Murders don’t happen to ordinary folk. They’re a part of la vie de low-life, or crime families like the Gottis or Trumps, but peaceful, minding-their-own-business folk are beyond such things, I believed. I do not even know exactly how this began.
No, wait. I blame Annabelle, who’s been restless lately. I was sure some of it was her career frustration that the glamour and lights weren’t always shining in her direction. There are only so many opportunities coming the way of a career-driven kitten.
While I was putting together my bag of garbage and recyclables to take to the basement, she and Thatch had been working on her cat food audition. Stella, exhausted from eating her breakfast along with the leftovers of Annabelle and Thatch, was chilling out in the bathtub. I hanged the bag of trash over the handlebars of my walker and headed to the basement. While I was down there, sorting things into various trash bins – litter here, plastic water bottle there, paper trash into this one, plastic wrappers into that one – my neighbor Mark, a wonderful jazz pianist, arrived with his bag of garbage. As we rode the elevator back up to three, we chatted.
You’re in a happy mood today, I observed.
Oh, yeah, he replied. I’m excited. I’m going to a Yankees game today.
Fantastic. I hope you have a good time. Is Judy going with you?
No . . . no, she’s, uh, she’s out in Long Island with her mom.
Really? Everything okay?
Yeah, she’s been there about a week. Her mom’s got a big birthday coming up – it’s her eightieth – and she’s gone out to help with things.
Eighty years is a lot to celebrate, I said as we stepped off the elevator.
It’s going to be a big family event.
That’s nice. I wish we had had a big party for my dad’s eightieth. Well, when you talk to Judy, tell her I hope everything goes well.
Will do. Mark turned right and headed to his door.
And have fun at the game today! I called as I pushed the walker straight down the hall to 3C.
The minute I opened the apartment door, Annabelle dashed out the door, ran between the legs of the walker and down the hall.
Chase me, Daddy! she yelled.
Annabelle, you know I can’t – Annabelle, get back here!`Annabelle, you know I can’t – Annabelle, get back here!
I pushed the walker into the apartment. Damn, damn, damn! I thought. Now I’ve gotta push this damned walker in and out of the elevator as I try to find her. She never finds her way home. I turned around, opened the door, and called, Annabelle? Kitty kitty kitty?
Chase me, she yelled from somewhere in the building. I could tell from the echo that she was no longer on three. Was she upstairs on four? On two? Damn it, Annabelle!
I returned to the walker, opened the door, and pushed it into the hall. Annabelle! Annabelle! I called.
Chase me, Daddy!
Let’s start with the fourth floor, I thought as I pushed the walker to the elevator. Where are you? I called.
Find me! I heard as the doors closed.
When the doors opened on four, I expected to see her sitting in front of 4C, but she wasn’t there.
Annabelle! I called. There was no response. Annabelle? I called again.
Dead silence. I backed onto the elevator and pressed the button for two. She wasn’t sitting in front of 2C, and when I called her name, there was no answer.
Annabelle!! I called. There was no answer. It was around 9:30, and most of the tenants with day jobs had already headed out. Well, back to five, I thought, and I’ll check every floor and call her name at every door.
Do. Not. Panic.
At that moment a tall, stocky young man turned the corner of the hall and faced me. I had no idea who he might be.
Wait! he said.
Shane? Is that you? I asked.
Shane was my neighbor in 4C. A law student, he moved in around June 2020. just when the pandemic had begun, and I only saw him on occasion. He was friendly, but I can’t say we were friends. I usually asked him. when I saw him. how law school was going.
It’s me.
What a surprise! I’ve never seen you without a face mask before. I had no idea what you looked like! So what’s going on?
I’ve got a cat in my apartment.
You’ve got Annabelle?
Is that her name? I heard a cat crying, and when I opened my door, she ran into the apartment, and now she’s under my bed.
Thank God! I had no idea where she was. Can I come up and get her?
Sure. I’ll ride up with you.
Twenty minutes later, Shane had finally coaxed Annabelle out from under his bed and placed her on my shoulders. I thanked him and apologized for her rudeness, turned the walker to the elevator, and Annabelle rode in triumph on my shoulders back to our apartment.
I swear, Annabelle, I scolded, I don’t know how you can memorize a million song lyrics and not remember where you live.
Shane’s apartment is much cleaner than ours, she said. There are no dust bunnies under his bed.
Well, I said as I opened the door, wait till he’s lived here for forty years.
Where’s Thatch? Annabelle asked. I need his help with my printer. Thatch? Thatch?
Oh, Annabelle, you woke me up! Thatch called. I was asleep on the chester drawers.
Get down here! I need your help, really I do, Come to the office! Now!
She vanished into the linen closet, and I watched Thatch stretch, give a huge yawn, and sit up.
You know, he told me, she jams that printer so often, you’d think she could fix it herself by now.
I’m sorry, Thatch, but she does depend on you.
I know. It makes me feel important.
He jumped down from the dresser and trotted off to the linen closet. Stella, who had been lying on the computer table, jumped down to the floor and followed him.
Good, peace and quiet, I thought. Let me do some writing. Tomorrow is laundry day, so let’s see how much I can accomplish while they’re occupied elsewhere.
Annabelle, you want to come to the laundry room with me? I asked the next morning as I wheeled the walker, laundry and supplies to the door.
Yes! she exclaimed as she jumped onto the cart and sat at the top of the laundry heap. This ride is so much fun.
It’s gonna take a while, Missy! I got the regular laundry as well as the bedding.
That’s fine! C’mon, Stella! We’ll chase a few ghosts.
I’m coming, too! Thatch called from the dresser. Maybe we’ll find another trunk.
Or see Val! Annabelle enthused.
I opened the door and pushed the walker, a little heavier now with three cats hanging on for dear life, to the elevator. Oh, God, I thought, this will be hell. Instead, I said, this will be fun, babies!
Four hours later, the laundry was put away, the bed was made, and I was exhausted. Three cats chasing around the basement with Val, chasing a few of the ghosts hanging out in the basement, climbing into the washers and dryers while you’re wrestling with damp fabrics, and making sure that you haven’t by chance left any cat to wash or dry while keeping an eye out for one of the uglier basement ghosts can be mentally and physically draining. I was so relieved when the work was finished, and we could all lie down and watch our soaps.
Thatch revelled in the clean scents and wallowed in the clean clothing lying on the bed as I put things away. I took the kitty quilt hanging over the foot of the bed and built a little cave for him. Delighted for a new place to hide and nap, he ran into it and settled. I finished putting away the laundry, and it was time for our soaps.
After the soaps, which I mostly slept though, Thatch and Annabelle filled me in on the day’s narrative. I then got off the bed, stretched, and wandered off to my worktable to get in a couple of hours of writing.
Will you build me another cave tomorrow? Thatch asked me.
Of course, baby, I told him. And I did.
I am so mad I could spit! Thatch said as he ran up to my worktable.I was drawing bar lines on score paper when he jumped onto the table and began to pace around it before he lay down on the paper I was using..
What’s the matter, Thatcher? I said as I pushed pen and rulers out of his way. Here, you’ll be more comfortable now. What’s wrong?
Annabelle!
Oh, Lord, I thought, why is it whenever I sit down to work, there’s a catastrophe among the babies? Instead, I said, Annabelle? Okay, what did she do?
You know that nice cave you made me this morning?
Of course! That was a nice cave, I told him. What happened to it.
Well, I was napping in my hideaway and Annabelle barged in, tossed me out, and took over.
Did she really?
She said all caves belong to her! Is that true?
No, Thatch. I will have to talk to her about that. I’m so sorry. I’ll make you a new cave tomorrow, I promise.
You’ll tell her it’s my cave?
If she even listens to me, I thought. Yes, I said, I will speak to our little princess. You know, she’s been very restless and fidgety lately.
Our little selfish princess! Thatch snapped as he rose off my score paper. I guess I’ll go sleep on the chester drawers. She’s working my last nerve, Daddy.
He jumped off the worktable and ran off to the dresser. I returned to drawing bar lines.
When I had finished the page of score I was writing, I got up from my worktable and went in search of Annabelle. She wasn’t in the cave on the bed, and I looked around for her. Thatch was asleep on his cardboard box on top of the dresser, but I didn’t see Annabelle or Stella anywhere.
Annabelle? I called. Missy? Stella? Stella bella? Annabelle?
Thatch sat up on his cardboard bed. Check the fire escape, he suggested. They were talking about it earlier.
The fire escape? I asked.
The window was open. It was another 90-degree day, and I had opened the window and turned both of the apartment fans on to full blast. It kept the place relatively cool in the mornings, but it was about time to close the window and turn on the AC. I went to the window and looked out. On the eastern end of the fire escape I could see Annabelle, Stella, Pebble, and Oyster, their pigeon friends, perched on the windowsill of apartment 3D and staring intently into the room.
Annabelle! What are you doing? I asked in a sharp voice.
The two pigeons flew away as Annabelle and Stella turned to face me. Two deer in the headlights, I thought.
Get back here! C’mon. I want to know what’s so fascinating in our neighbors’ apartment.
Annabelle and Stella ran to our window and jumped into the room. I closed the window and turned on the AC.
So? I asked. What did you two see in Judy’s apartment?
After a pause, Annabelle said mysteriously, It’s murder, Daddy. There’s been a murder.
What? I laughed. Who got murdered next door?
Mark has killed Auntie Judy.
Thatch sat up. Who’s been murdered? he yelled.
Auntie Judy, Annabelle called. She’s dead. Murdered!
Oh, no! Thatch cried just before he burst into tears. I love Auntie Judy!
He jumped from the dresser and ran to the bed where I was sitting with Annabelle and Stella.
Judy is not dead, Annabelle, I told her. I saw Mark in the basement a couple of days ago. He said Judy’s on Long Island. She’s helping her mother.
I think he lied to you. She’s dead and rolled up in that carpet. I just know it.
Oh, come on, Annabelle! Mark’s too kind and gentle to hurt anyone.
I betcha Jack the Ripper was kind and gentle at one time, too. When did you last see Auntie Judy?
Oh, dear God, I thought, does this fixation mean we can no longer watch BBC mysteries or the Hitchcock films? Instead, I thought for a moment and then said, She came by about a week ago, remember? She brought me some stuffed cabbage she had made. It was good.
Well, she’s dead now. We have to solve the crime and then you can see Detective Kibble again,
Don’t start in on Detective Kibble. He’s too busy to have time for you or me.
He will be so proud of our detective work. She jumped off the bed. This is exciting! Thatch, Stella, there’s something afoot! C’mon!
She ran into the bathroom. Thatch and Stella followed her.
Oy! I thought. Is it possible? Mark killed Judy? I wonder if Val knows anything. I’ll call him.
As I rose from the bed and went to the computer table for the phone, three cats emerged from the bathroom. Annabelle wore her huge Edwardian hat, and Stella and Thatch wore deerstalkers.
Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler, I presume? I asked.
And Doctor Whatsit! Thatch added. I am Sherlock Holmes, and we will solve this case. I will call it “The Murder in 3D.” Write that down, Doctor Whatsit.
Now that Sherlock, Irene, and Doctor Whatsit were on the case, I knew two things: life would be hell until the case was solved, and only God could imagine the collateral damage, if there were any.
Well, I must go and investigate, Thatch said to us.
I have already investigated, Annabelle told him.
Yes, but you are my girlfriend, Irene Adler, and I am the mighty sleuth, Sherlock Holmes. Daddy, would you please open the window?
I could see Annabelle bristle; she hates to be relegated to second place.
Well, I’m not sure I want to be Irene Adler any more. I want to be Sherlock Holmes and Thatch can be Doctor Watson. Stella can be Irene Adler.
Nope, Thatch stated, I am Sherlock Holmes. Daddy, please open the window, he said very coolly. I must investigate.
Hold on, buster, Annabelle said, I’m solving this murder.
Oh, Jesus Christ, I thought, we are in for a mutiny. Here I stood by the window, wondering how to proceed. Did I open the window or wait until they throttled each other?
Annabelle, I said, Irene Adler is a beautiful, glamorous actress. Don’t you think it’s a perfect part?
I could see her waffling. Well . . . perhaps, she said coyly.
Miss Adler, Thatch said to Annabelle, I value your assistance and insight. Will you come with me?
Annabelle looked stunned for a moment. Then she said demurely, With pleasure, Mr. Holmes.
Doctor Whatsit, Thatch asked, will you come with us?
I opened the window and three cats leaped onto the fire escape. I breathed a sigh of relief that this disaster was over. I hobbled to the phone and called Val.
Hello? Val said.
Val, it’s Larry. I had a question; have you seen Judy lately?
No, I don’t think so. What’s going on? Is there a problem?
No, not really. I usually see her a couple of times a week, but I realized I haven’t seen her for some time. Since you’re always working around the building, I figured you might have seen her.
I’m sure she’s around. I might see her tomorrow when I’m helping Mark.
That’s nice. What are you doing?
I’m helping him take their living room carpet to the dump. He’s getting a new one. I think it’s coming in at the end of the week.
Well, tell him hello for me. I’ve gotta run. The cats are in the middle of something.
How’s my little Annabelle?
She’s restless and driving me crazy. Come visit. Maybe she’ll calm down then.
Okay. Talk to you later.
I hung up the phone, wandered to the CD case of cast albums and pulled the CD of Baker Street. We may as get in the mood, I thought as I put the disc into the CD player. I wandered back to the window. I could see all three cats sniffing around the windowsill for 3D and staring into the room. Annabelle was having a hard time getting close to the glass because of the huge hat she wore, while poor Stella looked clueless and chased insects around the fire escape, to Thatch’s dismay.
Well, babies, I called, did you solve the mystery?
I cannot see a thing with this hat, Annabelle complained as she entered the room.
Doctor Whatsit is not a help, Thatch complained.
Stella leaped into the room with a huge bug in her mouth.
Welcome to my hell, I thought. Instead, I said, Stella, spit that out. Now.
She dropped the flying insect onto the windowsill. It was still alive, and I flicked it out the window before I pulled the window down.
I did not see any blood, Thatch told us. Perhaps he strangled her?
I really believe he’s chopped her up and she’s rolled up in that carpet.
I walked to the bed and sat. Annabelle jumped up beside me.
I know she’s inside that rolled-up carpet, she stated. I wish we could get into that apartment. Maybe he cut her up in the bathroom?
Write that down, Doctor Whatsit, Thatch told Stella.
Now, before you cats work yourself into a frenzy, I have to think about your dinners. And what movie we will watch tonight.
Hitchcock’s Frenzy! Annabelle yelled. It’s got good murders in it.
Is it scary? Thatch asked. I don’t wanna be scared.
Now, see? Annabelle told us, this is why I should be Sherlock Holmes. Oh, wait! You’re playing Baker Street!
She started singing “I’m in London Again” with Inga Swenson, and that ended her thoughts about playing Sherlock. Thatch joined her song while Stella looked clueless.
The next afternoon, the cats climbed in the window from the fire escape after checking out the crime scene.
I think I’ve got the vapors! Annabelle gasped.
What’s that? Thatch asked. Vapors?
I don’t know exactly, she said, but great ladies get them in times of stress. Sella, get in here!
Doctor Whatsit, Thatch called very calmly, come in, please, and stop playing in that bird food.
What’s the matter? I asked. Annabelle, are you okay?
What I just saw in the front window of apartment 3D has given me the vapors! This is horrible!
More crimes? I asked.
Worse! The carpet and Auntie Judy’s body are gone! We’ve lost our evidence!
Well, to be fair to Mark, you never knew there was a body inside that carpet. What do you think, Sherlock?
The carpet has been removed, that’s certain, Thatch replied.
Val told me he was helping Mark remove it.
Oh, no, Annabelle gasped. Does this mean the man I love is also a murderer? I may faint! Stella, fetch the sal volatile!
What’s that? Thatch asked. Sal what?
Smelling salts. All great ladies need them when they have the vapors. The man I love is a killer?
You’re supposed to love me, Thatch told her. You’re my girlfriend Irene Adler.
That’s play, Thatch! You’re my little brother. Val is my true love, you know that.
Doctor Whatsit, write that down.
Stella stopped rolling in the bird food, sat up, and leaped through the window into the room. Dried fruit and birdseed flew everywhere.
Oh, she’s a hopeless Doctor Watson, Annabelle said in disgust.
Several days later, I ran into Mark in the basement as I was sorting the morning’s trash into various bins: paper recyclables, metal and plastic recyclables, and garbage.
Good morning, Mark! How’s everything going?
Good, thanks.
Any word from Judy? Is she still on Long Island.
Yes. Her mom had a big birthday bash –
Did you go out for it?
I couldn’t. My trio had a gig down in Chelsea.
Oh, that’s too bad. How was the birthday party?
Judy said it went very well. Are you coming up?
Yes. Can you hold the elevator? This walker takes forever.
As we rode up to three, Mark asked, How are your cats?
My three devils are absolutely impossible. Why do you ask?
Well, lately, I’ve had the funniest feeling they’re spying on me.
I laughed, Really?
When I’m practicing the piano or having a lesson with a student, I’ll notice them on the fire escape, looking into the window. They’re watching me! And they’re wearing these funny hats.
They do like to dress up. I think they just like to hear you play. Cats are curious, you know. Well, here we are. Have a good day.
We stepped off the elevator, As I pushed the walker down the hall, Mark called me back.
There’s one more thing, he told me. The other day, when I went out for my morning walk, I would have sworn I saw them tailing me. You can’t miss a cat wearing those crazy hats. I don’t know how the gray one keeps that huge thing on her head!
That’s Annabelle. She thinks she’s the actress Irene Adler.
Oh! Well, I would swear she and the orange one –
That’s Thatch.
I would swear they were tailing me.
I’m sure it’s your imagination, but I will admit I let those cats run wild. I need to keep a better eye on them. Well, have a good day.
I pushed the walker into the apartment. Sherlock, Doctor Whatsit, and Miss Adler sat on the windowsill, watching the hurly-burly of West 82nd Street.
Oh, good! You’re back, Annabelle observed. Will you please open the window? We need to check on the murderer next door.
We’ve been trying to get into his apartment when he leaves the window open, Thatch explained.
He never opens it, Annabelle complained.
All I need is to have Detective Kibble arrest you three for breaking and entering! I exclaimed.
We could be arrested? Thatch asked.
Not me. I’m too beautiful to go to jail, Annabelle stated. Open the window!
I opened the window. It was better to have some peace and quiet rather than listen to two cats yelling at me all day. The three detectives leaped out the window and ran down the fire escape to Mark’s window.
Now, stop bothering Mark. He thinks you’re on his trail.
That’s Sherlock’s fault! Annabelle yelled.
It’s your stupid hat! Thatch snapped.
The next morning, after the three sleuths investigated the fire escape, they returned to the apartment in bad moods.
Uh-oh, I thought, this is not good. Instead, I asked, What’s wrong this morning?
Well, he’s playing the piano, but he’s closed the blinds. We can’t see anything!
See? I told you to stop bothering him. He’s probably spooked by three cats staring in his window.
I just want to bring a murderer to justice, Annabelle stated. But not Val! I could never love a man behind bars.
You don’t even know for certain that he’s murdered anyone, Annabelle.And did you ever stop to think that Val was simply helping him carry a heavy carpet out of the apartment?
You mean Val is innocent! Respiro, she sang from Don Giovanni.
Then she launched into Threepenny Opera’s “Reprieved! Reprieved! My love Macheath has been reprieved!” as she danced about the apartment.
“And I am happy!” Thatch and I joined in.
We all laughed. Stella, who joined Annabelle’s dance, kept on dancing.
It’s such a relief, you know, Annabelle stated. I didn’t know how I could save Val from the police or the gallows. Or bust him out of prison.
Annabelle, I said as calmly as possible, I hate to be the voice of reason in a pussycat’s fantasy, but you still haven’t proved there was ever a murder. Stella, stop dancing, please! Daddy’s got to think rationally.
I know Mark killed Auntie Judy! He fits the profile, does he not, Mr. Holmes?
Annabelle, I said, the only profile Mark fits is a successful jazz pianist.
Oh, you are impossible! Maybe you helped him and now you’re framing Val for murder?
Before I could get my head around that bit of madness from a cat wearing a Merry Widow hat and claiming to be Irene Adler, there was a knock at the door.
This is interesting, I said. I’m not expecting any deliveries.
I took my cane and walked to the hall. Three cats followed me. I opened the door.
Surprise! Auntie Judy said. Did you miss me? Hello, babies! I love your hats. My cats just eat, sleep, and poop. Mark said you had been dressing up.
And driving him crazy, I thought. Instead, I said, Judy! Welcome back! How was your mother’s birthday bash? Look, babies, I said pointedly, Auntie Judy is back from Long Island!
It was fantastic! But it was a lot of work. It was worth it, but I’m exhausted.
Come in and tell me about it.
I can’t. I’ve got so much to put away. Would you like some cake? We had so many, and I’ll be giving cakes away to the neighbors for days.
That would be wonderful. I love cake! Especially for breakfast. Yes, please.
When I finish unpacking, I’ll bring you some slices of several different ones. Then you can decide if you’d like more of one of them.
Even better! It’s like ordering from Magnolia Bakery.
Only free, which is even better! Well, let me clean up the apartment. You’ll have to come over and see our new carpet when it arrives
When’s it getting delivered.
Tomorrow.
I knew that Val helped Mark carry out the old one.
It was time for a new one. Well, I’ll be back later.
I’m here. I have no plans today.
I closed the door. Where did the cats go? Annabelle? I called.
Coming! She called from the bathroom.
I wandered off to the computer and sat down. I had just opened my email when the cats left the bathroom. They no longer wore their hats. Instead, they were dressed in their mountain climbing gear, lederhosen and Tyrolean caps.
I thought, Annabelle told me, that we might climb the Matterhorn, since we haven’t done that in some time.
Will you pack us some lunch for our backpacks, Daddy? Thatch asked me.
I will.
The cats loved to climb the Matterhorn, which was the bookcase behind my bed. They would climb it several times and dive down onto my bed to climb again. Once they reached the top, which was stacks and stacks of books about eleven feet off the ground, they opened their backpacks ands had their lunch.
And you’ll sing “The Lonely Goatherd” with us?
Yes, Annabelle, I will.
This will be a fun day, won’t it? Annabelle asked. Thatch? Stella? Do you have your climbing ropes?
I went to the cat tree and pulled a few treats from the treat box. Thatch will want some dried salmon or shrimpies, I thought. Annabelle will want some Temptations, and Stella? The only thing she won’t eat is guacamole.
As I put the treats into their backpacks, I asked, So, babies . . . I guess the murder mystery has been solved?
What murder mystery? Annabelle asked. Did I miss something?
Thatch turned to Stella. Write that down, Doctor Whatsit.
©2022, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 