cups on the parlor room table.
“I’m all ears, Mrs. Taylor,” replies Tom as he picks up his cup.
“I sit here most days and read the paper, or write letters to old friends, or I doze off when bored,” starts Mary. “I was sitting right here when I saw a small white car stop outside Mrs. Garner’s home last Wednesday afternoon.” Mary takes a sip from her tea.
“Go on,” says Sargent Becker.
‘Well,” replies Mary as she put her cup down, “The car stopped and I saw the driver’s door open and a cat, of all things, jump out and run up to Mrs. Garner’s front porch and just sit there.”
“Go on,” says Sargent Becker.
“Well, then the car drove away. Later on, that afternoon Mrs. Garner’s grandson Bobby Garner, who comes around every other day to check on his grandmother, drove up in his car. He checked the mail box and then walked to the porch.”
“Was this cat still there?” asks Tom.
“Yes it was. It had not moved since it arrived. However it didn’t run away when Bobby approached it, in fact it went inside with him as he unlocked the front door. I think that a bit strange, don’t you?”
“Did Mrs. Garner own a cat?”
“Yes, but it died a few years back and it was completely black. This cat was a golden color, with a dark face, legs and tail. It looked like one of those pedigree types.”
“OK, go on,” says Tom.
“Well, I must have dozed off, because when I looked again, Bobby’s car had gone and it was getting close to dark.”
Mary looks at the Sargent intently. “But the next morning, when I was here at my table, I saw that same small white car pull up outside Mrs. Garner’s house again. It sat here for a while; when all of a sudden that same cat came darting out from under her house somewhere and leaped into the open driver’s door. I have never seen anything like it, ever. And later that day the ambulance arrived and I saw poor Mrs. Garner being taken away to the morgue, I suppose.”
Tom Becker says nothing, just looks at her. He then says, “And the white car?”
“Well, it drove away and I haven’t seen it since.”
“Did you notice what type of car or registration?”
“Not the registration, but it was a small Japanese car like my youngest daughter had once. A Toyota or Nissan maybe.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“I did on the second time. It was a strange thing too. As the car was about to drive away, the driver lent over into the passenger side and looked to my window. The driver was wearing a cap and had short clumpy hair.”
‘Man or woman?” asks Tom.
“I couldn’t tell. However, the driver was staring straight at me! It made me queasy and unsettled.”
‘So, what made you really call us?”
“Well, it was that look I got. It was very disturbing. I didn’t like it at all. Creepy. Something really weird,” Mary looks out her window then turns to Becker.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Nope, that’s about it. I feel sorry for Mrs. Garner and her grandson. I hadn’t spoken to her for many months as she never ventured out and I couldn’t be bothered to visit. We weren’t that close.”
2.
Sargent Becker contacts Bobby, the grandson, that afternoon and asks him to drop into the Police Station on his way home from work.
Bobby works at a local body shop and had the faint smell of noxious duco-paint about him. His hands are ingrained with automotive grime from his years repairing cars and trucks. Becker didn’t know Bobby that well, but as is in a small town, he has heard rumors of drugs and booze surrounding him following the death of Johnny. One definite thing he knew about Bobby was that his older brother Johnny, who served in Afghanistan as a Grunt, was captured and eventually executed by the Taliban. He had been offered up for ransom. US$750,000 they wanted. Bobby’s father did not have that money even if he sold everything he had. The U.S. Government wouldn’t help because they don’t deal with these types, except to hurt or kill them. Bobby’s grandmother had enough to help out, but she stubbornly refused.
“Hi Sargent. What’s up?” he asks as he sits down in a small interview room.
“Bobby, I want to ask you a few questions about your grandmother and the day before her death.”
Bobby shifts nervously in his chair, “Fire away Sir.”
“Did you visit your grandmother the day before she was found dead?”
Bobby shot back, “Yup, I did. My usual checkup on Gran to make sure she was OK. She can’t be bothered to answer her phone much, so I visit, check her mail and have a chat. She gets her groceries delivered every Friday.” He looks annoyed, “Oh shoot, I must cancel that now.”
“And do you remember anything different when you entered the house?”
Bobby smiles as if he was waiting for the question, “Yes there was a mangy cat sleeping on the front door mat.”
“Go on, what happened to the cat?”
Bobby straightens up, “I hadn’t seen it before. I say, ‘shoo cat’, to it and it ran off under the house. That’s the last I saw of it.”
“So when you left your grandmother’s place you never saw it outside or even inside?”
“Nope,” replies Bobby. “I gave all this information to one of your officers last week. I went back the next day because I left my sunglasses behind and Gran was dead. I called emergency. You can check if you want.”
Becker had checked and the statements agreed.
“OK Bobby, thanks very much for your cooperation. You can go now. Oh, one more thing, did you get on well with your grandmother?”
“Yeah, sure I do, or I did.”
“Any hard feelings from your brother’s misfortune?”
Bobby’s face becomes sad with a slight drooping of his mouth. “It was a hard time for us all Officer, but I’m over it now. As they say, life must go on.”
Tom wasn’t convinced.
Bobby gets up from the table, shakes the Sargent’s hand and leaves.
Mrs. Elizabeth Garner was declared dead on the day after Bobby’s visit (and the cat’s). The coroner signed off on the death certificate, as heart attack from short breath. Mrs. Garner was eighty-six. The only discerning marks found on Mrs. Garner’s body were a few cat hairs in her throat and scratches at the rear of her head and down her neck. Causes undetermined
‘A
