Note: I do not own CATS or Felidae
Chapter eleven: Naïve Youth and Elders
"Well done Mistofelees," Skimbleshanks smiled, "You've discovered more in the past few days than I have found in my lifetime."
The two of us were sitting in the living room on two different leather chairs. I had just finished recounting what I had discovered and the orange tabby was drinking up every word.
"Do you have the records of all the cats that have suddenly, for one reason of another, left the neighborhood?" I asked him.
Skimbleshanks nodded.
"Well, let's take a look and maybe we can figure out how many cats have disappeared without a logical explanation," I proposed. "And I wonder why the murderer is suddenly leaving victims out in the open?"
"Ah, excellent point Mistofelees," Skimbleshanks got up and gingerly hopped to the floor, "because it means that the murderer is making mistakes, which we could use to capture him."
"I hope so," I frowned, jumping down to join him, "but I just don't think a murderer as crafty as this would just start making mistakes."
"Then perhaps he is trying to send us a message."
"That's what I was thinking!" I exclaimed.
"Good, good," Skimbleshanks encouraged me, "but what is he trying to tell us?"
"He wants us to know that he has power over life and death-" I burst out, but Skimbleshanks cut me off.
"The average intelligence rate in this neighborhood is so low that the residents of this neighborhood couldn't possibly understand his subtitle signs."
I pondered this for a moment.
"Well," I began. "Supposing he just wants one special cat to interpret his message."
"Very good!" Skimbleshanks exclaimed.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because for the first time your thinking in terms of a mission," he told me. "Don't you see Mistofelees? The murderer wants his motives to be known, to be recognized. Nevertheless, the whole mess is peculiar. It is as though he is a puzzle and he is waiting for someone to come and solve it."
* * *
"You are a fast learner Mistofelees," Skimbleshanks praised as I tapped at the keyboard of the computer. "By the way, would you tell me a little more about this queen you had the pleasure of meeting this morning?"
"She's-" I hesitated, "she's a very unique queen."
"A product of Dr. Preterius's species engineering?" he asked me.
"Why not?" I shrugged.
"I'm not so sure," Skimbleshanks informed me. "You're forgetting about evolution. A new species can be created quite by chance you know."
"So you're saying that my queen and others like her are the products of natural selection?"
"Quite possible," he nodded. "You really are remarkable Mistofelees."
"Would you guys mind if I b-b-butt in?"
Tugger came in, shaking the remnants of snow out of his fur. He looked soaked through.
"How nice of you to join us Rum Tum Tugger," Skimbleshanks smiled. "My owner, Zeibold, left some fresh liver in my bowl, if you're interested."
"I love fresh liver," Tugger drooled.
"Get back to the point!" I growled.
Tugger scowled at me before saying, "Old Deuteronomy's gone. V-v-vamoosed."
"Gone?" I gasped. "What do you mean gone?"
"I mean he's not in his h-h-house," Tugger shiver, water still dripping though his whiskers. "I searched the place bottom to the top and there's no sign of him."
"So he's been murdered!" I exclaimed.
"Maybe not," Skimbleshanks objected. "Maybe he realized you were onto him and he ran."
"I really can't agree to that," I shook my head. "I just don't think that a maniac like that would just run-"
"Hold on, hold on," Skimbleshanks stopped me. "Tomorrow, we'll go through the records and see if we can locate any survivors from Dr. Preterius's lab and announce our findings to everybody in a few days. But for now, I need some sleep."
* * *
"You better watch yourself smartass," Tugger growled to me as we left Skimbleshankses house.
"What do you mean?" I frowned.
"I mean," Tugger explained, wadding through the thick snow, "that the murderer wouldn't be too happy if he knew you were sticking your snout so deep in his business. He might try and do something about you."
"Yeah," I nodded, "and Skimbleshanks too."
"Don't worry about him," Tugger tried to reassure me. "From what we know, our murderer only kills toms with balls and Skimbleshanks had his cut off years ago. Anyway, he's not going to be around much longer."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"He's got stomach cancer," Tugger sighed, heading towards his house. "They've given him six months. It's only recently that the news got around the neighborhood."
All I could do after hearing that was sit in the snow for a solid half hour.
* * *
Three days later, while Gustav was out doing lord knows what, Skimbleshanks, Tugger and I, gathered all the cats we could find and held a meeting in my basement. Cats of all colors, ages and genders were crammed into every possible inch of space. Skimbleshanks, Tugger and I were perched on a desk, waiting for all to arrive and we could discuss our findings.
"Friends," Skimbleshanks began when all were settled, "I am pleased that so many of you that have received our invitation have come."
"This had better be worth our while," Macavity called from the back of the room, "Or I'm gonna make you pay for me missing my favorite T.V. show!"
Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer laughed raucously, joined by several others.
"Macavity, you idiot!" I spat. "Listen, don't you want to catch the creep that murdered Demeter, who you claimed you loved?"
Macavity's face fell and a shade of his previous hysteria was visible.
"Don't worry," he growled. "I'll get him. You see if I don't!"
"Do you really think the murderer is going to walk up to your front door and beg for forgiveness?" I asked, while Tugger chuckled. "Grow up Macavity!"
The huge cat bit his tongue and lowered his head.
"Sorry Mistofelees," he muttered. "I was only joking."
"Crack all the jokes you like," I told him. "The problem is the murderer doesn't have your sense of humor."
"Mistofelees and I have analyzed the data," Skimbleshanks took over. "And have determined that the murderer is responsible, not for the murder of seven, but of four hundred and fifty cats!"
There was a collective gasp and a series of frantic mutterings.
"Dear friends," Skimbleshanks continued over the noise. "We believe that the murders are connected to the hideous experiments of Dr. Julius Preterius and I know many of you were subjected to these. Although you may not remember now."
The noise increased significantly, but I saw Tugger glaring at his deformed paw.
"Quiet!"
Of all the cats to come to our rescue, who would have guessed it would be Macavity?
"Listen to him for gods sake! Haven't any of you ever wondered why some of us stumble around this neighborhood half-dead?"
Several cats in the crowd nodded in agreement to this. These cats looked similar to Tugger in certain aspects. Some lacked patches of fur, others had bodies' parts smaller than normal, and still others were missing body parts all together.
"So shut up!" Macavity snarled. "Let's see if they can present us with the murderer!"
"I'm sorry Macavity," I told him, "but I can't go that far as of now. Perhaps I can shed some light on the subject." Addressing the crowd in general, I continued, "I know many of you revere the Everlasting cat Jellicle, who died on the table of Dr. Preterius after suffering tortures we cannot imagine-"
"He didn't die!"
Everybody gasped! Looking into the crowd, I spotted my heckler. It was a tiny black, red and tan female kitten, looking up at me out of enormous innocent eyes.
"Would you tell us your name?" I asked her kindly.
"Th-they call me Jemima," she whimpered, obviously nervous after her out burst.
"Don't be afraid," I tried to coax her. "Please just tell us why you believe Jellicle is still alive."
"Great Grandfather told me," Jemima squealed.
"And who is your Great Grandfather?" I pressed on.
"Old Deuteronomy," she smiled proudly.
I looked at Skimbleshanks in wonderment, but he didn't respond in any way. Jemima looked around curiously before continuing.
"Great Grandfather said that in the end, the Everlasting Cat challenged the monster to a fight and killed him."
I was overwhelmed by this new piece of information.
"Look," I said, addressing the group again. "The only one who knows the whole truth about this is Old Deuteronomy. But Old Deuteronomy is dead-"
"No," Skimbleshanks interrupted me. "Not Dead. Old Deuteronomy has taken the name of the Everlasting Cat onto himself. Jellicle is dead, no one could survive those tortures."
Jemima frowned, but didn't speak up again.
"Old Deuteronomy lives on, however, and has taken flight. Thanks to Mistofelees, his sinister plan has been foiled!" Skimbleshanks rejoiced.
A great cheer rose up from the crowd. I said nothing. They had accepted what Skimbleshanks had said and I could do nothing to change their minds.