Thatch has been sleeping in Auntie Laura’s heated bed with a couple of Ping-Pong balls, his catnip fish, and a crucifix. I hadn’t seen one of those since the babies used them to fight the goblins. While Thatch was playing with the pigeons on the fire escape, I quietly asked Annabelle if she knew what was going on. Her answer was evasive.
Have you been frightening him with the SyFy channel again?
He likes a good horror movie, she muttered.
Liar. Every time I leave the apartment, you switch channels to SyFy. Sharknado terrified him, and you know Jaws caused major issues. Some nights he’s too frightened to go to sleep. You have to stop this.
If you want to know, we’re both frightened, she replied. She rummaged through their toy box.
Well, the goblins are gone, and you’ve never been afraid of the ghosts in the building.
I’m afraid of the ones in the basement. They are scary, but this worse than ghosts. Then, lowering her voice, she whispered, It’s vampires. She pulled a crucifix from the toy box and attached it to her collar.
Vampires? I asked.
Yes. On the fourth floor . . . Right above us, Apartment 4C.
Vampires! Thatch yelled, running to his toy box.
He dragged out his crucifix and put the chain around his neck. The chain is too long and his feet get tangled in it. It’s sad watching him stumble around.
Thatch and I are protecting ourselves, she told me. When you go to the jeweler’s, you should get yourself a crucifix. And a new chain for Thatch, maybe? Something pretty . . . and religious.
I needed to go to the jeweler on 86th Street because she was tossing things off the chest, and my Mickey Mouse watch ended up in the water dish. I’d make her take care of it, but her sense of direction’s bad. Even if she found her way back, she’s poor at handling change, and I do not trust her with my credit cards.
I got a new battery for my watch and a nice little chain, really a bracelet for a little girl, for Thatch’s crucifix at those nice jewelers on the corner of Broadway and 86th. Everything went so smoothly I got myself a new watchband as well. When I got home, I couldn’t get into the apartment since I didn’t know the right password. Whenever Annabelle decides this is a necessary precaution, she and Thatch always forget to tell me.
Just let me in, I said. It’s Daddy.
How do I know? Thatch asked behind the door. I’m the sentry.
Awww, I bet you’re the handsomest sentry on the Upper West Side.
Thatch giggled.
We need the password, sir, Annabelle said. She sounded quite bureaucratic. These are perilous times.
Annabelle, you know my voice!
Vampires are masters of disguise, sir. No password, no entry.
My mind raced though the previous passwords they had used.
Is it Rumpelstiltskin?
No, Thatch giggled. He liked this game.
Is it Missykitty? That’s Annabelle’s computer password.
No, it is not, she snapped.
Is it White Christmas?
No, Daddy, Thatch laughed. It’s Memory!
Thatch! Annabelle yelled.
There was a commotion behind the door. I could hear something landing on the floor, some muffled yells for help from Thatch, followed by a crash and the sound of stainless steel dishes rolling around the kitchen floor. Something slammed against the door.
Ow, Annabelle! Help, Daddy!
All right, you two, what’s going on? I yelled through the door. What did you spill? Annabelle, you open the door this instant, Missy. Let me in! Daddy is not happy at the moment.
We need the password, sir.
It’s Memory, Annabelle. Now let me in.
I’ve changed the password since Thatch gave it to you.
What is it? Thatch asked her.
It’s . . . Hmmm, it’s . . . I forgot!
Annabelle! Let me in. I rattled the door.
For security reasons, sir, we need the password.
Annabelle, you know as well as I do that vampires cannot come out in the daylight. It’s me. It’s Daddy. Let me in!
I heard her and Thatch whispering behind the door.
Yes, Thatch whined.
Protocol must be followed. You know that.
More whispering. Thatch was on my side. Annabelle could apply for work with the DMV.
Well, if he is a vampire, I hope he bites you first, Annabelle finally said. I could hear the latch turning. She opened the door.
Oh, it is you. She seemed disappointed.
Annabelle, you knew I’d be back. You expected Count Dracula?
We can’t be too careful. Once you let them in, they’ll bite you. Thatch and I don’t want to be vampires.
I looked at the mess on the kitchen floor: overturned water dish, papers floating in the water on the floor, and Annabelle’s clipboard.
So, where’s Thatch? I have his new crucifix chain.
I tossed some damp papers into the trash. One of them was her current list of Amazon items she wanted. I really don’t know why she needs a hair dryer. I don’t want to know.
He’s working in the bathroom.
Working?
Sharpening wooden stakes.
Let me get this straight, I asked Annabelle. You and Thatch really think there are vampires on the fourth floor?
Yes. Directly above us.
You really believe this? Why? He’s a college boy, not a vampire. And he’s an asshole.
We can hear him through the ceiling. It’s quiet all day, and then he starts walking around when it’s dark, about 11:00. He leaves the apartment around midnight and returns around 3:30 or so. Then he moves around the apartment till sunrise.
I haven’t heard any of this!
You snore so loudly you wouldn’t hear a bomb go off.
Annabelle! I finished sharpening the stakes. Thatch carried four blue pencils into the room.
Those are my HB drawing pencils! I said. Do you know what those things cost?
Annabelle checked something on her clipboard. Ignoring me, she looked over Thatch’s sharpening job.
Very good, Thatch, she said. Where did you put the holy water?
Holy water? What are you kitties going to do? I put the crucifix and its new chain around Thatch’s neck.
I like it! Thatch said. Look, Annabelle-
We have some scouting to do, she interrupted. She turned to me. So, are you going to let Thatch and me fight vampires alone or will you help us?
I’ll help you, of course.
All for one and one for all! Thatch pranced excitedly around the sharpened pencils. He loves The Three Musketeers, and we have to watch it at least once a week.
But, I said, I think we need a plan of attack. I don’t want you and Thatch running into danger.
She gave me a pitying look, sighed, and looked over her clipboard.
I have a complete plan drawn up. Our first move is to climb the fire escape and look in his window. I want to know where his coffin is. She moved to the hat rack and put on her deerstalker. Thatch! Get your hat. Something’s afoot!
Wearing their deerstalkers, two kittens looked up at me.
People will think we’re just playing on the fire escape. She jumped up to the windowsill. Thatch followed her.
Would you open the window? Please?
It’s early afternoon, I said. I don’t think you need those crucifixes weighing you down. What if you need to run?
She thought about that for a moment, then removed her crucifix.
Take it off, Thatch; he’s right.
Such brave kitties! I exclaimed.
Just open the window. Please? The game’s afoot!
She leaped out the window onto the fire escape.
Be careful, Sherlock! I called.
Thatch jumped after her. I wanna be Sherlock!
I’m Sherlock! Annabelle insisted. You are Doctor Watson.
I wanna be Sherlock! You can be Doctor Whatsit.
I could hear my fearless vampire slayers arguing all the way up the fire escape.
The neighbor under Annabelle’s scrutiny has lived in the building for three or four years. He was Canadian, and when he moved in, he was taking business classes at NYU. When I last saw him in the lobby several months ago, he told me he was working in a real estate office. All I knew about him beyond that was he had lots of girlfriends and a very squeaky, very noisy sofa bed. He traveled back and forth to Toronto quite a bit, and he wasn’t particularly friendly. Our relationship had soured when he went back to Canada for a week and left his dog, a very sweet boxer, at the mercy of friends who came in once a day to walk and feed him. The poor dog barked day and night for the entire week, and I sent several complaints to the landlord.
Annabelle and Thatch scampered down the fire escape, jumped through the open window, and danced around me.
Well, Sherlock, I asked, did you learn anything?
Looking very pleased with herself, she said, Yes. He keeps worse house than you do.
She and Thatch thought this was very funny..
I could keep a great house if you two would behave and pick up after yourselves, I snapped.
Touchy, very touchy, she said. Thatch, we may need to find someone else to help us.
She gave me the very same look I get when I delete her Amazon items from the computer. She hung her deerstalker on the rack and Thatch followed.
Thatch and I have things to do. They turned and headed for the bathroom.
No, wait! I really want to know what you learned.
Really? She turned back and gave me a smile.
Yes, really.
Okay. We didn’t see any coffin.
No coffin! Thatch yelled.
Do you think it’s in the bathroom or closet? She asked me. Could he close himself up in a sofa bed?
His dad’s paying a lot for that apartment. If he were a vampire, I would think he’d have a really nice coffin.
No coffin! And no sneezin’! Thatch yelled. He and I laughed while Annabelle looked at us with much disgust.
Are you going to be serious? she snapped. You two can be pathetic.
Touchy, very touchy, I said to Thatch. Annabelle laughed as well. She can be a good sport.
Sometimes.
She looked over her clipboard. If you’re going to help Thatch and me, you have to stay up with us tonight and listen with us.
I promise. Cross my heart.
When he goes out, we’ll follow him. I hope you have taxi money.
I’ll walk to the bank right now, I said.
Do you have a crucifix? She checked something on her clipboard.
I do.
For reasons I no longer remember, I did have a rosary with a nice crucifix tucked away in a drawer. I did keep company with a rather strange Catholic alcoholic several years ago. Was it a relic of a bad relationship perhaps? A prop from some show I had worked on? Who knows? I’m getting old.
Later, around 10:00pm, thanks to the thin walls and cheap floors of the building, we could hear the neighbor’s door, which needed oil, open and footsteps walking around the apartment.
Thatch yelled, He’s home!
Hush, Annabelle snapped. Get your coats and crucifixes.
Shortly before midnight we heard the neighbor walk to the door and leave the apartment.
Come on! Annabelle called.
We climbed out the fire escape and ran to the second floor, where it ended. Thank God the new elevator is as slow as the old one. We watched the neighbor walk out the front door and turn toward Broadway. I pulled the ladder down to the stoop and we got to the sidewalk. We followed as he crossed Broadway and hailed a taxi heading downtown.
I love New York taxi drivers. Nothing fazes them. A man wearing a rosary over his peacoat, yelling “follow that cab,” accompanied by two young cats carrying crucifixes and wearing deerstalkers didn’t get a second look. He put the pedal to the floor and we chased our quarry down Broadway as the babies sang “A-Hunting We Will Go!”
We lost the neighbor’s taxi in the Times Square traffic so I asked the cabbie to take us home. Annabelle was not happy at this turn of events.
Is traffic always this bad in Times Square? she demanded. Thatch, stop singing! I need to think what we do now.
Thatch stopped singing “A-Hunting We Will Go” and curled up in my lap. I adjusted his deerstalker, which was hanging over one ear. He’s an energetic singer.
You know what I think? I timidly asked; she’s lethal when she’s testy. I think we should wait for him to come home, and then you should sneak up the fire escape to see what he’s doing.
She thought about this while the taxi made its way through the 72nd Street-Broadway traffic mess.
That’s good, she said. I’ll go alone with my crucifix because Thatch never knows when to be quiet.
Thatch sat up. I can be quiet.
When I paid the taxi driver, he asked, Is it Halloween?
Thatch, who was dancing around my feet, said to him, I’m Sherlock! She’s Doctor Whatsit!
I’m Sherlock, Annabelle snapped.
The argument continued into the building.
We got home just before one o’clock. I tried to put Thatch to bed but he was too excited to sleep. Around three, the neighbor arrived home. Just as Annabelle told me, he had moments of quiet before he started to pace and then walk about the apartment. There would be 10-20 minutes of quiet, then pacing for 15 minutes.
Okay, Annabelle, check out the scene. I opened the window and she quietly climbed up the fire escape. Five minutes later she returned.
He’s walking in circles. He’s still dressed.
Any blood? Thatch asked. Any bodies?
No, but he needs a shave.
And my babies need to go to bed. Daddy’s sleepy.
For two days Annabelle and Thatch kept tabs on the neighbor’s comings and goings. They covered the fire escape in so much garlic that the pigeons complained. Whenever I walked into the apartment I stumbled over books on vampires and the occult that Annabelle requested I pick up at the library. They were reading as well novels by Ann Rice, Stephen King, and Bram Stoker for research. None of us were getting any sleep since we stayed up all night stalking the neighbor and we spent the days catching naps here and there. I would lie down for a nap with Thatch lying next to my pillow and Annabelle lying in my lap.
I hate this schedule, Annabelle, I complained. It’s wreaking havoc on my court shows and soaps. I don’t like sleeping through Judge Judy.
Looking over her clipboard, Annabelle asked me where we could find a gravedigger’s shovel.
Why? I was curious.
To cut off his head after we stake him.
Oh, come on. I don’t think he’s a vampire, just an obnoxious party boy wasting his daddy’s money.
I need that shovel. Would you get me the Yellow Pages? Please?
This morning I ran into Val, our super, outside the building. I hadn’t seen him in several days, but I hadn’t seen much of anyone in several days. He looked haggard.
You don’t look good, I said to him. Where have you been?
Downtown at the FBI headquarters. They arrested me.
For what?
Drugs.
What? When did this happen?
Two days ago. They had photos of me carrying suitcases of drugs into the building. I told them I was helping a tenant carry his luggage. He had a lot of bags. It’s my job to help the tenants.
We have a drug dealer here? Which apartment?
4C, the one above you.
That ass? He’s a drug dealer? Are you serious?
Very. They took him into custody early this morning. He’s been smuggling drugs from Toronto and selling them in the clubs. They’ve been watching him for some time. He’ll be spending time at Riker’s Island.
I started laughing. I think he’s been using his product as well. He’s a mess!
Val looked puzzled, and I told him about my vampire killers. After we had a good laugh, he assured me that he was cleared of all charges. We went upstairs to tell Annabelle and Thatch. Annabelle was thrilled that the man she loves was not a jailbird.
Well, Annabelle, I said, you and Thatch were good detectives but I’m really glad the neighbor wasn’t a vampire. The goblins were enough trouble.
I picked up Annabelle’s books to return them to the library. Thatch climbed the bookshelves to the ceiling.
Annabelle took off her deerstalker and scratched her head. I was sure he was a vampire, she said. He fit the profile. Then she climbed up to the ceiling with Thatch.
Daddy! Watch me! Thatch jumped down from the bookcase onto my bed.
This building is so lucky you two live here to keep all of us safe. Let’s have a snack.
Thatch followed me to the refrigerator
Are you coming down, Annabelle?
I need to think.
I rook the books around the corner to the library, happy that everything was back to normal. We can return to our old schedule and I can get some rest. I’ve missed Judge Judy.
So, Annabelle, what do you and Thatch want for dinner tonight? I think “The Real Housecats of Manhattan” is on the Kitty Channel. Annabelle?
She was deep in thought. Uh-oh, I thought.
Annabelle? Dinner?
You know that dog on the fifth floor? She asked me.
Yes. He’s very friendly. His owners are nice ladies.
I’ve been watching him. I think he might be a Baskerville.
Thatch ran for his deerstalker.
The game’s afoot!
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 