The first time Zac called me a dirt bag. I was working in my garden. Sheila from my animal rescue group came by with a feral cat she had trapped. I’d take him to the vet for his neutering operation. This was part of our TNR, Trap/Neuter/Release program.
Sheila shook her head when she heard Zak’s insults. “What’s his problem?” she asked.
“He says I stole his cat.”
“Did you?”
I shrugged. “Don’t worry about this baby,” I told her. “I’ll get him to the vet tomorrow, and we’ll release him when he’s ready.”
I’d been asleep for a few hours when I heard a cat crying. I got up and checked all my cats. I checked the feral cat in the carrier. All was quiet until I got back into bed. I heard the crying again. It seemed to be coming from outside my bedroom window. I turned on the yard light and something dove into the bushes. Was it a dog? Or maybe a very large cat? I’d heard about coyotes coming into suburban areas. But do coyotes “meow”? I doubted it. Then I saw a flash of red in the bushes. If this was a coyote, it was wearing an oversized hoodie. “Red Riding Hood,” I thought. I figured some neighborhood kids were having fun. They knew I was a crazy cat lady.
In the morning, I checked the bushes outside and found a charm bracelet outside my bedroom window. Tiny silver-colored plastic charms depicted a bear on a sled, a red heart, a daisy, a high heel shoe and sunglasses. Cute. But it wasn’t worn by a coyote. Some kid was minus a bracelet. It was mine now.
“Dirtbag. Go bury your ugly head in the sand.” That was Zak yelling at me again.
I held up the charm bracelet. I was sure it wasn’t his, but he might recognize it if he had sent some kids to interrupt my sleep. Something about the bracelet upset him. He passed his wife on his way inside his house. I couldn’t imagine that my midnight visitor had been Carol, Zak’s wife. She was tiny, birdlike and timid. She was probably afraid of the dark. I’d heard him yelling insults at her, just like he yelled at me. I wondered if he ever hit her. Was he the kind of man who would physically abuse a woman? I continued to display the bracelet; she showed no sign she recognized it.
But I remembered she had a red hoodie.
Inside my house, the cats ran toward me. They were ready for breakfast. A newcomer cat whom I had named Patrick already knew about breakfast time. This orange striped cat had lived with Zak and Carol, but they usually kept him outdoors. I told them about the many dangers outdoor cats face. They didn’t listen. When they went on vacation for two weeks, they left their cat behind. I took him in. They had just gotten back, and they were sure I had their cat. He wasn’t their cat anymore. I should have reported them to the police for abandoning the cat. Instead I just took the cat in, I fed him, and paid for his neutering operation.
That reminded me that I needed to get that feral cat to the vet. I’d leave him there overnight and then Sheila would pick him up.
Sheila stopped at my house mid afternoon. I showed her the charm bracelet I’d found in my bushes. “You can get these at any dollar store,” she told me. They come in strands of three. They’re real cheap, but cute.”
I sure hoped those kids don’t come back. Maybe I’d hang the bracelet from a branch. But why give it back to them?
Midnight: A cat cried again. I heard other noises in the bushes. Was that a painful cry? Then I heard a thud. Were those kids getting rough with each other out there? I didn’t mind the name calling. Zak was just embarrassing himself, but at night I needed to get my sleep. I’d talk to Carol tomorrow. She seemed more reasonable than Zak did.
Morning: I got out a bag of birdseed and went outside to feed the wild things. I took deep breaths and started to enjoy the new day. At least Zak wasn’t yelling at me. I turned toward the bushes. What that a sack of old clothes? This thing with Zak was getting out of hand if he was tossing garbage in my yard. I moved closer. Had a homeless man fallen asleep in my yard? I moved closer. Zak lie beside the rose bush. A thorn tore the flesh off his cheek. He could have been sleeping, except for a kitchen knife in his chest.
The police came and the ambulance. The officers kept asking questions. What had I heard that night? Whispers. A moan. A cat mewing. The bushes moving against my window. A thud.
“Where did the knife come from?”
It was part of a kitchen set I’d bought years ago. But how had it gotten in Zak’s chest?
“You were feuding with your neighbor?” the detective asked.
“He said I stole his cat.”
“Did you?”
I looked over at the orange cat I had named Patrick. “I took in an outdoor cat a few days ago. It had been abandoned. It had no food except what I was putting out for it. If that was his cat, it’s not his cat anymore.”
“He’s been harassing you. Calling you names.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I said.
“You had the motive.”
“A few insults are not a motive. I’ve been called a dirtbag before. When you rescue cats, some people don’t like it.”
“This was your neighbor. Did he like living next to…all these cats.”
“Detective, he’s a foot taller than me, and he hates me. I lectured him about caring for his cat. He blames me for the cat’s disappearance. I confess I did re-home his cat.”
“Like I said, you’ve got the motive.”
“I couldn’t have gotten close to him, and if I did, he could easily have wrestled the knife away from me.”
“So you’re saying the killer could only have been someone as big and strong as your neighbor. He was what? Six feet 4 or 6 feet 5? That narrows the suspects down.”
“It could have been someone big enough to take him down,” I conceded, “but it most likely was someone he trusted. Someone he let get close to him.”
“Got anyone in mind?” he asked.
“Oh yes.”
The detective called an officer from one of the squad cars, and they accompanied me next door. Carol answered the door. Tears streamed down her face. “You killed my husband,” you old fleabag.”
I held out the bracelet to her.“This is yours,” I said.
“No. I mean yes. I don’t know.”
“I found it in my bushes yesterday. And I looked the bracelet up on line. A friend of mine told me about the bracelet too. They come in groups of three.”
“So what. Lots of people have bracelets like this. The dollar store is full of them.”
“Could this one be yours?”
“Maybe. I lost one. It’s been lost for some time. An animal could have dragged it in your ugly old bushes.”
“Yes, that could have happened,” I paused. “You never brought my knife back. You borrowed it before you went on your vacation. You do remember taking my knife, don’t you?”
“I didn’t. Maybe I did. I don’t remember. I brought it back.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” She turned to the detectives. “Arrest this old witch. She killed my husband.” She shook her finger at me. A charm bracelet like the one I’d found in the bushes dangled on her wrist.
The detective and I both noticed that the little red heart was missing.
“Didn’t you say a little red heart-shaped charm had been found under the body?” I asked the detective. Carol screamed as the uniformed officer put handcuffs on her, and the detective read her her rights.
