Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat (8 page)

“Yeth, now I can play inthide with Buffy and Walter, too.”

A little bit later, Charlotte came down the stairs with her arms full of
Rags’s toys. Rags trotted beside her with a small stuffed raccoon in his mouth. “Hey Thavannah,” she said, “ith thith yourth?”

“What?” Savannah asked, as she looked up from the stack of mail she was sorting in her lap.

“Thith note. It wath in Ragth’th toybocth.” She dropped the toys on the floor and walked over to Savannah with the item.

Savannah looked at it.
Oh, it’s one of Auntie’s business cards. Looks like Rags has chewed it a bit.
She turned it over and started to hand it back to Charlotte, when suddenly, something occurred to her. She looked at the card again. Someone had written the word “hoarder” on the back of it, with an address below it.
That’s the place where Auntie and I went that day we met Dora Lipton and Charlotte—when Auntie was trying to chase down the catnapper. Hmmm,
she thought,
Iris said Colbi was working on a story about cat hoarders when she went missing. Do you suppose…
?
She stared down at the card.

“
Ith it yourth,” Charlotte asked, “or Ragth’th?”

“I think I’ll keep it, Charlotte. Thanks. I might need this,” she said, placing it on the table next to her and patting it. Just then Rags jumped up with his two front paws on the table and attempted to swipe the card off onto the floor.

“No, Ragth!” Charlotte said. “It’th Thavannah’th card, not yourth. Let’th go play with your toyth. Come on Ragth.”

***

“How did things go in Straley today?” Savannah asked her mother and sister as she served them each a glass of wine that evening.

“Love these glasses, Savannah. Where did you get them?” Gladys asked as she held up one and admired it.

“Auntie gave them to us as a wedding gift. She had them for a long time, I think.”

“Yes she did.” She looked at her daughter. “These were your great-grandmother’s glasses; did you know that?”

“No. Auntie didn’t tell me that.”

“Yes, I remember Grandmother serving sherry in them on special occasions at her home in Maine,” Gladys reminisced. “I’m so glad you have them,
Vannie.” She reached over and put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “Now do take care of them. They’re antiques.”

“I will. Although I’m not sure I can enjoy using them now that I know how really special they are.”

“Oh that’s silly, honey,” Gladys said. “That’s what we have things for…to enjoy.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Mom. And I do love them.” She glanced over at Brianna, who seemed a little distracted. “Aren’t you going to tell me how your day went, Sis?”

“Grueling,” Brianna said, taking a gulp of wine.

At the same time, Gladys said, “Quite well, I think.”

“Wow, that’s two very different opinions,” Michael said, from the wingback chair across the room. “Didn’t you go together?”

“Yeah, we were together,” Brianna said. “We just have different ideas of a productive day, I guess. I didn’t find an apartment. We looked at so many I’m confused now about which one has the two bedrooms, one bath with a tub and shower, and which one is walking distance to work—which ones require a security deposit, which ones are month-to-month and …”

“Oh Brianna, I wrote it all down. All you have to do is read my notes. We’ll go back tomorrow and meet with those people we missed today and you should be able to make a decision by lunchtime,” Gladys soothed.

“Okay, Mrs. Organizer, I’ll let you choose. I’m confused as hell. Maybe, since Savannah’s horse isn’t using the tack room this winter, I’ll just rent it from her. There’s a bathtub out there. They could hook up hot water to it.”

“Oh lovely,” Savannah said, laughing out loud. “A nude bather in our backyard, that’s all we need.”

“I’ll hang sheets on the corral, so no one can see me.”

“You’re talking crazy, girl,” Savannah said.

Michael spoke up. “I forgot to ask what you two girls found when you went—what was it ‘adventuring?’ ‘
exploring?’ yesterday.”

“Not much,” Savannah said.

“Yeah, just some animal food scattered around,” Brianna added.

“Animal food?”
Michael asked.

“Some dried-up fruit from your
trees, looked like kibbles, grain…leafy salad stuff…”

Michael scratched his head. “Well that’s odd.”

“Yeah, it was over on the Tindles’ property out behind their old shed,” Savannah explained.

“What do you think it means?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know,” Savannah said. “I can’t imagine old Edgar Tindle carrying something out there in the middle of the night to feed…what? He doesn’t have any animals that I know of. After his corgi died, he and Annabelle said, ‘no more pets.’ With them both being so decrepit now, I never see them outside, even in the daytime. I’m sure they’re both snoring away in their bedroom when we see the activity over there.”

Michael shook his head. “Savannah, you’ve
gotta wake me up next time you see that. I want to investigate. I can’t imagine what’s going on over there. They don’t have a grandson living with them or anything, do they?”

“Not that I know of.
I was thinking about going around to their door one day and paying them a visit.”

“Let me see what you see first, and then I’ll go have a talk with them,” Michael said. “There may be something going on that they know nothing about—trespassers.”

“Or ghosts,” Brianna suggested. She looked at the faces staring back at her, and felt a need to defend her comment. “Well, it looked like ghosts out there to me.”

Five days,
Damon thought as he drove over the rutted driveway leading to Colbi’s house early Tuesday morning.
Five days and five long nights she’s been gone.
He pulled up behind Colbi’s truck, turned off the ignition, and sat staring toward the old house. “There are the vultures waiting for their food
,
”
he said to himself when he spotted an array of cats milling around the feeding area. He laughed a little when he saw a small calico playing with the tail of a big grey, yellow-eyed boy.
Happy,
he thought.
Cats seem to be happy—well, some of them do. That big one looks kind of grumpy.
He smiled.
I guess I’ve never noticed that cats have different personalities. Since I’ve been coming out here to feed them, I’ve seen some silly cats, scaredy cats, sneaky cats—hate those sneaky ones. Some of these cats are bossy, some are loud, some are quiet. Some want to be seen and others obviously don’t. I guess they each have a story, just like every person does.

When he noticed that most of the cats were sitting or crouching and looking his way, he decided they knew why he had come—to bring food. “Hungry, huh?” he said when he climbed out of the car.
Hmmm
, he thought,
I guess some cats are even smart
. “Are you guys smart?” he asked in their direction. He pulled the bag of cat kibbles out of the backseat and headed toward the porch. After he had filled all the bowls, he started to walk away, but something caused him to stop and look back. There, peering out from beneath the porch steps, was the small grey striped cat with the round green eyes.

He set the bag of food down and walked toward the little cat. “Well, hi there. Aren’t you going to eat?” He walked toward the steps, knelt down, and peered in at the cat through where the slat was missing. “You’re shaking,” he said quietly. “Is that because you’re scared?”
If he was scared, I guess he would be running from me,
Damon reasoned. He moved closer and heard the little cat sneeze. “You don’t look so good,” he said, concern in his voice.
What would Colbi do? What should I do? How do you help a wild cat? Maybe I should try to catch it and take it to Dr. Ivey. I wonder if I need heavy gloves.
He thought for a few moments and then said, “Hell cat, if you need help, you’d just better let me grab you.”

Damon reached with one hand through the opening where a board was missing under the first step from the top. The kitten hissed quietly and stepped back. “Damn. Come on cat. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to see if we can get you some help so you’ll feel better.” He reached out again, angled one hand behind the little cat and was able to grab a handful of his long fur. He eased the kitten through the hole and held it up where he could get a good look at it. “You really are shaking, little one. You feel cold.” He put both hands around the kitten and pressed it to him. You’re coming with me,” he said. He looked over at his car and frowned. “
Wanna go for a ride? Sure hope so,” he said under his breath.

Damon walked over to his car and opened the back door. He looked around for something he could wrap the kitten in. In the meantime, the little guy began to squirm in his hands. He looked down at him and then had an idea. He slipped the small cat inside his jacket and zipped it part way up. The cat did not protest. Damon went back to where he’d left the bag of food, loaded it into the car, and then, being careful not to disturb the
kitten, he climbed in behind the wheel and started the car. The engine sound and the crunching of gravel and dirt under his tires seemed to startle the kitten, but he soon settled down. In fact, Damon thought the shivering had been replaced by a purr.

The dashboard clock said seven thirty.
I wonder if it’s too early to call Dr. Ivey. I don’t know what time his clinic opens. Never been there. Never had a reason to go there.
He put one hand against the kitten and heard a tiny mew. “I guess you’re okay in there.”

He reached over to the passenger seat and picked up his phone. Halfway to work now, on a surface street, he pulled over and called his mother to get the Ivey’s phone number. He made the call: “Oh, hello Savannah,” he said. “This is Damon—Iris’s son. Uh, what time does your clinic open?”

“Oh hi, Damon.” She paused and then said in all sincerity, “You’ve been in our thoughts. We’re so sorry to hear about Colbi.”

“What? What have you heard?” he asked, panic in his voice.

She hesitated. “That she’s missing.”

“Yes,” he said, grimacing. “I thought maybe you’d heard something new.”

“No. I sure hope they find her soon. You must be worried sick.”

“Yes. It’s been awful.” He hesitated. “Um, the reason I’m calling, I have this cat. I think he’s sick.”

“You have a cat, Damon?”

“Well, not my cat. There are all these cats at
Colbi’s place. I’ve been feeding them while she’s…gone, you know. And I think one of them is sick. I wondered if I could bring it in.”

“It’s sick? Sure. Let me get Michael for you.”

“Hi Damon. You have a sick cat?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s shivering and I haven’t seen it eat anything.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Like I told Savannah, it’s one of those that
Colbi feeds out at her place.”

“Where are you, Damon?”

“On my way to work at the paper. I have an appointment at nine thirty.”

“How about this, can you bring the cat to the clinic in fifteen minutes? I’ll go in a little early this morning and meet you there. We’ll take a look and see what’s going on with the kitty.”

“Oh, that would be great. Thank you, Dr. Ivey—um, Michael.” He hesitated and then said, “Um, where is your clinic?”

Michael gave Damon the address and, after hanging up, told Savannah, “I’m going in early this morning. I’ll see you later today.”

It was seven forty-six when Damon walked through the front door of the Ivey Veterinary Clinic. He looked around and then noticed Michael entering the waiting room wearing his lab coat.

“Where’s the cat?” Michael asked, glancing around the room in search of a carrier or at least a box.

“Here,” Damon said, as he carefully unzipped his jacket and reached in to bring the kitten out.

“Oh, this is a beauty,” Michael said as he took the long-haired, light grey-and-white tabby in his hands. He looked over at Damon. “This is one of
Colbi’s ferals? I have seen some of hers—she brings them in for neutering and vaccines. Don’t think I’ve seen this one.” He took the kitten from Damon, held it up, and looked into its eyes. He turned the kitten around and lifted its tail. “Yup, you’re a little girl. You feel awfully thin,” he said. “Let’s examine you.” He turned to Damon. “Wanna come?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he said, following Michael down the hallway and into an examining room.

Damon looked around the room.

“Here, hold her, will you?” Michael said. “My assistants aren’t here yet.”
“Sure.” Damon walked up to the table where Michael had placed the cat and put his hands around her. He could feel the little thing quivering. “Is she cold or just scared?”

“Was she shivering when you had her in your jacket?”

“Yeah, a little,” Damon said.

“Well, let’s take a look.” Michael pulled out a thermometer, shook it down and inserted it under the kitten’s tail. He then placed the end of a stethoscope against the kitten and listened intently. He felt around in the area of the abdomen, put the kitten’s little face in his hands, and smoothed back her fur, looking into her eyes. He opened her mouth and peered inside. He also weighed her. Damon stood nearby, reaching out to help when it appeared the kitten was about to jump off the table.

“Looks to be about ten weeks old,” Michael said, glancing up at Damon.

“Gosh, just a baby cat, then.
That’s why she’s so much smaller than all the others out at Colbi’s.”

Michael pulled out the thermometer, wiped it off, and looked at it. He shook his head slightly. “Good job, Damon. I’m glad you noticed a problem and brought this little girl to me. She seems to have a respiratory infection of some kind. Temp is over a hundred-three.”

“Oh my gosh, will she die?”

Michael laughed a little. “I don’t think so, Damon. One-hundred-three isn’t all that high for a cat. I’d like to keep her here for the day, start her on antibiotics; she’s a little dehydrated, so I will give her some fluids.”

“Oh,” Damon said, looking down at the kitten, “how much will it cost?”

Michael smiled over at him. “Let’s not worry about that now, shall we? You have a lot on your plate, and I’m sure
Colbi will appreciate you bringing her in here. A lot of feral cats die because no one cares enough. We appreciate you caring.”

Damon gave Michael a weak smile.

“Call us later this afternoon and we’ll see how she’s doing, okay?”

Damon continued to look down at the kitten, who was sitting on the examining table enveloped in Michael’s hands and staring up into Damon’s eyes. “Okay,” he said. He started to turn away and then changed his mind. He reached out and touched the kitten on the head.
“’Bye, little one.”

“Hmmm, Michael said. You must have hit her purr button.”

“Really? She’s purring?” Damon said, a puzzled look on his face. He took in a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet Michael’s. “Okay, then. I’ll call you later today. Thank you, doctor…uh, Michael.”

***

It was nearly three thirty when Damon had a chance to make the call to the Ivey Veterinary Clinic. The receptionist answered the phone.

“Hi, this is Damon Jackson. I brought a cat in this morning. Dr. Ivey said for me to call.”

“Oh yes,” Scarlett, said, “he just brought me the kitty’s chart. He wants to talk to you; can you hold on for a second?”

“Yes.”

“Hi Damon. The kitty’s doing pretty well,” Michael said. “She’s still weak, but more comfortable. She’s eating a little canned kitten food. What has she been fed out there at Colbi’s?”

“I’ve been giving them some sort of little star-shaped food that comes in a bag. But I haven’t seen that cat eating it.”

“Damon, I’d like to send her home with someone. She’s such a friendly kitty, I think she would do better in a home situation. Could you take her and make sure she eats and gets her medicine for at least a few days? I want her to eat canned food for now—kitten food.”

“Uh, give it medicine? How do you do that? Where do I get the food?”

“Come on in and we’ll show you what to do. I’ll send you home with some of the food to get you started and some litter in a pan.”

“Litter?”

“Yeah, I don’t want her outside, just yet. She’s going to need a place to go potty.” Michael chuckled. “You just come in sometime before five this evening and we’ll get you set up. That is, if you’re willing.”

“Um, sure, I guess I could do that. You think just for a few days? And then I can take it back out to Colbi’s to be with its friends?”

Michael hesitated and then said, “I’d like you to bring her in after a few days and let me examine her before she’s turned out into the elements again. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Damon hung up the phone, plopped his elbows on his desk and rested his face in his hands.

“Everything okay, Jackson?”

Damon lifted his head and sat back. “Well no, not with
Colbi missing, nothing’s okay.”

Sterling Boggs pulled up a chair and sat down across from Damon. “Yeah, it’s hard to imagine what has happened to her.” He looked Damon in the eyes. “I know the two of you were spending time together. It’s
gotta be rough.” He paused for a moment and rubbed his chin. “I just don’t know what to say, Jackson. Let’s just hope they find her before…”

Damon took a deep breath in an attempt to ward off the show of emotion he felt building in his chest. He quickly changed the subject. “I just agreed to take care of a cat—in my house. Never did that before.” He looked up at his boss and asked, “You ever have a cat?”

“Oh yes, my wife has cats. They’re actually pretty cool. Entertaining.”

“This one’s sick,” Damon said.

Boggs stared over at Damon. “Do you have to be with it twenty-four/seven? Are you going to bring it to work? Or go home on your lunch hour to take care of it?”

“Not sure. I don’t think I’ll have to stay with it all the time. But I don’t really know what to do with it when I’m gone. Can a sick cat stay by itself?”

Boggs laughed. “Sure they can.” He turned serious. “But a sick cat that’s new to the place could find trouble for himself. Hey, I know what…we have this big wire cage that we use when we need to isolate a cat from the others. We bought it at a second-hand store when my wife rescued a litter of wild kittens. Why don’t I bring it to you and you can make a home for the kitty in there for while you’re gone.”

Damon shrugged. “Okay. Sounds like a good idea, I guess.”

“Good. In fact, I’ll call my son and have him bring it over on his way to basketball practice.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”