Act 1, Scene 2

Norb flicked his feathery tail as he watched his human, who he’d named Bellows, pace back and forth.

His human was a higher-up at the opera house. Norb knew he was a manager or director, someone with power. The man ordered everyone around, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Most of the time the other humans listened, but when they didn’t, Bellows simply bellowed louder until his commands were followed.

Bellows seemed to have something on his mind at the moment. Norb strained to understand what his human murmured to himself. Human language proved tricky, and it required a keen ear and a lot of patience to decipher what humans said. Most of the time, Norb had to infer what Bellows said, and once in a while, he had inferred wrong. He believed he was becoming better at such endeavors, though. Despite his mistakes, he knew no other cat came close to his abilities at understanding human speech.

Bellows muttered about their current opera; that much Norb deciphered. Coincidentally, it was the same operetta the Opera Cats were going to perform, The Dream Girl. Or The Dream Cat, most likely. Long ago, Norb had decided to perform the same operas as the humans, thus allowing him to use their ideas and know what worked for them and what didn’t work.

Regarding The Dream Girl, Norb had watched the humans perform their operetta, which provided Norb with the plot and characters required. It was a relatively new operetta, and Norb had already considered which cats should sing which roles.

That had to be the cause for Bellows’ anxiety. Olga’s human would also be returning, and perhaps other changes were needed along with replacing Lady. Such a matter seemed silly to Norb. In his opinion, all humans sounded the same—screeching crows that needed to be put out of their misery. Even the few human words Norb understood had a nasally quality to them, making it twice as hard to understand their meaning.

The door opened. A man with dark brown skin and a thin mustache stepped into the room. Norb clawed the table he sat on. That man had been a frequent visitor to Lady, and Norb couldn’t understand why. Lady was a simple girl, not a raving beauty like other humans. The man couldn’t possibly fancy a woman who resembled a fencepost.

#

Stone paced back and forth, thinking. He had started pondering if there needed to be more changes made before their next performance, other than replacing Susannah with Maria, but somewhere down the line, his musings had morphed into a more serious matter. His Persian cat’s eyes followed him the whole time.

“Maybe you have the answer to my dilemma!” Stone whispered to his cat. Norb licked his pink nose.

“Of course.” Stone sighed and resumed his pacing.

He thought about Susannah’s singing. Indeed, she had a better voice than Maria, but Maria was the prima donna and prone to dramatic outbursts, which usually led to trouble for the opera company. Part of Stone dreaded what would happen if Susannah sang the main roles after Maria returned; would it be worth the angry outbursts from Maria? He doubted it. But another matter occupied his thoughts, this one more serious than who sang which role.

A soft knock at the door drew Stone’s attention from his muddled thoughts. “Come in,” he croaked.

Phillip Townsend walked in, a huge smile printed under his mustache. “It seems I’ve missed Susannah. When did she leave?”

“How am I supposed to know? Weren’t you with the mob that filed into her dressing room after the performance?” Stone grumbled.

Phillip raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t, as a matter of fact. Being a violinist, I was required elsewhere after Susannah’s magnificent performance.”

“Putting your violin away, I do not think, constitutes as important,” Stone snapped. “You have my answer regarding when Susannah left. If there’s nothing else, good night.” Stone resumed his pacing.

Tilting his head to one side, Phillip asked, “Is something troubling you?”

“Of course not!” Stone bellowed. Norb arched his back. Stone apologetically patted the cat’s head.

“And I’m the king of England,” Phillip muttered. “Come on, out with it. What’s the matter?”

Stone stared over his spectacles at the young man. Perhaps Phillip had been involved in the troublesome ordeal. He was in love with Susannah. One would have to be living under the opera house not to know that fact.

“Maria Kingston thinks someone poisoned her,” Stone blurted. “She believes someone wanted her out of the way so Susannah could replace her.”

Phillip guffawed. “Maria’s paranoid. She’s had a vendetta against Susannah ever since Susannah became her understudy. Maria was ill. It happens even to prima donnas, no matter how much they take care of themselves or how careful they are. Besides, you know as well as everyone else in this company that Maria is prone to fanciful tales. She will say anything to look innocent or ensure she was right all along, despite the truth.”

“But Maria insists she found some residue in her drinking glasses, something she swears she’s never seen before,” Stone hissed. “Before she became ill, her emerald necklace was stolen, and before that, her cat’s matching emerald collar. Is it a coincidence? She thinks not! Where does that leave me in this mess?”

Phillip leaned against the door, staring at Stone’s desk. “I can’t see how the thefts and Maria’s illness are connected, Mr. Stone. I’m sure Maria’s servants didn’t clean the glasses as well as they should have, simple as that.”

“That’s not how Maria sees it!” Stone waved Phillip’s words away. “As you said, she has an extremely wild imagination. No matter the truth of the situation, she believes someone poisoned her. How am I supposed to resolve an issue that may or may not exist?”

“Did Maria notice anything else unusual?”

“She told me she never tasted anything, and that the residue appeared about a month ago, before she became sick. Otherwise, she noticed nothing new.”

“I’m inclined to believe Maria wants there to be more to her illness than what there really is,” Phillip muttered, “or else she should have done something about it a month ago, such as question the servants, or hell—she could have hired a detective. She’s got the money for it.”

Stone raised himself to his full height. His face grew crimson as he snapped, “You’re not helping yourself, Phillip. Perhaps you poisoned Maria so Susannah could sing in her place! Everyone knows how you feel about Susannah.”

“For heaven’s sake, listen to yourself!” Phillip pushed himself from the door to stand in front of Stone. “You actually believe Maria’s tall tale?”

Stone’s shoulders sagged. “I’m not sure what to believe if you want the truth. Maria’s been sending me a multitude of letters and making numerous telephone calls. I’ve heard her version of events for over a week now, I start to doubt my own thoughts.”

“Maybe I can put your troubled mind at ease,” Phillip said in a gentle tone. “For one, I’ve never been inside Maria’s home. I don’t even know where the woman lives.” Phillip waved his hand in the air to indicate how little he cared about Maria’s personal information. “For two, I would never do something that stupid that might get Susannah in trouble, not to mention myself. Maria caught a cold, nothing more. The thefts were an unfortunate coincidence. Horrible things happen to people, Maria included. If you’ll excuse me, I will bid you good night.” Phillip turned around and strode out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.

Stone groaned. Somehow Phillip always had the last word, usually the winning statement in their squabbles. He ran a hand through his white hair. To Norb, he said, “I need a cigar.”