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?”

“Immunization.”

“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.”

“Already?”

“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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