Finale

Maria moved to Ohio to begin her new singing career as she had promised, with Olga proudly accompanying her. Neither the cats nor the humans were particularly upset to see either of them leave. Maria sent news clippings for a month or so, mostly somewhat positive reviews of her performances, which Stone tossed in the trash can. The sham poisoning incident, as Stone called it, was soon forgotten.

Susannah found herself singing all the main roles as Stone had promised. With each performance, several raving reviews followed, and Susannah found that she needed that vacation Phillip had promised her. Phillip’s grandmother proved to be a kind woman who showed Susannah such deep affection that Susannah felt like a granddaughter rather than simply a visitor to the farm.

When Phillip and Susannah visited Phillip’s grandmother, they brought Harry along with them at Phillip’s insistence. The cat had warmed up to both of them, although the only person able to get close to him or pet him happened to be Phillip’s grandmother.

“A feral cat, Phillip?” Susannah had asked the first time Phillip broached the subject, concern etching her voice.

“Better than nothing. My grandmother is lonely when we’re not there,” Phillip had explained. “A cat would be great company for her.”

Despite her reservations, Susannah had grinned and said, “A cat can’t converse with her, though.”

“But she will need to take care of it, give it water and such. It’ll keep her occupied,” Phillip had replied with a wink. Thus, the matter was settled.

As weeks turned to months, and the months became a year, Susannah found herself engaged to Phillip, which made her think no greater happiness could be possible.

This development pleased Roxanne, since Phillip and Susannah visited the elderly lady every weekend during that first year. Some weekends Harry sneaked home with the humans to help the Opera Cats or watch Roxanne perform, which Roxanne suspected to be the real reason he returned to the city so often. She had to admit that life on the farm seemed to suit Harry better than living in the city. Since his absence extended for lengthy periods, a replacement had to be found. Kip filled in for Harry.

“Of course, the rats come first,” Kip had told Harry when Harry presented him with the job. “Once a rat catcher, always a rat catcher.”

Regarding Orpheus, Kip had informed Roxanne of his death, but he had no clue regarding the location of the body. Roxanne trusted Kip, and she returned to her singing a month or so after the whole ordeal with Orpheus. She figured enough time had passed. She couldn’t live her life mourning the dead, no matter how sad she felt. 

“How can you be sure that he died, then?” Harry had asked when Kip had told them the news.

“If Orpheus still lived,” Kip said, his expression grim, “his presence would have been made known one way or another.”

As no cat reported ghostly incidents, Kip figured Orpheus had, indeed, perished. Such a fact forced Harry to concur.

After accepting Roxanne’s abrupt return from who knew where, Norb allowed himself to be ecstatic. A fresh face, he decided, was desperately needed. Roxanne’s singing drew more cats with each new performance, some coming from outside the city. Norb believed all cats in New York would soon know of Roxanne’s talent. As for herself, Roxanne was pleased, for without Orpheus she would never have reached such acclaim. Stage fright no longer overwhelmed her. Indeed, after everything she’d been through, singing in front of a crowd proved to be nothing.

Often, when Roxanne practiced by herself in Susannah’s dressing room, her mind turned to the past when a mysterious voice spoke to her and helped her improve her craft. The voice still echoed in her ears, and sometimes she thought she’d actually heard the voice, for she would stop singing and search the room to no avail. Then she would cry for some lost thing, a thing that was at the same time hideous and beautiful, a thing that she suspected she held a fondness for that she couldn’t explain or comprehend. Yet she never confessed such sentiments to Harry or any other cat. They would never understand.

#

The morning after Susannah’s fourth performance as Malena in The Dream Girl, the janitor busily cleaned the last few boxes on the second tier. Soon he’d go home to a hot cup of tea and a warm bed, where he’d sleep like a baby until evening when he had to return to the opera house to sweep and dust again.

At the last box, a strange smell emanating from it made the janitor gag. He dreaded opening the door to the box. Some dead thing had to be in it, but what? Or worse, who? The smell had to come from a large creature, nothing like a rat or bird. There’d been no report of foul play in the paper or on the radio. He’d just have to find out what—or who—caused such a horrendous odor.

As soon as the door swung open, the janitor gagged and coughed harder. His eyes roved the box, and when they fell on the banister, a scream escaped the janitor’s mouth. The thing on the banister was a large, ragged cat with a skull for a head. No patch of skin or strand of fur appeared on the face at all. The beast only possessed a shining skull.

The janitor poked the carcass with the handle of the broom. It didn’t move. Fighting back the urge to scream again, the janitor raced to find a bag of some kind. He found a burlap sack, and when he returned to the box where the dead cat lay, he prodded the body into the sack with the broom bristles.

Muttering to himself about not getting paid nearly as much for some of the horrid tasks that often came his way, the janitor trotted to the rear of the building where a door led to the alley and the subsequent trash bins. Without hesitation, he lifted the lid off a bin and chucked the sack inside it, sighing in relief once the task was finished.

He then went home early to drink his hot tea, which possessed little flavor.

#

The Ghost Cat was never seen again, by cat or human alike.

THE END