The Devil's Cat Part 19

Tony looked around for Andrea. The teenager was backed up against the outside wall of the clinic.

"You all right, Andrea?"

She nodded her head, not trusting her voice.

"Let's get out of here." He held out his hand and the girl took it. "Come on, we'll run for the car."

A few minutes later, both of them drenched during the short run to the car, they pulled into the garage of Tony's house. "Safe," Tony said with a grin. "You know my wife, Lena, don't you, Andrea?"

"Yes, sir."

The garage light came on and the door opened. Lena Livaudais stood framed in the light from the kitchen. Tony thought she was smiling rather strangely.

Tony got out to face his wife, standing two steps above him. "Unusual outfit, hon," he said.

Lena was dressed in black pants, some sort of pointed and curved-toed slippers, and a black s.h.i.+rt with strange characters sewn into the material. Tony took a closer look at the characters. He had never seen anything quite like it.

"Don't you like it, Tony?" she asked.

"Uh ... yeah! Sure. Is it new?"

"Actually, it's quite old." She opened the screen door wider and smiled. Was it Tony's imagination, or was there something hidden in that smile? He brushed that aside and motioned for Andrea to step into the house.

"You have anything that will fit Andrea, Lena?"

That d.a.m.ned odd smile again. "Oh, yes, Tony. I a.s.sure you, Andrea will be well cared for here." She put her arm around the girl's waist and led her through the kitchen. She called over her shoulder, "Oh, Tony, I fixed you a drink. It's there on the counter. I made it kind of strong."

"Good. I need it. Thanks."

But he was speaking to an empty hall.

He pulled off his wet s.h.i.+rt and hung it over the back of a chair. Picking up the drink, he lifted it to his mouth. The whiskey smell was there, but something else cut through the bourbon odor to reach his nostrils. He took a very small sip. It tasted all right, but that very light and strange odor didn't seem right to him. He spat out the sip and dumped the drink into the sink. He rinsed out the gla.s.s and built a fresh whiskey and water. Not really knowing why he felt he should, Tony turned on the hot water and melted the ice cubes in the sink. Carrying his drink, he walked down the hall to his bedroom. He could hear the shower running in the hall bathroom. Glancing into the bedroom Andrea would use, he could see clothing laid out on the bed.

Tony was home. Here, he was safe. Here, he could relax, unwind. So why was he feeling the unsettling sensation that he was not safe?

He stepped into his bedroom. Lena was standing by the bed, smiling at him. "How's your drink?"

"Fine. Just right."

"I didn't know what time you were coming home; so much has been happening around town. I'll start dinner now. It'll be rather late when we eat."

"Fine with me. I'll shower now."

"I'll get right on dinner."

Tony nodded his head, his eyes once more taking in the strange s.h.i.+rt his wife wore. Where in the world did she get it? And more importantly, why did she buy it? It was not attractive at all. It was ... it was ...

... hideous-looking.

Lena strolled out of the bedroom, leaving the hall door open. Tony sat his drink down on a coaster and peeled out of his still-wet clothing. He started for the shower, paused, and picked up his drink, taking it into the bathroom with him. For some reason he didn't want to leave it out where ...

... Lena could get to it.

"Now why would I think something like that?" he muttered.

He walked naked back into the bedroom and closed the door. Suddenly, for no real reason that he could think of, Tony was suspicious, and wary. Suspicious? Of whom? he pondered. He didn't know. Lena? Maybe-but why?

Glancing at the closed door, checking to see if it was still closed, he walked to his wife's dresser. He quickly searched the drawers, finding nothing that would cause him to be suspicious of Lena. Then, in the very bottom of the last drawer, he found an envelope. He picked it up and opened it. Full of pictures.

Tony's stomach churned in revulsion.

The pictures were a mixed bag of hideousness. Naked people being whipped. Of dark, candle-lit, black-draped rooms. He felt he should know those rooms, but the people in the pictures drew most of his attention.

There was Lena, naked, with an also naked Will Jolevare, their faces contorted in s.e.xual frenzy. There was Will's wife, Betty, with Louis Black. He knew every man, every woman, every teenager in the telltale pictures. There was Dave Porter ... entertaining-if it could be called that-Lena. Very interesting s.e.xual position, Tony thought. Looked d.a.m.ned uncomfortable to him.

But what was that thing that each person wore around his neck? Some sort of medal or medallion. Tony couldn't make it out. Didn't think he'd ever seen his wife wear it before.

He looked at another picture. There was Max Encalarde with Lena and Judy Mahon. Disgusting. Perverted. And as he looked through the pictures, each became more perverted than the last.

He almost vomited looking at the next picture.

It was a naked man, tied spreadeagled to a black-draped altar of some sort. He was covered with cats ... and they were eating his living flesh.

In the next picture, Tony could make out the faces of many of those gathered around the now-b.l.o.o.d.y altar. There was Ted Wilson standing beside Mrs. Carmon. Bob Gannon was there, with Alma Clayton. Fred Johnson standing beside Dave Porter's secretary, Bette. There was that pompous a.s.s from the bank, Nate Slater, one arm around the naked shoulders of Judy Mahon, his hand cupping a young breast. The teenager was grinning foolishly.

Oh, yeah, Tony knew them all. All the good folks of Becancour. And he knew who the man was lying dead on the altar. It was that poor man they'd found out by the Balon rent place.

Tony put the pictures in the pocket of a pair of slacks and closed the drawer. He quickly showered and dressed. Stepping out into the hall, he b.u.mped into Andrea.

"Mrs. Livaudais stepped out for a few minutes," the girl told him. "Said she had to see somebody. Said if she wasn't back in time for dinner, not to worry. The ca.s.serole is in the oven, and for us to help ourselves."

"She took her car?"

"Yes, sir."

Tony walked into the kitchen and turned off the oven. d.a.m.ned if he'd eat anything fixed by Lena. Not until he figured out what the h.e.l.l was going on around here.

He looked at Andrea looking at him. "You hungry, Andrea?"

"No, sir. Not a bit."

"Me, either." He found a bottle of unopened Crown Royal and broke the seal, fixing a fresh drink. "You want a c.o.ke, Andrea?"

"I'll fix it, Dr. Livaudais."

"Make sure the cap hasn't been opened."

She glanced at him. "What's going on, Dr. Livaudais?"

"That's what I want you to tell me, Andrea. But before you do, I'm going to make a couple of calls."

"Yes, sir."

Tony called the rectory and asked if Father Javotte could come over. He would leave immediately. And pick up Sam Balon, please? Fine. Tony called Sonny Pa.s.son and Don Lenoir and asked them to come over.

"Aw, s.h.i.+t!" Tony said, startling Andrea.

"What's the matter?"

"I completely forgot about Dr. Whitson. Christ, he's ..."

"No, sir. He left a long time before we did. I saw him leave."

"What? How ... I mean, well, how?"

"He walked out. Well, he kind of staggered out. I don't know where he went."

Tony jerked up the phone, cursing under his breath at his carelessness. There was no doubt in his mind that David was still drunk, and unpredictable. "Jean? Is David there?"

"He staggered in here about an hour ago and packed some clothes. I don't know where he's gone, and I don't care. Hey, Tony-you wanna come over and join our party?"

"I think I'll pa.s.s, Jean." He had seen Jean's face among the sweaty and naked partic.i.p.ants in the photos.

"Your loss, baby," Jean said. She broke the connection.

"It's all these secret meetings that's been going on around town, isn't it, Dr. Livaudais?" Andrea said.

"I don't know anything about them, Andrea. But if you do, then that's what we'll talk about. I know that the young people of today, just as we did when I was a kid, have their own grapevine, and miss d.a.m.n little."

"I don't know much about them, 'cause I never went to one."

Tony held up one hand. "Wait until the others get here and you can tell it just the one time."

"Fine with me, Doctor."

Tony took a deep breath and looked at Andrea. Such a pretty girl; the kind who would grow up into a beautiful woman. Tony began to experience a light-headed sensation. Not at all unpleasant; a euphoric, sort of erotic sensation. He rather enjoyed it. He looked at Andrea.

Wonder if she liked it? Tony thought. Wonder how many times she got her cookies off?

Andrea turned her head and smiled at Tony.

Wild, erotic, perverted images flew through Tony's mind ... all concerning Tony and Andrea. She was naked, they were in bed, with Andrea straddling him, riding up and down on him, her young b.r.e.a.s.t.s bouncing, the nipples erect....

"No!" Tony shouted.

Andrea jumped to her feet. "Dr. Livaudais?"

"Stay away from me, Andrea," Tony said, trying his best to keep his voice level and the erotic images from taking control. "Find a Bible. Right over there!" He pointed.

Andrea ran to the shelf and grabbed up the Bible. "What do you want me to do with it, Doctor?"

Tony was struggling to speak; his head was filled with eroticism ... all concerning the young Andrea. "Ope ... open ... it!" he gasped. "Re ... read to ... me."

Frightened, with trembling hands, she opened the Bible and began to read. " '... Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor; thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies. Thy two b.r.e.a.s.t.s ...' "

"Andrea!"

She looked up.

"Read ... something ... else."

"I know!" she said, and quickly flipped the pages. She began to read the Lord's Prayer, slowly and calmly.

Tony's head began to clear of the eroticism. His breathing evened out, and he could speak.

"I'm all right now, Andrea. Thank you very much, girl."

"What happened to you, Doctor?"

"I don't know, Andrea. But I'm beginning to believe Flip Wilson was right."

She grinned at him. "What do you mean?"

"The devil made me do it."

3.

Lula lay on the pool table, naked, her legs spread wide. She was truly amazed; she didn't think the old goat would have had it in him.

She giggled.

Well, actually, he didn't have it in him; she had it in her.

"Hey, babe!" Jules called.

She turned her head. Old b.a.s.t.a.r.d had a blue b.o.n.e.r. Sticking out like a small flagpole.

"Want to go again, babe?" Jules asked.

"Does a cat have a tail?"

With those words still echoing about the barroom, a strange sound drifted to Lula. She wasn't sure what it was, with all the rain out, but it wasn't bad-sounding. Kind of soothing. Kind of familiar-sounding, too.