Free Canapés for the Kitties by Marian Babson Page A

don’t know,” Lorinda said. “The way Jack was carrying on last night, I think suspicion might be spread around half a dozen or more people. By the time I left, everyone was going out of their way to avoid him and/or spoil his picture, which was just as good. I thought Macho might brain him with a blunt instrument after he caught him unawares and actually got a full-face shot. He’ll give poor Macho a nervous breakdown, if he keeps on like that.”
    â€œThat’s what the fight was all about when they got home,” Freddie said. “Karla was furious about the way he’d been behaving and threatened to expose the films he’d taken. Told him it was an invasion of privacy and betrayal of hospitality – which it was – as though he knew about such niceties. Or cared.
    â€œHe flew off the handle and accused her of trying to blight his promising career. His promising career – hah!” Freddie snorted. “He buys a camera and he thinks he’s Henri Cartier-Bresson and Richard Avedon rolled into one. Does he imagine anyone would care about his amateur shots if Karla weren’t supplying the words?”
    â€œSomeone is going to have to have a word with him,” Lorinda said. “Apart from his wife, that is. She appears to have no effect at all.”
    â€œShe maddens him – that’s her effect.” Freddie grimaced. “And vice versa, I’d say.”
    â€œWho’ll bell the cat?” Lorinda absently watched Had-I and But-Known stroll into the room, sit down and begin to wash their faces. “I’d say Dorian – he’s their friend, he’s the one who brought them into our midst. It’s up to him to sort them out. We can’t go on like this all winter.”
    â€œDorian, yes. He got us into this,” Freddie brooded. “I could strangle him for it.”
    â€œHe does seem to have a lot to answer for,” Lorinda agreed.
    â€œMore every day. I hope he doesn’t have anything else up his sleeve. Anyway” – Freddie brightened – “I don’t think there are any more properties to be sold or let in the village. No more strangers in our midst –”
    The sharp peal of the doorbell cut her off. The cats looked up and raced to leap on to the windowsill, jostling the curtain aside as they looked out to see who was at the door.
    Someone stepped closer to the window and peered in at the cats, then looked beyond them into the room and waved. “Only me,” she called.
    â€œSpeak of the devil!” Freddie said. “And she’s seen us. There’s no escape.”
    Lorinda got up and went to open the door to Karla Jackley, who followed her back into the living room, happily unaware that she was not the most welcome of guests.
    â€œI knew you were over here,” she greeted Freddie. “I saw you cutting across the back gardens. I wanted to talk to you, both of you, so –”
    â€œGin and tonic all right?” Lorinda asked. “That’s what we’re drinking.”
    â€œJust fine, thanks.” She gave Lorinda a grateful smile before continuing. “I rang Macho, but he had his answering machine on and I don’t know whether he was there or not. Or if he was busy working. Oh, thanks.” She accepted her drink and took the other armchair.
    â€œI hope you don’t mind my dropping in like this, but I wanted to apologize. For Jack. He was pretty impossible last night. I know he got everybody mad at him.”
    There was an awkward silence while they tried to think of something polite and vaguely comforting to say to her, but not so polite or comforting that she would think it was permissible for her husband to continue in that way.
    â€œIt’s all right,” Karla said. “I know. I told him so. I –” She stopped and took an unsteady breath, perhaps dangerously close to tears.
    Thank heavens for the cats. With more tact than