No Cooperation from the Cat Read Free Page B

sensing distress and someone in desperate need of comfort, moved forward to twine around Jocasta’s ankles.
    “Ooooh!” Jocasta stopped to pick her up and buried her face in the soft fur. Cho-Cho stretched her neck to rub her cheek against Jocasta’s.
    That made the vote three of us who lived here against one, who only showed up to use our kitchen to test her recipes.
    “Just for a couple of days while we see how the situation develops,” I told Martha. “What harm can it do?”
    Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever learn to keep my big mouth shut.
    *   *   *
    I must admit that it did feel luxurious in the morning to be awakened by the rich scents of frying bacon and perking coffee. I found Evangeline already seated at the kitchen table with her first cup of coffee.
    “Good morning, Evangeline,” I said cheerfully enough to annoy her. She gave me a nasty look, continuing to shuffle through a pile of what was obviously junk mail.
    Jocasta sent me a harassed smile while flipping over rashers of bacon with the cooking tongs. They slipped—whether accidentally or deliberately, I couldn’t say—and a rasher of bacon fell to the floor where Cho-Cho pounced on it with a triumphant cry. Too hot! She backed off, then returned and crouched over it, waiting for it to cool enough to devour. That was a happy cat.
    “Good morning, Jocasta, Cho-Cho,” I greeted.
    “Good morning, Trixie,” Jocasta returned automatically.
    Cho-Cho looked up and chirped a greeting, then returned to her vigil. I don’t think that little cat is ever going to get over her enchantment at discovering that a kitchen is a place where honest-to-Bast food is produced. Before this, her only knowledge of the process involved a tin can and a tin opener, or perhaps a ring pull, or a foil carton. A whole new world had opened to her when I adopted her and I think I can safely say she was in seventh heaven.
    “Oh, good!” Evangeline had discovered a real letter amongst the junk. She tore it open and reported: “It’s from Jem. He’s coming up to town and would like to take us to a matinee and dinner at the Harpo.”
    “Sounds good to me.” I settled opposite her at the table. “Any other news?”
    “We’ll have a good gossip then, he promises. And he says Garrick sends his best regards to Madame Cho-Cho-San.”
    “And she’ll send hers to Garrick when we meet on Wednesday.” Garrick was the theatre cat at the Royal Empire, Brighton, where Jem, who had been a child star in one of Evangeline’s early plays in the West End, was now stage manager, power behind the scenes—and Garrick’s preferred companion.
    “One egg or two?” Jocasta asked me. I glanced down to see bright trusting eyes gazing up at me.
    “Two,” I answered. One and a half would be quite enough for me and Cho-Cho did like a bit of egg with her breakfast bacon.
    Because I was more than halfway listening for it, I caught the scrape of the key in the lock of our door at the far end of the hallway and braced myself.
    Jocasta was caught unawares when the door slammed violently. She jumped and another rasher of bacon dropped from her tongs to the floor.
    Cho-Cho’s possessive paw stretched over it immediately and she gave a loud purr of appreciation.
    Sharp staccato footsteps charged down the hallway, about to storm the castle and take no prisoners. Oh dear. Martha was still in a foul mood from yesterday. I had been afraid of that.
    “Oh!” Jocasta gasped with relief as Martha appeared in the doorway. “It’s only you.”
    Martha’s eyes narrowed dangerously. That “only” had been a mistake.
    “I mean—” Jocasta apparently realised this and tried to retrieve her blunder. “I was afraid it was Banquo.”
    “Why should it be? I thought we saw him off yesterday.”
    Leave it to Evangeline to stick her oar in and muddy the waters even more.
    “Why should we ever see him again?”
    We all looked at her incredulously. Surely she couldn’t really believe we’d seen the