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Hurrying too fast, she struck the corner of the dining table. Now she’d have a big, black blotch there, and if she had to model swim suits she’d look as if she had been in a barroom brawl.

Turning on the porch light, she eased the door open three inches, which was all the safety chain would permit. Greg Balter stood there, the neighbor from across the street. He was a couple of years older than she, a brilliant attorney whom everyone said would go far. He was tall, and all male, and had that kind of innocent face loved by women from the Popsicle to the bifocal age. All except her. She considered him anything but innocent.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, anticipating trouble, which he invariably brought, usually over his dachshund, Blitzy, which was one of the two pets he adored. The other was a white Thunderbird.

“I tried calling you.” His tone was quasi-conciliatory. She motioned him in and waited. Long ago she had learned the subtle power of silence in an argument. It invariably got the other side off on the wrong foot.

He withdrew the smile. “Your cat

” he began again, reassembling his forces. Their gaze met and locked in hand-to-hand combat.

“What about him?” she demanded tightly.

“Up to now I’ve been pretty patient. He’s dug up my flowers, and left his fingerprints all over my car, and gotten into fights in my back yard – “

“You come over to discuss this at 1 a.m.?”

“And now he’s stolen a mallard duck from my service porch.”

“He did what?”

He continued, “I saw him leaving with it. He was half dragging it across the yard.” His glance slipped to her legs, then he snapped it back as if determined not to be swayed by anything female.

“Now, wait just a minute, Greg. After all – “

He interrupted. “I spent all day in a duck blind in a beating rain. I could’ve caught pneumonia – and I got one duck. Just one duck. And your cotton-pickin’ old cat comes snoop­ing around. I thought I heard something on the back porch, and sure enough, when I went out, the screen door banged shut, and the duck was gone.”

She was so furious she could scarcely talk. “And I suppose he reached up, unlatched the screen, opened the door, and walked in?”

“He opened the door and walked in all right. That cat could walk into Fort Knox . Don’t ask me how he does it.”

It was a moment before she could find words. “Well, that does it. That absolutely does do it. Of all the preposterous, unfair, monstrous accusations – “

She stopped in mid-air as D.C. padded in to learn who was calling. He walked very proudly, head high in the air, bearing the duck in his mouth.

For a second she was stunned, then she reached down in a quick, sweeping motion to seize the duck. But she was not swift enough. D.C. fastened a death hold on the bird. They wrestled, and then Patti gave a hard wrench and tore it out of his mouth, shredding the duck somewhat in the process. Holding it by one foot, she swung it over to Greg whose face was smeared with triumph.

“Just serves you right,” she snapped. “What do you expect a cat to do if you go around leaving your game where he can get it? He’s a hunter, like you.”

“He’s a thief,” Greg said, staring down in hatred at D.C. “A plain thief. And if I catch him on my property once more, he’s going to get a pants full of buckshot. Nine times, if I have to.”

She trembled so she could scarcely speak. “Greg Balter, if you dare – “

He turned abruptly and walked away. As she slammed the door, she muttered to herself, “Darn, darn.”

D.C. muttered low in response. His full name was Darn Cat, a name given him by her father who was always stum­bling over him in the dark. It was not a name, however, bandied about when their mother was within hearing.

“No, not you,” she said, dropping to the floor by him. She started to fondle him, but he stalked away. She wasn’t the only angry one. It was getting so that every time he brought a good catch into the house, someone took it away from him. He didn’t even get a taste. That was the trouble with people. They wanted it all for themselves. And she needn’t try to make up. People always did that. They wanted instant forgiveness after wronging him.

Just then the light picked up something shiny in the fur about his neck. She grabbed him by a hind leg, and he strug­gled. It was a wonder he had any kidneys left, he thought, the way they manhandled him.

In amazement, she removed a woman’s wrist watch, which was fastened around his neck like a collar. Mystified, she examined it. Some child would probably be missing a treasure tomorrow, she thought sleepily.

She grinned. “You sure hit the jack pot tonight, didn’t you, D.C.?”

2

Patti was sipping coffee in the kitchen the next morning when Inky dragged in sleepy-eyed in her pink cotton pajamas, carrying her clothes with her.

“Point me to the coffee, please,” she said.

Patti poured her a cup, steaming hot. “Where were you at 1 a.m. last night when I was set upon and needed your help?”

Inky came awake. “What?”

“Greg was over. D.C. broke into his house and stole a duck.”