#16-Cat and Mouse
A figure appeared at the carriage house window, elbow bent as if holding a phone. From the shape and bulk of him, I guessed Sharaf, probably wondering why my windows were dark. I thought of turning on the light to give the room a more normal appearance but the desk seemed impossibly far away. Anyway, I could be sleeping. I waited.
In the gloom, I almost missed the opening of the human-sized door at the side of the carriage house. Sharaf came out, slipped and almost fell. He hesitated under the lamp, pulling some object from under his jacket, looking at it and putting it back. The gesture reminded me of someone pulling a pistol from a shoulder harness, checking the safety and re-holstering it. I faded back from the window. Setting the cat in the bed, I covered him with blankets. His purr sounded like a motorboat.
“Shh,” I told him. I heard a creak from the head of the stairs and drew back against the wall beside the door. As the door eased open, I heard a faint click. Sharaf took two silent strides inside, thrusting the gun ahead of him.
To my horror, a hump rose up in the middle of the bed. Sharaf exclaimed as the lump flattened out then flowed down the side of the bed, dragging the sheet with it. The pistol wavered and spat. Cringing under the sound, I hurled myself at Sharaf’s legs while he was still staggering from the recoil. He fell backwards over me and clunked his head. The cat shot past us as I struggled to get disentangled from Sharaf’s kicking legs.
Pouncing on the dazed man, I wrenched his arms behind his back. The carry strap from my computer case had a flat rubbery shoulder pad. Working from the underside of the pad, I pulled out two loops large enough for Sharaf’s hands to fit through. Jerking the loops tight around his wrists, I passed the clips of the strap around his waist. He was a little bit too pudgy but I forced the clips to lock together.
“Ow. Hey!” he protested.
“You tried to kill me!”
“I didn’t want to but father said I had to.”
“Why?”
Sharaf kicked at me. I rolled him over on a corner of the sheet, and wound it around him like mummy bandages, muffling his head. I sat on his legs and tied his shoelaces together. When I stood up, he flopped around like a landed fish. The way he was going, he’d eventually wiggle out of my makeshift restraints. I grabbed his ankles and dragged him to Jenny’s little jail. The polished floors helped. I was so terrified he would get loose I forgot my fear of the tiny room. I dragged him in, spun him, dropped his legs inside the door and was back out in an instant. I slammed the door, dropped the heavy bar into its socket and stood panting and shaking in the cold hallway.
Something brushed against my legs. I almost screamed but sound of motorboat purring reassured me. I bent and picked up the cat.
“Gideon, you scared me.” I said. The cat rubbed his head against my chin. It felt good to have something warm and alive to hold.
Suli! Had Sharaf done anything to her? It didn’t make sense that he would, but it didn’t make sense for him to try to kill me either. I raced back to my room to scan the carriage house windows. I didn’t see anyone moving around there, which would mean nothing. Possibly she already had dinner heating and had sat down to do more mending.
Somehow I doubted it. I was scared of what I would find but I had to check on her.
First thing, I kicked Sharaf’s gun under the bed. I knew better than to pick it up and get fingerprints on it. Secondly I pulled my dirty socks off the stove pipe and pulled them on over my athletic shoes. It’s an old trick I learned from my uncle that would give me a little more traction on the icy walkways outside. Thirdly, I looked for something to protect my head—I still had my coat on but couldn’t find my knitted cap. I settled for a bath towel and draped it over my head like one of Suli’s head scarves. I left by the back door—I’d have a longer walk to the carriage house but the covered back porch meant that I didn’t have to risk the icy front steps.
