Canapés for the Kitties Read Free Page B

there was a multiple choice.
    â€œThey’ve rented the last of the flats in Coffers Court. And guess who’s got it?”
    â€œMmmm ...” Macho was looking entirely too gleeful. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like the answer?”
    â€œBecause you’re not. Go ahead.” He tugged at his goatee, pulling down his lower lip and disclosing a set of thin gnarled lower teeth. “Who’s the last creature in the world you would care to tiptoe hand-in-hand into the sunset with?”
    At the moment, Macho himself was becoming the leading contender in that category. Lorinda regarded him without fondness.
    â€œThere are so many,” she murmured. And most of them seemed to be congregating in Brimful Coffers.
    â€œThe absolute worst,” he insisted. “Beside whom the Marquis de Sade looks like St. Francis of Assisi.”
    â€œNo!” Lorinda leaped to her feet. Had-I and But-Known had closed in on either side of Roscoe and were hustling him toward the kitchen. “Come back here! You’re not going to jump him through the catflap again!”
    They stopped short and gave her injured looks. How could she think such a thing of them?
    â€œJust a minute, Macho.” She hurried into the kitchen and turned the knob immobilizing the catflap. They could butt their heads against it in vain now.
    â€œRoscoe! Come here, Roscoe!” Macho appeared in the doorway and advanced on his pet.
    Roscoe evaded the outstretched arms and strolled over to the bowl of dry cat food and began to help himself. Had-I gave Lorinda a reproving look for spoiling all their fun and sat down and began to wash her face. But-Known went over to stand hopefully in front of the fridge.
    â€œThey’re all right now,” Lorinda said. “Come and finish your drink.”
    â€œI don’t know.” Macho settled back in his chair and allowed Lorinda to replenish his drink. “Sometimes I think I should just get myself a tank of goldfish.”
    â€œNot while Roscoe is still around,” Lorinda said.
    â€œNo, no. They wouldn’t last ten minutes.” Macho was instantly cheered by the thought of his pet’s hunting prowess. “I only hope he never gets a chance at Dorian’s tank of tropical fish.”
    â€œAmen, amen,” Lorinda said fervently. The mere thought of Had-I and But-Known getting within paw-dipping distance of Dorian’s aquarium was enough to make her feel faint.
    â€œCold fish,” Macho mused. “Dorian, I mean. It quite amazed me when he began lobbying for all of us to come and occupy the same village. He’s the last person in the world I would have suspected of having any desire for the company of his colleagues – on a long-term basis, that is.”
    â€œPlantagenet!” Lorinda suddenly made the connection with Macho’s earlier teasing. “Plantagenet Sutton! Tell me it isn’t true!”
    â€œTrue enough,” he sighed. “Pity. Coffers Court must have been quite a respectable place when it was occupied by flint-hearted bank managers foreclosing on widows and orphans.”
    â€œHow true,” Lorinda agreed.
    The decommissioned bank building had been designed with typical late-Victorian lavishness to resemble a wealthy landowner’s town house rather than a commercial establishment. Built of sandstone, now weathered to a rich gold, festooned with window boxes filled with seasonal blooms, it dominated one corner of the village green. Since the architect had been in the forefront of the technology of his time, along with the obligatory marble hall, it boasted a luxurious red-plush-and-mirrored lift with a padded bench curved invitingly around the walls. Thus patrons could be conveyed in solid comfort from the bank manager’s office on the top floor to deposit their valuables in the basement vault. The vault had now been divided into a caretaker’s flat and a series of boxrooms