A Familiar Tail Read Online Free PDF Page A

really did have. She needed poster art for a community theater production of
Hedda Gabler
. I pictured a spill ofwhite-patterned fabric draped over a Victorian sofa and a dark and gloomy background. My fingers twitched. I had pencils and a fresh drawing pad in my suitcase (somewhere). Maybe I’d just get a quick sketch of the crewelwork pattern. At the very least I could snap some pictures and work on it with PictureShop and DrawingPad.
    I got up to push open the curtains to let in more light and immediately stumbled backward. I think I said something like, “Gaaah!”
    Alistair sat on the windowsill, staring in at me.

4
    â€œGOOD GRIEF, CAT! You scared the life out of me!”
    Alistair did not seem at all perturbed. He just put up one paw and batted at the spot over the window latch. “Mrrrrowww?” The feline question filtered through the pane. “Mrrp?”
    â€œNo,” I said, after I’d gotten my breathing back under control. “You are not coming in. There is no admittance for spooky cats, okay? Shoo.” I waved my hands. “Scat!”
    Alistair blinked those big blue eyes once, indicating that he was not in the least impressed by my strange human antics. Then he got calmly to his feet, walked along the sill, leapt off the edge and was gone.
    After a certain amount of internal debate, I shoved up the window sash. Leaning out into the afternoon sunshine, I looked down. Ah-yup. We were still on the second floor. No, there was no visible cat below me.
    Neither was there a cat when I looked to the left or to the right. I twisted my neck to see if he could have jumped onto the roof, but the overhanging eaves were too wide. Plus,those eaves were another whole story up above what I took to be the house’s attic. I also couldn’t help noticing that the ivy, which had been allowed to grow across the front and sides of the house, had been cleared away back here.
    In short, there was no visible way up to my window from the ground, just like there was no visible way down to it from the roof.
    I closed the window, latched it and pulled the curtains. Normally, my Vibe is reserved for places, but something about that cat set the back of my neck prickling, and those prickles spread quickly down my spine.
    â€œIt didn’t happen,” I told the universe at large. “I am not being stalked by the magical mystery cat with the murdered mistress. This is not the kind of thing that happens to Annabelle Amelia Blessingsound Britton. I declare this to be a Rule.”
    I don’t think the universe listened.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    MY VIBE FINALLY hit in McDermott’s great room.
    I’d spent the rest of Friday in my room. I called Grandma B.B. again and got her answering machine, again. I also called Bob and Ginger to check up on how Dad was doing. Unfortunately, he was napping, so there went that chance to quiz him for extra information about the family’s Portsmouth history. I sketched the crewelwork patterns from my coverlet and canopy, caught up on e-mail, dined on leftover tacos, and had a long gossipy phone conversation with my buddy Nadia, who ran a gallery in the Hamptons.
    In short, I did everything I could to avoid thinking about my spooky stalker cat. I most definitely did not do anything radical like tell Nadia about Alistair or call Martine to tell her about Alistair. I also didn’t open the window again, not even when I woke up from a surprisingly deep night’s sleep and saw the beautiful summer Saturday outside.
    I dressed in yoga pants, a paisley T-shirt and my redKeds. I tiptoed downstairs carefully to avoid creaking the floorboards, just in case my fellow guests were not Morning People. We are a rare and special breed.
    McDermott’s narrow foyer opened into an airy and beautifully restored great room with white-painted trim and pale yellow walls. The moment I stepped over the threshold, warmth bubbled up like spiritual