wants us to dress her cats?” Mica said.
“I think there’s more.”
-E-R.
“Dresser. The bedroom,” Erin said.
She got up and rushed to the staircase, Mica and Noah fast behind her. Mrs. Brittle’s thirty-seven cats were still sitting on the stairs. Barnabas rubbed against Erin’s leg. Erin followed the thirty-seven cats up the staircase and down the hall to the previously locked bedroom. Erin, Noah, and Mica all held up their phones, shinning light into the darkened bedroom. On the dresser was a small collection of china cat figurines and one pink, plush toy cat.
“There’s nothing here,” Erin said.
“Wait,” Noah said, picking up the pink stuffed animal and examining it. “I think this is a nanny cam.”
Noah figured out how the nanny cam worked and plugged its cable into his phone. They huddled together in the dark to watch the footage it had recorded on the small screen.
“Mrs. Brittle didn’t have a microwave. How did she know how to use a nanny cam?” Erin wondered.
As soon as they started watching the footage, her question was answered. Mrs. Brittle’s nurse set up the hidden camera. In the recorded footage, the room looked much the same, only it was full of hospital equipment. Mrs. Brittle was in the bed, hooked up to an IV. Shortly after the nurse set up the hidden camera, a man walked into the room, presumably David Brittle. The picture wasn’t great, but there was sound. They argued over Mrs. Brittle’s medication, and then Mrs. Brittle’s son fired the nurse. The nurse didn’t leave peacefully; he had to practically push her out of the room.
Erin, Mica, and Noah watched, horrified, as Mr. Brittle gave his mother more morphine. The old woman protested that she wasn’t even in pain, but he ignored her protests, giving her more of the powerful pain killer every few hours. She weakly begged him to stop, but he kept insisting he was helping her. Eventually, Mrs. Brittle lost the ability to speak. Even after she stopped moving, he kept giving her morphine.
“He killed her,” Erin said.
“Why?” Mica said.
His motive seemed obvious enough to Erin. “For the house. It must be worth millions of dollars. He must have killed her for the house, and then when he found she left it to the cats, he must have tried to kill them too. He locked them in the garage and set fire to it, but they escaped.”
As soon as she said it out loud, all thirty-seven cats started purring.
“I’m going to call Anna.”
Mica was too scared to come with Erin and Noah to the basement. Anna was upstairs, talking to the police, and they had volunteered to try to get the lights back on. They looked for the fuse box. Erin found it, breathing a sigh of relief, when she got the lights back on.
“That was brave,” Noah said, as they climbed back up the basement stairs.
Erin stopped and turned to him.
“You helped.”
“Not this. I mean trying to communicate with Mrs. Brittle’s ghost. I never would have thought of that.”
“That’s because you’re not crazy,” Erin joked.
She cocked her head and looked at Noah.
“You’re taller than me,” she smiled, and stepped up a step so they were the same height.
“I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.” Erin leaned in to kiss Noah thank you.
“Whoa, I’m gay,” Noah said, leaning so far away from her, he nearly fell down the stairs.
She just stared at him for a second, surprised he’d said it.
“If you say you knew it, I’ll push you down the stairs and blame it on the ghost.”
“God dammit. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep trying to kiss everyone today?”
“I don’t know. Usually, you’re so scared of everything. I like you better this way,” Noah said, giving her a reassuring hug. “The cat house gave you courage.”
“I guess so.”
“Maybe if we stick around it will give me a heart and Mica a brain,” he joked, and they went back upstairs.
###
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Emily Follett
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