Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat (17 page)

“Oh stop,” he said. “Come on—get your jacket. Let’s go feed those dumb cats.”

They arrived at Colbi’s home in time to see streaks of black, white, grey and tangerine fur as several cats darted under the porch. Colbi climbed out of the car and slowly walked over to the house. “Hi, Butterscotch,” she called. “Hello there, Tiger Lily. Oh Blackie—how’s it going, buddy? Awww, Snow Puff—you cutie.”

In the meantime, Damon carried the bag of food over to the porch. He stood against a post, smiling down at
Colbi as she took inventory of her kitties. “Everyone accounted for?” he asked.

“Um, let’s see…” She stood up, shaded her eyes and looked out along the side of the house. “Oh, there’s Gracie, and who’s that?” she asked frowning a little. “Oh no, not a new freeloader,” she said with a sigh. “Well, come on, kitty. You’re welcome, too.” She stooped and peered into the bushes to get a closer look. “Are you hungry?” she asked. The little
tortie hissed. “Hmmm, Sassy. That’s going to be your name, if you hang around long enough to wear it.”

Damon reached under the porch and pulled out the dishes. He filled each food bowl with kibbles and emptied the large water bowls, refilling them with clean water.

“Where’s the kitten?” Colbi asked, looking under the house and all around the area.

“Kitten?” he asked.

“Yes, the little tabby. He was new and skittish as all get-out.” She started walking around, peering under and around shrubs and bushes. “Do you have a flashlight?” she asked.

“Yeah.”
He walked over to the car, grabbed his flashlight out of the glove box and handed it to her.

She knelt down and shined the light under the porch. “I don’t see him.” She stood up and looked around. “Where is he?” she asked. “Where is little Maxie?”

“Maxie?” Damon laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, standing and putting her hands on her hips. “A precious kitten is missing—maybe dead somewhere—and you’re laughing?”

“Funny name,” he said. “Maxie? For a boy cat? Why not something cool like Ragsdale? Isn’t that Rags’s name, Ragsdale? Now that’s cool.”

Colbi
ignored him, took another walk around the perimeter of the house and then hung her head and walked toward the porch steps.

“What’s this guy look like?” Damon asked.

“He’s a light-colored tabby.”

He scrunched up his face.
“Tabby? What’s that?”

She shook her head. “Gosh, you have a lot to learn—don’t even know what a tabby is? They have a sort of striped pattern mixed with swirls and sometimes spots. They’re usually shades of grey, black and white. Some have a little orange mixed in.”

“Sounds ugly,” he said with a smirk.

She gave him a disgusted look and then marched through the front door of her house.

Damon watched the cats for a few moments and then followed Colbi into the house.

“Need help carrying anything?” he shouted up the stairwell after she’d been gone for a while.

“No, I got it,” she said, straining her raspy voice to be heard, after appearing at the top of the stairs carrying a shopping bag. She walked slowly down the steps and the couple exited through the front door. Damon locked the door and pulled it closed, checking to make sure it was secure.

“Good bye, kitties,”
Colbi called out before climbing into the car. “Maxie, please come home,” she said quietly

Once they were in the car, Damon drove out to the main road and turned right. “You really liked that kitty, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, there was something…special about him. Can’t put my finger on what it was…” She looked around and asked, “Hey, where are we going?”

“Oh, I want to go by my house and pick up something. Do you mind?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m enjoying the change of scenery.”

“Do you want to go get a new cell phone while we’re out?” he asked.

She thought about it for a few minutes and said, “Actually, I don’t think I could handle going through all of that today. Thanks, but maybe another time. Okay?”

When the couple arrived at Damon’s house, he opened the front door for
Colbi and called out, “Mom?”

“In here,” she said from the kitchen.

He walked over to where she was preparing a salad and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Hi Son.”
She looked up and noticed that Damon was not alone. Her face brightened. “Colbi, hello there. How are you doing?” She wiped her hands on her apron and walked over for a hug.

“Pretty good.”
Colbi glanced down and then looked over at Iris. “I am feeling better.” She took Iris’s hand. “Thank you so much for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“Sure,” Iris said with a wide smile. “Glad you like them.” She then ran her hand over
Colbi’s long brown hair and said, “You still sound hoarse. Does your throat hurt?”

“
Naw. They tell me it’ll take a while for my voice to come back. It’s annoying, but…” she hesitated, looked down at the floor, “…it could have been worse.”

“Come here,” Damon said to
Colbi, grabbing her hand and leading her down the hallway. “What?” she asked. “Don’t you think that was rude—walking away from your mother like that?”

“She’ll get over it. I want to show you something.”

She stopped and pulled back. “It’s not a snake, is it? Damon, I’m not going to look at a snake. I’m not,” she said yanking her hand back.

Damon smiled, opened his bedroom door wide, and looked around the room. “See—no snakes,” he said.

She peered in suspiciously and then scolded, “You didn’t make your bed.”

“Well, it’s occupied,” he said with a grin.

She stepped back, her hands fisted against her chest. “By what?”

“Just come here,” he said gently.

She stood her ground. “No.”

Damon walked over to the bed, looked around a little, and then lifted a corner of a blanket, revealing a sleepy kitten face. He smiled over at
Colbi.

Colbi
looked into the little face. It took a moment for her to register what she was seeing.
A kitten in Damon’s bedroom? Something doesn’t compute here.

The little tabby yawned widely and then stepped out from under the blanket and stretched. She looked up at Damon and mewed and he reached over and rubbed the kitten alongside the face. “She’s purring,” Damon said.

Still stunned, Colbi stood in place. “Maxie?” she asked, a confused look on her face. She glanced up at Damon. “Is that Maxie?”

“
Noooo, it’s Dolly,” he said, picking up the kitten and snuggling with her.

“He looks just like Maxie,” she said. She walked over, reached out, and petted the tabby. “It is Max, isn’t it?” she demanded.

“Yeah, I guess so. I brought her home from your place a few days ago. She was sick. I took her to see Dr. Ivey and I’ve been giving her medicine and food. She likes Willie.”

“Willie?”

“Our dog. She sleeps with him sometimes.”

Colbi
looked from Damon to the kitten. “I’m speechless. I…I can’t believe what I’m seeing. You taking care of a sick cat? Unbelievable,” she said. A slight frown took over her pretty face. “It’s a girl?” She scratched the kitten behind one ear. “I sure thought this was a little boy. Never could get close enough to find out.”

“Here,
wanna hold Dolly?” he asked, emphasizing the cat’s name.
She smiled sheepishly. “Okay—come here Maxie,” she said, shooting Damon an impish look. “Maxie works for a girl, too,” she insisted.

“Everything okay in here?”
Iris asked, poking her head in through the open door.

“Yeah Mom, come on in,” Damon said. “How’s she been doing?”

“Great.” She walked over and put her hand on her son’s arm. “But you know, son, you have to clean her litter box sometimes.”

Damon glanced down at the little box filled with sand, a blank look on his face. He frowned. “You do? How do you do that?”

Colbi and Iris laughed. Colbi asked, “Don’t you have a pooper scooper?”

“A what?” he asked, looking thoroughly confused.

“I bought one,” Iris said. “Here it is.” She picked it up and showed it to him. She then walked over to the litter box and scooped a couple of clumps into a plastic bag. “As I recall, cats like a clean litter box.”

Damon looked down at the litter, scratching his head.
“Hmmmm. I didn’t know that. All I know about cats is what Michael told me, and that took about eight minutes.”

“Well now you know,” Iris said, handing Damon the scoop. She looked over at the kitten. “She sure is a cute little cat.
Seems to feel much better. You ought to see her racing through the house playing. I only close her in here when I think she needs to rest.” She looked at Colbi. “She’s been sick you know.”

“What was wrong with her?” she asked “…a respiratory thing?”

“Yes, how did you know?” Damon responded.

“It’s common to kittens in communes and those who are tossed out into the elements,” she said, rubbing her face against the kitten’s head. She smiled and pulled back a little when Dolly reached a paw out and patted her chin.

“Well I took her to see Dr. Mike day before yesterday,” Damon said. “And she checks out real good. Only we’re supposed to keep giving her the medicine until it’s gone and she shouldn’t go outside for a while.”

Colbi
looked over at Damon and felt her heart swell.
What a guy,
she thought.
I was already pretty darn attracted to him and now he starts responding to cats…I think I’m in love.

Iris reached over and petted the kitten. “She sure likes company. I feel sorry for her being here so much by herself while I’m at work and the boys are at school.”

“A people cat, huh?” Colbi said in disbelief. “I couldn’t get near her—she sure watched me, though, through those beautiful green eyes of hers.” She looked down at the kitten and kissed the top of her head, then looked up at Damon. “Let’s take her back to the Iveys. Do you think that would be okay?” She looked around. “Is that her pen? We could take it in case we need to protect her from the other animals or,” she chuckled, “protect Savannah’s belongings from the kitten.”

“Gosh, I don’t know why not. We could call and ask Savannah and Michael.” He stopped and thought about it for a moment before saying, “Although, then we’d be obligated to tell them what happened last night. Let’s just take her. I’ll fold up the pen.”

“What happened last night?” Iris asked while pulling up the covers on Damon’s bed and smoothing them. “Oops, what’s this?” she asked, holding up one of Damon’s socks.

“Well, how about that,” he said. He looked down at the kitten in
Colbi’s hands and said, Miss Dolly-Maxie—are you following in Rags’s paw-steps and becoming a klepto?”

Everyone laughed.

“So, what happened last night?” Iris asked again.

Colbi
looked over at Damon and then back at Iris. “Someone was killed in Savannah’s orchard—an old woman.”

Iris took a step back, her perfectly
mascara’d eyes wide. “What? Good lord, girl, you must be terrified.” She took Colbi by the elbow and ushered her into the living room. “Sit here,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”

“Craig can fill you in, Mom,” Damon said as he walked into the room carrying the cat pen. “He’s been at the house all morning with us.”

When Damon disappeared out the front door, Colbi said, “We don’t know anything about her or what she was doing out there. But it sure was unnerving. We have a police guard at the house now, keeping an eye on things.”

“Wow, do they think this has anything to do with the people who held you in their basement?”

Colbi pressed her mouth against the kitten’s soft fur. She then raised her head and said, “I don’t know what they think, but I’m pretty sure those people are still after me. I just feel it and I have to say, it has me terrified.” Her eyes filled with tears and spilled over. The kitten looked up at her and mewed.

“There’s our protector,” Damon said, upon seeing the uniformed sheriff when he drove into the Iveys’ driveway. “You take the kitten in and I’ll go let him know it’s us and that we’re in for the evening.” He looked over at her. “Do we need groceries?”

“No, I don’t think so. Maggie and Max are bringing dinner over later,” she said. “I froze what was left of the lasagna we had last night. We can share it with Michael and Savannah one day next week.”

“Where shall I put the pen up?” he called out as he struggled to bring it through the front door. He then started to laugh. There, he saw Colbi sitting in the overstuffed chair with Dolly on her lap and all three resident cats standing around her, trying to get a look at the little intruder. “Boy are they curious,” he said. “Will they hurt her?”

“I don’t think so. She doesn’t seem to be afraid of them. She’s purring.”

“Looks like she’s taking a bath.” Damon walked toward the staircase, stopping to look down at the kitten again. “Getting cleaned up to meet new friends, huh, little one?” he said before heading up the stairs. “Your room?” he called down to her.
“Yes, that would be fine,” she said.

Knock-knock
.

“Oh, someone’s at the door,”
Colbi murmured to the kitten. She started to get up.

“I got it,” Damon said, taking two steps at a time down the staircase. He looked out the stained glass window and said, “Looks like Craig.” He opened the door. “Hi Craig,” he said. “Come in.”

Craig walked into the room, nodded at Colbi, then noticed the kitten in her lap. “Another cat?” he asked. Then he added, “Oh, that’s the one I’ve seen at your house, isn’t it, Damon?”

“Observant, Craig.
Yes, that’s Dolly.”

“Maxie,”
Colbi said, an impish look on her face.

Damon laughed.

Craig scratched his head, looking confused. “Guess you had to be there,” he said.

“
Wanna sit down, Craig? Anything new to report?”

“Well, I don’t know how relevant it is,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I talked to the
Tindles. They let me look around and, unbeknownst to the old couple, evidently this gal had set up housekeeping in that old shed behind their house.”

Damon looked puzzled. “She was living there?”

“Yeah, it’s like a homeless camp back there, and the old couple didn’t have a clue. They were shocked—kind of scared. The news that their
tenant
was found dead—probably killed—not too far from their place really upset them. They seemed pretty confused. I suggested they call family members, if they have any, and get some support. A neighbor said they have a son. She volunteered to call him.”

“Poor old folks,”
Colbi said, running her hand over the relaxed kitten’s fur.

“Cute cat,” Craig said, making eye contact with her. “Look at those big green eyes.”

“Yeah,” Damon said, “she has eye liner like Dolly Parton.”

“Like a lady of the evening,” Craig joked.

Colbi shook her head as if annoyed. She then looked at Craig. “So any leads on who she was?”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about. We believe she was Beverly Jones.”

Colbi gasped.

“What?” Craig asked, looking askance at
Colbi. “Did you know her?”

“No…well, yes…not really…” she stuttered.

Damon leaned forward toward Craig. “She found a letter with this gal’s name on it and…”

Colbi
broke in, “Yes, we wondered who she was, so I did some Internet research and found out a few things about her. That’s all. I’ve never met her or anything.”

“A letter?”
Craig asked. “Where did you find this…letter?”

Colbi
looked over at Rags, who was still sitting on the arm of the chair staring down at the kitten. “The cat had it. Rags brought it to me one night.”

Craig looked over at the cat, pursed his lips, and rolled his head from side to side. “The cat,” he repeated. “I’d like to see the letter and the information you found on her, if you still have it.”

“Sure.” Colbi started to get up.

“I’ll get it,” Damon said standing. “It’s still on the desk in your room, right?”

“Yes, in the folder. Thanks.”

Damon headed for the staircase and
Colbi asked Craig in her still-husky voice, “Do you know who else was out there last night?”

“No. But that person was obviously here to cause
you
grief,” he said. “Poor old Beverly probably just got in the way. Wrong place at the wrong time. Unless…”

“Unless what?” she asked.

“Unless she was here because of you, too, Colbi.”

“What?” she asked, stiffening her
posture.

Dolly looked up at her and mewed.
Colbi ran her hand gently over the kitten’s head and body.

Damon returned with the file folder and handed it to Craig, who removed the discolored
envelop and examined it. “This looks like the last one,” he said as if thinking out loud.

The last one?”
Damon asked.

“We found a small stack of letters from this same address, tied in a faded red ribbon—presumably from her daughter—written over a five-year span. This is the most recent postmark.” He looked over at Rags and shook his head. “Sure would like to know how he got that letter…” He took a breath.

Knock-Knock
.

Damon jumped to his feet and took long strides toward the front door.

“Dinner’s ready!” Margaret said as Damon opened the door and motioned for her and Max to come inside.

The couple headed for the kitchen, where they deposited a salad bowl and a casserole dish wrapped in a towel. “It’s a chicken and broccoli casserole and a Caesar salad,” Margaret said upon re-entering the living room.

“And I made you some fresh pumpkin bread,” Max added. “It’s good for breakfast or for dessert with ice cream on it.”

“Thank you
soooo much, Maggie and Max,” Colbi said. “That’s so nice of you. Sounds delicious.”

“What’s this?” Margaret asked when she spotted the fur ball curled up in
Colbi’s lap.

“Maxie,” she said. Then she looked over at Damon. “Or maybe Dolly. We haven’t agreed, yet.”

“Where’d she come from?” Max asked as he smiled down at the kitten.

“Well, she was one of my
ferals until Damon got his hands on her, and as you can see, he has domesticated her.”

“Good job, Damon!” Max said. “How did you do it? What are your secrets? Do you have powers we’re not aware of?”

“No sir. Not at all. She was sick, and I took her to see Dr. Ivey. He wanted me to give her medicine, so I had to take her home with me. I guess she just decided to like people, because she sure seems to.”

“Beautiful cat,” Margaret said. She looked around at the others. “Well, we’d better scoot—just wanted to bring you some dinner. Enjoy.”

Craig stood. “Wait, Maggie; you may be able to shed some light on some things for me, if you don’t mind answering a few questions before you go.”

Margaret’s face lit up. She was hoping she could find out more about the tragedy that had been discovered that morning. “Not a problem,” she said, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the banister. She walked over to the sofa and sank down on the other end from where Craig sat, her violet print blouse billowing in the updraft. Max chose a chair across the room. “Shoot,” Margaret said.

“Well, I’m puzzled as to how some things are showing up inside this house—things that shouldn’t logically be in here. Now, I know about the klepto cat.” He glanced over at Rags, who was by then lying on the arm of the chair, reaching out and patting the sleeping kitten’s head. “But you say he doesn’t go outside unsupervised. So he couldn’t be bringing things in from outside without someone knowing, could he?”

“No. There’s no way. He does not go out alone—at all,” Margaret said.

“Then the only other possibility is that someone is bringing these things in.” He looked from one to the other of the people in the room.

Suddenly, Rags jumped down off the chair and flew up the staircase. Everyone followed him with their eyes, but their attention was more strictly on Craig and his last statement.

“Like who?” Margaret asked. “Michael and Savannah don’t let anyone unscrupulous into their home,” she insisted.

“Who does come in on a regular or even non-regular basis?” he asked.

“Well, Helena cleans for them. Antonio, the gardener, is here several times a week, but I don’t think he comes in the house. He could, I guess. But both of them were my loyal employees for years before Michael and Savannah moved in here. Charlotte comes to visit every week or so. Michael’s son is here every-other week. Hell, Craig, Iris comes over, you do…what sort of suspect are you hoping to find?”

Before he could respond, he looked up and saw Rags walk awkwardly into the room. “What’s he got?” he asked with a chuckle.

Margaret looked over at the cat. “Could be just about anything, knowing him.”

Everyone watched as he walked up to
Colbi, jumped up on the table next to her and dropped the item in her lap. The kitten rose up, stretched, and then went back to sleep.

Laughter filled the room.

“He brought the kitty a present from his stash,” Max said. “That’s rich. What a cat!”

“Wait!” Craig shouted.

Everyone stopped and looked at him. He stood and walked over to Colbi. “If you don’t mind…” he said.

“A…no, I guess…” she responded, not knowing what he was going to do.

He reached down and picked up the item. “It’s a glove—a knit glove,” he said. He held it up and asked, “Does anyone know where this came from? Where the cat got it?” He looked around the room and saw only blank stares. “I’d like to take this with me,” he said.

“Okay with us, but you’d better have a talk with Rags,” Margaret said.

That’s when Craig noticed the large cat staring up at him in what appeared to be anticipation.

“Oh, poor Rags.
He brought that for the kitten and now you want to take it away,” Margaret said. “What’s the significance of it anyway?” she asked.

Craig took in a deep breath. “The deceased—Beverly Jones—was wearing the mate to this glove when she died.”