CHAPTER 14
ind whistled between the rusted steel beams of the viaduct
that spanned the railroad tracks at the edge of the Whistlebrass
business district. Balancing carefully, Pike walked along the main
support girder beneath the bridge. He grasped one of the narrow
vertical support beams as a freight train rumbled along the track
below, making the old structure tremble.
He had once walked across the beams of the viaduct like this on a dare, and felt fairly secure about doing it again. He was happy to be out of sight. The angry sounds of a fight breaking out drifted down from the bridge over his head. Two men shouted at each other and a bottle crashed on the pavement.
The neighborhood wasn’t particularly safe even in broad daylight. Pike figured he could take care of himself, but he had more than enough to worry about without having to weather an attack by some local thugs. He hadn’t chosen this route tonight, and he looked ahead for his guide.
Twenty feet in front of him was the sleek silhouette of the tomcat sitting motionless in the moonlight. When Pike started moving again, Carlisle jumped up and strutted to the end of the girder. He flicked his tail and leaped gracefully over to the concrete base of the viaduct. By the time Pike reached the end of the bridge and maneuvered himself to the sidewalk, Carlisle was a block down the street sitting on the hood of a 1953 Studebaker, nonchalantly licking his paw.
Pike moved swiftly and surely down Bleak Street, past wholesale suppliers and discount stores closed for the night. He quickened his pace as he went by the Hardscrabble Tavern. His old man liked to hang out there sometimes, and Pike definitely didn’t want a confrontation.
“Where are we going?”
The cat looked up as he drew closer. One green eye and one yellow eye scrutinized him, unwavering and unfathomable.
“Fine, cat! Whatever you say!”
Carlisle leapt to the cracked sidewalk and crept along, hugging the shabby storefronts, then turned quickly and sailed down a dark alley lined with boxes and trash cans. Pike hesitated and looked around for any suspicious activity, but there was no movement in the narrow passage. Carlisle stopped and looked back, his tail twitching back and forth.
The alley was a corridor from Bleak Street to the more flourishing Simoleon Street, sandwiched between two of the city’s largest buildings, the four-story Whistlebrass Press Building and the old Fantod Theater. Pike was surprised to see that the marquee at the front of the derelict theater was lit up, and then remembered that a Halloween party was being held there.
A crowd was already milling about. A cowboy and a ballerina stood on the sidewalk, joking with a pirate and a gorilla. A striking red-haired woman arrived, flanked by a boy dressed as a mummy and another boy dressed as a black cat. The kid in the cat mask looked down the alley curiously, and Pike flattened himself against the wall, his black T-shirt and leather jacket melting into the gloom.
He turned and spotted Carlisle nearby, watching silently, and swishing his long tail back and forth like a metronome. “Just what are we doing here anyway?”
Carlisle stretched lazily, and then jumped up onto a trash bin. Next to the bin, wooden crates were stacked in a pyramid against the wall of the theater, rising up to the windows on the second floor. Carlisle bounded from the trash bin to the lid of the bottom box where he paused for a moment. A series of acrobatic leaps took the agile feline to the top of the pile.
“Oh great. You’re really pushing it, cat. How am I gonna get up there?”
Carlisle sat on the topmost crate, staring down at him. Pike found a grip on the first crate and hoisted himself up. Bit by bit, moving cautiously to avoid toppling the pile, he managed to maneuver himself up to the top.
He stared down at the grimy alley below. He could still hear the laughing masqueraders arriving for the party.
“What now?” he whispered through gritted teeth. His voice held a slight tremor of anxiety. He turned to look at the cat, but it wasn’t there beside him anymore.
“Oh no. You’re kidding me,” said Pike. The cat was pacing back and forth on a window ledge, rubbing up against the grimy glass.
“No,” Pike said firmly. “No!”
The crate shifted and he nearly lost his balance. He hunkered down, trying not to look at the pavement below. After a few moments, his equilibrium returned, and he crawled as close to the edge of the crate as he could. He was still about three feet from the window ledge. There was only one way he’d be able to get in.
“Kitty. Here, kitty. Come back,” called Pike, rustling his fingers. “Hey, cat. Come back over here.”
The cat leapt easily across the expanse and landed lightly at Pike’s side.
Holding on to the edge of the crate with one hand, Pike managed to pull off one of his boots, and hurled it at the window. It bounced off the glass and tumbled to the ground below. He winced when he heard it thud against the asphalt.
“Crap.”
The cat looked down at his boot, and then glowered up at Pike.
“Don’t look at me like that, cat. Jeez, everybody’s a critic. I might as well try the other one. I’m halfway barefoot anyway.”
Pike pulled the other boot off and cautiously stood up on the crate. He gripped the brick wall of the theatre with his left hand, and winged his boot toward the window with his right. A solid hit sent a shower of glass crashing to the alley below. Pike looked apprehensively toward the crowd on the street, but no one was paying any attention.
Carlisle soared effortlessly through the air in a graceful arc and vanished into the old theater. Pike closed his eyes tightly, cursing his situation. Then he crouched and took a deep breath. He lunged forward, aiming for the center of the shattered window.
Pike flew through the opening and rolled on the dusty plank floor. A few slivers of glass stuck into the arms of his leather jacket, but didn’t do much damage. His boot was lying on the floor nearby. After shaking it to make sure that there were no shards of glass inside, he pulled it on. He brushed some of the grime off his hands, and crawled carefully away from the broken window. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he sagged against the wall, and looked around.
“I guess they didn’t bother to clean up here for their big party did they?”
The cat placed a paw on Pike’s leg, and then nimbly jumped into his lap. Pike stroked its fur and listened to the low rumbling purr as he studied the room. Long abandoned, the space had been a private ballroom at one time. Now stained wallpaper drooped from cracked plaster. Crooked brass sconces were draped with cobwebs, and the only furniture was an upended chair with a broken leg.
A wide balcony overlooked the entrance lobby, and Pike could hear music and laughter rising up. Feeling kind of foolish and vulnerable with only one boot, he stood and walked unevenly across to the tarnished brass railing. He gazed down to the lobby below, careful to avoid being seen.
Unlike the derelict ballroom, the lobby had been thoroughly scrubbed and decorated for the night’s festivities. A pair of enormous papier-mâché skeletons flanked the entrance, and orange streamers were strung from the chandelier.
Party goers admired their costumes in the silvered mirrors that lined the walls, and paraded off into the main auditorium. For some reason, Pike recalled the kid in the black cat costume, but there was no sign of him.
Carlisle, who had been threading his way between Pike’s ankles, let out a sharp meow and scurried across the room, vanishing behind a ragged velvet curtain. Pike followed, pulling the curtain aside, revealing the entrance to a narrow staircase. He followed the cat down the stairs and found himself peering out from behind another heavy curtain into the loud and crowded auditorium.
“Okay, cat. You got me here. What now?”