Creative Writers Club

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<h1>The Doorbell Rang</h1>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >&lt;WRAP >&lt;WRAP size-medium wp-image-346 right  ><a href="/lib/exe/detail.php?id=cwc%3Athe-doorbell-rang&media=cwc:fn800px-lakascsengo_-_andrassy_ut_94_szam_ii_emelet_2_ajtoszam_1-300x225.jpg" class="media wikilink2" title="cwc:fn800px-lakascsengo_-_andrassy_ut_94_szam_ii_emelet_2_ajtoszam_1-300x225.jpg"><img src="/lib/exe/fetch.php?w=300&h=225&tok=41663a&media=cwc:fn800px-lakascsengo_-_andrassy_ut_94_szam_ii_emelet_2_ajtoszam_1-300x225.jpg" class="media" title="fn800px-lakascsengo_-_andrassy_ut_94_szam_ii_emelet_2_ajtoszam_1-300x225.jpg" alt="fn800px-lakascsengo_-_andrassy_ut_94_szam_ii_emelet_2_ajtoszam_1-300x225.jpg" width="300" height="225" /></a>&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP >The doorbell rang.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia heaved herself out off the overstuffed armchair and grabbed her walking stick.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >For a 78 year old girl she was still very sprite, only hampered by her ever worsening arthritis. Slowly she walked to the peephole in her door.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >The bell rang again more insisting this time it seems.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >All she saw was the nerdy face of her neighbour Mr. Murphy. She always chuckled when she spoke with him out in the hallway because privately she called him Mr. Murky, a name he well deserved. He never looked clean even though he probably was, but his clothes were all of the same murky colour, his hair was mousy, his teeth yellow, his glasses were bought at least two decades ago and he seemed to possess only the one necktie.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She shook her head at the sight of him.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >What did he need now…he always came to borrow kitchen utensils , outlandish ones, of the kind she did not possess but that did not stop him from coming again, asking for some or other implement she never heard of.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Not that she minded…she liked her thoughts to be interrupted  every now and then.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She knew she was dwelling far to often in the past. A sign of old age they said. Her friends were all in a far worse physical state so she was rather alone.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >No, not lonely, never that. But alone ..yes.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >So Mr. Murphy and his missing  kitchen tools  were a welcome distraction.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >All the while she was slowly opening the numerous locks on her door. The irritation ! She did not believe  in six locks to prevent thieves from robbing her. She knew that  a professional thief, if there was such a thing, will enter anyway, so she preferred not to have her door splintered. They were welcome to her possessions because she did not care about them anymore.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >But her son James had insisted on having these locks installed after a recent break in in the neighbourhood.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >It was his way of caring for her she thought, he knew no other way. Inviting his mother to live with him would not occur to him.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Not that she would ever consider giving up her privacy… god forbid !&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She finally lifted the last chain and turned the key.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She was about to open the door when it was pushed with great force , causing her to stumble backwards, stepping on the cat who gave a blood curdling scream and coming to a halt against a hall table with a heavy marble top.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Shocked she saw a huge form framed by the door opening. Who on earth was that. She had seen Murphy through the peephole , not this huge man. And where was Murphy, not that his skinny frame would  give her any protection, but the feeling of not being alone was comforting.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia lifted her chin in that stubborn way she had had since youth and for which she had been chided often and took a better grip on her walking stick.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“And who the devil are you”,she blurted……&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP   >&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >The man stepped into the hall, keeping up one hand as if to ward off an attack from Cecilia and walked straight into the living room.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >With the doorway freed of the big body she  saw a trembling mr.Murphy in the stairwell. She realized she was trembling as well.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >What was happening …who was that man and what did he want…was this a daylight robbery but if so what was Murphy doing here. She had envisioned a robbery at night with her in bed , covers pulled up  over her face and playing dead.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Why was it that nothing went ever the way she imagined it. She forced herself back to the present. She must stop this floating away on ideas and daydreams she scolded herself. Resolutely and as fast as she could she walked to her living room to see what was going on there.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She found the man standing in the middle, taking in every detail of her room. So, chin up;  she repeated “and who the devil are you, I must ask you to immediately leave my house.”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >He  turned around “So sorry madam, l am afraid l got the wrong information and l apologize for bursting in like this”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Mr. Murphy meanwhile had crept into the house trying to be invisible and now he was standing half behind the man and whispered, “I told you only an old lady lived here..”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Ignoring him the man said ” but let me introduce myself, I am detective Johnson, Benny Johnson.” Upon hearing this Mr. Murphy collapsed ..very elegant  ..half on and half off a chaise longue, a remnant of a glorious past. The detective looked at him  ” l will take care of him later  Mrs…eh..”&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  > “Just Cecila”, said Cecilia with a gracious nod. At her age she thought dealing with her many names was a waste of time. “But oh my!, what do we do with Mr. Murphy?”&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Just leave him there for the moment, l think l had better go and close your front door.” When the  detective was far enough away Cecilia said in a whisper ” Mr. Murphy…Mr. Murphy, please wake up..  come on… l think you can hear me…l really  need your help.. l have to ask you to go and see if…”&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >At that moment the detective came back   into the room again. “Mrs Cecilia l am here on serious business as you may have gathered and because of misleading information l entered your house in a rather boorish way for which l apologize again.”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia  nodded her head and said ” please do sit down”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Not that she really wanted to play the gracious hostess but she herself needed desperately to sit down. Her battered big leather chair never looked more appealing. With a sigh of relief she sat down, silently thanking her father for leaving her his favourite chair. Her relief was short lived  because to her horror she saw that the detective sat down in an antique empire chair with thin elegant legs that had belonged to her great grandmother.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Oh no.. he had to sit very still or the poor chair would give in and break and he might injure himself being such a big fellow.. and what would she do then.. call for help…?  Murky was still out..&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >What if he would break something… would she be held responsible.. would she be made  to pay.. her small income was not enough to cover …uh oh the chair was squeaking in protest….  “Do you understand?” said Detective Johnson….&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Eh ..what..?” with a bang she was back in the room with the detective  and she had no idea what he had said while she was musing… bad habit, she had to stop doing that.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Eh, eh, so, yes, eh..’ The detective, thinking that he had to do with a  feeble, maybe slightly demented , old lady, repeated his last sentence. On the chaise longue Mr Murphy stirred into life. “Ah!, as l said, we will find the person responsible for this crime.” Upon hearing this Mr. Murphy  fell into a dead faint again. The detective paid him no attention and continued to talk.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia, torn between listening to the detective and helping Mr. Murphy, got up …and sat down again overwhelmed by all which had happened so suddenly and in such a short time. She tried to put it all in order and make sense of it, as usual drifting away on her thoughts. The man’s voice brought her back to the present. She had to stop this drifting or people would start to think that she was an doddering , forgetful old fool.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“So you understand Mrs Cecilia ,” the man said,”l will have to come back to you for further information at a more convenient time”. He shifted in his chair and Cecilia clapped her hand before her mouth , sure the legs of the chair would give in.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >He got up, “Mrs. Cecilia, you must agree that one body and two disappearances in one building is too much”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Upon hearing this Cecilia paled and grabbed the armrests of her chair. Oh dear!, she had missed the whole conversation. At this point the detective finally checked on Murphy so Cecilia composed herself and said, “well, Inspector,” ..He raised a hand, “no, it is just Detective”, he corrected her.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Oh well, Mr. Johnson, um uh..”, remembering her manners, “l am sorry l did not offer you any refreshments but your visit was rather unexpected and.. “No please”, he cut her off, “that is perfectly fine and l apologize again for any inconvenience and if you don’t mind l will leave him here to recover,  but now l have to leave. No no please do not get up, l can let myself out, a bit calmer than l came in..” he added with a grin. And with that he walked out of the room. Cecilia let out a lot of air that she had not been aware of keeping in.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Well…what a day…Now she had to look at the state Murky was in. Just then he started to move and  he opened his eyes.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia, sharp old lady that she was, looked at him askance and said “l suppose you heard every word Mr. Murphy…?” He blushed and sat up, mumbling something about leaving and urgent business. “Oh no you are not yet leaving , because l need you to do two things. The first is looking where Cesar is because he may have run out in fear and it is difficult for me to find him in the garden. He will let you handle him, so please bring him back, and the second thing l will tell you after you bring back Cesar”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >And with that she heaved herself out of the chair and walked , back straight and chin high, towards the kitchen to make a pot of very strong tea because they would both need it…..&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP   >&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >In the kitchen she put the kettle on and prepared the heavy silver teapot, compliments off her mother. She sat down on the small kitchen chair and waited for the water to boil. In the garden she heard  Murky calling Cesar. She smiled at the thought of her cat, a well fed, friendly tomcat who was used to a peaceful life  with lots and lots of  meat and catnaps during the day but curled up around her neck like a fur collar at night.Together they used to sleep the sleep of the innocent….well…almost innocent.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >The kettle whistled . Painfully slow she got up. The almost tumble against the hall table had hurt her hip. She would have to be more careful  in the future..&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cesar was still not found because she could hear Murphy  calling him. He must really have panicked poor thing but some delicious meat would help him forget.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She poured hot water in the pot to warm it up, poured it out and started to count the spoons of tea needed, plus one for the pot, old fashioned perhaps but it was a golden rule..&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She put everything on a silver tray, added a plate with cookies and headed back to the living room. What took Murphy so long? The cat was hand tame and would come to anyone who would call him. She went to the window and peered out. Murphy was on his knees apparently talking to a bushy plant, one of those with berries that turn into red  fluffy balls. So that’s where Cesar was..strange he did not come out.She returned to her chair. At least Murphy had listened to her ordering him about, which surprised her.She had never used that tone before , she had always asked politely when she needed help from someone.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >But she needed to know what that policeman had said and fast ! He would be coming back. She shifted in her chair needing a more comfortable position for her hip.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Why the deuces did he come to her flat in the first place. And the way he had stormed in as if he had expected to catch a criminal! And what was the meaning of ‘wrong information’… Who had given that information and about what? It was all very mysterious, to think that an old lady like herself could be involved in a crime…&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Oh my, the tea was getting cold and she had forgotten to bring the tea cozy. No she was not gong back to the kitchen. She would pour herself a cup and Murky would get cold tea. Too bad, it should have taken him only minutes to catch Cesar.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She perked up after the first half of a cup. Now, where was she … oh yes, why come to her flat in the first place ? There were enough tenants in he building to choose from.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >There was Mr. Carlson, old and deaf and fond of Brussels sprouts which he boiled so long that the whole building stank… for which he was not loved by the other tenants.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Come to think of it, he had not boiled any sprouts lately, for which she was thankful.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Mr Evans, somewhat younger, a music lover who played his music way too loud and even though it was classical piano music he was not liked by his neighbours.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Mrs. Van Damme-Rhodes, quiet, probably demented old lady, she did not know much about.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Miss Gordon, caretaker of Mrs. V D, a sourpuss if there ever was one, always ready to gossip, probably never married and did not know how lucky she was.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Then there was Mr. Davids, ground floor, a sculptor, who always complained about the growing colony of stray cats she fed, perhaps due to the good meat she gave them.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >And  Captain Summers, a retired sea captain who kept to himself.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >There were more tenants in the building with two flats on each floor but she did not know all of them. A frown appeared between her eyes, lets see..five floors times two that would make ten tenants. So the five she knew about plus Mr. Murphy and herself that made seven. There were another three she knew nothing about. Would be a good start to find out who they were. She wondered who were the disappeared persons and who was the dead one.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Blast it! Why had she not listened. At least Mr Murphy did not belong to the missing or dead.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Where was that man !&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Just then the flat door opened and a loud screech announced Cesar. He came running in with the air of a cat very annoyed and went direct to his favourite place on the chaise longue where he started to clean himself frantically.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >” Well well”, said Cecilia, “That took you an extremely long time. Why? Cesar is the sweetest thing. He always comes when called”. And then she saw the hands of Murphy, scratched and bloody. “Oh my!”, she exclaimed, “did Cesar do that?” And turning towards Cesar “you naughty, naughty boy”.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Not naughty…ferocious!”. whined Murphy.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Well dear you better wash your hands right away and then we will have a chat. No no no, no need to go to your flat you can use my bathroom.” she said, fearing that he would not return once he left. He sighed and went to the bathroom. Cecilia had noticed the stains on his trousers, probably from the moist earth she thought but then she realized that it had not rained in weeks.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Murphy came back into the room flapping his hands to dry them because he had not dared to use her white towels.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >He was about to sit down on the chair the policeman had vacated before, but was interrupted by a sharp “No no no not that one take a chair from the table , much sturdier”. Murphy was beginning to show signs of irritation. He did not like to be ordered around; come here, go there, do this, that…&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >He had not wanted to marry and be bullied by a woman . Like his mother had bullied his father, may he rest in peace. He finally sat down and Cecilia poured him a lukewarm cup of tea.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >” Now”, she said,” Lets chat”.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >‘Chat about what”, he muttered.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Well, I asked you to tell me what the inspector said because I need to know”.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Murphy looked away and then at his hands and was not forthcoming so Cecilia prodded a bit more but finally he blurted ” I dont know because l fainted, you remember?. I do not know anything more than you”&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia seeing his unwillingness to cooperate decided to try another tactic.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Oh well, but let me try at least to clean you up because your dirty trousers are on account of Cesar.”&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >With that she got up and went towards Murphy who froze in his chair because the only thing he saw was a woman coming towards him. And women should stay at a distance. Cecilia noticed nothing but the stain on his trousers and she put out a finger to decide what the stain was. Murphy’s eyes bulged and he wanted to run but froze.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia touched his knee and the stain was sticky..she looked at her finger and to her horror she saw blood. Oh god, was that Cesar’s blood ?&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Forgetting her hip and the pain she wobbled over to the chaise longue to examine the cat. “Come to mummy”, she crooned, turning the cat this way and that but no wounds were visible only the same stickiness in his hair as on the trousers of Murky.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Relieved she returned to her chair and asked Murky to bring her tissues from the bathroom. Murky by now was ready to run. But meek as he was he obliged.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“So tell me Murky” Cecilia began, too late realizing she had used her nickname for him. Too late indeed because it had registered. Cecilia could kick herself because now he surely was not going to help her.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Tell me what happened in the garden… it is blood as you see but not yours it seems..do tell what happened” she repeated when he made no move to to oblige.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“The blood is not yours and not Cesar’s so do you have an idea…..”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Meat” said Murphy. “A big piece of meat . Cesar had it and did not want to let go. He was eating..it is a miracle l did not lose fingers.”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Murphy had finally worked out that making the story more dramatic he might get his trousers dry cleaned by Cecilia.. who knows even new ones… He brightened clearly by the thought and decided to be a bit more cooperative…&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“There were many pieces of meat and l must have knelt on a piece. I felt something wet..and now it turns out to be blood. That is difficult to get out , you know”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >Cecilia already did not listen anymore to him she was thinking how strange it was that somebody else was feeding the cats. Murphy, unhappy that he did not get the reaction he had hoped for continued his story; “He was not like a cat anymore, he was like a ferocious animal. I tried to take the meat but he growled at me so l was afraid for my life. and l knew l had to go slow”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Yeah yeah “, said Cecilia who by now had grown impatient.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >This story was a strange one and she needed to think this out. Cesar would be banished from the bedroom till she was sure he was clean again. A bath was out of the question, he would rip her hands to pieces. But what baffled her was the fact that obviously someone else was feeding the cats as well. The cats were hers..and she did not like others to interfere. Strictly speaking the cats were not hers of course but after so many years she thought she was their sole protector.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She realized that Murphy was still jabbering on. Now she had two problems on her hands and nobody to help her because blabbering Murky was of no use. He should go.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >And she told him so.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“What about cleaning up my trousers he whined”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >” Uh  yes ..bring them around later ” she said  wondering how quick situations can change. Murphy being of no use anymore and doubting his dreams of new trousers would be realized, left for the door.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >“Well, call me if you need me” were his parting words.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >After a moment of two Cecilia realized that she was far more worried about the feeding story than about the inspector and his visit. In a way the cats kept her alive…caring for them made her get out of bed every day. Her son had been upset when she told him she needed a freezer. What on earth does an old single lady need a freezer for he had said.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She had explained to him that a kind neighbour had offered quite a huge amount of meat for her cats but her refrigerator was too small to hold it all. Her son had jokingly asked if that neighbour worked in an abattoir, which she did not find funny at all, But he had caved and she had gotten her freezer. And ever since the cats had lived the good life. It had warmed her heart to be able to make hem happy. And now someone else was taking over, …that was not fair.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP   >&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP gmail_default  >She had to get to the bottom of this. After all the cats were more.important than any police mystery. It was only two in the afternoon and already she was exhausted and that hip did not help either. It was time for a little snooze.&lt;/WRAP>
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&lt;WRAP   > <em>Winnie Schreurs 2018</em> &lt;/WRAP>
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Authored by: writeradmin;  Last updated: 2019-01-12T10:26:24(UTC)
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