Cat Seeing Double by Shirley Rousseau Murphy Page A

station.
    â€œTo have a look at the boy,” Joe said. “To see if Ryan does know him.”
    â€œThat seems so strange,” Dulcie replied, “to think that she saw him all that far away, in San Andreas.”
    Earlier, at the bombed church, coming down from the roof and allowing Clyde to carry them to the car, they had crowded gratefully onto Ryan’s lap, even Joe Grey with no show of macho independence.
    â€œDo you mind holding them? I think they’re scared.”
    â€œWe’re all scared. They can comfort me.” Ryan had hugged the cats, crushing them gently together; they had ridden the few blocks to the wedding like three furry prizes she might have won at some carnival booth, three rag animals held tight by a fearful little girl. “Does anyone know the boy?” Ryan said. “Know who he is?”
    Clyde turned to look at her. “Detective Davis thought she recognized him. I got the impression Garza might know him, but he wasn’t saying much.”
    â€œI might know him. Or he’s a dead ringer for one of the boys hanging around the trailer, in San Andreas.”
    â€œThat would be pretty strange. I got the feeling he’s local, that he might be involved with that last bust Harper made, that meth lab up the valley. I think the guy they sent up had a kid.”
    â€œI think it’s the same boy, Clyde.”
    He looked over at her. “Was there an old man with him, up there?”
    She shook her head. “I saw only the boy. Tell me again how you knew about the bomb, what made you run shouting for everyone to get out. Through a phone call ?”
    â€œI’d gone into the church with my phone in my suit pocket, and someone said it made a lump. I went back to the car to leave it. When it rang I wasn’t going to answer, I don’t know what made me pick up. It was a woman, whispering. Said there was a bomb, that a boy on the roof had the trigger, a garage-door opener.” Clyde shrugged. “You know the rest. I didn’t dare not believe her.”
    Clyde was, Joe thought, improving his lying skills. At least he had, apparently, convinced Ryan.
    Now, below the cats, the bride and groom drifted away among a tangle of friends, heading for the party tables. Only Wilma remained beneath the eucalyptus tree lingering in the grassy circle. Looking up, she spoke softly—anyone who knew Wilma Getz knew that it was not unusual to hear her talk to her cats.
    â€œCome on, Kit. I’m going to the hospital.”
    The kit’s eyes widened.
    â€œTaking Cora Lee some party food.”
    Kit scooted down at once, so eagerly that she nearly fell backward into Wilma’s arms. The cats knew the kit had been worried about the Creole woman. The two of them were fast friends. Though Cora Lee had no notion of the little cat’s true nature, the kit was special to her. This last spring, they had spent six weeks onstage together charming their audiences. No actress and her protégé can star together bringing down the house every night without forming an indestructible bond.
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    Carrying the kit on her shoulder, Wilma headed away through the crowd. “I have a shopping bag in the car that should hide you, should get you into her room.” Reaching her car, she turned so they could both look back, watching the bride and groom dancing the first dance in the westbound lane of Ocean, the tall, handsome couple laughing as their shoes scuffed on the rough asphalt.
    â€œThey are happy,” Wilma whispered. “Safe, Kit, thanks to you. Thanks to their guardian angel, they are safe and happy. Very, very happy.”
    The kit smiled, and snuggled closer. How strange life was, how strange and amazing. She never knew, one moment to the next, what new wonder would fill the world around her, dazzling and challenging her—and sometimes terrifying her.
    The inside of the car smelled deliciously of the party food that Wilma was taking to Cora