Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 03 - Sleight of Paw (9 page)

Savannah responded. “Michael and I, of course. Bud—he checks on the patients early each morning and, when advised, throughout the night. Scarlett, our receptionist, has a key, as do our cleaning people. That would be Iris and Cindy.” She then caught herself and said, “No, not Cindy. She’s out on maternity leave. Our new cleaning gal is Alyce.” Savannah turned toward Michael. “Did you give her a key?”

“Yes,” Michael said. “So it’s me, Savannah, Bud, Iris, Scarlett, and Alyce who have keys.”

“And Lisa has a key,” Savannah said. “She’s Bud’s backup.”

“Now why does…” Jim looked at his notes, “Iris have a key?”

Michael walked over and sat back down in his chair. He took in a deep breath. “She comes in and cleans the clinic a couple times a week after hours.”

“And the new cleaning gal? What does she do, what is her schedule?”

“Well, she cleans and sanitizes cages, examining rooms, and so forth on an ongoing, as-needed basis throughout the day.” Michael explained. “She sometimes comes in early to make sure things are ready for patients or she might stay late to prepare for the next day.”

“Hmmmm,” Jim said, rubbing his chin and fixing his stare on his notepad. “I’ll need contact information for Scarlett, Lisa, and Alyce, if you don’t mind.” He looked up at Michael. “We have Bud here now and I know how to find Iris.”

Savannah rose from her chair. “I’ll get that for you,” she said as she walked over to the reception counter.

Jim looked down at his notes again. “Now wait. Does the one out on maternity leave—Cindy—still have a key?”

Michael thought for a moment. “Um, yeah, I guess she does.”

“I’ll need her contact information, too, if you don’t mind, Savannah.”

Michael leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, and asked, “How?”

“Huh?”

“How did he die?”

“Stabbed,” was all Jim would say.

Michael sat somber, a look of disbelief on his face. He then straightened his posture and asked, “What I want to know is why is he in my…” he turned his head and looked over at Savannah briefly and then continued, “our clinic? What was he doing here?”

Jim pursed his lips and shook his head slowly from side to side. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Why was he here, how did he get in and who was with him?”

Savannah walked over and handed Jim the piece of paper with the information he wanted. She took her place next to Michael.

Suddenly, they heard a familiar voice. “Good morning, folks.”

Savannah and Michael looked up. “Hi Craig,” Savannah said, her voice strained.

Detective Craig Sledge didn’t look like he was there for a visit. He walked over to where Michael and Savannah sat and faced them, saying, “Michael, this doesn’t look good.”

Michael squirmed in his chair, rubbed one hand through his hair, and said, “Yeah, that’s what Jim says. I’m some sort of suspect, it seems.”

Craig stared down at the floor. “Gotta start weedin’ people out. That’s what we’re doing now.”

“I’d think this was some sort of a frame job,” Michael said. “But the only one I can think of who would do such a thing is dead.” He rolled his head slowly from side to side. Finally, he said, “This is insane.” He looked up at the detective and then over at Jim and asked, “So did someone break into the office or use a key?”

“Looks like they knew their way in,” Craig said matter of factly.

Savannah sat silent, tears welling up in her eyes.
This must be how those innocent people I read about, who are sitting in prison, feel,
she thought.
Helpless. Absolutely helpless.

She looked up at the clock behind the reception desk and then jumped to her feet saying, “Oh! It’s after seven. I’d better call the staff and then make calls to the morning appointments,” she said. She hesitated and then asked flatly, “Can I do that, Craig?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Craig then looked over at Michael. “I’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Gosh, Craig, I can’t think of anything that I haven’t already told Jim.”

Craig thought about it for a minute. He conferred with Jim and then addressed Michael. “Okay, buddy. You and Savannah don’t have plans to go anywhere, do you?”

Michael stared at Craig, anger rising to the surface. He stood abruptly. “Well, hell!”

Savannah looked up from the reception desk, phone to her ear, concern on her face.

Michael then turned toward Craig and said, “Do you know where Bud is? I need to talk to him about the patients. We do have a business to run here, you know.”

“I think they’re just about finished with him in there,” Craig said while craning his neck to peer down the hallway. “Oh, here he comes now.”

Michael walked over to the hallway entrance. “Bud, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, looking a little shaken. “Did you see that dead guy?”

“No,” Michael said.” He looked over to see Craig and Jim walk out the front door with a couple of officials—from the crime lab maybe, or the coroner’s office. Michael wasn’t sure.

“He’s an awful mess,” Bud continued. “Someone sure must have hated him bad. Blood all over. I couldn’t believe it when I walked up to the back door and found…” He shivered. “It was horrible.”

“Bud, how’s the sheltie? Did she do okay last night?” Michael asked.

“Oh yes, they let me do rounds, but only quickly, so I haven’t done a full assessment yet.” He paused and looked behind him before saying, “They’re calling this whole area a crime scene, you know.”

“Yes, I know, Bud. And the Kenton’s cat, did you check his vitals? Is he eating?”

“Yes, he’s doing real good. I was glad to see it after our rough day yesterday with him. Everyone looks okay, Dr. Mike. Your three cats included.” He chuckled. “They seem to enjoy a night away from home once in a while.” He lowered his eyes. “Except for Buffy. I think it’s all rather overwhelming for her.”

“Let me in!” a voice shrieked from just outside the waiting room door. “That’s my niece in there. This is her business. Jim, tell them to let me in. I want to see Vannie.”

“Oh, it’s Auntie,” Savannah said, hanging up the phone before dialing the next number. She limped a little toward the door. Before she could get there, Margaret burst in, two uniformed sheriff’s deputies behind her.

“Let her go in,” she heard Jim shout. And the other deputies backed off. Craig Sledge walked in behind Margaret.

“Vannie, are you all right? I heard about it on the radio. What happened?” she asked, looking around the area.

Savannah met her aunt in the middle of the room. They embraced. “We’re okay, Auntie,” she said, looking down into her face. And then she burst into tears. “Oh Auntie, someone was killed here in the clinic. They’re asking us a bunch of questions. They think we had something to do with it,” she said, not even trying to hide the fact that she was blubbering.

“Are we through here?” Michael asked, irritation evident in his tone. “We want to take our cats home.”

Craig Sledge looked around at the uniformed officers. “Yeah, I guess that’s okay.” Then he addressed one of the younger officers. “Deputy, would you go with them while they get the cats out?” He then warned Michael, “Just be careful not to disturb any evidence.”

As Michael walked back toward the recovery room with the deputy, he noticed little markers sitting here and there with numbers on them—indicating evidence, he supposed. Once in the room with the cats, he picked up one of the carriers stacked in the corner, and brought it over to the pens. Rags seemed most eager to get out, so Michael opened the door to his pen first. Buffy stayed at the back of the cage curled up on a blanket. He picked up Rags and put him into the larger carrier, secured the door and set it aside. He glanced over at Buffy just as the cream-and-sable long-haired beauty stepped out of her bed. He pushed the pen door closed and walked over to get the second carrier. The deputy saw the cat moving toward the wire door and reached up to hold it closed. “No, kitty. You wait there.”

Michael eased Buffy into a carrier just as Savannah walked into the room. She moved a third carrier in front of Walter’s pen and Michael loaded him up. The two of them picked up the three carriers and walked toward the waiting room. Savannah stopped at the reception desk and grabbed the appointment book so she could finish making calls from home.

It was light when they stepped out into the crisp morning air with the cats. Margaret walked along with them. “Have you two eaten?” she asked.

They looked at one another. “Actually, no,” Savannah responded.

“Yeah, I am kinda hungry,” Michael said. “Let’s take the kitties home and give them their canned food. Then shall we meet at the diner for some breakfast?”

“Okay, I guess. I’m not very hungry, though,” Savannah said.

She set Buffy’s carrier in the backseat of her car next to the other two. She looked over at her aunt. “See you at the diner?”

“Okay,” she said before walking the few steps to her car.

Before entering the car with Michael, Savannah turned toward the building, saying, “I’d better put up a sign.” She walked back into the clinic, wrote a note on a piece of paper, and taped it securely to the front door.

“So how long do we have to stay away?” Savannah asked Michael on the drive home.

“Until they finish their investigation,” he said. “I think we can probably open up tomorrow. And Bud should be able to go in and check on our patients.” He hesitated and then said, “At least I hope so. I’ll talk to Craig.”

The couple rode in silence. Savannah felt a chill and put her hands in her jacket pockets. That’s when she remembered the scrap of fabric. She pulled it out and said, “Michael, I found this in the pen with Rags. He was playing with it. Do you recognize it?”

He looked over a couple of times as he drove. “Doesn’t look familiar to me. What’s it from?”

“I don’t know. Could be from someone’s clothes.”

“Why didn’t you give it to Craig?”

“Kinda forgot about it. But I probably should make sure he gets it.”

Michael parked Savannah’s car in front of the house. She climbed out through the passenger door and reached into the backseat for Rags’s carrier. “Wait,” Michael said. “Trade me places. You come over here and take Buffy. I’ll get the guys.”As they approached the front door, they heard Lexie barking. “It’s okay, girl,” Michael soothed through the door. “It’s us.”

Once inside, Savannah reached out and ruffled the dog’s fur. “Want some breakfast, girl?” She released Buffy from the carrier and then Walter. Michael unlatched Rags’s carrier. “Come on babies, let’s go get something to eat,” she said, walking toward the kitchen.

Michael headed for the side kitchen door. “I’ll go feed your horse.”

When he returned, he noticed that Savannah was snapping Lexie’s leash on her collar. She looked up, “Going to take her out for a few minutes,” she said. “She hasn’t been out yet this morning.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“Then I need to finish those calls to our clients.”

“Here, let me take Lexie out; you make the calls. I’ll put the carriers away while you freshen up.”

Savannah started to walk away, but stopped and turned. “Hey, do I look like I need to freshen up?”

“No, I just know you. After a morning like we’ve had, you must be ready to at least wash your face and comb your hair. Am I right?” he asked looking her in the eyes—a knowing grin on his face.

She hesitated—thought about it and then said, “Yeah, right on. You know, it’s spooky sometimes, how well you know me.”

“Just observant, that’s all, and you are pretty predictable.”

She stared at him for a moment, pulling her eyebrows together in a frown. “You think I’m predictable? Gosh, I’m going to have to do something about that. Don’t want you to get bored with me.”

He reached over and grabbed her elbow, pulling her to him. “Not a chance.” He kissed her and then said, “Now go—your aunt’s waiting for us.”

***

“Dr. Mike; Savannah!” Iris said, waving her hand in the air from a booth about midway along one wall in the diner. As the couple approached, Iris moved over next to Margaret, who sat pouring cream into a cup of coffee. Savannah and Michael slid in opposite them. Once they were seated, Iris leaned into them, her brow creased. “Maggie told me what you’ve been through this morning; that’s awful.”

“It’s been a nightmare of a morning,” Savannah said while slipping out of her jacket.

Michael reached over behind her to help, saying, “Sure not the way I expected to spend this day.” He looked across at Margaret and Iris. “But things are looking up—here I sit with three beautiful women and access to any food I want.” He picked up the menu and began studying it.

“Except blueberry pancakes,” Iris said quickly.

“No blueberries?” He collapsed a little into his seat, feigning extreme disappointment.

Savannah nudged him with her elbow. “Oh stop. You don’t usually order blueberries.”

“Oh, I don’t?” he asked. “Okay then.” He composed himself and continued studying the menu.

Savannah rolled her eyes toward Iris and Margaret. They grinned back at her and Michael. She then looked around the interior of the diner. “Where is everyone?”