Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat (7 page)

“Sometimes it takes someone outside the relationship—a guy (or gal) buddy,” Savannah said.

Brianna smiled down at her sister. “Yes, a gal buddy is a mighty valuable thing to have, gal buddy.” She hugged her sister around the neck and said, “Thank you.”

Brianna stepped back and began scrutinizing the stump where Savannah sat. “Hey, is that…?”

Savannah stood up. “…the stump we used to play around when we were kids? Yes it is!”

“Oh
my gosh, I remember…” She motioned off to the right. “The old barn was right here.”

“Yup.”

“What great memories,” she said with a wide smile. And then her demeanor changed.
“Except for when someone burned the barn down around Grandpa Forster.” She leaned in toward her sister and almost whispered, “Hey Sis, do you think what we’re seeing at night is the old guy’s ghost?”

“Now that would be weird. Hey, what do you say we go snoop around a bit,” Savannah said, stretching before taking a few steps. “Now where do you think the lights and flashes are coming from?”

Brianna pointed to the other side of the orchard. “Out that way—this side of that shed.”

“Yes, that’s about where I’d guesstimate, too. Let’s go,” Savannah said as she and Brianna walked toward the orchard, Lexie excitedly running circles around them.

***

Later Sunday night, Detective Craig Sledge was on his way to question some of the local tattoo artists about a body part the sheriff’s had found near a burned-out car. It had a partial tattoo and Craig hoped to find the artist who had created it, in order to ascertain the identity of the victim. Craig parked outside Clive’s Tattoo Parlor, checked his phone messages, and then started to get out of his car. “What the…?” he said under his breath. “Damon!” he called out. “What the hell are you doing down here?”

“Oh hi, Craig.” Damon put his hands up and said, “It’s not what you think.”

Craig shook his head. “I sure hope not, buddy. I sure hope not.”

“No, I’m not interested in getting involved in the scene down here again. I just got to thinking that maybe whoever took Colbi…” He started to choke up. He cleared his throat and took a ragged breath. “Maybe it was someone who has a beef against me. I gave you cops some names a while back, remember?”

“Damon…” Craig began.

“I know, you’re gonna lecture me, and I deserve it,” he said lowering his head.

“No lecture, Damon. Just let the investigators do their job, would
ya? If you have any ideas or leads, bring ’em to me. Stay outta this slum. Go home. And try not to worry.”

Damon pressed his lips together. “Just how do I do that?” he asked, his eyes starting to fill with tears.

Craig placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll find her, kid.”

Damon didn’t appear to be convinced.

“Well, look at it this way, we haven’t found her dead or bleeding someplace. That’s gotta be a good sign.”

Colbi coughed; shivered. She doubled the ratty blanket and wrapped it around her legs and feet and then scrunched down deeper into her over-sized jacket.
If only I had enough to eat to help me create body heat, I wouldn’t be so blasted cold
, she thought. She sat up and looked around the room.
Wish I could see more clearly. I can tell when it’s daylight by the small shafts of light that filter through the boarded-over windows. I could see better if the windows weren’t also painted black—and on the outside, so I couldn’t scrape the paint off, even if I had something sharp…they took my purse, so I don’t have a nail file or a pen I could use. They bring me finger-food on paper plates and napkins so I can’t use utensils to break the windows. Nails!
she thought.
There are nails in the beams. I wonder if I could ease one out of the wall—using what?
She sank back down onto the mattress and then, realizing she could hear the couple talking to each other upstairs, she moved toward the door and listened intently.

“Here, take this wiener to our guest,”
Lida said sarcastically with a wicked laugh.

“I still think it’s stupid to feed her,” George said. “Why are we doing it, again?”

“Same reason we feed these mangy cats,” she said. “We need them alive, until we don’t.” She laughed. “The cats are our insurance policy, and the girl…well…she’s our ticket to freedom, let’s hope. Now go take that to her. Here, put some water in this pitcher.”

The room was quiet for a moment and then George said, “What if I just do her in right now—
git it over with?”

“Oh you would love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I kinda would.”

“
Naw,” the woman said, “timing’s wrong. I’m workin’ on a plan. Just do as I say. You go killin’ her down there and we could lose all we’ve been workin’ for.”

Colbi
heard George stumbling down the stairs to the dark basement room. She moved away from the door and backed against the far wall. Within a few moments, the door creaked open and light filtered in. Colbi blinked and put her hands up to shade her eyes. She squinted and tried to take the opportunity to look around the room—along the floor, up and down the walls. Was there anything…anything at all she could use to escape?
This room has been stripped, all right.

“Here’s your supper, girlie,” George said, placing a paper plate that held a dried-out wiener on the mattress. “And water…” He set a plastic pitcher on the floor near the bedroll.

“Why are you holding me here?” she yelled. “What do you want from me? Is this extortion? Do you want money? I’m sure I can get you whatever money you think you want.”

“Money?”
His dull, sunken eyes almost lit up. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind gettin’ some money. How much ya got?” he asked, wiping a handkerchief over his balding head and then shoving it back into the pocket of his overalls.

“George? Come back up here.”

He glanced toward the door and then back at Colbi. He pointed a skinny finger at her. “You want outta here? Tell me how to get the money you’re talkin’ ’bout and I might be able to set you free,” he said in hushed tones.

“George?!!”

He then turned and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back and we’ll make a deal.” He grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth, before turning and ambling awkwardly toward the door.

Make a deal with a kidnapper?
Colbi grimaced.
Not the brightest idea. But what are my options? Dammit—what are my options?
She moved toward the mattress where she’d seen George set the plate and pitcher. She felt around for the pitcher, brought it up to her lips, and drank thirstily. She set it down on the floor and began patting the top of the mattress in search of the wiener. She felt her hand touch it—
gross. It’s dried out and cold. But I’d better eat something while I can,
she reasoned. She brought the piece of processed meat up to her mouth and started nibbling on it. She was able to eat almost half of it, washing it down with swigs of the water. When she’d had her fill of the disgusting meat, she wrapped the paper plate around what was left of it and slid it under the mattress, hoping she would get back to it before a rat found it. As she lay back down on the mattress, her hand hit the pitcher.
Oops, don’t want to spill my water supply.

Suddenly
Colbi sat straight up.
The pitcher is plastic,
she said to herself.
Plastic.
She had an idea. She stood up and walked toward where she knew the window was. She reached up and felt around where the putty held the pane in place.
It’s hard and dry, but I might be able to chip it out of there.
She made her way back to the mattress and began rolling it up until it was as taut as she could manage. She pushed it against the wall under the high window and stood up on it. She stretched up, but found she could reach only about halfway up the window. She stepped off the mattress and folded it over, doubling its thickness. She carefully stepped up on it again and she could reach almost to the top of the window.

Colbi
edged back to where the pitcher sat. She drank from it again, taking big swigs. She then felt her way to the hole in the floor they had cut for her to use as a toilet and poured the rest of the water out. She lay the pitcher down sideways on the floor and stepped on it. Using the wall for support, she bounced her weight on the weakest point of the pitcher until it finally broke. She pulled the cracked pieces apart. When she felt she had just the right piece for the job as well as a few backup pieces, she walked over and tossed the broken pitcher and all of the small pieces she could find in the crude toilet. She then put all but one larger piece of the plastic in her pockets, walked over to the window, climbed up on the folded mattress, and began scraping.
If I can just get the putty loose around the window and take the window pane out, maybe I can get the attention of a neighbor by shouting through the cracks in the boards. Or I might be able to push the boards out. Then my only challenge is lifting myself up so I can climb out. Without adequate nourishment and hydration, I might not be agile and strong enough to do it.

What’s that?
Colbi wondered.
Someone’s coming.
She unfolded the mattress, threw it out on the floor, scraped the remaining plastic pieces underneath it, and lay down on top of it.

She heard the door open and saw light shining in. She sat up and scanned the area where she’d smashed the pitcher. A few shards remained, which she quickly picked up and folded into one hand. Then she turned to see a morbidly obese woman standing in the doorway.

“What’s this about money?” she growled. “George says you have money and you’re interested in buyin’ your release.” She stared down at Colbi through bloodshot eyes set in a fleshy, wrinkled face.

Wow, George didn’t marry any beauty queen,
Colbi thought. She noticed that the woman had had a bad dye job at some point and her bright red hair had grown out to mostly grey.
Looks like she hasn’t combed or even washed her hair since a family of rats moved into it
, Colbi thought.

The woman walked across the room, unfolded a small portable stool she carried, and promptly sat on it, rolls of blubber taking the gravity trail downward.
Colbi wondered how she would get up off the little seat. She envisioned it disappearing into the folds of Lida’s body, never to be found again.

“Yeah, I can get money. Is that what you want?”
Colbi asked.

“That’s only part of it,” she said. At that point, the woman started coughing. She leaned forward, coughing and sputtering, trying to catch her breath. “Crap.
Gotta go lie down. I’ll…be…back,” she said haltingly in-between fits of coughing. She made her way to the door, pulled it closed, and continued coughing and gagging her way back up the steps.

***

The following afternoon, Savannah greeted one of her favorite regular guests—sixteen-year-old Charlotte. “Hi, hon, I’m so glad to see you,” she said as she opened the door for the teen.

“Hi.
Where’th Ragth?” Charlotte asked in her charming lisp. She then looked toward the kitchen and said, “There he ith. Hi Ragth.” She walked toward him, stopping to pet Buffy, who was napping on a dining room chair. “Hi Buffy,” she said, kneeling down and scratching the Himalayan-mix cat under the chin. “Buffy liketh to be thcratched like thith.”

“Yes she does,” Savannah said. “Oh, here comes Lexie.”

“Hi Lecthi, wanna go for a walk?” The child stood and smoothed the fur on the dog’s back.

About that time, Walter nudged the back of Charlotte’s leg.
“Oopth. Oh Walter, what are you doing?” She laughed.

Savannah reached for her phone and snapped a picture of Charlotte surrounded by all of the Ivey animals. “So who are you going to play with first, today?” Savannah asked.

The girl looked around her, brushed a light red curl off her forehead, and said, “I don’t know.”

Savannah smiled over at the youngster.
I sure enjoy the days when Charlotte comes to play with the animals. She’s so smart and responsible for someone with Down’s. Such a lovely teen.
“How about this? Why don’t we take Lexie and Rags outside—you can hold Lexie’s leash and I’ll watch Rags. The sun will be setting soon, then we can come inside and you can play with all of them in the house for a while.”

“Okay.”

Charlotte knew where to find the leash and she put it on Lexie. “Let’th go,” she said. “Come on, Ragth.”

“We’re right behind you,” Savannah said as she ushered the cat out through the side kitchen door. “Let’s take Lexie over to the side of the house. She probably has to go potty.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said, leading the dog in that direction. Savannah and Rags followed. Lexie stepped into a row of shrubs and Rags started digging in the loose dirt in one of Antonio’s raised garden beds. Charlotte looked over at Rags and asked, “Can Ragth go outthide by himthelf?”

“No, not anymore,” Savannah said. “When we lived in Los Angeles, I let him out and he used to go steal things from the neighbors.”

“He did?” Charlotte said looking rather shocked.

“Yes, didn’t I ever tell you about that?”

“No,” the girl responded.

Savannah laughed. “Well, I’d let him out sometimes, but also he would sneak out when I wasn’t looking. He used to bring home socks, bathing suits, toys, hats…anything he could carry. And every weekend, I’d put all the stuff he took in a wagon and walk around the neighborhood returning everything.”

Charlotte laughed. “Ith that why he can’t go outthide anymore? Becauth he wath naughty?”

“No, it’s because there’s more danger for cats out here in this rural area—you know, coyotes and things. So we only let him out when we’re with him now. That’s the new rule for Rags.” Savannah smiled. Just then, she looked around and spotted Rags heading out toward the corral. “Uh-oh, where does he think he’s going?”

Charlotte looked over at him. “I don’t know. Maybe he’th looking for your horth.”

“Oh, maybe so,” Savannah said. She then motioned to Charlotte, saying, “Let’s let him go and follow him. Want to? I need the exercise.”

After a few minutes, Charlotte said, “He’th running. I can’t run that fatht.”

“Yeah, this isn’t good. I don’t want him to get away.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Charlotte, would you walk back and get
Rags’s harness and leash, please? You know where we keep it, right?”

“
Yeth.”

“ Here
, let me hold Lexie,” she said, taking the leash in her hands.

By the time Charlotte had returned, Rags was halfway across the orchard, still moving away from Savannah and Lexie. “Charlotte, see if you can catch him. Here, give me the harness; he’ll run from you if he sees it. You go catch him and bring him back here. Can you do that?”

“Yeth. I can do that.” The girl rushed off in the direction the cat was taking her, moving only a little awkwardly through the orchard. After a few moments, she called out, “I got him. Here he ith,” she said as she walked slowly back toward Savannah with the cat in her arms. Savannah walked out to meet her and the two of them slipped the harness over his head, secured it, and then Charlotte held fast to his leash.

“Come on,
Ragth,” Charlotte said, in an attempt to walk him back to the house. “What’th wrong with him, Thavanna? Why doeth he want to go over there, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” she said shaking her head and frowning. I’ve never seen him take off like that before.”

“What are you girls doing out here?”

Savannah looked up and saw Michael coming toward them.

“Ragth went over there,” Charlotte pointed, “and we had to go get him.”

“Yeah,” Savannah added, “he acted like he knew right where he was going and we couldn’t stop him until Charlotte went to get his harness.”

“He doesn’t look any too happy that you’re dragging him back, does he?” Michael noted. “Here, let me carry him to the house. You’re ready to come in, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I think we’ve had enough of the out-of-doors for today, don’t you, Charlotte?”