the law of averages.
    Was there a connection between them? Probably. It was too much of a coincidence, otherwise. Especially as there had been an abortive initial attempt to pass off Nessa’s fall as an attempted suicide.
    Not much imagination being used, then. And the attempt bungled both times.
    I looked down the table at Ivor. Incompetence, thy name is Beloved.
    Sensing that he was being watched, he raised his head abruptly and met my gaze with a sickly smile.
    I looked away hastily. There might be things one had to do in the line