“Each and every one. She knows all about sorting out problems and solving crimes. And she’s read those too.” He pointed a paw at another shelf. “Those are all books about cats.”
“All about cats, huh?” The Catfather sounded impressed.
“And the cat drawings and posters,” Michael Stein prompted.
“Yeah, I see them.” It would’ve been hard for the Catfather not to see them, plastered over every inch of the walls like they were. He hopped up on to Lucy’s bed and walked up the sleeping girl’s side. After studying her face, he concluded, “Puffy eyes.”
“From crying.” Michael Stein sat on his haunches. “So, it’s like I said, Lucy knows two things—cats and detective stuff. What more could you ask for?”
The Catfather nodded grudgingly. “You sure it won’t make her crazy? Most humans wouldn’t want to have their minds blown this way. Remember, it’s irreversible. It will be with her for life. The gift could be too much for her.”
“Lucy is the sanest human I know. If you do this for her you won’t regret it.”
“I better not,” the Catfather said. “You’re sure she’ll keep her part of the bargain?”
“Absolutely,” Michael Stein said, looking at Lucy’s sleeping face. “I’m sure of it.”
“If this doesn’t go the way you claim it’s gonna…”
“It will,” Michael Stein said. “You’ve got my word on it.”
“The word of a dead cat?” the Catfather asked.
Michael Stein smiled. “There’s nothing more sacred.”
After the Catfather left, Michael Stein curled up beside Lucy and waited through the dark hours of the night. The Catfather hadn’t done much. He just placed a kiss on each of Lucy’s puffy eyelids and mumbled some words that Michael Stein hadn’t quite heard. And that was it. Would it really be enough?
Michael Stein tried to be patient, but the waiting got to be too much for him. “Lucy,” he said. “Hey, Lucy, can you hear me?”
Lucy’s eyes opened. She blinked and sat up. She stared at Michael Stein for a long moment, looking confused. She brought her fists to her eyes and rubbed them, and then looked at him again. “Michael Stein?”
She looked surprised, amazed even, but she didn’t look like she was at risk of losing her mind. Michael Stein decided it was safe to take things a step further. “The one and only,” he said.
“You can talk! You sound just like I thought you would.” Lucy lunged forward and flung her arms around him. She couldn’t embrace him like in the old days, but since she could see him it was different than before. Her arms cradled him as they had in life. He did his best to fit perfectly within them. “You’re the ghost of Michael Stein,” she said.
He fired up his purr.
Lucy inhaled a surprised breath, and Michael Stein knew that she could hear him purr. That made him very happy.
“I know this just a dream,” Lucy said. “I love it anyway. I don’t want to wake up.”
“It’s no dream, Lucy,” Michael Stein said.
She drew back and stared at him, and he told her the whole story.
Well, almost the whole story…
“There’s one catch,” Michael Stein said when he couldn’t avoid the topic any longer.
Lucy frowned. “What’s that?”
“I should probably show you. Let’s go outside.”
The porch and the porch steps and the sidewalk all the way down the street were filled with ghost cats. Big ones. Little ones. Gingers and tabbies. Black cats and Siamese and longhairs and mixes of every variety. Even one Egyptian hairless. And a one-eyed Maine Coon, who looked both distinguished and grave.
“Do you see them?” Michael Stein asked.
“Do I ever! Are they all…well, I mean…are they all like you?”
“Yes,” Michael Stein said, “they’re all ghosts. But for cats, being dead doesn’t mean we end or go anyplace or anything like that. We stick around near the ones we love.” He felt a little guilty for ever thinking that he wouldn’t stick around, but Lucy didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want her to ever think he wanted to leave. He didn’t even feel like the same cat anymore. “And that’s the thing…”
Lucy looked like she wanted to rush out into the throng of cats, but she held back. “What’s the thing?”
“The problem is that we ghost cats can’t help the living. Humans don’t even know we’re around. Living cats know about us, but they don’t exactly listen.” Michael Stein realized he was talking about himself just a week ago, but he kept going. “So, in return for allowing you to see me, I said that you would hear ghost cats’ problems and help them. Sometimes a crime has been done. Sometimes one is going to be done. Sometimes it’s just an injustice that needs a living human to deal with it.” Michael Stein swallowed. “I said that you would be that person.”
“You mean…” Lucy said, “that I’m a detective for dead cats?”
“You could think of it that way, I guess.”