Something Hidden Read Online Free PDF Page B

off again, errant waft of the hand catching her husband on the side of the head as he mistimed his duck.
    ‘You have F1, F2 and F3 Bengals, isn’t that right, Geoffrey,’ she said.
    Geoffrey winced as if expecting another blow but nodded along in agreement. He had a neat moustache but that was the only hair anywhere near his head; the rest had presumably been batted away by
his wife.
    Margaret didn’t stop: ‘Back when they originally crossbred the domestic cat with the Asian leopard, that litter and subsequent ones were the F1s. The F2s were the children of those
F1s, and the F3s are the next generation.’
    ‘Right . . .’ Andrew blinked. ‘Sorry . . . they bred cats with
leopards
?’
    She stared at him as if it was a perfectly normal thing. ‘Precisely.’
    Andrew had no idea what she was on about. Cats with
leopards
? Was that a thing? What next? Dogs with goats? What was the world coming to?
    Margaret’s other arm shot off towards the canvas on the wall above the fireplace. The enlarged photograph was a picture of her surrounded by what looked like a pair of miniature leopards.
The animals were a creamy orange, dotted by thick black spots.
    ‘Those are my babies,’ Margaret said. ‘Elvis and Presley – they’re F3s. You should only use an F1, F2 or F3 for breeding. Mine are both studs.’
    Andrew felt lost – a cat was a cat, wasn’t it? He took a moment to think of a question while examining the giant photograph. The cats really did look like mini leopards. He wondered
if they roared like them. Probably not.
    ‘How do you know they’re F3s?’ he asked.
    ‘Oh, Geoffrey’s got the paperwork somewhere, haven’t you, dear?’
    Before she could take his head off, Geoffrey shot towards the cabinet on the far side of the room. If he’d had any sense, he’d have kept going through the patio doors and not looked
back. The poor sod probably had a permanent concussion.
    Margaret leant forward, pointing towards the photograph again. ‘Everything has to be documented. You need birth certificates and proof of heritage. That’s why Elvis and Presley are
so valuable.’
    ‘How much are the cats worth?’
    ‘Oh, darling, I hate to think of it in terms of money – they’re part of the family . . .’ She paused, picking at an errant fingernail. ‘. . . But it’s tens of
thousands.’
    Andrew chose the wrong moment to breathe in, almost swallowing his tongue and having to rely on Jenny to pat him on the back in order to not choke to death.
    Tens of thousands?! For a cat! Even if she was exaggerating – which she probably was – the amount sounded ridiculous.
    ‘Do you want some water?’ Margaret began clicking her fingers in Geoffrey’s direction as Andrew croaked that he was fine. Moments later and she was back in full flow:
‘While we were out last week, someone came over our fence, drilled through the locks on the back door and snatched both cats. Poor Elvis and Presley must be terrified.’
    Andrew had just about recovered some composure but was making sure he steered away from finance-based questions before breathing. Tens of thousands? Tens?
Of thousands?
What in the name
of all that is holy was going on?
    ‘Was anything else taken?’ he managed.
    ‘No – that’s why we know the thieves came specifically for them.’
    ‘What did the police say?’
    Margaret’s face sank into a grimace, as if she was being force-fed sprouts. ‘Bah, useless, aren’t they? They came out with their rubber gloves and dusting stuff but they
couldn’t find anything. When we told them it was just the cats that had gone, they lost interest. Apparently, cat theft isn’t considered a crime because they can just wander off. You
would’ve thought the drilled locks were a clue.’
    ‘So the police are not even looking for your cats?’
    ‘They said “it’s not a priority”, isn’t that right, Geoffrey?’ Margaret looked over her shoulder but her husband was keeping his head down, sorting