Verwandte Artikel zu To Catch a Cat

To Catch a Cat - Hardcover

Babson, Marian

 
9780312209186: To Catch a Cat
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0312209185 ISBN 13: 9780312209186
Verlag: Minotaur Books, 2000

Inhaltsangabe

The last thing eleven-year-old Robin wants to hear is that his mother and her new husband are extending their honeymoon indefinitely. Not that staying with his Aunt Mags is so bad, but there's her boyfriend to contend with, and the members of the school gang are insisting that he complete a dare before they let him join the group. They want Robin to kidnap Mrs. Nordling's prize-winning cat when no one is home.

Getting into the Nordling's house is easy and Robin manages to find the cat and put him in his bag. As Robin is leaving, however, he stumbles upon a terrifying scene-Mr. Nordling leaving the master bedroom with blood all over his body. Robin is momentarily paralyzed and then flees down the stairs. He can't be sure whether or not he has been seen, but realizes that in order to stay safe he will have to hide the unusual-looking cat.

Meanwhile, Mr. Nordling is getting desperate. He knows that if he can find the unmistakable cat he will also find the witness to his brutal crime. He begins a frantic search for the young boy, but his infuriating neighbor won't leave him alone. She is beginning to understand what happened that night and he decides that he will have to deal with her too.

In her 36th published mystery, Marian Babson delights readers again with her usual charm and lighthearted humor. To Catch a Cat will capture the hearts of feline lovers and mystery fans alike.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Marian Babson was born in Salem, Massachusetts, but has spent most of her adult life in London. She is a full-time writer and has published over thirty mystery novels.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

To Catch a Cat
1
Midnight.
He'd never known it could get so dark. Once you stepped away from the pale pool of light immediately beneath the street-lamp, the shadows closed in. It wasn't raining yet, but there was so much dampness in the air that it was only a matter of time. A sudden gust of wind ripped more leaves from the trees and hurled them across his path. He stumbled and nearly fell, choking back something between a curse and a sob. But he didn't know any curses vile enough and, anyway, he mustn't make any noise.
Along the side of the garage, the ground was rougher and more uneven. For a brief aching moment, he longed for the city pavements and houses huddled together in endless terraces with lights shining out of their windows, the pale blue patch of TV screens glowing inside and, at whatever hour of the day or night, music and voices.
He had never been out this late before. Alone. He was going to have to get used to it. The old life had gone. Maybe for ever. He no longer trusted all the promises his mother had made. She wasn't here. Already the most important of them had been broken. She had changed her mind about the date of her return - or he had. They were going to prolong their honeymoon. They were going to stay away for weeks and weeks more. He was stuck here with Auntie Mags for the winter.
There was the tree, right where the gang had said it would be. It was enormous, its lower branches an uncomfortable distance from the ground, its highest branches swaying above the roof of the garage. Once he got up it, it should be easy to get on to the flat garage roof and then through the window and into the house.
Someone else's house. That was against the law. It frightened him, he had never broken the law before.
He shifted his backpack a bit so that it lay firmly between his shoulders and the straps wouldn't slip down over his arms. He hoped it was going to be big enough.
It took several jumps before he caught hold of the lowest branch and hauled himself up. He sat panting on the branch for a moment, wishing he was somewhere - anywhere - else. But he had to do it. They never thought he would, that was why they had made it a condition of his joining the gang. He was going to show them. They couldn't keep him out.
How had they known he was afraid of heights? That was why they were making him do this. They thought he'd give up and go away. He'd show them!
Grimly, he pushed himself to his feet and began to pull himself upwards from branch to branch until he was on the branch that was level with the roof. He shuffled sideways along the branch, clinging to the twigs of the branch above. The end of the branch dipped beneath his weight and he clung so tightly to the twigs that he stripped them of their remaining leaves. It had to be done.
He left the shadowy safety of the tree to scramble across the open exposed space of the roof. His feet were making crunching noises. Could they hear that inside the house?
He stopped and looked at the dark window opening directly on to the roof. It belonged to an unused guest room. They told him Mrs Nordling had plans to change it into a long french window which would open on to the roof garden she was going to create.
It was a good idea, but they also said Mr Nordling was already complaining about the expense. The general opinion was that Mr Nordling was a cheap bastard. Maureen, Kerry's big sister, did cleaning for the Nordlings and Old Nordling was always cheating her out of the full amount due. Mrs Nordling would try to make up for it by slipping Maureen a bit extra when she could, but she had to be careful that Mr Nordling didn't catch her, even though it was her own money. Mr Nordling had a rotten temper. Kerry had it in for Mr Nordling. That was why he wanted Robin to do this house. Two birds with one stone.
Robin flattened himself against the house - or tried to. He'd forgotten the backpack. He shrugged himself out of it and put it back on with the sack in front, then unbuckled the flap. He was going to need quick and easy access to it. Then he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
He'd never even thought of breaking the law before. He was afraid of going to jail if he was caught. Now he had to break into this house and remove - steal - Mrs Nordling's most prized possession.
No, not exactly break in. Kerry had promised him that the window would be unlocked. Maureen would see to that. It was going to be left unlocked all this week.
Maybe he could call it off for tonight and come back later in the week.
No. Once he reached the ground, he knew he would never be able to force himself back up that tree again. It was now or never. And never meant that he could never be part of the gang. That was unthinkable, too.
He had lost his old life, his home, his friends ... his mother. Without the gang, he was nothing.
He leaned forward, shielding his eyes, to peer through the window, to make certain it was as dark inside as it seemed. There was a sharp clink as the buckle of his backpack struck the pane and he recoiled instantly. Had anyone heard?
Darkness and silence. The Nordlings were asleep, they must be. Or - an uneasy thought came to him - perhaps they had gone out to visit friends, or to dinner and a film. Perhaps the house was empty now, but they would return at any minute. Return - and catch him in the act. The act he didn't want to think about.
He tested the window, hoping Kerry's promise was a lie. Everyone else lied. But the window glided upwards, inviting entry. He held his breath and listened again. Still silence.
He forced himself over the windowsill and stood inside, listening, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the extra layers of darkness inside the house. A chill wind blewthrough the window behind him. He half turned, then remembered that he mustn't close it. He might need to get out in a hurry ... after he had found what he wanted.
No. What Kerry wanted. It wasn't going to be hurt, Kerry had assured him, but what about him? He wasn't afraid of cats. Of course, he wasn't. He just hated them. All those teeth and claws and bristling tails and yowling.
An ice-cold fatalism settled over him. He was never going to get away with this. How did you even find the cat in a great big house like this? It might be in any room. It might even be sleeping on Mrs Nordling's bed.
Even if he found it, how could he get hold of it without being slashed to ribbons? That Leif Eriksson was one giant cat. There had been a picture in the paper of Mrs Nordling holding him when he won a first prize in the local Cat Show. She almost couldn't do it. Norwegian Forest cats were about a thousand times bigger than ordinary cats and he was afr - he hated them, too.
His reluctant feet had carried him to the door. He fished the small torch out of his pack and then the knitted gloves, which were the only ones he had. Some protection they'd be against those giant claws.
With the gloves on, he could delay no longer. He turned the knob and the door opened smoothly with no betraying squeak from the hinges. He risked a small flash of light to get his bearings. The carpet was deep and soft, muffling footsteps. That was good. He began to close the door behind him, then stopped. How would he know which door led into the room with the open window, if he did that? He carefully pushed the door all the way back against the wall, leaving a gaping black oblong for him to dive into if he had to leave in a hurry.
All the other doors were closed. Was that a faint gleam of light along the base of the one facing the wall just at the side of the wide central staircase? He stopped and listened again: still silence. Maybe it was...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Minotaur Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2000
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0312209185
ISBN 13 
9780312209186
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
192
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar