Appalachia Bare is pleased to present Sydni Payne’s Honorable Mention entry for our Folklore Short Story Contest entitled “The Only Good Cat: An Appalachian Tale.”
The author of this Appalachian tale grew up on stories of cryptids as much as cornbread and black-eyed-peas. Favorites include Mothman, Nessie (and all of her American relatives), and the thylacines that shipwrecked on the coast of Mexico in the 1900s. When not experiencing existential dread, they enjoy fiber arts, reading, gardening, and spending time with their two cats, dog, and snake.
“The Only Good Cat: An Appalachian Tale”
“I know y’all think I did it, and I can’t blame you. Statistically, I am the one to blame. But I’m not.” The woman sitting across from JJ didn’t strike him as murderous. Quite the opposite, in fact, with her pearl earrings, pastel dress, sleek black hair, and crisp manicure. However, he had learned during his years as a detective that appearances could be deceiving. Clearing his throat, JJ resisted the urge to shift in his seat.
“No one is accusing you of anything, Mrs. Jones,” JJ’s partner, Gary, said in his no-nonsense baritone. “We’re just following all our leads pertaining to your husband. Your patience continues to be appreciated.”
“I’m just not sure what I’m doing here. I’ve told y’all everything.” A pleading tone threatened to slip past her veneer of composure. JJ thought he could even see the glint of tears. Such green eyes. While they matched her complexion, there was something about their hue that unnerved him. They were the color of poison frogs, antifreeze, nuclear waste. Probably contacts. JJ felt a creeping sensation across his nape and lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. In the dim interrogation room they almost seemed to glow.
“What else is there to tell you? I already spoke to the police last night.”
“Anything and everything as it pertains to your husband’s . . . disappearance.” If they could call it that. Between the blood at the scene and the obvious struggle, it was plain that Mr. Jones did not leave of his own accord.
“Just take us back through the last few days,” JJ said before she could protest again. “Anything, no matter how insignificant.”
The woman shook her head slowly.
But those eyes! They had to be contacts, JJ decided. They bore into him like weevils, made him feel as though he was the one being interrogated.
“Okay then,” Ms. Jones said in her low, almost husky voice, “Officers. I will tell you my story like I did your friends.”
“Things had been a bit, you could say tense, between Fred and myself since he was laid off last fall. Of course he was stressed. I don’t know if either of you gentlemen have experienced job hunting in this economy, but it shouldn’t take much explaining. Thankfully, I was able to keep working. It wasn’t much, but it kept the lights on. Of course, I think eventually that made it worse.”
She looked again at the wall behind JJ, seemingly composing her thoughts before continuing.
“Then a month passed, then it was three months, and Fred was still out of work. The evening beer became an afternoon beer, then it became a morning beer and it didn’t stop. He started to get mean. And I understand depression, I really do. It was okay when he was just being rude to me, but then he started taking it out on the critters. He would yell at the dog, sometimes, or ‘jokingly’ threaten the cat. Then it started to escalate.”
She paused, clearing her throat, before addressing Gary.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, Officer, but could I please have a glass of water?”
He stood and tipped his head as he turned to leave the room.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Jones.”
The suspect looked to JJ as the door clicked shut.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?” she asked JJ, and he truly did not know.
“It’s still too early to make any assumptions, ma’am,” he said, but the words felt hollow. He knew a murder scene when he saw one. She settled her gaze back to the wall behind JJ. The silence was broken by Gary returning with a paper cup of water and a Snickers bar. Gary always had a soft spot for women, even if they were suspected of murdering their husbands.
“Thank you, officer.” Mrs. Jones took a few sips of her water, leaving the candy bar untouched.
“As I was saying, he started to get mean. Instead of yelling at the dog, he would kick her outside. Threatening the cat turned into smacking him, and when I got between them, he raised his hand at me!”
The detectives shared a glance. JJ spoke first, “Now, ma’am, to me that sounds like animal abuse. Why didn’t you report him then?”
The suspect met his eyes then; her gaze was cold, but it burned into him like dry ice.
“You think I haven’t tried? I’ve tried to involve the authorities, but Fred was just too good at weaseling his way out of trouble. He knew how to toe the line, but not cross it. They always said to come back when he actually did something,” she scoffed. “A real, ‘he said, she said’ case is what they told me.”
“The final straw was when he picked up Pluto, my cat, by his neck and threw him into the wall. I told him to get the fuck out of my house and I took poor Pluto to the vet.”
“And when was this?” Gary asked, ever the cop. Mrs. Jones gazed off to the side and gently wiped a tear from one eye.
“This was about a month ago,” she said after a thoughtful pause.
“And was this the last time you saw him?” JJ asked as delicately as possible. She let out a soft laugh and rolled her eyes.
“I could only hope. Fred has always had a knack for wriggling back into my arms, or at least back into the house. He gave me a week to grieve my poor Pluto before appearing in my living room, feet propped on the coffee table, cigarette hanging from his mouth. I could have slapped him for what he did to my baby, but I didn’t want to give him any grounds. So I just left him alone. Lived like he wasn’t there. We coexisted for a while, but then he ran up to me one day.”
“He was drunk, of course, even though it was only four. He was belligerent, but I was able to make out a few coherent words. He was accusing me of lying about Pluto, or getting a second cat. He was wrong, of course, I’m not fool enough to bring another innocent soul into this, and I had the vet bills to show him.”
“He was beside himself, though, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept saying that Pluto’s still alive, or that I had another cat I was hiding from him. He said that he could see it in his peripheral vision.”
“And you didn’t think this was cause for alarm?” Gary interrupted. Mrs. Jones took a sip of water, her lipstick leaving a pink impression on the rim.
“Truthfully, I couldn’t care less about him being piss drunk and seeing things.” She saw their incredulous expressions and gave a half-shrug. “What? He killed my cat, who I raised from a kitten.”
“Mrs. Jones, can you tell us about your last time seeing your husband?”
Bowing her head, she continued, “It was two nights ago. I was arriving home from visiting my sister and he was walking out the door. He was more nervous than before and kept looking around constantly. I tried to walk by him, but he grabbed my arm. He said, ‘It’s coming for me. It’s coming for me and there’s nowhere to go. It stalks me on silent feet, with hot breath and pointed teeth.’”
“And this was your last interaction with him?” Gary asked.
Mrs. Jones nodded, adding, “Yes, last I saw he was heading down one of the trails off the property. When I saw his truck in the morning, I knew something was amiss, and that’s why I called you. Am I free to go?”
JJ looked questioningly at Gary. Surely he was going to mention their victim’s cryptic last words.
“We’ll be in touch, ma’am. You have our card if anything comes up. You have a nice day now.”
The woman said nothing (what could someone say after being told to, “have a nice day,” after being interrogated for murder?) as she left.
“You’re not going to let her walk, are you?” JJ addressed his partner, who was bagging the cup for evidence, “I mean, she was the last to see her husband.”
Gary narrowed his eyes. “You’re not from around here, JJ.”
“See, the way I see it, weird shit happens sometimes. You gotta pick which weird shit to follow. Fred Jones was a wife beater, an animal killer. One less sorry SOB contributing to the gene pool. Now, let’s get this cup to forensics.”
[Case files: The skeletonized body of Fred Jones was later found in the branches of a tree by deer hunters. Cause of death was determined to be crushing force trauma to the skull and internal decapitation. A faded dress hung from a low branch, with a pair of pearl earrings at the base.]
**Featured image credit: Iris, Helen, Silvy – Pixabay