Baby (13)

Summary: The leopard is found!

13. Might Makes Right

Catherine's guess about where to find Baby was completely right. And after having slaked its thirst at the farm’s pond, the leopard was docile enough to be herded into its third car of the day. Catherine drove with due haste back to the police station to provide concrete proof that their original story was not a fantastical fiction. She made a mental note to call Aunt Bess and Susan as well to let them know that Baby -- and by extension all of Fullerton -- was safe.

A short length of rope was coiled in the borrowed car and she fashioned a makeshift leash to give the appearance that Baby was tame. (She trusted that James wouldn't send her a dangerous animal but she wouldn't be surprised if others needed a bit of theater to be convinced.)

The spot from earlier was now filled but Catherine parked the car as close as she could and then led Baby into the station. No one was in the front to greet her but she heard some voices in the back and decided to check on Henry and Officer Newsom.

The back was crowded with people, but she saw Henry, and Henry saw them.

“Baby!”

It was all that was needed to prompt the others to look at her, and to lay eyes on the leopard. They gasped and recoiled. One of the men -- the one who had been put in a cell -- looked like he was going to shout but Henry thoughtfully clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent the noise from startling Baby.

“Now, now, everybody,” said Catherine as the voice of reason, “if we can all stay calm and avoid shouting --”

There was a small rush as everyone who wasn't safely behind a locked cell door slipped into the open cell and loudly clanged it shut. Baby growled at the commotion but limited his behavior to swiping at shadows.

“Catherine, dear, is that…?” Mrs. Allen wheezed.

“Yes, this is Baby, my brother’s pet leopard which he sent home ahead of his return. He's really quite charming -- the leopard, I mean, although James is too -- but he's a very good escape artist. He keeps getting out of cars and carriage houses and I'm not sure what else. But I don't think he'll harm anyone,” she said, then added as an afterthought, “Just don't act like a duck.”

“Miss Morland,” said the sheriff who was well acquainted with her family, “can you get that animal behind bars so the rest of us can get out without getting mauled?” He then turned to Newsom, trapped in the same cell, and ordered the man to pass his keys to Catherine.

Keeping one hand loosely on the rope leash, she took the keyring and then opened the door to an empty cell with ease but the cat was growing tired of the game. He laid down on the floor and growled petulantly. Catherine tugged briefly on the leash but Baby didn't budge.

“Oh, Henry, what do I do now?” Catherine wondered. “Maybe you can sing to him again,” she looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Now?” Henry balked as if he had any dignity to preserve.

The others hissed at him to do it so he took a deep breath and exhaled the last of his pride.

“I can't give you anything but love, Baby,” he began.

The leopard looked up in interest and soon got up to pace in front of the cell as Henry continued singing.

Catherine joined in on the second verse and Baby walked over to her as she stood in front of the waiting jail cell. With a gentle nudge she got the leopard inside and the door shut. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief but otherwise kept quiet until Henry and Catherine finished the song.

After that, she extracted a promise from everyone to behave and gave her own promise to Baby that he'd be out soon before she passed the keys back to Officer Newsom who let everyone on two legs out of their cell.

As a crowd they left the back room, hoping the leopard would find them less antagonizing in their absence.

“Now,” said the sheriff, “it’s been a rather eventful night: two cars stolen and another impounded; a wandering leopard; false identities; escaped detainees. Fullerton isn't meant for this type of excitement. Can someone tell me what is going on?”

Newsom jumped in first, explaining how Miss Morland had been parked in front of a fire hydrant on Main Street, denied responsibility for the crime, and then stole Mr. Sherman's car in broad daylight.

“Is this true?” the sheriff asked of Catherine.

“Well, it's a long story,” Catherine began and then proceeded to tell it, starting with meeting Henry the day before. Her version of events didn't sound the least bit crazy or improbable to Henry, which he thought was the sign of a good storyteller because there was no way he could have explained it half as well. She also portrayed Henry was more a victim of circumstance rather than a perpetrator of rude neglect to Sacha and her aunt. Baby sounded more like a gentle tomcat in Catherine’s version, hardly a threat to any living thing but wickedly clever in getting out of whatever he was put in. And as for Catherine stealing Officer Newsom’s car, well, that was a necessary evil so she could rescue Baby from a leopard hunter and Fullerton from a leopard, and she had come back all on her own volition with the leopard and the car.

At the end of it, the sheriff looked satisfied. “It all seems reasonable, once you get over the leopard. But Sacha, if you want to press charges --”

“No, of course not,” said the other man. “I wouldn't be able to show my face in church on Sunday if I had Reverend Morland’s daughter arrested over a misunderstanding. In the end, there's no harm done, and wait till the boys at the club hear about this!”

“And you have a leopard handler from Boston to take care of your, your Baby?” the sheriff asked Mrs. Allen to confirm.

“Yes, Mr. Thorpe,” Aunt Bess replied. “He's around here somewhere, couldn't have gone far. I'm sure he'll turn up in a few hours.”

“See that he does!” the sheriff told her. “We want to get this critter out of here before morning. If your man can collect him and take him back to the farm or wherever before dawn, I don't have a problem with keeping him here for a little bit.” He spoke more to Newsom than to Mrs. Allen but everyone got the point.

“So that leaves you two,” said the sheriff, turning to the Tilneys.

“You're fired,” Mr. Tilney told his nephew, eager to distance himself from the madcap follies in which Henry had gotten involved over the last two days. He was desperate to do whatever it took to improve his chances at getting the Allen Foundation’s money.

Henry didn't protest. After all that had happened, all that had gone wrong, he had thought with growing certainty that he was going to lose his job. “Just don't punish Eleanor and the Wyoming dig for my mistakes,” he pleaded.

Errol Tilney glowered as if his niece’s livelihood was very much in peril but Catherine spoke up.

“But you shouldn't be fired, Henry!” she exclaimed. “Nothing has been your fault. I was the one who kept you from meeting with Sacha yesterday, and I was the one who made you drive Baby and me to Connecticut. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“But I did,” Henry told her, anxious to put an end to Catherine's defense before his uncle took it upon himself. “I brought the intercostal clavicle with me today and that was very wrong. Then I lost it. It was the museum's and it's priceless, and right now it's gone.”

“But you didn't lose it,” Catherine disagreed, nearly stamping her foot in her eagerness to absolve him of any wrongdoing. “George took it, and the only reason he was able to do that was because of me.”

“And who is this George fellow? A common thief?” Errol Tilney growled. He felt that Mrs. Allen’s niece was off limits to his tirades but he would not deny himself the opportunity to tear into someone else as he had his nephew.

“He's a dog, sir,” answered Henry, his voice and posture weary.

“You were outsmarted by a dog?” The director’s face grew even blacker.

Catherine looked ready to interject but it was obvious to everyone else that Mr. Tilney was determined to fight and to grind his opponent under his heel. Henry was willing to be sacrificed to his uncle's temper and no one wanted Catherine to get dragged into the fray.

Seeking to defuse the situation, or at least leave before the inevitable explosion, Mrs. Allen decided it was time to go. “My dear,” she said quietly, tugging on Catherine's arm, “if the sheriff says we're done here, perhaps we should leave before he charges his mind. Your mother knows you're staying with me tonight but you'll have to go home in the morning.” She wasn't above mentioning Mrs. Morland at a time like this to nudge Catherine's moral compass away from its true north and into the safer direction of familial obligation.

“Oh, but --” Catherine held her ground.

“Goodbye, Miss Morland,” Henry told her with finality. He held her hand briefly and then let go, hoping for her sake that Catherine would depart.

“Sheriff,” Mr. Sherman said with a throat-clearing cough, “if it's alright with you, I'd like to take my car home now. I can drive the ladies back to Allen Farm. I'll come back to the station tomorrow if you need me and finish any paperwork.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed the sheriff, eager to return to his own bed. “Newsom will give you the keys.”

Mr. Tilney and Officer Newsom were both opposed to that scheme, Mr. Tilney because he desperately wanted to secure a grant from the Allen Foundation, Officer Newsom because there was protocol to follow.

“Oh, but I want to talk with you about the museum --” Mr. Tilney tried to delay.

“My good man, you can't think I can discuss business at this hour,” Mr. Sherman shut him down. “I refuse to agree to anything until I'm rested and ready.”

“Very well,” Mr. Tilney capitulated immediately. “I'll call you tomorrow morning…”

Mr. Sherman said nothing but looked upon the offer unfavourably.

“... the day after … Monday,” the director eventually settled on after reading the facial cues. He didn't like his odds but he could only fire Henry once.

Catherine made small noises of protest but Aunt Bess and Sacha between them managed to make performative farewells and to pull Catherine out of the station and into the car.

With no more reason to display any manners now that those he wanted to impress were gone, Errol turned to his nephew ready to release his full wrath.

“Gentlemen,” said the sheriff, before another cross word was spoken, “I do not mean to be a poor host, but I think it's time for you to leave.” It would take the pair a few hours to drive back to New York but that was not the sheriff's problem.

Mr. Tilney weighed his options. If he gave his nephew a ride, he could berate him for the entire trip, but it would be more satisfying to leave him stranded in Connecticut. At that, he frowned at Henry. “Don't bother coming back to your office,” he said. “I'll have someone pack up your personal effects and send them to your apartment. This is goodbye, Henry, as good as you deserve anyway.”