Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (13 page)

“Yes. He was his usual impish, silly self. He is one cool cat.” She laughed a little. Looking puzzled, she asked, “Why?”

“He has been pretty upset since the…tragedy.” She became contemplative and said, “I guess it happened sometime after you were with him.”

***

“Michael,” Savannah said, snuggling against him on the sofa, her feet tucked up behind her. They’d finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. Now they were listening to music in Savannah’s living room.

“Hmmmm?” he responded as if too relaxed to say an actual word.

“I want to run something by you.”

“He lifted his head off the back of the couch and looked over at her. “Sure, what?”

“It’s about something Iris shared with me today. Something quite shocking,” she said as she rose up and moved back, slightly away from him.

“Really? You’ve got me curious. What secrets does dear Iris have?”

“Michael, they found her hair on the body upstairs.” How she hated talking about what had happened over the weekend. It was all so surreal and grim. She glanced down at Rags who was lying on a pair of her flip-flops on the floor watching Savannah’s every move.

Michael sat upright. “Good God, how did that happen? It was her hair? I didn’t think there was a chance of that being the case. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Just listen, Michael. Iris was in Auntie’s room, but before the murder. I mean, she said that Rags was his usual curious, friendly self then.”

“But why did she go in there? Do you know?”

“She told me she went in there to check on Rags,” Savannah explained. “And they found red hair on the bushes outside the open window. Now they think
that’s
her hair.” She hesitated before continuing. “Michael, she needs an attorney. Sledge advised her to get one. Do you know a good one?”

“She needs an attorney? Good Lord!”

“Yes, it looks that way.” Savannah scooted her toe around on the floor trying to get Rags’s attention. He crouched, his eyes focused on Savannah’s foot, his tail twitching. He did a cute kitty body wiggle and leaped toward her wriggling toes. She laughed.

Kwapp!

Rags stopped, raised his head and moved his ears around in all directions. He then lowered his head and tail and slunk off down the hallway.

“Damn, there he goes to hide under the bed again. He’s so freaked out. I can hardly stand to see him this way. It’s so unlike him. He’s usually Mr. Confidence.”

“Well what was that sound?” Michael asked, looking toward the front windows.

“I don’t know—maybe a cushion blew off one of the porch chairs. It’s a bit breezy out tonight.” She folded herself around Michael again, looked up at him and started twisting those stubborn straight strands of his hair around her fingers. “So do we know any attorneys?” she asked.

“Sure, a few. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to Iris tomorrow.”

***

“Iris, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure Dr. Mike. I have a break coming up. Let’s go out on the patio, then I can have a cigarette. Want some coffee?”

He scowled at her. “Iris, are you smoking again?”

She shot him a defiant look and snapped, “You know the kind of pressure I’ve been under. I’ve gotta do something to calm my nerves.”

“Is it helping?” he asked.

Ignoring his question, she poured two cups of coffee and led him out to the break area. She set the coffee cups on a small table and invited Michael to sit down. “Do you mind if I light one?” she asked as she took a cigarette out of the package.

“I suppose not,” Michael said, wishing she wouldn’t. As if measuring his words, he revealed the reason for his visit. “Savannah told me what’s going on, Iris. I’m sorry that all of this is coming down on you. She said you want to hire an attorney. I have one in mind. In fact, I spoke with her and she’d like to have a consultation with you this afternoon, if you can make it. Here’s her number. Please call.”

“Thanks Doc. I will call. I need help, that’s for sure. I’m barely holding it together, as Savannah probably told you.” She tapped the top of her cigarette over an ashtray with her finger several times. “Cripes, I’m afraid they’re going to arrest me.”

“Which is why you need an attorney. And you have to be honest with her. Tell her everything, okay?”

She took a drag, blowing a long stream of smoke out through her mouth. “I understand.”

***

As much as Savannah liked her work with animals and their doting human caretakers at the veterinary clinic, she looked forward to her days off. This week it was Wednesday, and it didn’t come any too soon.

“Hi Auntie,” Savannah said upon seeing Margaret peer around the open door. “Come in, come in!” She rushed up to give her a hug, but stopped and asked with a look of surprise, “What’s this?”

“I thought maybe Rags could use some cheering up, so I brought Layla to see him.” She walked into the room and placed the small cat carrier on the ottoman.

“Oh what a great idea! Raaaggs!” she called. “Someone’s here to see you.”

The large grey-and-white cat was already walking into the room. He saw the carrier and approached it cautiously. When Layla eased out of the carrier in all her lush, long-haired beauty, he stepped back and sat down. He sniffed the air, then moved toward her in an attempt to examine her scent more closely. He stepped back again and sneezed.

“Oh my,” Margaret said. “He doesn’t like Layla’s perfume.”

Savannah scrunched up her face. “She’s wearing perfume?”

“Well, no, but I did use some grooming powder on her this morning. Wanted to give her a good brushing.”

“She looks gorgeous. Layla, you are so beautiful, sweetie. It’s wonderful to see you.” The light tangerine-colored cat let Savannah pet her and scratch behind her ear. Then she was off exploring her former living quarters—Rags bounding along behind her.

“Has she adjusted to the new place and new critters?” Savannah asked.

“Pretty well, actually. She has me there and her bed and other favorite things. I may take the ottoman over, if you don’t mind, Vannie.” Margaret peered up at her niece while removing her purple windbreaker. “You know how she likes to lay next to my feet when I sit in that chair. The recliner just doesn’t do it for her.”

“Sure, Auntie, take whatever you want.” An impish smile played at her lips. “Just not those exquisite wine glasses. I love them!”

“Well, don’t get too attached, Missy.” She laughed. “By the way, how’s Rags doing—I mean, really? I hear he’s been upset since…” Her voice dropped. “…well you know.”

“Yes, he has. He’s just not himself. He’s afraid of his shadow. Michael and I have been hanging out here more so we can be with him. But he doesn’t seem to be getting over…seeing whatever he saw.” She frowned. “Auntie, he was really traumatized.”

Margaret cocked her head, her short brown bobbed hair swishing over one shoulder. “Do you think he saw what happened?”

Savannah raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I’m quite sure he did.”

“And you believe that’s why he’s behaving so differently?” She thought about it, and said, “I don’t know if something like that would upset Layla all that much.” Her brown eyes grew rounder as she added, “Unless someone hurt her.”

Savannah became sullen. “You know, Auntie, Rags may have been hurt.”

“Really?”

“I remember the first time I picked him up late that night—well, I pulled him out from under the bed, and he bit at me. I thought he might have been hurt. But he was moving okay and I couldn’t find any obvious injuries.” Savannah reached back and lifted her blond hair off her neck, letting it fall back across her shoulders before saying, “Auntie, do you think the killer hit him or something? It’s just hard for me to imagine that a cat would be so terrified just from watching an act of violence between two people he didn’t even know.” She paused, “Well, I hope we don’t know the killer.” She grimaced and squeezed her eyes closed.

“Hey! I have an idea,” Margaret said. “We have a cat psychic here in town. We’ve been trying to get her to join the Alliance. Have you met her?”

Savannah’s face brightened. “Actually I think I have. Are you talking about Caroline?

She comes into the clinic with her cats. Interesting gal. Gee maybe it would be worthwhile to take him to see her.”

“Or better yet, have her come out here,” Margaret suggested. “She makes house calls.”

“Great idea. I’ll call her now. Do you want to start the tea water boiling? I made some apple-raisin muffins.”

“Well, what did she say?” Margaret asked when Savannah walked into the kitchen to join her.

“We have an appointment for 2:30 this afternoon.”

Time rushed by as the two women shared a morning snack and caught up with the details of each other’s lives. It was noon when Margaret rose to leave. She carried her empty plate and teacup to the sink counter. “It’s been great visiting—just like old times when I was gimping around on my broken foot.” She put a hand on each side of Savannah’s face and, pursing her lips, she said, “I have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Auntie. This house just isn’t the same without you.”

“Speaking of being alone in this house, when are you and Michael getting married?”

Savannah took a breath and held it. “Still no date, I’m afraid.” She exhaled and smiled broadly. “But we’re going to set one soon—very soon. I’m sure not going to wait around as long as you did. Poor Max. What were you thinking?”

“Hell if I know.” She winked at her niece. “Sure am glad I came to my senses.” She clapped her hands together and said, “Hey, gotta go. I have some errands and then we’re taking in some new cats this afternoon.” She looked over at Layla who was curled up on the ottoman. “Come on little one. Your play date’s over.”

She walked toward the sleeping fluff ball, but, before she could pick up the little cat, Savannah said, “Oh just leave her here, Auntie. We’ll bring her home this evening when we come over for dinner.”

Margaret stopped—looked from Savannah to Layla. “Okay. That’ll be fine.” She kissed her fingers and then touched them to Layla’s head. “’Bye sweet thing.” She then glanced up at her niece, her brown eyes twinkling. “Now don’t forget that yummy chicken soup you make.”

“Oh, I won’t. You’re making biscuits, right?”

“Yes, and Max is making his famous pineapple upside-down cake.”

“Yum. We haven’t had one of Max’s creations in a while. Does he do much cooking, anymore?”

Margaret thought about it and said, “Yeah, he’ll jump in when he gets tired of my simpleton way of cooking.” She laughed and then said in a more serious tone, “I think he likes to practice his culinary skills from time to time.”

“Hmmm, I guess it’s like anything else,” Savannah said. “Use it or lose it. Do you think that applies to chefs, too?”

“Probably.” Margaret shrugged. She looked at her watch, scooped up her purse and jacket and said, “Hey, gotta go.”

“See you later, Auntie. I enjoyed the visit—just you and me.”

“Me, too.” Margaret opened the front door, stepped out and called over her shoulder, “Let me know what happens with the psychic.”

Savannah nodded and followed her aunt out onto the porch. She shivered and pulled her lightweight cardigan around her as she watched her aunt rush toward her SUV eager to get in out of the wind. Margaret opened the car door, set her things inside and looked back at Savannah, her loose-fitting purple-print blouse blowing against her ample body. “I’ve been summoned to the sheriff’s office this afternoon. Did I tell you that?”

Savannah’s brow creased. “No, why?”

“The investigator wants me to look at photos. He thinks I can identify some of the people who were here Saturday.”

“Oh yes, he sent me some pictures through email to identify. I didn’t know everyone and told him you might.”

Margaret glanced down and brushed at a little cat hair she’d picked up on the knee of her new dark blue jeans. “Makes me nervous going down there for something like this.” She squinted over at Savannah. “You know, everyone’s a suspect until they find the killer.”

Savannah scoffed. “What are you talking about, Auntie? Why would they suspect you?”

Margaret’s eyes widened. “Think about it, Vannie, who found the body?”

“Oh, you read too many mysteries on that Kindle of yours.”

“Well, who do you suppose they suspect?”

Savannah’s face twisted into a worried frown. “Frankly, Auntie, I’m afraid they think Iris had something to do with it.”

***

Caroline Smith was a slight woman of around forty with long, stringy, light-brown hair and a fringe of bangs. When she arrived at Savannah’s home that afternoon, she wore pink sweats and a sweatshirt with a screen print of a kitten lounging in a hammock on the front.

“Hi. Cute shirt,” Savannah said upon greeting her guest at the front door.

“Thanks. Great house,” Caroline said as she looked around the spacious living room and open dining room.

“Yeah it is. It belongs to my aunt. I really appreciate you coming out here on such short notice, Caroline.”

“Hey, you and Dr. Ivey have been there for me and my fur girls forever. I appreciate what you do. I’m happy to help, if I can.” She wrinkled her brow. “So what’s the problem?”

“Well, you’ve probably read about the tragedy that occurred here this week.”

“Yes, I’m so sorry. It must be hard for you—for everyone. No suspect, yet?”

Savannah sighed. “No, not yet. But we think Rags—Ragsdale—my cat—may have…”

“Don’t tell me anything more,” she cautioned. “Let me see what I can find out from him…” She looked inquisitively at Savannah and added, “…or her?”

“He’s male.”

“Where is he?” She looked around and spotted Layla lying on the ottoman watching the two women.

“Oh, look at this,” Caroline cooed. “Is this Rags?”

“No, she’s my aunt’s cat, Layla. Isn’t she pretty?”

“Yes, she is.” Caroline knelt down and gazed at the faux Persian. Within a few seconds, Layla looked up at her, and they made eye contact. Caroline said, “And she knows it. She feels so much love around her and is grateful for the life she has.” She continued to stare into Layla’s eyes. “She had a rough start, didn’t she? She was a throwaway kitten?” She shook her head. “It’s hard to believe, looking at her now.”