The Cats that Stole a Million (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 7) (8 page)

“Ma’am,” Stevie said, brushing the snow off his knit hat.  “Is Jake around?  I’d like to have a word with the two of you.”

“Please, come in.  How are you?  How’s your hand?”  Last September, Stevie, trying to save her life and Scout’s, took a bullet in the palm of his left hand; another bullet hit his right shoulder.

“Hand is good.  How have you been, good lookin’?”

Katherine stepped back a few feet for a better comfort zone.  Stevie’s compliments always made her uncomfortable.  “Jake’s in Chicago.”

Stevie caught Katherine’s eyes.  “Not proper for me to come inside, when the mister ain’t home.  What would those liars down at the diner make of it?”  Stevie turned and started to open the door.

“Stevie, I’m not alone.  An old friend is here.  Would you like to come in for a minute?  I have a warm fire blazing in the parlor.”

“And where’s that?  You gotta remember, I ain’t never been inside your house before.”

“‘
Haven’t
been,’ Stevie,” Katherine corrected.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m making it my New Year’s resolution to help you improve your grammar, one word at a time.”

Stevie smiled.  “Haven’t,” he said, winking.

“I can hang up your jacket.”

“No need.”  Stevie took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the Eastlake chair by the boot mat.  Underneath,he wore a short-sleeved blac
k
T-shirt.  He stomped his boots on the rug, but didn’t offer to remove them. 

“This way,” Katherine directed.

Madison had taken her seat, and eyed the newcomer with sultry eyes.  She did a quick up-and-down sweep of Stevie, and said, “Katz, who’s this blond, handsome specimen of a man?”

Stevie gave her a cold, hard look.

“This is my friend, Stevie Sanders.  Stevie saved my life a few months back.”

“I can’t think of anyone else who I’d much rather save mine,” she said, then added to Stevie, “Excuse me for saying, but have you ever thought about modeling?  I have connections in Manhattan.”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Stevie, this is Madison,” Katherine finally introduced.  “She’s a model in New York City.”

Madison continued her appraisal of Stevie.  “You’ve got the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Stevie answered evasively, “Ma’am, there’s somethin’ you need to know about me.  I like my cars fast, and my women not to go over the speed limit.”

Madison threw her head back and laughed.  “Hee hee!  I love a man with a sense of humor.”

Annoyed, Stevie said to Katherine, “Is there someplace where I can talk to you — alone?”

“Sure,” Katherine said, “Follow me to the living room.  I’ll be back in a minute, Madison.”

“Okay, Dummy.”

Katherine frowned.  She slid open the pocket door.  “Stevie, you can sit anywhere.”

“I’m okay.  I’ve been ridin’ in the truck for hours.  It’ll do me good to stand.” Observing the chocolates on the floor, Stevie kidded, “Have a fight with your valentine?”

Katherine rolled her eyes.  “No, but my cat did.”

Madison called after them, “Don’t leave on my account.  Oh, I love the tattoos on your arms.  Before you leave, I’d like to see them close-up.”

Katherine said under her breath, “What
is
wrong with her?”  No sooner had she said that when someone barged through the front door without knocking or ringing the doorbell.  A man’s voice began shouting at Madison, who was now standing in the atrium, hanging up her fur coat. 

Stevie raised his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture.  He shook his head, then walked over to Katherine.  He gently took her by the arm.  He pushed her back into the far living room corner, as if to shield her from the two people on the other side of the door.

Madison barked, “I told you to wait in the car.  I was just about to ask her, when you rush in here like a bull in a china shop.”

The man said firmly.  “We can’t stay here tonight.  We need to go.  Now!  I think they’ve found us.”

“No way.  How?”

“How?” he asked in amazement.  “What’s-a-matta-with-you?  You told me you freakin’ bought our airline tickets with your boss’s credit card; you made the reservations from your company’s email.  What idiot does that from where they work?  Why didn’t you just print them a freakin’ itinerary?”

“Whatever,” she dismissed.  “You’re overreacting.  Our flight was rerouted, and we drove here.  How would they
know
about this place?”

“No time for your bullcrap.”

“Fine, I’ll get my purse.”  She stomped into the parlor, and panicked.  “Oh, no!  No!  No! Where’s my purse?”

“Calm down.  Where’d you put it?”

“Right by my chair,” she pointed.

“Well, it’s not there now.  Did it sprout legs and walk somewhere?” he asked, looking around. “There it is, by that ugly coat rack.”

Madison rushed over, stooped down, and picked up her tote bag.  A startled Siamese flew out from behind the Eastlake hall tree and ran full-speed up the stairs.  “That damn mangy cat must have dragged it over here.”

“Hurry up!” he demanded.

“Give me time to put on my coat,” she said, pulling her coat off the hall tree’s hook. “I’ve got to tell Katz I’m leaving.”

“There isn’t time. I’ll meet you at the car.”  The man left, impatiently slamming the door behind him.

Katherine tried to walk past Stevie, but he held her fast.  “Stevie, let go of me.  I want to get Madison out of my house.”

The front door slammed again.

Stevie released his grip. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

Katherine ran to the sidelight and gently lifted a corner of the lace curtain.  A four-door black sedan, with the passenger side window down, pulled up to the sidewalk. Inside the vehicle, a man began firing an automatic pistol; it riddled the rental car with a barrage of bullets.  When the shooter saw the man running down the sidewalk, he shot him several times.

Madison hid behind one of the porch wicker chairs, and didn’t move until the vehicle sped off. The wounded man staggered and collapsed by the car, in the drainage ditch at the edge of the street. 

Katherine tried to open the door, but Stevie stopped her.  “They ain’t done yet.  Call 911.” 

Madison hurtled off the porch, slid on a patch of ice, righted herself, and skidded past the motionless man.  She didn’t stop to check on him, to see if he were dead or alive.  Instead, she headed for the driver’s side of the Dodge Ram truck.

“Stevie, she’s trying to get into your truck,” Katherine said in a frightened voice.

“No, freakin’ way.  My daughter’s in there.”

Chapter Ten

Jake retrieved his Jeep Wrangler from a Chicago underground parking garage and drove to the entrance of a four star hotel.  His friend from the university, Professor Wayne Watson, paced out front, rubbing his hands together in both anxiety, and an effort to keep warm. 

Several years earlier, Wayne used his metal detector to find a stash of gold coins worth millions, buried near the grave of Amanda Colfax — daughter of Katherine’s great-uncle William.  Wayne was tall and a dead ringer for Buddy Holly, complete with thick, black-framed glasses.  The only difference was the glasses were broken in the middle, and Wayne, being a frugal soul, had taped them with electrical tape.

Jake stopped and put the Jeep in neutral. 

Wayne climbed in, clutching his laptop, which he placed on the floorboard. 

“Where’s your luggage?” Jake asked.

“I left it with Charlie.”  Charlie was another professor from the university attending the same conference.

“Okay, let’s go.  I’ve gotta warn ya, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.  The weather reports aren’t good.  We could get the storm of the century, but not to worry, my friend.  My ol’ Jeep and I have been there, done that,” Jake laughed unconvincingly. 

Wayne caught the apprehension in Jake’s voice.  “I’m
so
grateful you are taking me back early.  Leslie went into labor two hours ago, and I promised I’d be there for our first baby.”  Before Jake and Katherine got married, Wayne had married his girlfriend, Leslie.  Leslie was an administrative assistant for the university vice president and had been one of Katherine’s first students in her computer training course.

Jake eased out of the hotel’s circular drive onto an empty side street.  He glanced around and observed, “Hardly any cars on the road.  It looks like we’ve got the highway to ourselves.”

“Yeah, fewer cars to slide into us and force us off the road.”

“Streets aren’t bad. The city has been keeping them clear.  I’m just worried about US 41.”

“Driving here, well, actually riding here — Charlie drove his Land Cruiser — it looked like the state plows were keeping up with the snow.”

“Wait until we get around Kentland, then we’ll see how the plows are doing.”

“The land is flat as a pancake, and when the wind kicks up, those windmills will be a flyin’.”

Jake pulled onto Lake Shore Drive. “Wayne, can you do me a favor?  Can you text Katz and let her know we’re on our way?”

“Sure,” Wayne said, retrieving his cell phone from his second shirt pocket.  The other one held his assortment of pens and a Hewlett Packard calculator, which he never left home without.  “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell her that we left the hotel, that we’re coming home, and that I should be in Erie by — ”

“Let’s factor in your taking me to the hospital.  That adds another two hours round trip.”

“So, tell her I’ll be home around ten.”

“Excuse me for asking, but what happened to your cell phone?”

Jake belted out a loud laugh.  “One of our cats decided to play hockey with it.  Since I’ve been in Chicago, I’ve been talking to Katz on the landline in my hotel room.”

“Hockey?  That’s a first.”

“Probably Abra.  The first time I saw her was at a magician’s show, here in Chicago.  She fetched a cell phone from someone in the audience.  It was a funny ab lib, but the magician didn’t think so.  That’s how Katz and I ended up with her.”

“I’m glad you did.  You two are the best fur parents around,” Wayne laughed.  “That what’s Leslie calls you — fur parents.”

Jake chuckled, then became serious.  “Last time I called Katz was last night around six.  She said she was sitting by the fire with the cats.  She said it was so peaceful watching the snow fall.”

“I can imagine a Norman Rockwell scene. Are you glad you’re back in the pink house?”

“Yes, I’ve got plans for a new office in the attic.  It’s so cold in the house though.  I’ve got to consult with an HVAC expert to see if we can improve the heat.  Katz is always complaining about being cold.”

Wayne sent the text.  A not delivered message popped up on the screen. “For real?  We’re in Chicago, for crying out loud.  There should be great reception here.”

“You sure you punched in the right number?”

“Yeah, I hit it from my contacts list.  Let me try again.”  Wayne resent the message. The message returned undelivered. “Sorry.”

“Oh, she’s asleep now anyway.  If I know Katz, she has her cell close by.  I don’t want to wake her.  I’ll just try and call her when we get closer to Erie.”

With three xylophone notes, the weather app on Wayne’s phone displayed a weather advisory message.  “Bad news, my friend.  We’re expected to get a foot of snow — maybe more.”

“Then forget US 41, and let’s take the interstate, instead.  Can you Google us a map on how to get there from here?”

“I’m working on it now.”

Chapter Eleven

Stevie stormed out the doorway of the pink mansion and yelled, “Git away from my truck.”

“Kiss off,” Madison said.  She dashed to her rented car, jumped in, fired up the engine, and stepped on the accelerator.  The car peeled out, doing a donut skid in front of the mansion.  Madison moved the steering wheel like a professional driver, and took off toward US 41. 

“Oh, my god. What just happened here?” Katherine shouted after Stevie, terrified.  Her first instinct was to run upstairs to check on the cats.  They were surprisingly quiet.  She panicked.
What if a stray bullet hit one of them, sitting in the window?

Katherine’s mind shifted into auto pilot.  She had to check the injured man to see if she could help him.  She ran outside, slid on the bottom step, and nearly fell on top of him.  When she saw the gaping wound in the man’s forehead, she screamed. 

Stevie said in a strained voice, “Ma’am, he’s dead.  Go back in the house!”

In shock, Katherine ignored Stevie’s warning.  She frantically removed her cell from her jean’s pocket. She didn’t waste time calling 911; she called Chief London instead.  “We’ve had a drive-by shooting in front of my house. A man is dead — I don’t know who he is — he’s lying in my front drainage ditch.”

“Katz, find a safe place to hide and stay there until we get there,” the chief answered.

She turned to run back inside the house, but stopped to look up at the second story window at the room where the cats were.  Five very agitated felines sat on the windowsill staring at her; she could hear them wailing. 
Finally, they found their voice
, she thought. 
But where are Iris and Abby?  I’ve got to look for them.

Stevie tried to get into his truck but the door was locked.  “Salina, open the door.”  His voice had changed to alarm.

Hurriedly, he fished the truck keys out of his tattered jeans pocket and opened it.  “Salina, are you okay?” Stevie’s daughter was hunkered down on the floorboard.  He reached in and pulled her up.

“Daddy, my backpack.”

Still holding Salina against him with one arm, Stevie leaned in so she could pick up her backpack.  Salina clasped it against her. She became very upset and started crying. “Wolfy’s not moving.  I think they shot him.”

“It’s okay, baby cake,” Stevie tried to console. “We’ll check on ol’ Wolfy when we get inside.”

Katherine had returned to the house, and stood at the opened door.  Pointing at the living room, she said in a scared voice.  “Go in there and lay her down on the sofa.”

Stevie walked by.  “Lock the door.  Cut the lights.  Whoever did this is bound to come back.”

Katherine turned out the front porch light, then walked through the first floor, turning off more lights.  When she returned to the living room, Stevie had placed his daughter on the sofa.  Katherine switched on a small cloisonné lamp, then grabbed a fleece throw from the sofa’s back and covered her. 

“Wolfy’s dead,” Salina shrieked.  “They shot him. I know it, ‘cause I can’t feel him.  He’s not moving.”

Stevie opened the flap of the backpack.  The cat inside howled loudly, then hissed.  A long-haired, skinny gray cat with brilliant green eyes spilled out, looked about frantically, then darted behind the marble-top Rococo cabinet.

“Calm down, Salina.  Wolfy’s okay, but are you?  Did you get shot?”

“No, I ducked down when I saw them pull up.”

“Who was it?  Was it anyone you’ve seen before in town?”

“Yes!” she shrieked again, then cried even more hysterically. 

Stevie held her close and asked with growing concern.  “Did the driver see you?”

She nodded.  “I think so.”

“Tell me about the vehicle.  Was it a truck or car?”

“A car . . . a big shiny, black one.”

“Could you see who was in it?  Two people or one?”

“Two.  When you went into the house,” she sobbed.  “I got bored so I scooched over to your side of the truck and was looking out the side mirror.  That’s when I saw them.  They were coming up fast. I thought they were going to slide into the truck, so I ducked down and braced myself for the crash.  When I heard the gunshots, I got down on the floor, and stayed there until you came and got me.”

“Salina, did you recognize anyone in the vehicle?  Tell me.”

Salina sobbed more.  “I can’t tell you.  You’ll get mad.”

“I won’t get mad at anything you tell me.  You’re my baby girl.  Stop crying, and just tell me.  When the police get here, they’ll need to know.”

She mumbled a name.

“I didn’t hear that.  What did you say?”

“He looked like Grandad.”

In a split second, Stevie face changed from shock to anger.  He turned to Katherine and asked, “Can I leave Salina with you for a while?”

“Why?” Katherine asked with growing concern.  She didn’t like the expression on Stevie’s face.  He was angry.  Too angry.

“I need to take care of somethin’ right
now
.”

“Stevie, the police will be here any second. You’re a witness.”

“I didn’t see a damn thing.”

“Daddy, will you come back?” Salina asked warily.

Stevie leaned down and kissed Salina on the top of her head.  “Of course.  You’re my favorite gal.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.  Katz is a good friend of mine.  She’ll take good care of you.”

Stevie yanked his jacket off the Eastlake chair and stormed out of the house.  “Lock the door,” he yelled, without looking back.  He got in his truck, put it in gear, drove down the long driveway beside the mansion, then turned into the back alley. 

Salina sat up and cautiously looked at Katherine.  “Are you my Dad’s girlfriend?”

Katherine startled.  “Ah, no, I know your father because a few months ago he saved my cat and my life.”

“Yes, my mama told me about it. That’s when he got shot,” the girl said, then started to cry again. “My mama died.”

“I’m so sorry, Salina.”

Stevie’s daughter looked skeptical.  Katherine caught the emotion and changed the subject.  “Your cat is behind that cabinet over there.  Can you try and coax her out, so we can put her in a cat carrier?”

“Okay,” Salina said, more confident that she wouldn’t be harmed by this adult she’d never met before.  She’d learned at an early age to stay clear of grown-ups, especially those that came to her house, bringing her mother drugs.  “But, Ma’am, Wolfy is a boy.”

Katherine smiled.  “Okay, I’ll remember that.  Now, I have two cats I need to find.  I’m going upstairs for just a minute.  Can you stay here?”

“Yep.”

Katherine rushed out of the living room, closed the pocket door, and bounded into the parlor.  She was relieved to find Abby safe and sound on top of the window valance.  “Come down, Abigail,” she asked in a soft voice.

In one fluid swoop, Abby leaped to the fireplace mantel to the back of a chair, then sprang to Katherine.  “Chirp,” she cried.

Katherine picked her up, cradled the cat against her, and then hurried upstairs to the playroom.  Iris was collapsed against the door, with her tail brushed out three times its normal size.  “Yowl,” she cried, terrified.

“It’s okay, Miss Siam.”

As Katherine opened the door, Iris flew inside.  The other cats made a beeline for the door and struggled to get out, but Katherine put her foot up to stop them.  “Back!  Back!” she said.  She studied the windows and was relieved there were no bullet holes in them, then carefully placed Abby inside, closed the door, and locked it.  She dashed into her room and removed her Glock from the gun safe.  Not wearing her waistband holster, she tucked the gun in the back of her jeans.  Hurrying down the stairs, she moved to the atrium closet and pulled out a cat carrier.  Walking into the room, she was surprised to see Salina holding her cat and singing to him in a sweet voice. Katherine recognized the tune as an old folk song, “Cotton Eyed Joe,” but the teen sang it with different lyrics.

“I’m holdin’ a cat named Wolfy Joe.  He looks like a werewolf, don’t you know.”  Salina looked up and giggled.

For the first time, Katherine noticed how emaciated the cat was.  “Salina,” she began gently.  “Let’s put him in the carrier.  He might be happier there,” then, “Are you hungry?  Is Wolfy hungry?”

Salina nodded. “I’m hungry, but at my grandma’s, Wolfy has been living off of bologna.  Big Mama doesn’t like cats and didn’t have any cat food.”

“Change of plans, my dear.  Straight through that door, make a right.  You’ll end up in the kitchen.  Make yourself a sandwich.  The cat food is in a can in the cabinet next to the fridge.”

“Yes, Ma’am, but can I hold him and not put him in the cage?”

“Sure, but once you’re done in the kitchen come back here.  Wait here until I get done talking to the police.”

The teen moved to the kitchen, holding a very scared, skinny cat.

The sirens of the police and emergency vehicles echoed through the still night air and appeared louder because the falling snow muffled all other sounds.  “It’s about time,” Katherine said gratefully.

Leaving the living room, Katherine slid the pocket door closed.  She answered the front door to a very agitated chief. 

“What the hell? I leave your house for a couple of hours and all hell breaks loose.”

“I could say the same.  What took you so long?” Katherine said, exasperated. 

“For you, Ma’am, I’ll explain.”  The chief assumed an official Chief of Erie voice.  “We were ten miles out, north of here.  There was an abandoned vehicle peppered with bullets stuck in a snow drift.  It had rental car plates.”

Katherine brought her hand up to her mouth.  “Oh, no. Madison.”

“You know the driver?”

Katherine didn’t answer right away.  She looked past the chief at the EMT personnel tending the dead man. 

“Well?” the chief asked impatiently.  “Tell me fast.  Leave out the part about what you had for breakfast.”

“Drive-by shooting.  Black four-door sedan.  Maybe a Cadillac.  I couldn’t see the driver, but I caught a glimpse of the man in the passenger seat.  He wore a black sock hat, and had a close cropped beard.”

“What color was his beard?”

“Black, I believe.”

“Which one did the shooting?”

“The one in the passenger seat shot an automatic pistol.  After he began firing, I couldn’t see him because the gun’s burst was blinding. Everything happened so fast.  He shot the man who had just left my house.”

“Okay, stop there.”  The chief yelled at Officer Troy, who was standing next to the EMTs.  “Black four-door sedan, possibly a Cadillac.”

“Shouldn’t be hard to spot in this weather,” Officer Troy answered. 

“Notify the county and state boys.”

“Yes, Chief.”

A second Erie cruiser pulled in front and parked across the street. Two officers trudged over.

“Listen up, boys,” the chief said in a loud voice.  “This is a crime scene.  I want the area taped off.  Get Officer Mallory here to photograph the area.”

An officer in his twenties, who had recently graduated from the police academy, asked, “Chief, what about the snow?  It’s covering the crime scene.”

The chief glared at him.  “I know that, Officer Daniels.  I want you to canvas the area, talk to everyone on this block, and find out if anyone saw anything.”

“Yes, Sir,” Officer Daniels said, tramping in the direction of the yellow Foursquare.

“Not that house.  No one lives there.  I meant the house next to it, on the corner.  Start there.”

The officer nodded, and was clearly embarrassed by his fellow officers looking at him like he’d just said something stupid.

“Geez,” the chief said in a low voice. “Dang rookie.”  Turning back to Katherine, he said, irritably. “Go on.”

“A childhood friend showed up an hour ago.  Her name is Madison Orson.  She came inside, we talked for a bit, then Stevie Sanders showed up.”

“What did Stevie want?”

“To ask me something.”

“Ask you what?”

“I don’t know.  He didn’t want to ask me in front of Madison, so we went into the living room.  We were in there for a few seconds, when this man barged in.”

“The deceased guy?”

“I guess.  I didn’t see him.  We were behind the closed pocket door, but I heard him.  He was angry.  He began yelling at Madison and wanted to know if she’d asked me something.”

“Seems to be the M.O. with you.  What does everyone want to ask you?”

Katherine shrugged.  “I don’t have a clue.”

Officer Troy joined the chief on the porch.  “When the investigators are finished, the coroner wants the body taken to the hospital across the river.”

“Excellent plan.  Tell the coroner to call me when he gets there.  I’ll want to be in on this.”

Officer Troy nodded, and walked back to the EMTs. 

The chief noticed Katherine was standing in the doorway, shivering.  “Go inside.  We’ll talk in there.” 

Standing in the atrium, Katherine resumed.  “My friend drove a rental car from Indianapolis; a blue Toyota Corolla.”