Sensible cat.
“Perhaps the noise is scaring her,“ I said.
“Noise?“ he repeated.
“You know – the chains and stuff,“ I said, gesturing to his outfit. “All that jingling.“
“I should have realized!“ he exclaimed, and began divesting himself of chains. “The poor little pussycat! I never realized how terrified she must be.“
He'd shed the bracelet chains and belt chains, and was just discovering that he'd have to shed his jacket and jeans to rid himself of the ones permanently attached to them. I was about to protest – although I was mildly curious to see if his striptease act would reveal any other amusing tattoos – when the cat, evidently alarmed by the noise of his chains hitting the asphalt, made a break for freedom. Luckily she was so focused on the biker that she failed to notice my arrival. I dropped my purse and managed to snag her, though she was struggling so hard I wasn't sure I could hold her.
“Here, let me take her,“ the biker said. With a few deft moves, he swaddled the cat in the towel so that only her head showed. She mewed faintly in protest, then gave up and closed her eyes.
I sucked a few of the worst scratches on my right hand and was grateful, for almost the first time in two weeks, for the bandage that had shielded my left hand.
“Poor widdle thing,“ the biker cooed, scratching the cat behind the ear. “I've got a box all ready for you.“
“A box?“ For a moment I visualized a perfect feline-size coffin, topped with a wreath of catnip; then I told myself to stop being so morbid.
“It's behind the car,“ he said. “Would you mind getting it?“
He'd have had to drop the cat to attack me, and I was beginning to get the feeling he was harmless. Either the cat felt the same way or she had given up all hope. While I didn't think she was enjoying having her head scratched, she'd stopped fighting.
I found the box and set it on the hood of my car. It was a copier-paper box with a six-inch-square hole cut in the lid and covered with a piece of old window screen.
I managed to get the top off, and the biker put the cat inside. He deftly unwrapped the towel with one hand and then set the top in place before the cat realized she could move again.
“Poor kitty,“ he cooed, peering down through the screen. “You had me worried.“
“Oh, is she your cat?“ I asked. “We thought she was a stray and took her in.“
“That was nice,“ he said. “No, I think she's a feral cat.“
He looked up at me.
“Which means she's essentially a wild animal, you know, and it's no good trying to domesticate her.“
“Nobody was – ,“ I began.
“Just like that buzzard you people are keeping,“ he went on. “That's a very bad practice. Wild birds were not meant to be house pets.“
“Tell me about it,“ I said. “I'm the one who gets to clean up after him.“
“I haven't been able to find out for sure yet,“ he said. “But there very well may be a Virginia law against keeping buzzards captive.“
I was getting a little tired of lectures.
“Listen, I appreciate your dedication to wildlife and all that, but who the hell are you, and what business is it of yours if we're keeping a whole bevy of buzzards in our office?“
“I'm – ,“ he began, sticking out his hand.
“Rrrowrrr!“ the cat wailed, an eerie noise that sent a chill up my spine.
“Oh, I think it's time,“ he said. “It's a good thing we caught her when we did. I'll take care of her now. Yes, you're a very brave cat, aren't you?“
The last comment was to the cat, of course, who continued to howl disconcertingly as he walked slowly away with her, his nose glued to the square of screen, telling her every second what a good, brave cat she was. He reached the corner, made a left, and continued walking.
I suppose it would have been nice to offer him a ride, but however relieved I was to find my supposed mugger was actually a feline midwife, I was still shaken. I retrieved my purse, got into my car, and drove off in the other direction.
I didn't really worry about leaving the cat in his hands. Clearly, whoever he was, he was a softie for animals.
But if he knew about George, he had obviously been inside the Mutant Wizards office at some time. Not necessarily since we'd moved to our new quarters since I didn't remember seeing him. But then again, I hadn't been there every moment. What if he had thought Ted was responsible for keeping George in captivity? Or had suspected Ted of some other unkindness to animals?
Which didn't seem that implausible to me. The office dog pack pretty much roamed at will during the day, in and out of all the cubes and offices, begging food and other attention from almost everyone. Except, perhaps Ted. Even genial Katy had always ignored Ted, and I didn't remember ever seeing her or any of the other dogs padding into or out of his cube. I'd never seen him mistreat them – I'd have had his head if I'd seen anything of the sort. But I had seen him teasing them, with perhaps the faintest suggestion of cruelty – enough to make me keep an eye on him.
What if our animal-loving biker had actually seen Ted mistreating a dog or cat? And had been angry enough to take revenge?
It sounded a little far-fetched, even to me. The chief would probably laugh at the idea that Ted might have been killed for cruelty to animals. Unless he saw the biker crooning over the pregnant cat, maybe. Then again, if the guy were a little over-enthusiastic on the subject of animal welfare, odds were he'd have already butted heads with the police sooner or later.
“I'll worry about it tomorrow,“ I muttered as I stumbled down the stairs to the Cave and unlocked the door. “It's way too late for any of this.“
It was 1:30 A.M. I had to be at work at 8:30 tomorrow – correction, today. I ought to go to bed, get as much sleep as I could, so I would be alert and rested for the busy day that awaited me. Sleeping was the only logical, sensible thing to do.
I called Michael.
“You're up late,“ he said. “Insomnia?“
“Investigating,“ I said, and I poured out everything that had happened since we'd last talked. Dr. Lorelei's love tryst, my discovery of Luis's notorious past, the midnight visit from the obsessed fan, Roger's porn site, and my encounter with the biker in the parking lot.
Well, not everything that had happened. I decided he didn't need to know about Roger's failed attempt to enlist me into his social life.
“You need to do something about the porn site right away,“ Michael said. “And if you ask me, this Roger creep is the most likely suspect for the murder, too.“
“He's up there, yes. Ted could have been blackmailing him about using Mutant Wizards servers for his porn operation.“
“You don't know that for sure. What if he was only using the CD burners?“
I thought back. He could be right. I didn't actually know for sure that his pornography was stored on Mutant Wizards hardware. I'd only assumed it.
“Good point,“ I said. “It's going to take someone a lot more tech-sawy than I am to figure that out.“
“And even if he is using the Mutant Wizards servers,“ Michael went on, “you want to make sure he's not doing it legitimately before you cause a stink.“
“Michael, Mutant Wizards is not in the pornography business,“ I protested.
“Not exactly, but how do you know what business deals Rob and the rest of them might have made to keep the company afloat during the first few months?“
That floored me.
“You think they might be running a porn site to make money?“ I demanded.
“No, but what if they sublet part of their hardware, or even just space in the computer lab, to someone who is running a porn site? It's not actually illegal, you know – and I hear it's highly profitable.“
