The Cats that Stole a Million (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 7) (11 page)

“She said she was on her way to Chicago for a modeling job but her plane was rerouted to Indy because of the weather.”

“Katz, I’m sorry my mum gave Madison your address,” Colleen apologized.  “She meant well, but — ”

“I don’t blame Mum for what happened, but if you talk to her before I do, please ask her to never give out my personal information.  I’ve been a murder magnet since I’ve moved out here, and Mum knows that!”

“I will.  So sorry.  Hugs.”

“No worries. I’ll keep you posted.”

Chapter Sixteen

When Dimitri, the Russian driver, parked behind an abandoned farm building, he didn’t know he’d pulled into a viper’s nest.  He didn’t see the black, extended cab pickup parked near the house.  He would have if he’d not hit the utility pole and snapped the electrical line, which immediately cut off the power to the exterior light to the property, and the electricity inside the house. 

The property bordered Chester’s Snow Angel farm, and was owned by Sam Sanders. Stevie’s infamous father was negotiating a contract with an energy company to install their windmills.  With the rental money he’d receive, he could ultimately go clean and give up his illegal drug business.  But in the meantime, the decrepit farmhouse was Erie’s crime boss’s number one site for meth production, “cooking.”  Sam employed a skilled chemist with a degree from the university in the city. Sam offered an employment package few would refuse — shorter hours, with a higher salary. 

The meth had been made and was waiting for distribution.  The “cook,” who was informally known as the Professor, sat on a folding chair facing three men:  two were drug runners, and the third was Sam’s son, Dave.  When the electricity went out, the Professor yelled, “What the hell is goin’ on?”

Dave stumbled to the window and looked out.  “There’s a black four-door sedan out there.  Idiots have their dome light on.  I see a man in front and two people in the back.”

“Sounds like a government issue vehicle.”

“Doesn’t look like the Feds.  If it were a bust, they’d be in here already.”

“Let’s go have a looksee,” the Professor said, grabbing his jacket, black ski mask, and Smith & Wesson 9 mm handgun. 

The other men were similarly attired and armed. 

Dimitri turned in his seat and watched in horror as the hitman slapped Madison.  “Stop!” he yelled.  “Boss wants her alive.”  With the dome light blazing, lighting up the inside of the car, he didn’t notice the group of men approaching the driver’s side until it was too late to react.  His door and the back passenger door were yanked open simultaneously. 

The hitman reached for his weapon, and fired a volley of shots. One of them hit Madison in the side. She fell over to the left and collapsed against the door. She didn’t scream.  She didn’t cry out.  The pain was so intense, she remained silent.

Strong hands snatched the hitman out of the car and threw him in the snow.  Another pair grabbed Dimitri as well.

“Tie his hands behind his back,” Dave ordered in his thick Hoosier accent.  The second man did so with plastic zip ties, while a third man pressed his boot on the hitman’s back as a guarantee the Russian wouldn’t put up a fight.  “Get his gun.  Boss would like to see that.”

Sitting the hitman up, Dave said, “Nice gun.  Got any more like that?”

The hitman spoke a chain of Russian.

“What’s he sayin’?”

Dimitri, kneeling in the snow with the professor’s handgun pointed at his head, translated, “He said his boss will pay you, if you let us go.”

“Pay us?  You’re a damn foreigner. What kind of cash do you have on you?  I get paid in American.”

“No cash,” Dimitri explained, “but the woman in back, she stole money from my boss.  If we can get it back, we can share.”

Dave now turned his attention to the back seat and looked at Madison.  “Ma’am, is that right?” then he called out to the other men, “Hey, she’s been shot.  “That ain’t no way to treat a lady,” he said, kicking the hitman in the side.

Madison glanced in his direction.  A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek.  “Those men are Russian.  They work for the mob.  You don’t want to piss them off.”

“Is that a fact?” Dave asked facetiously, then in a venomous voice to the hitman, “We don’t want your kind here.  This is our territory.”

Dimitri translated to the hitman, who suddenly veered forward and grabbed the legs of the drug dealer pointing a gun at him.  They wrestled for the weapon.  Dave and the other dealer joined in the fight.  The Professor was momentarily distracted by the struggle, which gave Dimitri an avenue for escape.  He dove for the driver’s seat, floored the accelerator, and spun the car around.  He drove at breakneck pace — swerving and sliding in the snow.  The drug dealers shot several times at the vehicle, but only one hit the car.  It fractured the back windshield. 

Madison moaned from the back.  “Take me to my friend.”

Chapter Seventeen

It was getting dark.  While Katherine paced the floor in front of the parlor picture window, Salina was upstairs camped out in the playroom. She’d finally exhausted herself and the cats, and the last time Katherine checked, Salina was sleeping on the larger cozy bed with Lilac and Abby snuggled against her.  Scout and Abra were doing their evening reconnaissance mission and gradually got bored.  They trotted into the parlor and jumped up on the windowsill to watch the snow fall.

Moving over to the cats, she petted their backs.  “When is this snow ever going to stop?”

“Raw,” Abra cried in a sweet voice.  She nuzzled her head against Katherine’s arm.

A few minutes before, Jake had texted that Stevie and he would be home soon, depending on road conditions.  The interstate was open, but with restricted lanes.  Stevie had picked him up without any difficulty.  Once in the city, they made a quick detour to the hospital.  Wayne and Leslie were the proud parents of a baby girl.  He said that Stevie wasn’t much of a talker, but he really appreciated the “rescue.”  Katherine could hear Stevie laughing in the background.

Looking out the window, Scout began to growl; Abra did the same.  They stood up on their hind legs and dangled their front paws, doing their meerkat pose.  Scout began wildly sniffing the air.

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asked. 

Scout cried a mournful “waugh.”  It sounded like a warning.

Staring out the window, Katherine saw a figure slide and stumble on the sidewalk. It fell down and then slowly got back up.

“Why on earth is someone taking a walk in this weather?” she asked out loud.  “Cats, I’ve got to go outside and see if this person needs help.” 

Scout leaped down from the sill and threw herself against Katherine. 

“Scout, what’s the matter with you?  I have to do this.  I’ll only be gone a minute.”

“Na-waugh,” Scout pleaded.

“Take Abra and go upstairs.”

“Rawww,” Abra cried in a plaintive wail.

Katherine gently pushed Scout aside.  She ran to the front door and opened it.  Madison fell in and collapsed on the floor.  Blood was flowing from underneath her fur coat.

“Madison?  Oh, no.  Madison.”

“Shot,” she said with great effort.  “Shut . . . ”

Katherine closed the door and locked it.  She grabbed her cell and punched in 911.  “This is Katherine Cokenberger.  Send an ambulance to my house.  My friend has been shot.”

Ending the call, she stooped down and spoke softly.  “Who did this to you?”

Madison struggled to breathe, and whispered something.

“What did you say?” 

“Run.  Get out of the house.”

“I can’t leave you.  The ambulance is coming.”

“Give them the bag.”

“What bag?  Madison, did you leave drugs in my house?  Is that what those men are after?” Katherine asked with grave concern.  She instantly feared for the cats. 
What if they found it
? She shuddered. 
What if one of them ate something from it
?

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean . . . ” Madison didn’t speak anymore. She was dead. 

Scout and Abra jogged into the small vestibule and began their death dance.

“Scout. Abra.  Stop.  Cadabra!”

The Siamese stopped and swiftly turned their heads toward the living room, with ears swiveled forward and erect.  They both emitted a low, threatening growl.  Abra hissed, Scout snarled.

“Stop it!  Go upstairs, right now,” Katherine commanded.

All three were startled by the sound of breaking window glass in the living room.  The mansion’s single-paned windows offered little protection against a determined criminal on the outside, trying to break in.  The cats ignored the command and did exactly the opposite. They ran at breakneck speed into the living room.

Katherine removed the Glock from the back of her jeans.  Her keen urban sense told her the two men who shot Vinny and Madison had come back, and were getting inside.  She wasn’t a trained law enforcement officer, and because she was a novice gun owner, she didn’t want to face two gunmen who had automatic pistols.  Katherine’s theory about the number of intruders was wrong. Only one man was breaking in, the other was facing Sam Sanders’s wrath in his back office at the Dew Drop Inn. 

Gripping the gun with both hands, she backed toward the stairs, and said to the cats, “Treat!  Treat!”

Abra ran out of the living room and nearly knocked her down, racing up the stairs.

“Scout,” she cried.

Salina stood at the top of the stairs, holding a frightened Abby. 

Katherine knew she had to get Salina and the cats to the attic.  Their only chance of survival was to hide in the hidden staircase until the police got there. 
Oh, dear God, please let the police get here first and not Jake and Stevie
, she prayed.  Calming herself, she had to think of a way to get the cats to go into the attic.  Dashing up the stairs, she gently took Salina by the arm.  “Come with me.  We’ve got to hide,” she whispered.  She led Salina to the attic door.  Quickly unlocking the lock, she pushed her inside.  “Go up and wait for me.  I’m going to try and get the cats.”

“Please don’t go,” Salina said, her voice quivering. 

“Shhh!  Please, be quiet as a mouse.”

“Chirp,” Abby agreed. 

Stevie’s daughter reluctantly climbed the attic stairs, and turned the corner to the first landing.  Still holding on to Abby, she kissed the ruddy girl on the head.  “I’ll protect you,” she said sweetly. 

Katherine ran to the playroom and prayed the cats were still there and not investigating downstairs.  To her relief, she found the cats sitting on their haunches at full attention.  Lilac’s fur was raised on her neck; Iris tail was brushed out. 

Not wasting valuable time, Katherine hurried to the armoire where she stored the cat treats, yanked the bag off the shelf and opened it.  The cats suddenly focused on the treat bag and not on the intruder sounds coming from the first floor.

“Treat!  Treat!” Katherine called in a soft voice. She backed out of the playroom, and enticed the cats to follow her like she was the Pied Piper of Hamelin, but with one variation on the medieval theme:  cats instead of rats.  The cats trotted out of the playroom, led by Abra, with Lilac a close second.  When the two Siamese noticed the door open to the no-cat-zone, the forbidden attic, they lunged for it.  The kittens were slow in getting the memo.  Dewey stopped, began sharping his claws on the carpet, and then looked up.  Before he could belt out a loud “Mao,” Katherine inserted a treat in his mouth.  Iris, sensing the danger below, launched into her mother hen mode.  Taking the rear flank, she nudged Dewey, and pushed Crowie with her paw.  She drove the kittens like they were cattle, crisscrossing behind them and nipping at their backs until they were safe up the attic steps.

Knowing the door had noisy hinges, Katherine slowly closed the door but to no avail; it creaked loudly.  Standing on the bottom step, she froze when she realized she couldn’t lock the dead bolt from the inside.  Frustrated and terrified, at the same time, she wanted to sit down on a step and cry. 
Why do these terrible things keep happening to me?
Scout’s downstairs with murderers and I can’t do anything about it, but I’ve got to save the others
. 

Salina said in a frightened voice, “Ma’am, can we go now?”

Springing into action, Katherine snatched a flashlight off its hook, and directed the light in front of her.  Salina stood wide-eyed on the landing, and was visibly shaking.

“It’s going to be okay, Salina.  Trust me.”

Crowie began to meow his soft cry.  Katherine picked him up and kissed him on top of his head.  “It’s okay, my darling.”

Katherine hugged Crowie and placed him on her shoulder.  Grasping the flashlight, she joined Salina on the landing.  “I have a hiding place to show you.  Get behind me and I’ll show you where it is.”

Katherine moved over to the beadboard panel; swung the metal plate aside, and pushed the key in the lock.  She gave the key a hard twist, and the door opened.  The cats rushed in the room, and began sniffing the torn up floorboard next to the secret trap door.  Salina filed in behind the cats.  Katherine inserted the key in the other side of the lock, pulled the door closed with the key, then locked it.

“Salina, hold my flashlight.  I need both hands.  Crowie, I’m going to put you down.”  She removed the kitten from her neck and set him down.  Crowie ran to Iris, who began to wash his ears furiously.

“Mao,” Dewey protested, wanting out.

“Shhh!  Salina put Abby down and grab Dewey.  You’ve got to keep him quiet.”

A barrage of bullets rang through the second story of the house.  Katherine gasped, “They’re getting close.” 

Salina refused to let Abby go.  She buried her face in Abby’s fur.  “How do they know we’re here?” she cried.

“I don’t know,” Katherine whispered.  She got down on her hands and knees, found the trap door latch, and pulled it up.  She stepped down into the space and kicked open the secret wall panel.  Returning, she said, “Salina, you come down first.  Hand me, Abby.”

“No, I’m not letting her go.”

“Okay, hold her.  Scooch to the side of the opening, let your legs dangle, and I’ll pull you in.” 

Katherine helped her down, then crawled to the other end to make more room for the two of them.  “There’s a stairway landing through there,” she pointed.  “Take Abby and wait for me there.”

“But it’s dark in there.”

“Here, take my flashlight.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“The cats?  What about the cats?  Gimme the treats,” Salina improvised. 

Katherine took the bag out of her pocket and handed it to Salina.  Salina crawled through the opening to the landing and began shaking the bag. 

The cats, thinking it was a game, hopped down and joined Salina on the landing.  Lilac darted through the opening while Iris herded Dewey and Crowie in.  Lilac me-yowled loudly.  “Salina, keep them quiet,” Katherine warned.  She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and used the flashlight feature. 

The “treat” trick didn’t fool Abra.  The former Hocus Pocus performer hesitated at the opening.  “Come on, sweet girl,” Katherine coaxed.  She reached up to snatch her, but Abra escaped her grasp. 

“Abra, no,” she whispered.  “Come here.”  Climbing back up to floor to catch the defiant cat, Katherine heard the sorrowful cry of Scout.  So did Abra.

“I’ve got to save her.” 

Scout’s sister cried a mournful “raw” and threw herself against the beadboard panel.

“Stop it!  You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Abra bashed into it again.  Katherine grabbed her with one hand and dropped her down into the hole.  She quickly placed the trap door on top, and moved to unlock the beadboard panel. 

Abra pulled herself up through the opening in the damaged floorboard next to the trap door.  The Siamese waited for Katherine to open the door, then escaped.  She ran toward the attic stairs.

Katherine called with panic in her voice.  “Abra, no!  Come back.” 

Chasing after Abra, she ran past the antique grandfather clock and snagged her sweater on the handle to the long, cracked glass door of the clock case.  Stopping to unsnag her sweater, she looked up in horror as the clock rocked precariously on its cracked legs.  Katherine reached up to steady it, but stopped when she heard someone below jiggling the door handle to the attic door.  It jiggled once, then again.  Slowly the door creaked open.

Katherine set her cell phone on the floor with its flashlight feature still on.  She assumed her shooter’s crouch.  She held her Glock in both hands and aimed toward the door.  It was pitch black in the attic except for the dim light of the cell phone.  The advice of her gun instructor played in her head:  “Only attempt to take an active shooter down as the last resort.”

Poised to shoot, she placed her finger near the trigger.  Waiting for the intruder to come up the stairs and turn the corner, she waited . . . and waited.  Wondering what was taking so long, she started to get up when Scout slinked around the corner.  “Waugh,” the missing Siamese cried.

“Thank, God.  Scout!  Abra!  Follow me.”  She picked up her phone and ran to the beadboard panel to the secret room.  She mistakenly thought the cats were right behind her.

The seal-point sisters had other plans.  They ran and squeezed onto the half wall, behind the grandfather clock. 

“At-at-at-at,” Scout clucked.  She stretched up tall on her hind legs in the confined space behind the clock.  Abra joined her.  Their movements pushed the clock until it wobbled from back to front and then fell face-forward off the half wall.  With a deafening crash, the clock blocked the stairs to the attic. 

A man screamed in pain. “
Ya slomal nogu
,” he yelled in Russian.

Katherine knew enough of the language to know the top-heavy antique had broken the intruder’s leg.  Scout and Abra saved the day, or had they? 
Where’s his gun
? she wondered. 
Where’s the other guy?