Worship the Cat

By Kimberly R. Brown

Lorraine Crisp followed her new friends, Melissa McPeak and Nell Pearsall, down the steep stairs into Melissa's basement.

A sense of unreality washed over her when they stepped from the ordinary ranch-style house into a medieval room from another world. White candles flickered from sconces on the walls. Lorraine's eyes were drawn to the centerpiece of the room, where two tall white tapers flanked a structure that looked like an altar. A statue--a large, pagan-looking thing with the body of a voluptuous woman and the head of a cat--stood beside the altar.

Lorraine heard Nell's sharp intake of breath and the older woman clutched Lorraine's arm.

Their hostess Melissa was dressed in a close-fitting silky white robe. Around her slim throat, she wore a choker ringed with what looked like real diamonds. With her hourglass body and heart-shaped face, Melissa was the sort of woman who drew the attention of anything male, and she reveled in it.

"Ladies," Melissa said with an expansive wave of her arm. "Please make yourselves comfortable."

Nell, who was a good ten years older than Lorraine and at least twenty older than Melissa, sat with a huff on the white sofa. She leaned toward Lorraine and whispered, "David may have been right about this."

Lorraine raised her eyebrows.

"My son, you know," Nell said. "He said you should be careful about people you meet on the Internet."

Lorraine knew that Nell was widowed with three cats, and Nell had confided that David didn't approve of her cat-lady lifestyle. He was the curator of a museum, enjoyed rubbing elbows with the rich and elite, and found the way his mother doted on cats, constantly taking in a variety of strays, embarrassing.

Lorraine choked back a nervous laugh. "It is...different," she whispered. She squeezed Nell's arm. "But you met me on the Internet and I'm all right." Nell gave her a look that said, "We'll see about that."

The stark white of the room and the flickering candles glared in Lorraine's eyes. She glanced at the altar. Melissa McPeak was either serious about cats or seriously crazy. The three women had met online, on a cat-lover's email list. When they discovered they lived in the same area--a little town that had been sucked into metro Atlanta--it had seemed natural to get together. In her e-mail inviting Nell and Lorraine to her house, Melissa had hinted of something different, a way to truly communicate with your cat, to know what even an enigmatic feline was thinking.

Since part of their online conversations had verged on the mystical powers of cats, when Melissa had told both Nell and Lorraine that she had something to show them, Lorraine had expected a lesson in cat psychology or even a demonstration of kitty-ESP. Not the pagan-looking altar that graced Melissa's basement.

A Persian cat--white, of course--tiptoed into the room, its flat, haughty face surveying the women with scorn. This wasn't Lorraine's type of cat. She had a shelter-rescued mutt named Boo, a homely cat with so many different colors in its mottled fur, it couldn't really even be called a calico.

Melissa picked up the cat and stroked its long hair with her equally long fingers. "This is my Bastet." Lorraine and Nell dutifully petted the soft fur, and they were rewarded with a swat and a hiss. Melissa laughed, deep and throaty. "If she swats at you, it's a sign of affection." Lorraine rubbed her hand. The sign of affection was bleeding and she didn't want to drip on the white carpet.

Melissa put the cat down. "Ladies," she said, clasping her hands together dramatically. "Tonight we're going to perform a divination!" Lorraine and Nell looked at each other. Lorraine shrugged and raised an eyebrow at Nell.

"For it to work properly," Melissa continued, "there must be three of us. Three is the perfect number, of course. Please, come." She led them to a kneeling bench, upholstered in heavy white-on-white damask, in front of the altar. Melissa picked up a pottery bowl and turned to Lorraine. "Inside this bowl, I've written a question for the goddess Bast. We will all drink, then tonight, we will record our dreams. These dreams will be the communication from Bast." Melissa's voice was silky, almost hypnotic, and, to Lorraine, sounded as real as a carnival gypsy.

Melissa gracefully lifted the hem of her robe and knelt on the bench. She held the pottery bowl up to the statue. Raising her voice, she uttered syllables that sounded like gibberish. "Mau Bast! Mau Bast! A Basti, per em setat! Bast the Tearer, Bast the Scratcher!" Lorraine squashed a giggled that threatened to bubble up in her throat. Tearer? Scratcher? Not bad names for a cat, especially the one who had affectionately mauled her hand, but still...Melissa seemed serious.

Melissa held the bowl up for a moment, as a priest might hold the cup of sacred wine, then stood. She took a drink of the contents of the bowl and handed it to Lorraine. Lorraine stared at the greenish liquid and licked her lips.

"Come, drink. It's a simple divination. The green color is vegetable dye that I used to write the question." Melissa's eyes were also green, and they didn't blink as she watched Lorraine.

"What was the question?" Lorraine was trying to stall, trying to decide how far she'd go.

"We seek the protection of the goddess Bast. We want to know what Bast's plans are for us, the worshippers of her greatness."

Nell backed away. "I don't know about worshipping. I love my cats, but..."

Lorraine took a deep breath. Vegetable dye had never killed anyone. She took a sip of the liquid. It tasted like lukewarm water. She handed the bowl back to Melissa, who held it out to Nell. "Three is the perfect number. You must drink."

At that moment, the basement door opened and light from above poured in. Melissa glared at the figure standing in the doorway.

"David!" Nell said.

"Mother. What in the world is going on here?" A tall young man strode confidently down the staircase. He took Nell's arm. He stared at the cat-woman statue, at Melissa, Lorraine, then at his mother. His face was a mask of disgust. "Come with me."

Melissa's green eyes narrowed and Lorraine almost expected her to hiss.

Nell allowed herself to be pulled up the stairs. She glanced back at Melissa and Lorraine. "Sorry, but I really should get home."

Lorraine looked at Melissa and shrugged. "I think I should go too," she muttered.

Melissa still stared at the doorway where Nell had disappeared with her son. "She will regret not having Bast's protection," Melissa said under her breath. To Lorraine it sounded more like a threat than a prediction.

Lorraine ran up the stairs and out the front door. She stood for a moment in the warm Georgia night before she climbed into her car. "Remind me to never get on her bad side," she said to herself and shuddered.

* * *

That night Lorraine's sleep was deep and dreamless. So much for the cat goddess sending me messages, she thought as she sent her husband Rudy off to work the next morning with a quick kiss. He looked good in a jacket and tie, and since he'd been promoted to homicide detective in the Atlanta PD, he wore one every day.

Mid-morning, when Lorraine was struggling in with plastic sacks of groceries, the phone rang. She tossed the sacks on the floor and grabbed the phone.

"Babe?"

"Rudy! What's up?" Rudy rarely called her from work, usually when he was already late and dinner was cold and hard in the oven.

He hesitated and Lorraine sensed something bad coming. "Lorraine, your friend you saw last night. Her name was Nell, right? Pearsall?"

Lorraine's bad feeling bloomed in her stomach. "Yes, why?"

Rudy's voice had that hushed tone he used to give family members bad news. "She's been murdered."

Lorraine clutched the phone, listening to a roar in her head. "What happened?"

"We're not sure," Rudy said. "We're investigating. But it looks like..." He took a breath. "It looks like she was killed by her cats."

Lorraine almost barked out a laugh, but swallowed it. Surely he was joking. But Rudy didn't joke about murder. No homicide detective would. "That's just ridiculous," she said. "Why in the world...?"

She could almost see Rudy shaking his head. "Of course there'll be an autopsy. But she had claw marks all over, especially her throat." He hesitated again. "She bled a lot, and her cats tracked it all over the house. They were found sitting by her body."

Lorraine heard the background noise of the station, someone calling Rudy's name. "Look," Rudy said, "I'll keep you updated, but I have to go now. I know you didn't know her well, but I'm sorry it happened. Okay?"

Lorraine hung up and sank into the chair beside the phone. The scene in Melissa's basement played in her head like a movie. Nell wouldn't participate in Melissa's strange spell, and now she was dead, supposedly at the claws of her own cats! Lorraine leaned her suddenly aching head against the chair back. The two had to be related, but still, housecats don't kill people! She hadn't mentioned the strange scene to Rudy because she just wanted to forget it. And she'd been slightly embarrassed, though she wasn't sure why.

Boo leaped into her lap and Lorraine jumped up with a squeal. Boo ran under the coffee table and eyed her with a mixture of hurt and suspicion.

"It's okay, Boo," Lorraine said in a shaking voice. "I just don't feel like holding a cat right now."

* * *

"The cats haven't been put down yet," Rudy said in answer to Lorraine's first question. He headed to the refrigerator for a beer. "But, Lorraine, evidence really does point to them."

It was on the tip of Lorraine's tongue to try to explain what had happened the night before in Melissa's basement. But it seemed too ridiculous. Besides, she'd had another, darker thought during the day. What if there really was a cat-goddess--Bast, wasn't that what Melissa had called it? What if the cat-goddess, angry at being spurned by Nell, had entered her innocent housecats and made them kill her? Rudy would never believe that. Lorraine didn't believe it either, but she couldn't shake the thought.

Lorraine put Rudy's dinner on the table and sat staring at her own plate. She didn't know what to do.

* * *

That night when she finally got to sleep, Lorraine's dreams were dark and violent. She woke with a start in the middle of the night, but she wasn't sure why. Then she heard it again, the sound that must have awakened her. From the foot of the bed, Boo hissed and Lorraine could see her in the moonlit room, her mouth open, her back arched. The cat leaped to the floor and ran under the bed. Lorraine glanced at Rudy, who lay on his back, gently snoring. What had frightened Boo?

A chill inched up her spine and into her heart. In the stark, black-and-white moonlit room, she saw the figure of a huge white cat--a creature the size of a panther--walking through the bedroom door. Lorraine blinked and shook her head.

The cat stopped in the doorway and surveyed the room, its eyes gleaming. Lorraine tried to move, tried to poke Rudy in the side, but she lay frozen, the sheet clutched to her chest. She had to be dreaming--wasn't it in nightmares that you couldn't move, couldn't scream? But this was too real. She could feel the cool air of the ceiling fan on her face, could see the glitter of a diamond collar at the cat's neck. A diamond collar!

Her eyes still transfixed on the cat, Lorraine finally managed to jab Rudy. He woke with a start and stared at the huge cat. Then his instinct took over and he leaped up, grabbing for his service revolver that he kept in the drawer of the bedside table. Still groggy with sleep, he fumbled with the gun a second too long. Before he could get a shot off, the cat snarled and leaped.

With a cry, Lorraine tumbled off the bed. She had to help Rudy! The gun clattered against the wall as Rudy fought off the huge cat, and Lorraine scrambled, crab-like, toward it. Rudy and the big cat wrestled while Lorraine grabbed the gun, trying to remember the firearm lessons Rudy had given her long ago.

Rudy made a strangled sound. "Lorraine," he called. "Shoot it!" Lorraine tried to aim the gun, but she couldn't shoot the cat without possibly hitting Rudy. The diamonds in the cat's collar flashed, and Lorraine had a sudden knowledge, an awareness of what to do. Holding the gun in one hand, Lorraine leaped on the pile of husband and cat and yanked at the collar. The cat snarled, its white teeth shining in the moonlight. Weren't big cats supposed to have yellow teeth?

Praying that she wasn't making a huge mistake, Lorraine tossed the gun gently toward the closet, then used both her hands to unbuckle the collar.

Collar in hand, she fell to the side and scrambled for the gun again. She picked it up, turned around, and her jaw dropped. Rudy and a very naked Melissa McPeak lay in a tangled pile. Rudy still struggled, moving against the naked young woman in what Lorraine thought was a nauseating, suggestive way.

Melissa's ivory skin gleamed in the moonlight and her pink lips curled in a smile. Over the sound of her own pounding heart, Lorraine was certain she heard Melissa purring.

Rudy stopped struggling and stared from Melissa to Lorraine. Then he seemed to realize that his hand lay on the perfect white breast of a beautiful young woman. He snatched his hand away like a child caught stealing candy. With a grunt, he pushed Melissa away and leaped to his feet. "What the hell?"

Lorraine motioned to Melissa with the gun. "You, stand up." Melissa didn't move, nor did she seem the least bit inclined to cover her nakedness. She lay propped on her elbows, hips turned, legs posed like a centerfold model. After a long moment, Rudy grabbed his robe--his, not Lorraine's, even though hers lay right beside his at the foot of their bed--and handed it to Melissa.

Slowly Melissa stood and wrapped the robe around herself. Lorraine could finally breathe.

"There's not a scratch on him," Melissa said in her throaty voice. "I didn't come here to hurt anyone."

"Like you hurt Nell, you mean?" Lorraine said. Melissa, with this incredible ability, had to have been the one who'd killed Nell.

Rudy finally ripped his eyes from Melissa and turned to stare at Lorraine. He rubbed a hand over his face. "What in the world is going on here? Did I see what I think I did?"

Melissa shrugged. "I have a talent. Given by the goddess Bast. But I would never hurt anyone with it. Nor would my poor little brothers and sisters they're blaming."

Rudy's voice went from tired to angry. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You mean Nell's cats?" Lorraine said.

Melissa tightened the robe tie. "Of course! A human did it." She turned her green eyes on Rudy and her pink tongue touched her lower lip. "You're a cop. You figure it out. Who benefits from Nell's death?"

Rudy glanced from Lorraine to Melissa. "Her son, I guess. He's her only relative." He raked his fingers through his hair. "But there were claw marks. Her body was...brutalized. Would a son do that?"

"A human son who desperately needed money would." Melissa's voice was firm. "And Nell had money, even though she didn't live like a rich woman. Her son, on the other hand, lived the lifestyle without the means. She told me that in an e-mail."

Melissa turned to Lorraine. "That was the purpose of our little ceremony the other evening. To have the goddess protect Nell. I sensed danger for her, but nothing specific." Melissa sighed dramatically. "But Nell wouldn't participate. That's why I came here tonight. To point you in the right direction. And to save the poor little ones who will be put to death tomorrow, for a crime they did not commit."

"Ever heard of a telephone?" Rudy asked with a snort.

Melissa's eyes narrowed. "Would you have believed me?"

The strangeness of the situation hit Lorraine like a bucket of ice water. Here they were, her husband and a barely-clothed woman she'd just seen change from a cat, standing in their bedroom at four in the morning. Lorraine suddenly wanted Melissa out of her house.

Knowing her own clothes wouldn't fit the statuesque Melissa, Lorraine found some old jeans and a shirt of Rudy's. No underwear, though. She'd be damned if she'd share Rudy's underwear. And if those jeans are ever returned, Lorraine thought, they'll be promptly burned.

After Melissa left, sleep was obviously over for Lorraine and Rudy.

Rudy went to the phone. "This had better not be a mass hallucination. Or the result of a bad piece of meat or something," he said, dialing. He called in every favor he had to convince the animal shelter not to euthanize Nell's cats. Then he dressed and went to work, muttering something about all women being cats at heart.

Lorraine paced and drank coffee until midmorning, when the phone finally rang.

"Babe," Rudy's tired voice said. "Looks like your strange friend was right. Maybe. We got a search warrant for David Pearsall's house. Not even going to tell you what I had to promise to get that. Anyway, we found what looks like blood on some clothing. It's being sent to the lab."

Lorraine gave a sigh of relief. "You didn't mention...uh...Melissa did you?"

Rudy snorted. "Are you kidding? I'm not insane."

"But the claw marks. Is there an explanation for those?" Those claw marks had bothered Lorraine all day. She still had a niggling suspicion that maybe there was a Bast after all.

Rudy's voice was grim. "The theory is that Nell and her son had an argument, probably about money, and he pushed her. She fell and hit her head and he thought she was dead. After seeing...whatever...you three had been up to that night," Rudy hesitated. "Babe, I'm going to want to know about that when I get home, okay? Anyway, he got the idea of blaming it on the cats. Mr. Museum Curator has access to all sorts of stuffed animals--I mean real stuffed animals, not toys. His museum is a natural history museum and...."

"Stop!" Lorraine couldn't bear to hear anymore. She tried to banish the picture in her head of David clawing poor Nell with the paw of a stuffed bobcat. "Why? Do you know why yet?"

Rudy sighed. "Our initial search found some pretty heavy gambling debts. Those were just the obvious ones. There's no doubt more. It'll take a while to finish the investigation. Got a team going to the museum next. I suspect it'll come out that he's not quite sane."

"Just hurry home, all right?" Lorraine didn't want to be alone any longer.

After she hung up the phone, Lorraine resumed her pacing. She wanted Rudy home, with her. But she couldn't get the vision of him and the naked Melissa, wrapped around each other, out of her head. It hadn't been his fault of course, she knew that. But still...

She shook her head. There was something else bothering her. Nell's cats, locked away in the shelter for a crime they didn't commit. Making a decision, she grabbed her car keys and left the house.

* * *

That night, Rudy slammed the back door. "Lorraine! I'm home." He went to the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, popped the tab, and almost drained the can in one gulp.

He felt a twining furry body around his ankles. "Not now, Boo." He'd had enough of cats to last a lifetime. He looked down and saw a strange cat, a big striped tabby winding around his legs. Two more cats--a black and white tuxedo and a skinny white kitten--trotted toward him. Rudy stepped back. "Lorraine!"

Lorraine came down the hall, holding their cat, Boo. Boo's eyes were as wide as Rudy's as she stared at the intruders. "These are Nell's cats," Lorraine said. "I rescued them from the shelter today."

Their eyes met and locked. Seventeen years of marriage made verbal communication unnecessary. Rudy saw it in Lorraine's look: she remembered him rolling around on the floor with the naked Melissa, never mind the circumstances. The hand that had held Melissa's heavy breast suddenly itched and he longed to rub it against his leg. This was his payment to Lorraine for something completely innocent, or at least not his fault. He sighed and took a slower sip of beer. It could be worse, he supposed, but right now he couldn’t think of how.