The Silence Of The Library

“True.” Miss An’gel pursed her lips as she continued to regard the large Maine Coon cat. “He is in unfamiliar surroundings, though, and I’ve heard that cats don’t like change. He might be upset because Charlie and the rest of the family have gone off and left him.” She pointed to the elderly Aubusson carpet that covered a third of their front parlor. “I’m not sure this can withstand accidents, if you know what I mean.”

“Really, An’gel.” Dickce shook her head. “Diesel is a smart kitty. He already knows where we put his litter box. He’s not going to make a mess on one of our priceless antiques.”

“That’s all well and good.” An’gel glared at her sister, the younger by almost four years. “Even if his bathroom habits are impeccable, what shall we do if he starts clawing the furniture?”

“If you were this worried about the contents of the house, why did you ever agree to keep Diesel?” Dickce glared right back. “Frankly, I seem to recall that you volunteered to cat-sit. Charlie never once opened his mouth to ask you. In fact, he looked mighty startled when you said we’d be delighted, though he’s such a gentleman he hid it immediately.” She sat back, arms folded over her chest, and waited.

There was no arguing with Dickce when she was in one of her contrary moods. An’gel suppressed a sigh as she threw up her hands in mock surrender. Before she could speak, Diesel warbled loudly and placed his large right front paw on her knee. An’gel stared down into the cat’s eyes, and she would have sworn he was trying to reassure her.

Dickce pointed at the Maine Coon. “See? He’s telling you he’s going to be extra-special good.”

The triumphant note in Dickce’s voice irritated An’gel, but she pretended it didn’t. Instead she stroked the cat’s head and told him twice she knew he was a good boy.

“Come sit with me, Diesel.” Dickce patted the sofa cushion beside her. “You can stretch out and nap with your aunt Dickce.”

Diesel pawed at An’gel’s knee again and meowed. He gazed up at her, and she had the oddest feeling that he was asking her permission. At least the cat was smart enough to know who was really in charge here. “Go ahead, it’s fine with me.”

The cat blinked at her before he turned to amble over to the sofa. He jumped up beside Dickce and settled himself with his head and front legs in her lap. Dickce stroked him and grinned at her sister when Diesel started to purr loudly.

An’gel picked up her glass of sweet tea and sipped at it. There was nothing better during the dog days of summer. Their housekeeper, Clementine, made the best sweet tea in Athena County, if not in the whole state of Mississippi. “The only reason I’m glad to see August come around every year is the fact that we don’t have any committee meetings to attend, any garden club functions to arrange, or any other social commitments. It’s nice to have a vacation.”

“It sure is.” Dickce nodded. “I keep thinking we ought to retire and live a quieter life, but I know we’d both be bored and ready to strangle each other in a month or two.”

“Besides, you know as well as I do that no one else will keep things organized and running the way we can.” An’gel shook her head. “If the community had to pay someone to do what we do, the town couldn’t afford it.”

Dickce frowned. “Did you hear that? Sounded like a car drove up just now.”

“I heard it.” An’gel stood. “We weren’t expecting visitors this afternoon. I’m not in the mood to entertain.”

“Tell whoever it is to go away.” Dickce yawned. “I think I’d like to go upstairs for a nap.”

An’gel strode to the front window and pulled the heavy red damask drapes aside to peer through the window. “I don’t recognize the car, and I can’t see who’s driving. Clementine is probably napping now herself. I’ll go.”

The bell sounded before An’gel reached the door. She opened it to find a woman about her own age standing there, finger on the bell, poised to ring it again. Her hair was an unnatural shade of red, and her face was devoid of makeup. She didn’t look like a salesperson, but she did seem vaguely familiar.

“Good afternoon. What can I do for you?”

Startled, the woman took a step back. “My goodness. An’gel, it’s you, isn’t it? I never expected you to answer the door.” She smiled. “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

An’gel peered at the woman’s face as she tried to recall who she was. Recognition dawned, along with the first stirring of dismay. What on earth was Rosabelle Sultan doing here?

An’gel stepped back and waved the visitor in. “Of course I am, Rosabelle. This is a surprise. Weren’t you living in California?”

Rosabelle opened her mouth to speak. Her eyes widened, and she dropped her purse. “What on earth is that?” She pointed to a spot behind An’gel.