Canapés for the Kitties Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lorinda was horrified. “There’s no window – you’ll have no air.”
    â€œEspecially if I keep the door closed, which I shall have to do to keep it soundproof,” Freddie nodded gloomily. “Damn Dorian and all his machinations!”
    â€œDorian can’t be blamed if the Jackley marriage is breaking up.” Lorinda was assailed by sudden doubt. “Can he?”
    â€œI wouldn’t like to swear to anything.” Freddie was suddenly very interested in her drink. “It’s possible that they’ve just discovered they can’t stand each other.”
    â€œAnd who can blame them?” Macho murmured. Diplomatic relations had been strained ever since Jack Jackley had pointed out the antiquity of much of his hard-boiled American slang. He had been particularly annoyed to be told that “roscoe” was even worse than “gat” for a gun. Nor was Jackley’s humour appreciated when he suggested alternative names for Roscoe. Nothing on earth could induce Macho to change Roscoe’s name to Capone.
    â€œI was so exhausted by the time they decided to call it a night,” Freddie went on, “that I overslept disgracefully this morning. I didn’t wake up until Karla threw the toaster at the wall.”
    â€œHow do you know it was the toaster?” Macho always liked to get these little points clear.
    â€œI heard Jack shout, ‘You’ll electrocute yourself!’ and then, ‘Those were the last two slices of bread.’ It wasn’t hard to deduce – that is our business, you know.”
    â€œTrue.” Lorinda and Macho nodded.
    â€œThen there was a long silence. I hoped one of them was strangling the other with the electric cord, but no such luck. I looked out of the window a while later and saw them setting off for the shops. They had their shopping basket with them –” She forestalled Macho’s next question.
    â€œAnyway, I took advantage of the quiet to get some work done. When I heard doors slamming over there again, I decided to get out and do some shopping myself. I had nearly finished and was walking down the High Street when I saw that – that toad! ” She spat the word out and the cats turned their heads to look at her with a wary interest bordering on alarm. They were not accustomed to that tone of voice from her.
    â€œHe was hopping out of the wine merchant’s – wouldn’t you know it? – and looking too pleased with himself to be true. I’d hoped I was hallucinating, but he spoke to me and said he’d just moved in to Coffers Court and was looking forward to living here amongst all his old friends and colleagues.”
    â€œYou should have spat in his face!” Macho was overidentifying with his character again, although the fictional Macho wouldn't have stopped at mere spittle, a few broken teeth were more his style.
    â€œI have a book coming out next month,” Freddie apologized.
    â€œMaybe he’ll be nicer when he realizes that he has to live among us and meet us every day.” Lorinda tried to look on the bright – or, at least, hopeful – side.
    â€œHah!” Macho spat.
    Had-I and But-Known jumped down from the arms of the chair and Roscoe joined them on their tactical retreat into the kitchen; the atmosphere was getting too violent around here for a respectable cat to countenance. They didn’t even look back when the telephone rang again.
    Lorinda recognized the voice the instant it greeted her in the unctuous tones it used when being introduced on television or radio (the waspishness came later, when he launched into the actual reviews). She leaned weakly against the wall, faintly echoing the more pertinent of his remarks, aware that her breathless audience was hanging on every word.
    â€œYes ... yes, I’d heard.” She could not bring herself to say, Welcome to Brimful Coffers. Apart from anything else, that audience