“But he’ll know someone’s been here.”
Bonnie grimaced. “One look at the door and he’s gonna know somebody was here, don’t you think? ‘Course, he won’t know who, and he won’t dare call the police—’cause if they came and saw this stuff, he’d be in heaps of trouble. Look, I know you said we shouldn’t take anything, the proof’s all got to be in the pictures, but it seems to me that—since you’ve already done a number on his door—we should go ahead and shake him up a bit. Move things around. I mean, a guy who has a room like this, he’s got to be an animist. I’ll bet he thinks these things have mana. You know, he sits here in his tiger-bone chair, works at his tiger-bone table, surrounds himself with tiger stuff. I’ll bet he thinks he is a cat. Well, not like you’re a cat, of course. But, anyway, he’ll go loony tunes if he thinks somebody’s messed with his stuff. I mean, I bet he’ll really freak. He’ll start thinking all these cats are turning against him.”
“You think so?” Catwoman said slowly, chewing on a steel claw. Bonnie had a habit of saying things and using words that didn’t make a lot of sense to someone who hadn’t paid attention in school. Animation? What did cartoons have to do with Eddie Lobb? But, as had happened before, Catwoman liked the conclusions Bonnie reached. “You think he’ll get real upset if we move things around?”
“Yeah. Wait. I’ve got a better idea. Instead of just moving them around, we’ll move them around in a pattern. See how he’s got everything so it’s looking down at his desk here? Well, let’s make them look someplace else—the door. The door where you made those scratches. Like all the tigers turned their heads to see you walk in. Oh, it’ll be great. I wish I could see his face! I mean, we will see his face eventually, ’cause these pictures are going to make everybody at WW weep blood. I promise you. They’ll call lawyers, judges, all kinds of people. This Eddie Lobb guy—by the time we’re done with him, he’s gonna wish he’d never been born.”