Free W Is for Wasted by Sue Grafton Page B

it to a veterinarian who has an office not too far from here. He tried everything to persuade the cat to come out of the bushes, but I’m afraid he didn’t have much success. He finally looked up the vet in the yellow pages. He was hoping she had a Havahart trap he could borrow, but hers was on loan to a group that rescues feral cats. She recommended a bit of cooked chicken and it worked like a charm. The cat even allowed itself to be tucked into the carrier for transport. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but the poor cat has no tail. Just a stump covered with a tuft of hair. I have no idea what happened to him. Henry says the cat’s pathetic—ugly, bad tempered, and uncooperative.”
    “Not too uncooperative or Henry couldn’t have gotten him in the carrier.”
    “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “I don’t mind Henry being mad at me, but I don’t want him to take it out on the cat.”
    “Henry wouldn’t do that, do you think?”
    “He has no use for it and he made that plain, but I don’t know what he meant. He’s hardly speaking to me, so I didn’t have a chance to press him on the point. He wants to be rid of the poor thing for sure.”
    “You don’t think he’d have the cat put down, do you?”
    “The mood he’s in, he’s capable of anything. He refuses to have it here. Especially after all the pain and suffering Nell’s been through.”
    “Couldn’t the vet find a home for it?”
    “That remains to be seen. Henry has no patience. He called Lewis, and Lewis said the same thing he’s been saying all along: take the cat to the pound and put an end to it. Henry says whatever happens, it’s my fault for not asking in advance. He knew a fellow bitten by a stray who was stricken with cat scratch fever. His arm swelled up to three times its normal size. He was in the hospital for a week. Henry says why take the risk? Fleas and god knows what diseases. He says the cat’s fate is on my head.”
    “Henry said that?”
    “Words to that effect. I thought I was doing a good deed, but there’s no predicting Henry. He can be hard-nosed.”
    I caught movement and looked up in time to see Henry’s station wagon ease along the drive. He paused while the automatic door went up and then pulled into the garage. I heard the car door slam and he appeared a moment later, hauling the carrier, which was clearly lighter and most decidedly empty.
    Stony-faced, he came into the kitchen and set the carrier to one side. “That takes care of that,” he said, and then looked over at me, his tone shifting from cranky to something more pleasant. “You’re home early.”
    I murmured a response, realizing that I was sorely disappointed with the man. He was in no way obliged to keep the cat simply because William had taken it upon himself to transport it across country. Henry had never expressed any interest in animals and I’d never known him to mention a pet. Still, I counted on him to do the right thing, even if he wanted to be a grouch about it.
    He turned to William. “You owe me fifty dollars.”
    William wasn’t going to argue. He was already chastened by Henry’s anger and repentant at having caused such an uproar. He had to feel worse about the cat than I did. He took out his wallet and counted off the bills, which he handed to Henry. “May I ask what this is for?”
    Henry said, “The vet has to put the cat to sleep and that’s what it costs.”
    Both William and I said “Oh” in tones of regret and bewilderment.
    “What’s the matter with you?” he asked, looking from my face to William’s.
    I said, “If I’d known you were going to have it put down, I’d have taken it myself.”
    “What are you talking about? She’s not
killing
the cat. She’s cleaning his teeth and he has to be sedated. I’m to pick him up at five.”
    I said, “Really? Well, that’s great!”
    He seemed to be feeling self-conscious as he went on. “The vet says he’s a Japanese bobtail, which is