Revised and edited 29-5-2024
A/N: Hey friends! Over the following few weeks Chapter 11 - Missing People - is gonna be re-uploaded again once I'm done revising, and Chapter 12 (FINALLY) will be up after that. Title will be, The Cat in the Hornet's Nest.
I'll most likely be updating on AO3 faster than here, too. Stay tuned and let me know you're here!
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Chapter 10 – You Never Asked
Anyone can stand on their high pedestal of inflated self-respect in the free world and say they never let personal relations, or Important Public Figures affect their objectivity or become the priority in their work.
That is a ludicrous lie.
Every officer in New York was jumping through fire hoops and running on pencil-thin ropes. Sleep became a luxury, and going home to family became a holiday rather than a basic need in life.
And still Reese Kinsay, five weeks later, remained missing.
The cold, unfeeling NYPD structure took no chances; even an anonymous tip from a deserted phone booth was acted upon. Individuals suspected of being in kahoots with G.P. in any way, no matter how remote the connection, were apprehended on the flimsiest details - better catch now and release later than lose them altogether - was how the police force resorted to operating. Kinsay's case could not be labeled cold, even though it was frozen as ice.
And the longer the silence stretched, the wilder the conspiracy theories became. The straightforward assumption that the Mayor's daughter was abducted for ransom soon became a laughable explanation, because who waits for over seven weeks to ask for ransom on the child of the most important man in New York? Not to mention, with the number one suspect himself being held in the hospital, even a five year old would look at the situation and realize it didn't make any sense. Theories soon swung wildly from the reasonable to the insane; a serial killer on the loose, political espionage, human trafficking, and Dibble's personal favorite, 'foreign hands trying to destabilize America'.
Finishing the last round for the night, the exhausted policeman took off towards the hospital. He had not visited Top Cat for over three days, but knew he was to remain hospitalized for at least two more weeks.
And so it wasn't very surprising that the cop nearly had a heart attack when the receptionist so casually told him Top Cat had already been discharged several hours earlier.
When he had insisted that no, the cat was to stay at least another two weeks, and that something must be wrong, the young woman had called on Top Cat's supervising doctor.
Dr. Rommel, a round-faced, 30-something man with large square glasses and a small toothbrush mustache, affirmed that he indeed wrote for the yellow feline to get out and that no, the cat didn't 'smooth-talk his way out' or 'crawl down that pipe outside his window'.
"There's no point keeping him in if it only worsens his mental state," had been his words. "He's strong enough to leave, but someone should look after him for a while..."
"Ain't that the truth, Jimmy-!" another doctor had winked at them as he passed the two men in the reception. "He convinced you to sign his leave 'cause you couldn't stand him screaming 'Heil, Hitler!' every time he sees you!"
"Doctor Hoss," Rommel had said through gritted teeth. "Don't you have anything better to do?" He'd glared witheringly at the younger colleague as the latter continued his brisk walk away, grinning at the two of them until he'd disappeared around the corner.
Rommel had then grunted something that sounded very much like 'idiot' under his breath, and turned back to Dibble with some embarrassment. "There's a perfectly good reason for that-"
"You don' need to explain Top Cat to me, Doc," the policeman had shaken his head in exasperation. "I know what he's like – t'be honest, I'm amazed he stayed that long at all."
Top Cat had apparently left with Benny since the afternoon, but Dibble had not seen either of them in the alley, or on his beat at all. They had not come back home straight, and he couldn't stop the worry hounding his thoughts.
Well…at least the wise guy was with Benny.
It was nearing midnight, and he knew he had to be up and in the station house at 6 the next day, so that left him with the nowadays-generous five hours of sleep, but he couldn't go back to his apartment just yet. He was exhausted, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He had to find Top Cat.
Just to ease his mind, he went back to the alley in case he'd somehow missed them while away, but the alley was still empty – had been empty the whole day, save for Brain and Fancy-Fancy rummaging through one of the trash cans at some point for empty glass bottles to sell to the recycling teens for a dime.
Dibble got back into his police car, turned the ignition and cruised through the quiet roads. Some people were still out here and there – New York was like that, hardly a sleepy city – but as the streets became emptier, it would be much easier to spot someone. The uninterrupted drive (save for the occasional red light) helped him. His worried thoughts slowed down to a distant background noise, and the calmer voice in his head began to remind him of places he remembered Top Cat liking to go. Although where besides home he'd want to go on a night like this, Dibble wasn't sure. The November chill was settling in, but that night was stifling and breezeless, like a heavy fog blanketing everything till every movement was feeble and sluggish. It was depressing weather, and Top Cat hated weather like that, Dibble knew.
After more than an hour of entranced driving, Dibble finally found the cat he was looking for standing alone on the Brooklyn Bridge.
Top Cat's feet kept him adroitly balanced on the bridge's middle rails, a good couple feet off of the ground. His elbows rested on the top rail, and his head rested on top of his arms. He stared out into the distance, unmoving except for his tail that swung lazily from side to side. He was far away with his thoughts, as years of observation told Dibble.
Dibble gave the horn a very brief pat and slowed down as he drove past the cat to avoid startling him. He peeked through the passenger's window, and although Top Cat did not move or turn around, the tilt of his ears told him that he recognized the cop's arrival. Dibble stopped a few feet ahead, left the waiting signal on and climbed out. "T.C., why are ya out here?" he said as he shut the door. "An' where's Benny?"
"Told 'im I need some time alone," said the cat broodingly. Dibble let out a sigh, came over and leaned on the rail beside the yellow cat. They gazed at the city scape, stretched out far back into the dark horizon on the other side of the river. The black water shimmered with the reflection of countless city lights.
"It ain' right New York gets so many bad days," said Top Cat after the silence, still gazing out at the city line. Dibble tilted his head to see him better. "That kinda weather got no business 'ere. This is a great city, but that's just what ya see lookin' at it from the outside like we're doin' right now. Like a postcard. You understand that, right Dibble? But ya don' really get it..Knowin' is one thing, livin' it - that's another thing entirely.
"Look at that city line, Officer - it's the most beautiful city in the world, but you wouldna know how ugly it can be down there."
"C'mon, T.C, you've always been the one to see the glass half-full," murmured Dibble. "Don' be like that. Let's go home. This weather ain' exactly helpin' ya health."
"I ain' ready to go yet," said the cat. "I'll leave when I leave. You go on home, Officer."
"Your neck bind is off," Dibble noted, relieved to not hear the disappointment he actually felt come out in his words. That wouldn't do – they both didn't need that right now. "Escapin' the hospital I had to swallow – I won' be able ya drag ya back in there anyway after that stunt ya pulled - but do you really have to make a statement by removin' the thing?"
"You try slappin' a cold plastic wrap in itchy rag 'round ya throat an' tell me how comfortable you are." Dibble just drew out a long-suffering sigh.
"I didn' remove it to protest the hospital, you know," muttered the cat humorlessly, almost like it was an afterthought he didn't even realize he had spoken out loud. He gazed at the distant neon lights of The Hotel Empire, standing amidst the skyscrapers that surrounded it like the crimson center of a royal crown.
Then, dully, Top Cat asked: "Any news on Spook at all?"
He had asked Dibble so many times, the cop no longer had the mental capacity to reply. His silence was the answer the cat expected.
They gazed at their city in silence for a long time, each victim to the prison of dark, poisonous thoughts in his own mind. Top Cat never made the slightest move to walk away, and Dibble was suddenly certain the cat had intended to stay in that exact spot all night. He resigned himself to yet another night of vigil and sore soles.
"Is there anyone besides you lookin' for Spook at all..?" the yellow cat broke the silence, bringing Dibble out of his thoughts.
"Usually it's me," the cop admitted. "Mahoney and Manohan help me whenever they can. The rest of the force is either lookin' for G.P., or the Maya's daughter, and both are connected to Spook."
"You're tellin' me this to make me feel better. And yasself," said the cat. "Why don' we both just admit it, Dibble? This city belongs to the rich and the influential. The only way you can survive here is to climb on others' heads, startin' with deadbeats like us, yeah?"
"That's-"
"It's the truth," cut in Top Cat, tone becoming hotter. "The hot suits own New York, and we ain' worth anythin'. Not me or Spook or any of us. No one would even notice if any one of us just died."
"Hey," muttered the cop, voice low and warning. "Cut that out. You know that ain't true."
"You're only worth anythin' if ya spend your life slavin' for the bigwigs," the cat went on. "I don' want anythin' to do with that. I only wanna live a fine life, with the gang. But apparently we ain' even worth that.."
"Ya done?" said the officer crossly, and not even waiting for a reply, he retorted. "You only forgot about everyone back home! How can you even say that? Do they not matter, T.C.? Do you really want Tony or Daisy or Ralph or Pat or any of the others to stand here and listen to this crap comin' outta your mouth? What's the matta with ya?!"
Top Cat was looking at him with surprise on his face.
"There some things ya can't change. Yes, the police will always bring their all to find high-profile people. It's a fact of life, it happens, and ya better accept it like everyone else. But that gives ya no right to throw away the feelings of all the people who do care about ya!"
Top Cat looked away and back towards the lights.
"I got nothin' against the maya's girl," he said after some silence . "I ain' one to get malicious over someone livin' a good life. Ya know what I'm sayin', Officer? But it gets t'me when she's treated like she's more important than Spook," his paws tightened on his arms. "There are people waitin' for Spook to come home, too."
"I know."
The cat lowered his head back onto his arms and for a while, he did not trust his voice to speak.
"C'mon, T.C. I'll take ya home. The guys must be waitin' for ya."
"I'm a grown cat, Dibble. I don' have a curfew. Thanks for the offer, though."
"You're a grown cat who's been through a lot and needs his rest," insisted Dibble. "I can wait for ya while ya ponder and feel sorry for yourself, but I ain' leavin' without ya. Come to think of it, why are ya here anyway? Why the bridge?"
He was not really expecting an answer, which was why, he was certain he must have imagined it when Top Cat said something that sounded suspiciously like 'dad'.
"...What?" was the cop's unintelligent blurt.
"I come here to talk to my dad. Sometimes."
"Why do you mean?"
"..I come 'ere to think, and sometimes I'll talk to 'im about my life, if he's listenin'."
"But…why the bridge?" asked Dibble again, gently, despite the cold fist slowly closing on his lungs.
"It's the last place I saw 'im," said the yellow feline, gazing into the deep black waters below. It was like looking at another starry sky, but this one so much closer, right under their feet. The waves, glittering and shimmying as they made their eternal journey up the river, were reflected in his pupils – pupils so large under the shadows cast by the overhead steel beams. "I was seven."
oOoOoOoOoOo
🕔 11:39am, November 14, 1966
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Another two weeks passed; a blink of an eye to Dibble, forever and a day to the cats.
Despite everything, Dibble was actually glad Top Cat left the hospital early. Coming back to the alley did turn out to be good for him.
Choo-Choo, Brain and Benny practically spoiled him, waiting on him and pampering him while Fancy continued with the important matters - food and warmth and building up rapport for the famous neighborhood feline about to stand trial. For the most part, everyone knew Top Cat was innocent, and did not hold back on wishing the cat well.
Their neighborhood was full of friends who cared; some taking it farther than others. For the entire two weeks, food was barely an issue, seeing as Tony and Patrick often sent 'extra food no one wanted' with one of the cats by the end of the day. The food was fresh and couldn't ever be more than a day old. Dibble enjoyed rubbing it in Top Cat's face, whenever he saw him, reminding him guiltlessly of his hopeless, inconsiderate words back on the bridge.
The day before the trial arrived, and still there was no word of the Kinsay girl or Spook, or even G.P.
Dibble had the strangest feeling, though, that no one would hear a whisper of them until Top Cat stood trail.
The cat in question was following Dibble up the road, grumbling. He was to meet with the assigned public defender on his case, which Dibble apparently thought was important. His ears perked in curiosity when he followed after the cop into a neighborhood he didn't really visit often. "Why are we here?"
"This is where she lives."
"Who's she? I don't know a – wait a minute," said the cat, speeding up and putting a paw on the cop's tricep. "No way – is this she-"
"About time, you two," called a voice from a balcony somewhere above their heads. "I swear, you kids' generation's just a group of diddledallies."
Top Cat looked up with trepidation, and saw the old dog, grinning widely back at him before promptly disappearing back into her apartment. He whirled his head back towards Dibble, eyes becoming comically wide. "Why? Why's she takin' my case? An' I'm only knowin' this now?"
The old dachshund appeared at the door of her apartment building, and gave the two a wide, triumphant grin. She stood in her lavender suit, fixing her lavender jacket over an emerald green undershirt. Clipped onto the left flap of her jacket was her lawyer ID that had not seen the New York sun for more than five years.
"That's right, brat," said Daisy in response to Top Cat's despairing look. "And just 'cause we go back doesn't mean I'll put up with any of your twaddle! You sit your tail down like a normal cat, only speak when spoken to and maybe you'll be cleared by the afternoon."
The cat whirled back to the officer imploringly. "Dibble, please! Ya can' do this t'me!" the policeman just shrugged. "Dogs are the worst lawyers-!"
Daisy smacked him upside the head, rather hard. Dibble barely saw her paw move. "Shut your pie hole, brat!"
"No! How can I trust a dog's objectivity when it's my freedom on the line?!" the cat went on. "I can't go to jail! I can't go to jail while Spook's still-"
Dibble grabbed the cat by his scruff and gave him a single hard shake. "T.C, will ya shut up," he hissed. "Ya wanna sleep on the wooden bench for contempt of court?!"
"We ain' even in court!"
"Don' I know ya well enough, wise guy?!"
"Ain't ya retired, Daisy?" demanded the cat, whirling around to face her again, as if hoping against hope the dog will suddenly remember she was, lift a paw to her muzzle in a small gasp, and reply that yes, she was and she'd simply forgotten.
"I'm making an exception. An' I'll let that dog remark slide this time, brat. You ain' talkin' to an amateur – I've closed cases since before you were an idea," the dog said tartly. "Your prosecutors' only weapon is their witnesses. But ours are just as strong. You got a very strong alibi, and witnesses will vouch for your presence far away from the crime scene.
"I've pulled some strings – enough strings to knit a scarf, I'll tell you that – and this trial ain't gonna be broadcast. That alone should make you grateful for the rest of your life. Do you have any idea how difficult that was? People want answers. They wanna know how you're not the kidnapper, when they swear they saw you with their own eyes. Then there are all those who were against me defending you – me knowing you since you were a kid and all," Top Cat was glaring warningly at her, which she expertly ignored.
"I never realized you knew him that far back," said Dibble, adding more fuel to the proverbial fire blazing between Top Cat's ears.
"You can know a lot about a kid when you've babysat them," was her odd, off-handed comment. Leaving no room for Dibble to ask anything else, she addressed the cat again. "You're gonna hafta clean up some old closets, kid –"
"Are we finished?" snapped the cat, barely keeping the hiss out of his voice. His ears were laying flat against his head, and it was taking all of his energy to control his temper.
Daisy regarded him carefully, face dead serious for a moment, before she nodded and broke into a bright smirk. "Yeah, we're as good as we'll ever be, given your attitude." she gave a nod to the surprised Dibble before waving and strutting away on some errand.
"T.C., stop gritting ya teeth."
"I don't want that woman defendin' me."
"It's too late for that, and it ain't up for us to decide, anyway. The trial's tomorrow, it ain't goin' anywhere. She's practically savin' ya life. She came outta retirement to be on the case rather than anyone else, and if that's not pullin' strings for ya, I don't know what is. And you thought no one cares."
"Okay, Dibble, stop with the 'I told you so' bit. I got it only after the first five times!"
"Don't you dare run out on us, T.C.," warned Dibble.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," said the cat in defeat. "I can't go anywhere now."
"That's right. You'd just be admitting to a crime you didn't commit. You'd make a lotta people very disappointed – "
"I ain't gonna disappoint nobody. Let's just go," said the cat and turned around to start the walk back to the alley.
"Why were ya bein' you so disagreeable? Doncha think she was gonna tell us somethin' important?"
"Yeah, well, too late for that," said the cat with little interest. The policeman shook his head and followed the cat, thinking back on the interaction. It was clear there was something Daisy wanted to say, but seeing Top Cat close off made her change course.
And Dibble wondered..if the reason she dropped the subject was because she didn't want the stubborn cat sabotaging himself.
oOoOoOoOoOo
The day that followed was bright, breezy and clear – a startling divorce from the stagnant, depressing weather of the night on the bridge. Warm, natural light filtered into the courtroom, bathing it in a soft yellow-white. The jury was already seated, a total of sixteen eagle-eyed men and women, nearly all of which were human. The light softened the harsh lines on their faces somewhat as they passed each other paper after paper, keeping their constant murmur inaudible to all the people seated, and those still coming in. They continued even as Dibble walked in with Top Cat. A few of them only spared them a brief glance before going back to their work; Top Cat recognized a couple faces. He did his best to keep his confidence clear on his face, but inside, he was fighting down a rising nausea.
"I thought this was gonna be a bench trial," whispered the cat. "Why're there so many people?"
"That was the one condition to not air the trial," replied Dibble, placing his left hand on the cat's shoulder. "Calm down. Take deep breaths."
He didn't expect to see that many familiar faces in the public seats. Practically everywhere he turned he saw someone he knew. The closer people would pull him over to wish him luck, or hug him (or pet him, to his barely-contained annoyance). There was Schulzie, whom Top Cat was surprised to see – he didn't think the man would particularly care, seeing as they weren't on the best of terms at the moment, and there was also Mr. Rose the neighborhood tailor, with his short curly black hair and pencil-thin mustache and permanently-raised eyebrow. Mortie and his younger twin brothers were also there, so was old man McGillacutti and his 7 hyperactive children. His wife was trying to get her sons to sit still and stop running up and down the corridor, while he held and comforted his newest child, a little red thing still wrapped in a pink baby blanket.
A woman in a classic high bun was seated at the very front of the courtroom, on the prosecutor's right side. She turned around at the sound of their nearing footsteps. Her eyes zeroed in on the yellow feline, who guiltily but adamantly pretended not to notice. He fervently prayed in his head that she wouldn't say anything, not speak to him at all, because he couldn't trust the words that could come out of his mouth, and that scared him.
She turned around in her seat, and when he saw out the corner of his eye that her eyes were on him, he had to fight to keep the fur along his back from rising, but Dibble squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as he strode calmly past her, keeping him on his left flank, and the woman did not speak.
The gang had already taken over the front-most seats, in the first left-side public row, and quickly crowded their leader when he finally reached them.
"Group hug!" declared Choo-Choo, and they all piled against the yellow feline, who couldn't stop the affectionate purr in his throat as he hugged them all tightly. They meant everything to him.
Strengthened, Top Cat sat took his designated seat on the defendant's counsel table, and Dibble took up a seat in the public row behind him, next to the gang. More people filed into the room over the next twenty minutes or so; Tony arrived and squeezed in next to them. Top Cat could hear the woman at the prosecutor's table speak to her lawyers. It was funny how humans thought they were all subtle and quiet when they talked in hushed voices, when in fact a cat could still pick up their clumsy whispering well enough several feet away. Then he heard one man sitting behind the prosecutors make a disdained comment to the man seated next to him, some accusation of nepotism, and he forcefully tuned himself out of the conversation.
"This jury is really somethin'," Dibble whispered behind him. "All of them are very distinguished, T.C. Daisy really knows the best people in the field." Top Cat just grunted.
The double doors opened again, and a most pleasant smell reached his nose. He turned his head despite himself, a few others doing the same.
Face thrown into darkness by the halo of sunlight coming through the long windows out in the hall, a man stepped into the room. In each hand, he carried a large black duffel bag.
"I don't believe you," muttered Dibble, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and turning his head back towards the front of the room. "You did it anyway."
Patrick didn't waste any time. He carried the two bags to the front and set them down by Tony's feet. Ignoring Dibble's glare, he wordlessly pulled open the zipper and lifted the lid off of the first pizza box even as it sat mostly hidden within the rough black material.
"You're advertisin' your pizza. In my trial." said the cat, and he turned around and sat on the chair backwards to properly look at his friends. "That's some real carpetbaggery, Pat."
"I learned from the master," said the pizza maker with a grin, soft crinkles appearing at the edges of his eyes. "You're going free today, I know it, and these are the best pizzas I've ever made. We're celebrating early."
"…I love you," was all the cat said, eyes shining with sappy gratitude.
"Patrick, if you pull out that pizza, I'm escortin' ya out," warned Dibble.
"Sheesh! Way ta treat ya cousin, Officer Brassy," said the cat, offended on behalf of his favorite pizza maker. "Pat can do whatever he wants."
"Hush, you. Patrick. Those bags out by the door. Now."
"John told me I can bring them in," said Patrick with a shrug, referring to the doorman.
"John is your most frequent customer. John can say whatever he wants. If you wanna sit down, those pizzas wait outside."
"But just a li-"
"Benny, don' even think it. Not one bite. Patrick, this isn't a joke – the judge is comin' out any second."
Looking very much like a pouty child, the pizza maker closed the zipper and plopped down next to Tony with an indignant huff. Tony patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Yes..I know, Ameerica has such senseless rules."
"Can they at least stay here? John'll eat them all if I leave them outside."
"Fine."
Top Cat could hear – and see – some of the people sitting on the other side of the room give them blatant looks of affront, like they are beyond insulted that the accused and his friends thought they had any right to laugh or joke or even breathe. Suddenly the situation was not so funny anymore; his gang noticed as well, he saw. Patrick and Tony didn't seem to, or they just didn't care.
It must be nice, being a human. Dulled senses.
Daisy arrived, and sat down beside him, carrying a full folder. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses sat on her long, slender snout. She paused, nose sniffing the air, and Dibble had to resist the urge to facepalm. Of course the room still smelled of pizza. He was about to turn to his cousin and snap at him to throw the bags outside, but Daisy just calmly resumed jumping through the pages of her dossier, and upon seeing Top Cat looking at her, she gave him a brief, barely-noticeable smile.
"..So, what are we gonna do?" he asked her begrudgingly.
"Leave it to me," she said.
"Ain' the defendant and their lawyer supposed to make sure they're on the same line or somethin' like that?"
"Oh, we definitely are. Just do exactly as I say and pretend like you've known all along."
Finally, the judge entered through her door. She was a stern-looking, middle-aged woman with intense brown eyes and broad shoulders. Her bangs were tightly pulled back from her forehead as she reviewed her papers even as she climbed the steps and sat down at the judge's table. The clock struck 11:00.
The judge nodded to the clerk, a small man with slicked-back dark hair and a nose almost as long as Daisy's snout. He turned to the seated people and called in a voice much larger than his small stature implied: "Order in the courtroom! All rise..Judge Button, presiding. We shall now commence."
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," greeted Judge Button after everyone was seated again. "Are both sides ready?"
"Ready, your Honor," spoke one of the Kinsays' lawyer, a tall clean-shaven man dressed entirely in black. The woman at his side was looking straight ahead, blue eyes in a world faraway, and lost.
"And Mrs. Roughbark, you will be representing Mr. Top Cat?"
"Yes, your Honor," replied the dachshund; Top Cat echoed her words.
The jury was sworn in, and Judge Button turned to him again. "Mr. Top Cat, you are charged with the kidnap and detainment of Reese Kinsay, on September 9th, this year of 1966. How do you plead?"
"Of course I didn't do it," muttered the cat.
"The hell he di-," began Tony from the row behind him, before being shushed by Dibble, and Top Cat almost cracked a smile. The Kinsay's main lawyer gave their row a sideways glance, gray eyes cold and merciless, before turning back to the judge.
"Jury," said Button. "You were selected for your esteemed and highly-held dedication to the upstanding of justice in New York City. You will hear the facts, hear the witnesses and view the evidence to reach an objective, reasonable conclusion."
"If dis whole thin' was reasonable we would not even be here," breathed Tony to Patrick, who nodded.
"As always, your role is to presume innocence, until proof is absolutely beyond doubt. Mr. Parker, the prosecutor's counsel…in order to validate your claim on Mr. Top Cat's guilt, you must prove that it was him who kidnapped Miss Reese, and that he did so with the intent to forcibly detain for ransom. Begin your case."
"Your Honor, members of the jury, we shall call five witnesses to testify before you that the accused was seen kidnapping Miss Reese Kinsay against her will."
"Five blind witnesses," Patrick coughed into his hand. Dibble shot him a warning glare.
"There are more witnesses, if your Honor – and this jury – wishes to hear them," added Parker, giving the defendant's first row a withering look.
"Five will be sufficient. Mr. Jvis, is your first witness ready?" called the judge, addressing the second of the Kinsay lawyers, a balding man in large round glasses and an olive green tie down to his belly.
A thin, elderly woman rose from the prosecutors' side. She took small, shaky steps up to the witness stand, taking those two steps mindfully lest she trip. Once she was seated and sworn, she was asked to testify.
"My name is Pearl Johnston. I work in the Rose Center for Earth and Space food court," she began. "I was preparing the place for lunchtime when the kids arrived.."
"Was Miss Reese with those kids, Madam?" asked Parker.
"Yes, yes she was. I recognized her, from a newspaper photo..it was close to 12:30, and they were to have a one-hour lunch until 1:30 before they continued their school trip.."
"Please continue."
"Some of the girls came up to me and asked the way to the bathroom. I decided to take them there myself. The Center's a big place and I didn't want them to get lost.
"We cut through the reception again to go to the Ladies', and then suddenly I heard the sound of shattering glass, and it began to rain on us. I shut my eyes for a few seconds, and raised my arms over my face to keep the glass out and then..and then I heard screams, and the sound of something hitting the ground. I opened my eyes again, and I saw five cats. They came down from the ceiling."
"One of them was huge," continued the old woman in a subdued voice. "He had a pistol in his paw. Three of the other cats did, too. They demanded we put our hands up and not call for help, although I could hear people running towards us anyway. You couldn't have not heard that glass shatter; it was like an explosion.
"Then that last cat – I could immediately tell he was the mob leader. He had the coldest eyes I had ever seen. They were bright yellow, like his fur. He quickly grabbed Miss Reese by her arms, and twisted them behind her back. He kicked her in the back…and she couldn't stand from the hurt. I couldn't hear what he whispered to her. He then grabbed the rope dangling down next to him, and it went up through the broken ceiling. Sammy, one of the interns, was running up to us – he was yelling for the police. That enormous red cat shot him. His eyes stayed on me and the girls – he'd barely even needed to look at him to aim."
"Did the other cats escape?"
"Yes..all four of them followed the yellow one immediately after the big cat shot Sammy. The big one referred to him as 'Boss', but one of the other cats referred to him as 'Top Cat'. He threatened he'd drop a bomb on the place if we try to chase after them."
"One last question: is the defendant the same cat you saw kidnapping Miss Reese Kinsay?" asked Parker.
The old lady turned and looked at Top Cat. He looked back at her, and saw it – the seed of hesitation in her stare.
"He..looks very much like him, yes," said the woman slowly.
"Mrs. Roughbark, would you like to cross-examine this witness?"
"No, your Honor." said Daisy boredly.
Top Cat wanted to kick her under the table. She wasn't going to object to what was said?! Looks like him? What kind of answer was that?
"Thank you, Madam Pearl. You may leave the stand."
The old woman again hesitated. She looked again at the yellow feline, and she almost looked confused. Her eyes slowly drifted to the left and downwards, like she was trying to remember if everything she had said was indeed true.
"Madam Pearl? Is there anything you would like to add?" asked Judge Button, seeing her discomfort.
"..No..no that wouldn't be necessary – I – thank you, your Honor." she left the stand and re-joined the prosecutor's side.
"I call our second witness to the stand, Walt Horace," announced Jvis.
Walt Horace was another worker in the Center's reception. His testimony had much of what was in Johnston's, and when he was asked to testify if the yellow cat seated in front of him was the same cat he saw back then he, like Johnston, hesitated for a split-second before replying yes. Top Cat could hear the heated rancor in his friends' whispers in the seat behind him. Patrick and Tony sounded furious, an emotion foreign of them both to the yellow cat's ears. He heard Choo-Choo say something in a resentful, tearful voice, and he turned around to calm him. Considering the situation, he was amazed at how well he's managed looking calm and confident. The fear, and the humiliation he really felt remained beneath the surface, never rising up enough to reflect on his face. To most, he probably just looked uncomfortable, a gross understatement.
He obediently remained silent even as the third witness, a young chef by the name Rebecca Quinn, came onto the stand. When asked if the cat was indeed the one she saw, she leaned over the stand like she was seeing him properly for the first time. "Uhm, he's dressed differently, but yeah, that's the cat.." the closer she looked, the more lost she seemed, and she turned to Parker and Jvis for guidance. "Uhm.."
"What's the problem, Miss Quinn?" asked Judge Button.
"It's probably because it happened weeks ago..but it's.."
"Yes?"
"I know I'm sworn, and I take this very seriously," said the young woman. "I hope the court does not consider this impudent or uh, you know..but this is not exactly the way I remember the cat I saw kidnap the Mayor's daughter."
Jvis's brows were furrowed, like he couldn't understand what she was saying. Parker said nothing, but kept his cold gray orbs on her.
"Not exactly the way you remember?" prompted the judge. "How so?"
"That cat..he..he was a criminal. He had this presence that put you on edge right away. And he had the scariest eyes. I..I don't get that same instinct from this cat.."
"Miss Quinn please, I ask you to leave your personal feelings out of your testimony – " began Jvis sternly.
"No, the jury and I are interested in what differences the witness sees, however implicit," interrupted Judge Button. "Please continue."
"Your Honor, our witness does not know of Top Cat's infamous reputation – "
"Objection!" declared Daisy (issuing a "Oh dear sweet Lord, finally," from Patrick). "The prosecutors cannot claim the defendant's putting up an act to change their witness's mind!"
"Sustained."
"I just wanted to clear my conscience," said Quinn, feeling braver. "I know what I saw, and I saw someone evil I cannot see in this room."
"Is that all, Miss Quinn?"
"Yes, your Honor.."
The fourth witness was a young girl, from Reese Kinsay's class. A petite, pretty blonde girl with a ballerina's limbs and eyes of a blue so clear the irises looked almost crystal. She took the stand, and retold her fearful account of her classmate's kidnap. She became tearful when remembering the cat that pushed her to the ground when she tried to fight back, and pointed his gun at the back of her head. She had watched the kidnap from the glass-covered floor with a cold barrel against her scalp.
"I'm sorry.." she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I hate remembering this..I hate how helpless I felt..!"
"It's alright, Miss Morgan," said the judge, kindly. "There's nothing you could've done back then, but you're doing the right thing by testifying. We're all listening. Please continue."
The restlessness in the room was becoming almost tangible. She finally left the stand after claiming that yes, the cat in the defendant's seat looks very much like the cat who kidnapped her classmate.
"..Ugh, one more witness to go," whispered Daisy in utter boredom. She turned around to the pizza maker. "Patrick, how long do your bags keep that pizza hot?" she asked in a hushed voice. Top Cat gaped at her incredulously; Officer Dibble had a look on his face the cat was sure matched his own.
"They'll wait. I'm just not sure I will wait through any more of this injustice," growled Patrick as he watched the fifth witness – a young blond boy – nod at whatever Parker was telling him before he turned to take his turn up on the stand.
"Aren't ya gonna defend T.C. already, Mrs. Lawyer?" asked Brain, resting his head cutely on the pier.
"I might, kid. Not that the jury really needs it. I can see a couple of them rolling their eyes. Sheesh, this generation's too hasty and for what?"
"Those people are just sayin' they saw T.C. an' that ain' true!" hissed Choo-Choo. "Those first three ain' even sure!"
"And that fourth princess type is just so..unintelligent," muttered Dibble.
"Aye, we 'ave name fo girls like her back in ole country-"
"Tony, don't you dare."
"The jury don' really believe it's T.C., do they?" asked Benny anxiously.
Two sharp raps by the judge's hammer quickly settled people down again.
The young boy witness began his version of events, speaking with vehemence, his fists clenching the sides of the stand until his knuckles turned white.
"I ain' standin' for anymore of this shit," growled Patrick, standing up.
"Patrick!" hissed Dibble, and for once Top Cat completely agreed; he had to fight down the ridiculous yet overwhelming urge to whip around and tell the man off. Did the gentle, soft-spoken Patrick even know such language?
"Sit down!" said the dachshund sharply, agitated but for a very different reason. "You can't speak during the prosecutor's testimony!"
"Order," said the judge in a hard voice. "Mrs. Roughbark."
"Apologies, your Honor."
"I can testify-!" hissed Patrick urgently to the dog once the boy witness resumed his testimony. "Top Cat was in my pizzeria at that time. That was around 1:40. I remember, because the clock hangs over my customers' heads when their back's to the door. There is no way in hell he coulda been at the Center Whats-its-Name then!"
"And I was with 'im most of that day," added Fancy. "Benny, too."
Top Cat looked over Daisy's shoulder, and saw the split-second look of disgust the lawyer Parker was giving him, like he was bothered by the fact that the two of them actually happened to breathe in the same air. It was a look Top Cat was very familiar with. His blood began to boil, and he turned his eyes onto something else quickly before he could allow himself to do something to get him in even more trouble. He focused back on Daisy.
"I already have all your accounts in the folder. This charade doesn't need anymore witnesses – it needs hard evidence to shut those two men up about this twit–" said Daisy out of the corner of her mouth when she saw the judge's eyes trail over to them again in warning. "Leave it to me, and for God's sake, pipe down before she throws us out. You're all such children."
"Mrs. Roughbark," said the judge after the last witness had left the stand (claiming yet again that Top Cat is who he saw). "Are you ready for defense?"
"Ready as we'll ever be, your Honor. I present this jury with the documented testimony of more than ten witnesses affirming my client's presence far away from the crime. However, I find it a total waste of the jury's time, to have each one of the witnesses come up and go through this whole process again.
"When it is one side's witness against the other, there can be no objective verdict. Your Honor will allow my client to go because of insufficient evidence, but that is not enough! I will acquit him of all charges made against him, and give the prosecutors absolutely no doubt that they have accused the wrong person, and demand that they immediately stop this defamation."
"Daisy, you are a reasonable, honorable lawyer; your reputation precedes you," said Parker testily. "Why are you defending this petty grifter?!"
"Because the dolt needs someone on his side," Top Cat turned to her fully, his face indignant. "If the police system won't help, then the justice system will. People like him need to understand that good men and women can exist in systems of law enforcement, and that they exist to protect him, not to rob him of the things most important to him. No need to worry about me, David – I have a reputation to maintain, and trust me, I wouldn't come out just to tarnish it if I didn't know how to do my job."
She turned again to the jury. "You must be already contemplating this, but the criminal who kidnapped Miss Kinsay is a different cat who claims to be Top Cat."
"And how will you prove this, knowing your client's character?" asked Jvis heatedly.
"Your Honor, I used to be the monitoring social worker for my client's father's eligibility for child custody."
Top Cat went completely rigid in his seat.
"I have brought all relevant documents for that case here today. If you ask why they are relevant; they prove beyond doubt that this is a case of impersonation. My client has no official birth record in the system. In the eyes of the law, Top Cat doesn't exist."
"Objection!" interrupted Parker, enraged.
"Sustained," said the judge, giving him permission to speak.
"Top Cat is a registered citizen of New York. Official documents of him exist in the population center and in the NYPD – "
"They're not his," said Daisy simply. "Documents of individual incidents exist in the NYPD, true, but the identifying birth certificate and rear paw prints that exist in the population census are the criminal G.P.'s."
One could hear a needle drop in the absolute silence that followed. Even Parker was speechless. Top Cat had long forgotten what breathing is. The world around him was beginning to spin, and the courtroom began to dissolve.
He saw a small living room, with wooden floorboards infested with rats and mites, a useless and worn sickening-green couch against graying walls and the terrifying, thunderous sound of the train on the tracks overground as it shook curtains of dust from the cracked ceiling –
"J.B. Scat, my client's father, never went to the HD to issue a birth certificate; it would have meant the kitten be taken away by the government into foster care, as he was out of work, suspected of material abuse, and too poor to provide for a second child. Such was the way things were back then, before the law was repea..." Daisy voice became farther and farther away. He could barely make out the last of her words as the courtroom erupted.
The sudden rise in din snapped him back to the present, and he finally took in a gasp of air, his oxygen-deprived brain making the room tilt. He could hear Dibble swearing freely behind him - and another hundred horrified voices all at once. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe he was sitting there, like a damn vegetable, having someone spew out his childhood in front of nearly a hundred people.
He wanted to shut Daisy up. He wanted to pull himself out of his horrified stupor, shut her up and then beat himself to death for his own sheer stupidity.
How could he have not connected any of the dots when she went out of her way to be assigned to his case? The sneaky old bitch never told him she was the worker that handled his father's problem with the foster threat. She had never said a word, and he was too young to remember.
All those times when she'd come into their old house…was she there to assess their situation? His father's competence? Was that why she was really there?
Judge Button rapped her hammer against the pod, multiple times to be heard, and the clerk stood up and shouted order else everyone will be forced to leave the courtroom. "As you were saying, Mrs. Roughbark.."
Daisy continued, and through the tunnel vision of disbelief and assault of memories, the cat could see that she was enjoying setting the courtroom ablaze; gone was the bored, haughty look on her mug when the prosecutors were sending their witnesses out. Now her orange eyes were wide and challenging, full of humor.
"J.B. pretended he had one son for a while; the two kittens could not ever be seen together inside the city, of course; they were even sent to different schools. If there was ever anything for which he'd need a formal document, he'd use the birth certificate of his first kitten."
She flipped the pages of the folder in her paws, and stopped at one division. Removing the clips, she took out the paper and gave it to a jury member's extended hand. "Your Honor and jury are aware of course, that cats commonly go by aliases and hierarchy status in daily life. The birth name you see on the document may not be familiar to you...but this is the cat we today know as G.P."
She turned to the seated people, and basked in the tide of astonished, confused, and horrified emotions sweeping through the courtroom in waves. Every ear was hanging onto every breath she took. She felt so alive; how she missed spraining people's brains.
"It's not uncommon after all for alley cats to go unregistered, but those who have brushes no matter how small with the police at any point in their lives will always have documentation for them issued afterwards. Until now, Mr. Top Cat is still unregistered in the New York census, not technically at least, because in fact – every police officer, every governmental institution in the state was handling G.P.'s papers as if they were Top Cat's own. Let that sink in for a moment," said the dog with a mad grin on her face. Top Cat could have sworn he heard Dibble swoon behind him.
"What do you mean by 'not technically'?" asked Jvis, pulling the dog out of her bliss. She sighed.
"Jury, I would like to see the authenticity of this document please," demanded Parker.
"It's authentic," confirmed the jury member, an old man with flyaway white hair. For someone so old, he was flying through an enormous dossier spread open in front of him with enviable speed. Upon finding the numerical sequences he was looking for, he nodded to the judge, who turned back to Daisy.
"Answer Mr. Jvis's question, please."
"I'm getting there," she said, her sass coming out more and more. "When the situation became more desperate, J.B. Scat moved his family to escape the inevitability of having one or all of his children taken away. They moved to San Francisco, and once the city realized there was an unregistered kitten an official document was issued, for Top Cat. One thing was wrong with it though – it determined the child's birthplace to be that state. J.B. of course, never corrected that mistake, nor mentioned that he in fact had an older child.
"If there was one thing going right for that guy, it was his kids. He loved them more than anything, and the thought of losing one was unbearable. Having worked in the child welfare route for years in my youth, my experience allows me to tell you this: sometimes it's much better for a child to live in poverty with their parent who loves them, than in comfort without any love. When I found out about all this misinformation back then, I decided against correcting it - pushing to correct it would've caused unneeded grief for a family whose father was trying so hard to keep together."
And that worked just fine in the end, didn't it, Dad, thought the yellow feline, a bit hysterically. His father tried, God did he try, and still they ended up the most messed-up unit he knew.
Again, Daisy dove into her folder, and pulled out yet another document. "Exhibit B," she said as she gave it to the same jury member from before. "I had to contact a lot of old acquaintances – some of which barely remembered me to begin with – to get that document. It's a legal backup. The first print burned along with the others in 1945."
"I remember that fire," nodded the old man with the crazy hair absently. "I don't have the San Francisco reference, unfortunately. This document will have to be investigated, but from what I see, there's very little reason to doubt its authenticity."
"There you have it," said Daisy, spinning on her heels back to the audience. "And just putting it out there – I've worked part-time in the state census for years, and can pick out the ink used for every type of document among hundreds. A fake document won't go by me - the perks of being a dachshund!"
"Bellissimo," said Tony in breathless awe.
"Your Honor, members of the jury, prosecutors, Madam Kinsay…I need to say one more thing; my client grew up in poverty, lives in poverty, and has on many occasions resorted to petty hustling to get enough food to eat. But this never affected his capacity to love others. Madam Kinsay, Mr. Top Cat is also waiting for someone to come home, and I know you would understand this more than David and Mark ever could."
The woman stared at the dog for a moment before looking away to empty air once again, saying nothing, her face aged with sadness.
"Thank you, Mrs Roughbark. Jury, it is time to deliberate what you have heard and seen," said Judge Button, and she stood up. "And your verdict must be unanimous. Once you have reached it, you must inform the clerk – he will inform the court when you are ready to return. Adjourned."
The noise in the room immediately rose like someone twisted up the knob on a radio. Top Cat saw Parker stride to the middle of the empty space between their seats and the witness's stand, beckoning Daisy to talk to him. He couldn't hear their words, and he didn't care.
There were only a few times in his life when he felt so violated, so exposed. And for the first time in a long time, he so badly yearned for his father to be there with him.
He was no longer leaning his back against the bench in pseudo bravado as he had been before Daisy decided to open her mouth; now he was sitting rigid as a pole, paws lying flat at his sides on the seat. His eyes were on his lawyer's back, but not really seeing her or anything else. Tony reached out his left hand through the hollow, geometric art of the pier, and laid it on Top Cat's own. Benny pressed his paw over the other.
When the judge and jury came out again, it was like no time at all had passed, yet a lifetime of memories had played in his clamoring mind. They spoke, the clerk called for order, but he didn't hear any of it. The only feeling in his paws were Tony's hand and Benny's paw, grasped tightly in his own, now joined by the rest of the gang. He didn't even remember when he had turned his paws around to hold onto them so tightly, and in that moment, he couldn't care less.
"Members of the jury, what is your verdict?" said the judge's voice.
"The jury finds the accused not guilty, your Honor."
"Mr. Top Cat, you are free to g-"
He didn't hear the end of her sentence over his friends' screaming; Tony picked him up and hauled him over the pier. He found himself being squeezed to the point of needing air as he saw tears of joy in his gangs' eyes, and the gentle fondness in his human friends'. The people from the back rows came down as well, and he was jostled, embraced, yelled at, and very much had his senses assaulted for a good few minutes. The feeling of disorientation would not leave him, but his friends' joyful hugs cast his remaining humiliation into shadow for the moment, and he let himself accept their love and allow content to enter his heart.
And then Dibble decided to come up behind him and smack him upside the head.
"Ow! What the heck, Officer?!"
"That's for leavin' me ta run around like a chicken with its head cut off!" the cop shouted.
"I told you he's a twit," said the dachshund with a shrug.
"How can ya not say anythin' about somethin' this big?! Leavin' me ta guess! Someone's committing crimes in ya name and ya know it and yet ya didn' see the point of sayin' anythin'? You really are a piece of work!"
"Your pride and your distrust of everyone representing law and order could've gotten ya in serious trouble, brat," said the dog once she'd pulled him away from his eager friends (and that one pissed-off cop) for a moment. "Well, not this time – the whole thing was flimsy to begin with – but it woulda happened, sooner or later."
"..Why did ya never tell me you knew all this?" asked Top Cat, looking at her from under his hat.
"'Cause you never asked. By golly, for a cat whose brains everyone swears by, you really are the stupidest kid I've ever met."
oOoOoOoOoOo
Parker caught up with Daisy and Top Cat out in the hall, asking for a word. The cat groaned out loud when the old dog told him to wait beside her, and he begrudgingly told the gang to go on ahead and that he'll catch up in a jiff. He turned his face to the male lawyer, and made sure the disinterested expression was unmissable.
"I'm suin' 'em up to their noses for slander," his whispered, a familiar gleam in his eyes. "I'm gonna milk them for everythin' their phony job pays."
"…Never let a crisis go to waste," said Daisy with a grin.
"Congratulations," Parker said when he came over, with no genuine intent behind his words. "Another case won, Daisy. You've always taken on the weird ones."
"Says the scarecrow," sneered the cat.
"You were really pushing for this trial to be public, weren't you David," said Daisy. It wasn't a question. "You knew there wasn't enough evidence to pin this crime on my client. You and Mark only did this for the masses; you're all too terrified of people saying you're not finding the girl fast enough. So is this your way of pretending you're working hard? Give people something to talk about? Forget about my client; did you stop a moment to consider what you are doing to Madam Kinsay? No, of course not. I've watched her during the trial. She knew this whole thing was pointless. She sat there, listening to people talk about her child's kidnapping five times for no reason except to break her heart again and again. I'm really disappointed in you, Parker."
"That is completely –"
"Mr. Top Cat, Mrs. Roughbark," said a new voice.
Both Top Cat and Daisy turned to see Madam Kinsay come up next to her lawyer, who looked suddenly uneasy. "I'm Pamela Kinsay, Mayor Kinsay's wife."
"Yes, Ma'am," said the cat apprehensively.
"I am very sorry. For everything you've gone through…the Mayor – my husband and I – had promised ourselves to look after every citizen in New York City, to make every New Yorker believe in justice and truth no matter the situation, and to never let them experience this kind of grief. You've been hurt while you wait for someone important to you to come back home, and we only made it more painful. I'm very, very sorry." tears were glistening at the corners of her eyes; one finally broke away and ran down her cheek. She wiped it away in a single graceful motion. "I pray you get your loved one back."
"Ma'am," was all the cat said, not looking at her, eyes cast in shadow by his hat.
Daisy watched the woman and her lawyer go. When she turned to the cat, she asked: "So..about that slander charge, you were saying – ?"
"Never mind," said Top Cat through gritted teeth. The old dog laughed softly, pushed his pork pie hat backwards so she could see him properly, and gave him a playful shove with her long snout.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"T.C.! Hey!"
Top Cat turned around on the courthouse stairs, and saw the familiar police car. Dibble leaned out the rolled-down window and smiled widely. "C'mon, get in!"
"Huh?"
"Get in! Everyone's already back home, and they're throwin' your undeservin' bum a party."
As they cruised through the streets, Top Cat leaned on the car's window sill, and watched the city horizon move, the cool wind ruffling his fur and whiskers. Dibble could see his face in the side mirror, and the open, relaxed look on the cat's face was so genuine that, with a sudden pang of sadness, Dibble realized that he had rarely seen that expression on the cat's face in all the years he knew him.
And that, after everything that had transpired over the last few weeks, revived the guilt. For years he had failed to understand this cat. Maybe he grudgingly respected him, even loved him against his better judgement (objectivity tended to jump off the Empire State when Top Cat was involved whenever), but he had never really understood him.
He remained silent as his thoughts brought about even more questions. He was pulled out of his musing when he heard Top Cat calling his name, apparently more than once. He started, and looked at the rearview mirror. The cat was watching him in it. His eyes were still soft and forthcoming.
But then he just had to open his mouth.
"What'sa matter, Dibble? Caught a waterfall in ya eye, again?"
"...Open the door an' get out."
"We're movin'."
"Exactly. Adios, pally."
oOoOoOoOoOo
(Original A.N from 2016: The middle of a story is the hardest part to write. This chapter only took 3 centuries. I really don't know how people do it. How do you write 400-page novels?! How do you do it?
If I ever publish my own stories, they will be short ones. That's the format that works best for me and my sanity.
This story is currently 11 chapters long, including the independently-posted Chapter 7.5, Mismatch. We've already crossed the middle mark, and I estimate around 3 more chapters to go.
I'm not liking how breezy this archive is. Get to work! Start writing stories!)