Free Morgan James - Promise McNeal 01 - Quiet the Dead by Morgan James Page B

animal control out here now and she and her mangy babies will be history.”
    My warmth and compassion for Paul was dissipating as he ranted about the poor mamma cat with babies to feed and no warm home, or assurance of food. What did he expect? Should she phone for fish take-out! “So you’d send her and her family to the pound? That’s like a death sentence with no chance for appeal.”
    He exhaled heavily, “I know, I know, but what else can I do? I don’t like cats. The fact is they scare me. They never do as they are told and are just as likely to scratch you as purr. They are always ‘pet me, don’t pet me, pet me.’ My God, that sounds just like my mother! I do not want to be a murderer, for pity sake. I’ve even asked some of the guys at the theater to take them; no one is interested. Nobody has enough room for a mother cat and kittens.”
    At that moment I was struck with a momentary lighting bolt of insanity and someone else’s voice inside me chirped up. “I have five acres and a small barn. Help me gather the cat family up and I’ll take them home with me.”
    Paul grinned as though I had given him a new Porsche to replace the old Jag in his driveway. “Fabulous idea. I’ll donate a laundry basket and a soft blanket to the deal. Come with me and I’ll show you where she has hidden the kittens.”
    Securing the cats was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Paul led us outside to the far right of the house to what seemed to be a closely pruned pyracantha bush, all thorns, waxy green leaves, and hard red berries. At closer look the bush’s almost solid growth was trained to camouflage a chain link enclosure on the side of the house. As he easily lifted the front panel of the enclosure, which was hinged along one side, I realized the logic of the enclosure: it screened a concrete stairwell leading down into the basement of the house, and sure enough, snug and dry among leaves and pine straw at the basement door was our skinny mother cat nursing two equally skinny kittens. I was amazed at her resourcefulness. “How did she get out here from the inside of the house?”
    Paul pointed to the sagging basement door. “Look, see that wide crack along the casing where the wood has rotted? I think that’s where she gets from the basement back outside. The hole is just wide enough for her skinny body to pass through. I wanted to fix the door because God knows what else can crawl through, but I refuse to ramble around in that dank basement long enough to hang a new door. I hate dark basements. Besides, replacing the door might cut Mamma off from her babies.”
    “So, you’re not as mean as you pretend to be. Good man.”
    He gave me a sheepish look and held the basket while I coaxed Mamma into it with the last of the luncheon chicken. While she chewed, I lifted the two frail babies in beside her and we secured the basket in the rear of my Subaru. As I closed the door, I saw Mamma curling herself around her babies and nudging them to nurse again. Mission accomplished.
    Paul extended his hand. “Thank you for taking the cats, and for being so understanding. I know you are working for my mother and are technically the enemy, but I’ve enjoyed our visit. And please tell Garland Wang, diplomatically, if you can, what I said about the trust and my house. So long as I get the house she can have the rest. Maybe that will finally make my mother happy, for once in her life.”
    I took Paul’s hand to say goodbye, then he impulsively drew me into a hug. I liked this young man. Sliding into my Subaru, I started the car, and then lowered my window. “Don’t forget to go to the courthouse and record that deed.”
    Paul waved. “I’m on my way.”

“Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s question.”
…Edgar Cayce
    5.
     
    Retracing my route, I drank in the tree-shaded beauty of the Buckhead neighborhoods leading me back to Howell Mill Road, West Wesley, and then to Peachtree Road. Buckhead was once an