The Cat

“That little fur ball is a royal pain in my…”

So James found himself involved in a “thing” a few years back that got him arrested and almost convicted of a heinous crime, a crime that could have landed him in prison for a good number of years. But that didn’t happen. Something else did. This is his story.

James Altman was the high school class of ’78’s most likely to succeed. He was smart, charismatic, and well on his way to becoming the nation’s next millionaire. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t have stopped the momentum if he tried. James was one of those people who naturally attracted good fortune. He married his high school sweetheart, Lisa, right after graduation and they set about to start their new lives together. Life was good.

Lisa graduated from college with a marketing degree and took a job at a local firm as a mid-level manager. She had the looks and skills to enable her to glide right into an executive position. And so she did within a couple of years. James, on-the-other-hand, was still fumbling around trying to “find” himself, his calling in life, his niche. James was in no hurry to “find” himself because Lisa was bringing home the bacon, and lots of it. Was she happy about it? Heck no, and she dropped the hammer a couple of months after moving into the executive suite at work.

“James, you’re an idiot, love. You always have been, and now you’re a moocher as well. I don’t like it. Do better with your life, dear.”

Taken aback, his mouth agape, James shuddered at the bluntness of her statement. She’d never spoken to him like that and it caught him totally off guard. Until then, he actually thought he was the man of the house, even though he hadn’t contributed a dime to the household since graduating college. James had not “found” himself yet and thought her statement was a bit out of bounds. She corrected that way of thinking with a very simple ultimatum.

“Get it together, love, or get the hell out.”

James, stunned that his beloved wife thought she could speak to him in such a manner, was typical of his upbringing. He truly thought she should have been thanking him for allowing her to exist alongside him as an equal. James truly was an idiot and about to lose the best thing that ever happened to him. Lisa loved him, as she had since they decided a life together was a good fit. But his life was on a course to disaster, and she had no intention of getting sucked down that drain with him. So James stormed out of the house, saying he needed time to think.

The next morning, James called before Lisa woke up and left a voicemail saying he would be gone for a few days while he gathered his thoughts. No apology, no I love you, no acknowledgement that he bore an ounce of responsibility for their current situation. Lisa decided at that moment she’d had enough. She called a moving company to come and pack her stuff. And since her stuff included literally everything in the house, James returned home a few days later to an empty dwelling. Empty, meaning she took everything. She even took the last box of Pop-Tarts® out of the pantry. As shocked as he was, there was more.

Lisa figured since the house was in her name, he had contributed zero towards the mortgage, and she no longer lived there, she might as well put it on the market. And she did. Amazingly, it sold a day later to a buyer offering cash. James thought they were joking, the new owners who let themselves into what he thought was still his house. An argument ensued. They called the cops. The cops booted James from the premises, and so ended that chapter of his life. At that point, his only choice was to grovel to his parents to let him back into their nest while he contemplated the next chapter of his life.

James, incredibly, had still not “found” himself. He was 39 years old, still unemployed, and had no idea what he wanted to do in life. After college, when Lisa still loved him, she put him through law school. So it wasn’t like he didn’t have choices. He simply had no drive to take part in the norms of life. Dad had thoughts.

“Son, we love you, but you’ve got to go. We don’t care where, as long as it ain’t here.”

“You’re kicking me out?” James asked incredulously.

“Yes, son. It’s time you put forth more effort in ‘finding’ yourself. So take this ten grand and go forth on thou quest of whatever.”

And with that, so ended another chapter of James’ life.

James had a friend who offered to let him stay in his vacation home in Palm Bay, Florida, until he got back on his feet. There were plenty of opportunities there for lawyers should he finally choose to pursue his career. He happily accepted and left the following day. It appeared his friend had handed James a golden opportunity to get his life in order. Too bad it turned out to be so completely not the case.

The house was located off El Dorado Ave, just north of Jupiter. It was easy to find, and even easier to move into, considering all he had were the clothes on his back. He seemed serious about making a go of it, and with a pocket full of cash, he decided his second order of business was to buy some grown-up clothes and find a job. But first, he spotted a liquor store not too far away and decided a little “drinky poo” would help take the edge off of the long drive.

He was in a dead sleep the first time it happened and it startled him to wake up and see the darn thing snuggled up on his chest purring. It was a kitten, an orange tabby that seemed to know its way around the house.

“Well, hello little fella, what’s your name?” he asked the cat.

The cat stood, stretched, yawned, and then scurried away. He sort of tiptoed through the patio door and James figured that would be the last he saw of it.

“Good riddance!” he thought, as he tried to convince himself he meant it.

A couple of days later, the cat was back. He was sitting at the patio door wanting in when James woke up that morning. James opened the door and watched as he trotted across the floor and posted up by the pantry door. James didn’t take the hint, so the cat meowed and looked at the door, rubbed up against the door, and meowed again. He took the hint that time and looked inside to see a food bowl and some Friskies® canned food. He opened a can and set it on the floor, and then watched as the little fella chomped away at it.

“So I reckon I’ll need to give you a name,” James said to the cat.

“Let’s see,” he said with finger to lips while pondering his query.

“How about Willie? Yes, that’s it. I’ll call you Willie, the wanderer.”

He could tell the cat was as excited as he was. So the little fella was so named. He had a full tummy and appeared happy. They seemed to have fallen into a routine. Willie would leave in the morning and return in the evening demanding food. James learned to have the bowl waiting at exactly 5 PM when Willie strolled in. They seemed to have the routine down to a tee.

Willie was late coming home one evening. It worried James. But then a few minutes later, he was meowing at the door and James let him in. He noticed something in its mouth and hoped it wasn’t a mouse. He moved in a little closer and Willie just stood there offering James his find, as if he was proud of it. As James moved closer, he figured out what it was and jumped back in shock, which made Willie jump back in shock, drop the item and then bolt out the door.

When James looked closer, he saw it was a rather fresh tip of a human index finger. James didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to touch it, but he couldn’t just leave it rotting on the floor, either. He scooped it up in a sealable baggie and throw it in the freezer. It would give him time to figure out what to do. Unfortunately, time was not on his side. As little Willie was continuing to chew off body parts, it never occurred to James to follow him and see where he was getting all the goodies. Well, it kind of did, but he was a bit of a coward and didn’t really want to know. But the Palm Bay police department was not cowardly, and they sort of did want to know.

It seemed the offer from his friend to let James stay in his house was not an act of generosity after all. Someone had buried that body Willie was chowing down on in a shallow grave in the backyard. It was a fairly fresh kill, and likely that same someone had just tipped off the Palm Bay PD.

Ding dong went the doorbell and James went to answer it. It shocked him to see a couple of police officers standing there and a butt-load of flashing lights from emergency vehicles in the background.

“James Altman?” the male officer inquired pointedly.

“Ah, yes sir,” James answered.

“Mr. Altman, may we come in, sir? We have a couple of questions we’d like to ask you.”

James stepped aside and motioned for them to come in. He had nothing to hide; he thought.

“Mr. Altman, we have a report of a possible dead body buried on your premises. Do you know anything about that, sir?”

And for whatever boneheaded reason, James answered no, just as little Willie, thinking was being helpful, trotted in and went straight to James with a moist human eyeball in his mouth. He dropped it on the floor in front of him and waited for rubs of approval. The two officers looked at one another, read James his rights, and placed him into custody while they formed a search team.

It took them less than two minutes to follow that darn cat out to where he got the eyeball. It took even less time for them to find the baggy with the finger in the fridge. James, now screwed, wept uncontrollably for the entire ride to the police station. By the time they got there, even the two seasoned officers had to fight back tears.

“Dude,” said the female officer. “Calm down. Jesus, man, you’re not at South Bay just yet.”

That comment did absolutely nothing to calm James’ nerves. He didn’t know what a South Bay was, but it sounded like something he could do without. The next few days were nerve-racking for poor James. He cursed that darn cat to a thousand hells before he began thinking that maybe his friend had set him up. The why of it all was not important.

As the investigation got underway, the evidence against James unraveled almost immediately. The only physical evidence pointing to James was little Willie, and he wasn’t talking. Actually, he seemed a little pissed at the cops for taking away his newfound source of protein.

There was definitely foul play afoot, and if James was truthful about the time of his arrival, the time of death was before he came to town. Focus shifted to the owner, the one who tipped them off to the body. Things were looking better for James, but he didn’t know it yet, as he continued having bouts of sobbing and dry heaving in his cell.

It seemed the key to solving the case was little Willie, and everyone agreed it was time for him to step up. Enough with the sashaying around looking cute. He had info, and they wanted it.

“Here, Willie Willie Willie. C’mere little fella,” said one of the female officers. She had a soothing voice and Willie came bounce-trotting towards her and then brushed up against her pants leg. He looked up at her, did one of those dismissive yawn things and then walked slowly towards a room at the back of the house. They had already searched that room and found nothing out of the ordinary. But Willie was insistent there was something there. They searched again as Willie monitored the situation, and lo and behold, there was a concealed crawl space behind a locked door inside the closet. In that space was a mother load of evidence.

It seems there was a party the night before James arrived. According to neighbors, it got out of hand. They heard typical playful screams throughout the evening. But as people finally started leaving, a man and woman began arguing and it got louder as it went on. Soon there was a loud shrilling scream from a female and everything went silent after that.

In that crawl space they found the woman’s clothing, the shovel likely used to dig the grave, and the bloody hammer that was used to kill her. Forensics tests cleared James, and they released him. Authorities arrested his friend at the airport as he tried to board a flight to Iran. James spent a good deal of time taking back every bad thought he ever had of little Willie, the cat that saved his life. They never saw each other again.

K.R. Eaton - The Cat

Short Stories by K.R Eaton