Kitty

"I won't need you to stay over to keep Mr. Whiskers company this year."

My annual free week in the penthouse of a five-star hotel vanished like fog in July. "But Aunt Ethel, Mr. Whiskers can't spend a week alone."

"Of course not," she huffed. "I've retained a detective."

"Oh but surely," I began, when the doorbell rang.

It was a fat man in his forties who offered a muscular hand. "Continental Dectective Agency. Is Miss Miller in?"

"She is, but who shall I announce?"

He gave some name. 

Aunt Ethel came to the door with Mr. Whiskers.  "This is my baby. You won't let him out of your sight starting tomorrow."

The fat man frowned. "You're the client, but usually I'd start right away."

"Oh do you think so?"

"I do," he said, "and so do you, if this job means anything."

"Excellent. You'll spend the night.  Ring the kitchen for your dinner." She left to finish packing.

The fat man smiled benignantly. "Posh digs".

"Aunt finds them satisfactory," I said stiffly.

"You'd be here all week if she hadn't called in a dectective?" he asked shrewdly.

"It's none of your concern, but yes, I'm accustomed to staying with Mr. Whiskers while Aunt Ethel goes on her cruise."

He said he was sorry.

"Not at all."

"Its not very clear to me yet," he said, "but I don't want to disrupt the household.  Please spend as much time with Mr. Whiskers as you like."

He was civil but somehow I felt the butt of a jest. I said goodbye and left.

I stayed away all week. I knew Aunt Ethel was back when she telephoned. "I'm being evicted!" she wailed.

I rushed to her hotel. The police had the block roped off. The upper floor of the hotel streamed smoke and tear gas. Paddy wagons and ambulances and fire engines crowded the curb.  The Continental Op was there. His trousers had been slashed with a knife and one arm was in a sling and he had a black eye.

"Like Hell," he told Aunt Ethel. "You said stick by your cat and I stuck by him. You didn't say keep him out of Chinatown. "

A beefy policeman asked,"This that cat?" He swore when the fat man wagged his head yes.

"I hope you're happy with the job you did," I said. 

"It got done," said the Op.