Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 03 - Sleight of Paw (4 page)

Iris looked over at Michael again and noticed the purple swelling on the side of his face. “Oh Michael, you look like you took a beating. How are you feeling?”

He grimaced slightly, took a deep breath, and coughed. “Not too bad—a little sore here and there.”

“I would imagine.” Her eyes darted from Michael to Savannah. “So what happened?”

The couple repeated the details of the story once again.

“What does the doctor say?” she asked.

“Just to take it easy, use icepacks—general stuff like that,” Michael said. “Oh honey, you’d better get that pack on your knee.”

“Your knee?” Iris looked over at Savannah.

“Yes, Iris,” Margaret said—her voice accelerated, “he hit Savannah, too and knocked her down. She has a messed-up knee.”

“My God!” Iris exclaimed, looking down at Savannah’s legs. “He attacked you, too?”

“He pushed me, that’s all.”

Iris sat up straight, revealing a hint of black lace from beneath the low neckline of her fitted green and black blouse. “That’s assault, kiddo.”

“Oh I forgot, you know the lingo now,” Savannah said as she started to stand up. “Ouch.” She grimaced, reaching down and cupping her hand over her knee.

Margaret quickly stood. “Sit down, Vannie. I’ll serve the cobbler.”

Iris joined Margaret at the kitchen counter. “Here, Maggie, let me get those,” Iris said when she saw her struggling to reach the dessert plates.

“Thanks, Iris. Everything in this house is organized for giants. I need a stepstool or stilts to get anything out of these cabinets.” Margaret glanced over at her husband and said, “I’m trying to train Max to store everyday things we need for the shelter cats where I can reach them.”

“Or you could just grow, or wear platform shoes,” Savannah quipped.

Margaret smirked in her niece’s direction. “Spoken by the only Brannon to get the tall genes.”

Once the cobbler was served and the coffee poured, Michael asked Iris, “So is Craig on the case?”

“He didn’t say.” She took a sip of coffee, looked down at her dessert, and shook her head. “This is an awful thing to have happened. I was so scared for you two when I heard about it.” Tears filled her eyes.

“We’re okay, Iris,” Savannah said, setting her fork down and patting her friend’s arm. “Thanks for caring.”

“Iris, what do you hear from Damon?” Margaret asked. “Is he getting along okay?”

Still dabbing at her carefully made-up eyes, Iris said, “It seems so. He’s over at the state prison. Craig thinks he may get out early.” Her eyes brightened a little. “We can visit.”

“You visit that place?” Margaret scrunched up her face. “I’ve never set foot in a prison or jail. It must be dreary and drab. And then there are all of those…criminals.” She shuddered.

“It’s not my favorite place to spend a Sunday afternoon; that’s for sure,” Iris agreed. She took a bite of her cobbler, swallowed, and said, “But they do have a grassy area with picnic tables where you can visit. So it’s not too bad.” She looked off into space for a moment. “If I want my son back, it’s something I have to do.” She glanced over at Margaret. “You know, Maggie, Damon and I get along better when he’s in jail than any other time. It’s almost like the relationship we had when he was twelve. You remember those days, don’t you? He was a cool kid. Things didn’t go bad until he was in his senior year at high school.” She became sullen for a moment. And then she smiled. “He’s a very different young man when he’s not with those so called friends of his.”

Margaret shook her head in disgust. “Iris, my dear, you can’t blame his friends. He made his own decision to do drugs. It was the drugs making him so difficult, don’t you know that?”

Iris lowered her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right, Maggie.” She looked up and said, “They tell us at Al-Anon that we have to fight going into denial. I’ve been in denial for much too long.” Smiling brightly, she said, “Craig is really helping me change my thoughts—my way of thinking.” She became serious for a moment. “Makes a big difference. It really does.”

“That’s cool, Iris,” Max said, while scooping up more of the dessert with his spoon. “Sounds like you and Damon are turning over a new leaf.”

“Yes,” she said, glancing around the table, “and the relationship between the younger boys and Damon is getting better, too. You know, Damon was eleven when I married the boys’ father. Chris and Brett were just toddlers. Damon was rather fond of his new little brothers at first, especially Brett. It wasn’t long after that two-timing man left me and his sons that Damon started getting into trouble and things went sour with him and the younger boys.” She stared off into space for a moment and then said, “As you know, his lifestyle affected all of us.” Her bright-red lips curved into a smile, revealing her carefully whitened teeth. “Now he and Brett write back and forth—real letters—no cell phones or texting for prisoners. And the boys go there with me to visit sometimes.”

“How long were you married to Jack Clampton…four or five years?” Margaret asked.

Iris frowned, narrowed her eyes. “Five miserable years. Damon was nearly seventeen when he left, and Chris and Brett were seven and eight.” She hesitated. A grin washed over her attractive face. “Craig is working with Damon.”

“Really?” Michael set his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“Yes. He visits him alone, you know, using special cop privileges, and he’s helping him to work a drug program right there in the prison. It’s a sort of all-around confidence-building, distraction sort of technique he’s using. It’s a healing program and it also involves creativity. I had no idea how important creativity is to a human being.” She paused before sharing, “Did you know that Damon has an interest in writing? He’s been writing poetry and short stories. Says it makes him feel real good when he’s writing.” She leaned back in her chair, holding her hands palm-up in front of her. “Who knew?”

Michael smiled across at Iris. “That’s really great news.”

Margaret shook her head, a pensive look on her face. “Iris, I still can’t believe you’re dating the cop who was going to arrest you for murder last year.”

“Yeah,” Iris let out a forced laugh. “I’ve met some interesting men in some interesting ways, but this was definitely a first for me.” She took a sip of coffee before adding, “And something new for Craig, too.”

Savannah leaned forward in her chair and addressed her friend, “Iris, you do believe in fate, don’t you? I mean, how else would the universe have put the two of you together unless you were a suspect of some sort?”

She scoffed. “Hell, kiddo, I can think of a lot of ways—he could be a customer at the diner, he could save me from a pickpocket, he could be having a drink at a local club when I walk in, he could come to the boys’ school and talk about police work…” She took a breath, her perfectly made-up eyes flashing with mischief. “He could run out of gas in front of my house, bump into me in the produce aisle at the grocery store, come to my door selling tickets to the policemen’s ball…”

“Be serious, Iris,” Margaret scolded. “Things never happen the way we expect. Look at me and Max. He came all the way from Chicago, moved in next door, and started a cat-rescue shelter.”

Max straightened his posture. “Yeah, and you wouldn’t give me the time of day until I rescued you from that relative of yours.”

“Well, I was waiting for you to come riding in on a white horse,” she said, faking innocence. Before her husband could respond, Margaret continued, “And look at Savannah and Michael. I broke my foot so Savannah would get her cute little butt up here and start kanoodling with our handsome veterinarian.”

“Kanoodling? Auntie, that sounds vulgar,” Savannah complained amidst a kitchen lively with laughter.

Margaret tilted her head, a wily grin on her lips. “Wellll?”

“Yeah, Auntie,” Savannah said, smiling briefly at her handsome husband, “I guess it was fortuitous that you broke your foot and that I came to help you out. How else would Michael and I have found each other—with me down in LA and him up here in Northern California?”

“Wait,” Michael said, frowning, “are you telling me this was some sort of conspiracy? I thought it was my idea to fall for my beautiful wife.” He looked suspiciously at Savannah. “You tricked me?”

Savannah reached out and slapped playfully at Michael.

“Ouch, that hurt. Be careful, I was injured fighting for your honor, you know.” He pretended to sulk.

“I’m sorry, honey. Kiss kiss,” she said as everyone laughed.

Michael grinned. “Finally, I get some sympathy.”

***

The Monday evening headlines of the small-town
Hammond Daily
screamed, “Veterinarian Brutally Beaten by Dead Dog’s Owner.”

Savannah heard the front door open and close. “Where are you?” Michael called out.

“Kitchen!”

“Did you see the paper tonight, hon?” he asked as he approached her. He slapped it down on the kitchen table. “It looks like Gamble’s out on bail.”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Savannah said somberly, turning away from the counter to face her husband. “My cell phone has been ringing like crazy all afternoon.”

He lowered his brow. “Why? Who’s been calling?”

“Well-wishers mostly. You know, our friends.”

With a sigh of relief he said, “Oh, I thought maybe it was clients concerned about their pets.”

“Noooo, Michael.” She walked over and put her arms around his neck in a hug. Pulling back a little so she could look at him, she asked, “You don’t think this is going to scare people away, do you? No one’s going to believe you were negligent. You have a great reputation in this town, honey.”

“Savannah,” he said taking a deep breath, “it can take years to build a good reputation and a few minutes to ruin it.” He released her hands from around his neck, squeezed them, and turned away.

“But you did nothing wrong.”

“I hope I didn’t make a mistake with that dog.” He stood leaning with his hands on the back of a kitchen chair, his head down.

“Of course, you didn’t.”

He turned toward her. “It doesn’t really matter what did or didn’t happen; an accusation like this can be damaging.” He paused and then began to tear up. “I’m worried about our practice.”

“This really does have you shook up. I’m so sorry it happened. But I don’t think we should go through life with such heavy regret that it interferes with living.”

Michael lowered himself into the chair and put his head in his hands. Savannah looked down at him with sadness in her heart.
How can I help this man?
she wondered.
I just hate to see him so beaten down.
Finally, she said, “Michael, don’t let one unreasonable jerk spoil even one minute of your life. Sure, you feel badly about losing the dog. This is every veterinarian’s nightmare and one that we all must live through more times than we care to think about. Losing Brute is something you will need to come to terms with. And you will. You’ve had situations like this before. You grieve, you try to figure out what happened so it never happens again, and you move on. The equation that’s in the way for you now is that horrible, unbalanced man. His opinion is wrong! His opinion doesn’t count. You can’t take it seriously. You can’t take him seriously.”

Savannah moved around and stood in front of her husband. “Michael, look at me. You didn’t do anything wrong. The guy’s off his rocker. No one’s going to believe what he says against you—you have loyal clients who have trusted you for a long time.”

“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m overwrought and overreacting.” He put his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. “What would I do without you?” he asked into her hair.

She chuckled. “Sure wouldn’t want to find that out.”

“Neither would I.”

They held each other for a while and then Savannah pulled back and said, “Now, I have good news.”

He took a deep breath…coughed a little. “I could use a dose of that. What is it?”

She smiled. Using her most enticing tone, she said, “Adam’s coming this weekend.”

Michael perked up immediately, his eyes bright; a smile on his face. “Really?” And then he cocked his head and asked, “Why? I thought they were bringing him over next week.”

“Marci called to ask how we are. One thing led to another and we decided you could use some cheering up.” Her ever-so-slight frown lines suddenly became obvious. “Adam heard his parents talking about what happened and got concerned about us.” Her face brightened as she explained, “Marci and Eric thought it would be good for him to see you, if you’re up to it.”

“Up to it! Gosh, that would make my day—my weekend—my whole week.” The couple stood and he hugged her to him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“What for?”

He held her at arm’s length and looked deeply into her eyes. “For being my wife, for loving my son, for getting along so well with Marci, for caring so much about me.” He wrapped his arms around her again and said, “For being you. I love you, Savannah.”

“I love you, too Michael. And thank
you.”

“For what?”

She choked up a little. “For saying all those nice things to me.” Gaining her composure, Savannah turned to her husband and asked, “Are you hungry? I put together a nice chopped salad and I can make some cheesy toast points or heat up some soup to go with it.”