Watching the two cats at the table, Max thought about these cats the morning of the arrests up at Mom's Burgers. He could see again the two cats standing right there among his officers watching intently as he removed the mirror and unlocked the metal door. When he lifted out the bags of counterfeit bills they had stared, had seemed almost excited.

He knew he was obsessed with cats. But the whole case seemed tainted by cats-that joke at the station about a cat walking through as if it owned the place, that had happened the morning Clyde brought him the list of stolen cars. And the night of Beckwhite's murder, there'd been a cat; some cat had run out from the alley. The patrol field sheet noted that a cat fled from the alley into the car's lights at about the time Beckwhite had been killed.

He watched Kate serve a small paper plate from her own plate, glancing down at the two cats. So Kate was another one-a big cat person.

Kate was doing very well, he thought, considering the last few weeks. She seemed to be shaking off the failed marriage and becoming eager to get on with her life. He'd heard she had put her house on the market and was talking about moving up to San Francisco for a while. Be good for her. Change of scene, new interests.

He watched her set the small plate down on the chair, watched the cats bend eagerly to the salmon salad and bits of cold meats. But the cats were far too mannerly; their unnatural behavior increased his unease. And when Clyde asked the gray tomcat if he wanted more roast beef, and the cat mewled stridently, Harper's blood chilled.

He hardly attended as Wilma said, "I'm glad to have Dulcie home, I missed her." She was speaking to Clyde, but she seemed almost to be speaking to the cat. "I bought her a new silk pillow, and a little Dresden supper bowl, after I cracked hers with my shovel.

"I thought I'd start taking her to the library, it's quite the thing among libraries now, to have a resident cat. I think she'd like to do that. A good many librarians say that a library cat has increased their book circulation."

Harper had known Wilma a long time, he knew when she was putting him on. He grinned and winked at her.

But she looked back at him dead serious. "It's true, Max. Cats do increase library traffic, children and old people particularly will come in to pet the cat, and will stay to do a little browsing, end up with a stack of books. And cats are wonderful at story hour, a loving little cat can calm the children, and keep them from fidgeting. There's even a Library Cat Society. I think Dulcie will fit right in. I think she'll find the experience-entertaining."

Max patted Wilma's hand. "I'm sure she will," he said, trying to imagine the city fathers allowing a cat in the library. He guessed Wilma was getting a bit dotty. He didn't understand the sense of strangeness that gripped him. After all, Wilma was just another cat nut.

He finished his coffee and rose. He needed to get back to the station. Needed to ease down into the normal confusion of routine police work, shake off the weirdness.

But on his way out of the alley, when he turned to look back, both cats were watching him. He could swear they were laughing.

SHIRLEY ROUSSEAU MURPHY has received seven national Cat Writers’ Association Awards for best novel of the year, two Cat Writers’ President’s Awards, the “World’s Best Cat Litter-ary Award” in 2006 for the Joe Grey Books, and five Council of Authors and Journalists Awards for previous books. She and her husband live in Carmel, California, where they serve as full-time household help for two demanding feline ladies.

www.joegrey.com

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