Shadows of Death Read Online Free Page B

approaching, ignoring everything except this dog that had dared encroach upon his territory.
    Now, Watson likes cats. He lives with two of them, and they all sleep together. He passes the time of day amiably with the neighbourhood cats in Sherebury.
    But he didn’t like this one, and he was making it plain.
    I tugged on his leash. I might as well have tried to move the wall next to me.
    ‘Watson!’ said Alan sharply.
    The dog ignored him. The cat began to growl, too. Its hackles rose. Its tail bushed.
    The car, meanwhile, had come to a stop, unable to pass the cat. The few pedestrians stopped to watch. I was at a loss. Our sweet-tempered dog had never acted this way before.
    Alan made a move to grab Watson’s collar. He growled and snapped. The cat hissed and spat, and lifted a fully armed paw.
    Behind us, a door opened with a bang. ‘Don’t get between them.’ The woman who had emerged spoke urgently, but quietly. ‘Let me deal with this.’
    She crouched and looked the cat in the eye, from a cautious distance. ‘Bad cat! Stop it this instant!’
    The cat looked at her with what I would have sworn was a sneer.
    ‘Be off with you, then!’ The woman took the water pistol out from behind her back and aimed a stream straight at the cat’s face.
    The cat unleashed a string of feline profanity that would have made a sailor blush, but it took off, disappearing into someone’s garden.
    Watson sat back with a silly grin, plainly feeling he had been the victor in the skirmish. He was still there, and unharmed. The cat was gone.
    ‘Ninny!’ I said. ‘You didn’t do a thing except make threats. And whatever made you act that way, anyhow?’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said the woman with the squirt gun, which she now tucked away in a pocket. ‘It’s not your dog’s fault. That cat antagonizes everyone, and he can do a lot of damage if he wishes.’
    ‘Is he yours, then?’ asked Alan, with deceptive mildness. He didn’t like to see animals left untrained.
    ‘No, praise the Lord! He doesn’t belong to anyone; he’s the town menace.’
    ‘Does he have a name?’
    ‘He has several names,’ said the woman grimly. ‘Some of them are polite.’
    We laughed at that, and the scene broke up. The patient driver steered her car past us, and we followed the woman back into the cat rescue shop she’d come from.
    ‘You can come in for a moment if you like, but you’ll have to leave your dog outside,’ said the woman, pleasantly enough. ‘We’re not open. I came over to feed our strays, and most of them are afraid of dogs.’
    ‘But … if the orange cat is still around …’
    ‘He won’t be. He’ll be washing his face and plotting revenge somewhere.’
    Alan took Watson back outside, and I gave the woman a quizzical look. ‘But you must like cats, or you wouldn’t be working for a cat charity.’
    ‘I love cats, but not Roadkill.’
    ‘Roadkill!’
    ‘That’s one of his names. You saw him lying in the middle of the road. It’s his favourite place. The sun warms the stones, you see.’
    ‘And as the whole town belongs to him, he sees no reason why he should move. I understand. Well, he’s a character.’
    ‘He’s all of that. But do be careful of him. For all he’s adapted to living around humans, he’s truly a feral cat, and can be truly dangerous. Keep your dog on a short lead, and don’t let him out on his own. The cat knows him for an enemy now.’
    I promised to keep Watson under control, put a donation in the jar by the cash register, and re-joined my husband and dog. ‘The serpent in paradise?’ I said.
    ‘As you say.’ Alan was rather silent on the way back to our apartment. I thought he’d taken the encounter more seriously than I had. But then he’s an Englishman, and dogs are Very Important Persons to the English.
    We had a cup of tea before settling down to a nap, and then showered and changed for our meal with Andrew.
    Alan told me not to dress up. ‘Orkney is very informal,’ he