The manservant took the cat, like he was stealing somebody’s virginity.

“You have to give us a ticket, with your information on it,” Morgan said.

“What for?”


“Not gonna happen… besides, the cat won’t be walking around for very long.”

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

“That’s my business—or should I say, my master’s business.”

The manservant left, getting into his Lincoln. It was a black sedan.

“Should we follow him?”

“Listen, Andy—we kill cats all day. Why are you concerned?”

“It’s a mystery.”

“That’s true, and we’ve gassed all of our cats for this evening.”


“Yeah—the fire department found two in a tree, and five in the city sewer. We’re low on gas—I need to order more poison.”

“We’d better follow that car.”

“No. Not a good idea. He’d spot us for sure. Let’s just drive-up to the hill house.”

“Can we get through the gate?”

“We’ll have to climb over the wall.”

The night hung around our headlights like black drapes. The stars were tiny pin-pricks, among a sea of rolling clouds. It felt like we were driving to our destiny. Up on the hill, the outline, of the Italian villa, was more like a castle than a home, with a wall, 12 feet tall, enclosing the property.

To be continued…


4 thoughts on “The Hill House

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