"When two cats were brought into the clinic for nail trimming and shots, she insisted they speak to her, and she told them why. She explained how upset the doctor was, and how carefully he had kept their secret. At last one of them did speak."

Firetti smiled. "She was determined the young cat would answer her. But when he did, the experience left her deeply shaken. The cats told her that the Welsh couple, in order to get them to travel willingly, had promised that in America people would treat them like gods, that they would live pampered lives, would enjoy total freedom to come and go as they chose, and would enjoy, as well, all manner of fine foods and luxuries.

"When they arrived in the village, the couple kept them inside the house, saying they must wait until the time was right to announce themselves to the public. The cats were here, and so far were being treated well enough, though nothing like they'd been promised.

"But after many months of being shut in, they grew restless and morose, and determined to leave that place.

"They found the door and window locks a kind impossible for a cat to open. They grew more and more worried, they ceased to trust the couple, and soon they would not speak unless they were tormented and forced to.

"Then the couple sold two pairs. The other four cats were enraged, there had been no talk of selling them like common beasts. The buyers lived in the village, and when one pair of cats had kittens, which is rather rare, the buyers in turn sold them. When the cats in the Welsh house learned this, that they were indeed being treated like livestock, they wanted only to get away.

"They tipped a bookshelf over against a window, breaking the glass, and escaped. They searched for their friends, were at last able to find the four, they freed them.

"One of their descendents was your mother, Dulcie. She remained with Genelle Yardley all her life. You were born on Genelle's bed. You were the only one of the small litter that would grow up to speak." He looked from Dulcie to Wilma, then stroked Dulcie. "Genelle felt certain, when Wilma took you home to be her kitten, that if and when you did speak, Wilma was the kind of person who would guard your secret.

"But years earlier, when the captive cats were all free, they headed up into the open hills, where they soon found the lush acreage of the Pamillon Estate. The property was beautiful then, with vast gardens, flowering bushes and trees among which to hide, and there they took shelter. There were several branches of the Pamillon family living there then, in the mansion and in several guest cottages that have since become uninhabitable.

"The cats lived on the estate through several generations, and they were fed and loved by the Pamillons. My father doubted anyone knew the truth about them, doubted the cats ever spoke to anyone. But there was one daughter, Olivia, who seemed especially fond of her cats, and he wondered sometimes about her.

"I was in my second year at Davis when the Pamillons undertook some repairs and remodeling of the estate. It may have been then that most of the cats moved away, into the farther hills-there were fewer and fewer visits from the Pamillons for shots or to treat an occasional illness.

"And then, at about that time, there was some kind of dissent within the family, and gradually the extended family, aunts and uncles and their children, moved away and seemed to lose interest in the property. Olivia remained, living as a recluse in just a few rooms. She stayed active in the village for a long time, but then as she grew older she fired gardeners and housekeepers and maintenance people, and let the estate fall into disrepair. There were two cats she would bring to me for shots, but I felt sure the rest had moved on."

"Maybe," Kit interrupted softly, "maybe they traveled way south, on the coast, where I guess I was born, the place I first remember."

"Maybe," Firetti said. "I went up to the estate occasionally because I was concerned about Olivia. I didn't see any other than the two cats that stayed with her. I always thought the family held on to the property simply for the increasing land value. It's a big, sprawling family, all scattered now, and apparently at loggerheads with one another. The estate has been divided and redivided, with numerous deeds and trusts and wills drawn in such a way that no one can sell his share without approval from the others. I know one attorney who did some work for the Pamillons, and he said the titles and legal entanglements were almost impossible to sort out and set straight, with so many conflicting restraints and demands.

"It was knowing about the speaking cats," Firetti said, "that started me feeding and trapping the stray cats of the village, as my father had done. He fed and trapped all the feral cats around the wharf and the village, and continued to do so long after he retired. He spayed and neutered them and gave them shots to keep them healthy and then turned them loose again." He laughed. "That might have been the first TNR program.

"He made very sure, of course, that none was a speaking cat. Not much chance, they were too clever to be trapped. He would have sheltered such a cat if it so chose, would have brought a speaking cat here to live, if the cat wanted such a life.

"He was already gone when I met Joe and Dulcie." Firetti looked down at the cats, sitting on the couch listening so attentively. "You were only a tiny thing, Dulcie, when Wilma brought you for your first shots. Though I knew who your mother was, the talent is not passed on to all the kittens in a litter. But from what Wilma told me about you, from your stealing of the neighbors' pretty clothes, for instance, I suspected that you were special and that one day you would discover your talents.

"And then you arrived on the scene, Joe. In the beginning, you and Clyde were just as clueless about who you really were." Firetti smiled, his blue eyes crinkling. "I knew when you and Dulcie discovered the truth. I would see you around the village, see the changes in your relationship, see your looks at each other.

"And then, strange things happened in the village. When the owner of the car dealership was murdered, the way the police captured the killers was odd. I was fascinated by the details of that investigation-and I began to see what you two cats were up to.

"From then on, I paid attention to crime in the village. I listened to the sometimes puzzled remarks of one officer or another about cats showing up near a crime scene. And when you came to live with the Greenlaws, Kit-and I heard Officer Brennan's story about a cat jumping from a roof onto a burglar's head, didn't that make me laugh."

"I kept it all to myself," Firetti said. "All this time, I've just enjoyed the ride."

Charlie studied Firetti's smooth, oval face, his direct gaze, and was warmed by his quiet kindness. But then she thought, would nothing in the world make him tell what he knew?

There would be huge money in revealing the cats' secret, in bringing speaking cats to the attention of the world-the attention of avaricious promoters and the hungry news media.

But that was insane. John Firetti had been silent for so many years, when he could have sold out the cats at any time. Why wait until now?

No, despite money or power, here was one man who would remain true. John Firetti, like Max and the few other men she most admired, would not suddenly turn corrupt, would not deliberately use the innocent for financial gain. Here was one man who would not reveal this most hurtful of secrets, Charlie was certain of that.