by Patricia Fry
“How could you see that the dog had a scrape from that distance?” she asked.
“Um…well, after you two went inside the apartment, I walked over to look at the dog. I’m the one who told Mrs. Baker about it.”
“He’s right,” Dana said. “He came to our door.”
I walked to where Sonny said Benji had been hit and looked around. I then went to where Sonny and Dana said the dog was found. “And you say Rags was out here?” I asked.
Dana nodded.
“What’s Rags?” Sonny said.
“My cat,” I explained.
The kid scrunched up his face and insisted, “I didn’t see no cat.”
Dana explained, “When I came out, Rags was sitting next to Benji looking down at him. He seemed to be concerned.” She chuckled and added, “As concerned as a cat can look. I felt sorry for him. How is he this morning?”
I thought about it and said, “Seems fine, I guess.” Then something occurred to me. I excused myself and went back to my apartment. I put Rags’s harness on him and led him out to the parking area where the others were still standing. “He was watching us through the window,” I explained. “Looked like he wanted to come out here.”
When we reached the area where Dana and Sonny said Benji had been lying, Rags went directly to that spot and sniffed around. He then sniffed the air, lowered his head, and began to emit a low growl. Before I could react, Rags walked toward Sonny. He pinned his ears back against his head and lashed out at the young man with one paw.
“What’s wrong with that cat?” Sonny insisted, taking a few steps back. “Is he rabid?”
Puzzled, I shook my head. Then, going out on a limb, I said, “I think he’s trying to tell us something.”
“What?” Sonny asked, backing away from Rags.
I looked the kid squarely in the eyes. “I think he’s trying to tell us what really happened to poor little Benji last night. Mrs. Baker said Rags was out here and he must have seen what happened. Benji is his friend. And I can tell you that this cat holds a grudge. You don’t mess with his friends.”
When I noticed Rags pulling as if he wanted to approach Sonny, I loosened my hold on the leash a little. At the same time, Sonny backpedalled; he evidently didn’t want any part of Rags’s fury. Rags continued to move slowly toward Sonny until the young man had his back against the wall around the Bakers’ yard. I could tell that Sonny was nervous, so I decided to play a little game of my own.
I said, “I believe that Rags saw what happened last night with Benji, and I think he wants revenge for his little doggie friend.”
Sonny appeared to become more and more frightened. I guess he couldn’t take it, and he suddenly shouted, “Okay, I made it up! Get that cat away from me! I’ll tell you what happened.”
I picked up Rags and glanced around at the others, who were now quite interested in hearing what Sonny would say. Dana gave the boy a piercing stare. His mother looked like she might faint. Brianna seemed rather amused by the turn of events.
“Okay, what really happened?” I asked, holding Rags in my arms.
“Well, I rode my motorbike to the store to get cigarettes and when I came back, that stupid little dog was out again and he ran in front of me. I couldn’t avoid him. I didn’t mean to hit him. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
I asked him, “So why did you lie?”
“I couldn’t afford another black mark against me—you know, riding without a helmet across the lawn, no reflector lights at night…stupid things like that.” He looked down and spoke more softly.
I prompted him. “We can’t hear you.”
He shot daggers at me with his eyes, glanced at the others, and continued, “I saw Ms. Jordan drive in about that time, and I decided to put the blame on her. Everyone likes her. She wouldn’t be in as much trouble for this as I would.”
His mother let out a deep sigh. She grabbed her son’s arm and yanked him toward their apartment. “And you thought that lying and accusing an innocent person would be the better choice?” She faced me and said, “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. Nothing like this will ever happen again.”
“That’s right,” Sonny said. “I learned my lesson.”
“No, I don’t think you have,” Mrs. Pilcher spat. “You’re going to live with your father. He’s been wanting to put you to work on the family dairy farm, and I knew you would hate that. But I think that’s just the thing you need, Sonny. Let’s go pack your bag.”
“What a cat,” Dana said. “He’s amazing. I could sure use him at my house.”
Brianna looked confused. “Huh? What for?”
“Well, a mother can often tell when her kids are lying to her, but not always. It appears that your cat could keep them in line.”
I’m happy to report that Benji survived the ordeal and resumed his friendship with Rags. Dana, her charming children, and I often took Benji and Rags on walks together. They particularly enjoyed visiting the dog park, although they stayed outside the fenced area, away from the dogs that were off leash. I swear both of those little dickens seemed to enjoy the reaction they got from curious dogs who had evidently never seen a pair of unlikely friends such as these two.
Benji wasn’t Rags’s last dog friend. In fact, Rags has had quite an array of animal friends over the years. He once adopted a turtle. But that’s a story for another chapter. Here, I’m talking about Rags’s experiences as an eyewitness.
****
Rags helped the local sheriff’s department with another murder case a few years after the one that took place in my home during the fundraiser. By then, Rags had made a lot of friends in our new town of residence—my home town—Hammond, in Northern California. He had dog friends, a horse friend, and several cat friends. This night he was having a sleepover with his cat pal Dolly, a tabby belonging to our friend Colbi.
Colbi had moved into her family home to take care of her ailing father, who by then had passed away. She was also dating Damon, Iris’s son. The week prior, Damon’s estranged father had come to town and was trying to extort money from him and from Iris. Eugene Jackson was an evil man bent on causing a lot of heartache and fear for Iris and Damon. When he ended up dead on Colbi’s property, Damon was among the suspects. So it was even more important that the identity of the actual killer be revealed.
Detective Craig was hitting nothing but dead ends with the case. When he learned that Rags was at Colbi’s house the night the body was left on her property, presumably to frame Damon, Craig decided to interrogate the cat. It occurred to the detective that perhaps Rags and Dolly had seen something that night, and he devised a rather elaborate plan to find out if one or both of the cats could or would paw the killer.
Sure enough, they did. Both Dolly and Rags reacted negatively—you know, sort of recoiled in fear—when they were approached by one of the women in a casual lineup the detective had devised at the sheriff’s office. Later Rags inadvertently pointed out a man who Craig had suspected of also being involved.
I remember the night of the murder well. The cats actually woke Colbi with their frantic activity and vocalizing. She knew something was wrong and she was so frightened that she called me, of all people. I don’t know where I got the courage, but I went over to comfort her. When we saw that the cats were still a little agitated about something outside the dining room window, the two of us went out and darned if we didn’t find the body in her yard.
In that case, we weren’t sure the cats would remember and be able to identify someone they’d seen only through a window in the darkness. But Detective Craig eventually asked the right questions. “Was the window open or closed?” He quizzed me about a cat’s sensitivity to scents. Colbi remembered closing the window, but only after she’d found the cats upset and agitated that night. So it was possible that they had not only seen the killer or killers, but they may have caught a whiff of their scent. The fact that both cats pointed a paw at the same person in a similar fashion seemed to confirm this. Fortunately, afte
r being pushed into a corner by the furry witnesses, the suspects took it from there to incriminate each other and themselves.
Rags’s memory and his craving for adventure may be surpassed only by his uncanny knack for finding things—often, the right thing at the right time.
Chapter 7 – The Crime-Fighting Cat
Rags has discovered numerous items that ended up being clues to a mystery or evidence in a crime, and he has also found dead bodies. Is it his intuition or his curiosity that leads him to the macabre? After living with him for several years, I still haven’t figured it out. Here’s one story:
I once volunteered Rags to be a therapy cat for a children’s reading project. I wasn’t sure he’d be the best subject for this sort of program because he’s pretty active, but he’ll laze around once in a while. He is part ragdoll, after all—a cat breed that’s typically quiet, docile, and even described as placid and tranquil. The true ragdoll is easygoing, rather limp when picked up, and loves to snuggle. Rags does like lap time and petting, but, rather than curling up or cuddling when he’s relaxed, Rags tends to sprawl. Ultimately, we discovered that he will sit still and listen to a child read—for a few minutes, anyway, when there’s nothing more interesting going on around him.
The reading program took place on an enclosed outdoor patio at a library. It was obvious that the library building had been remodeled a time or two over the years and that whoever did the work left some oddities. The strangest thing was a set of stairs leading nowhere. Where there once must have been a door, there was now a wall. Rags was intrigued by this for some reason. During the reading sessions we often found him in the little alcove at the bottom of the stairs, just hanging out. This probably had nothing to do with the structural peculiarities; cats like cubbyholes, tents, niches, and other intriguing hiding places. They aren’t above diving into an empty box or climbing under the bed covers. So it didn’t seem unusual that Rags would try to make the alcove his private space. Cute!
The alcove captivated Michael too, but for different reasons. His hobby is carpentry. I sometimes refer to him as a weekend renovation warrior. When Michael learned that the librarian wanted to take down the wall at the bottom of the stairs to increase their space, he volunteered to help with the project. What they found was a long-abandoned room which the librarian was eager to put to use and Rags was eager to explore.
After snooping for a while, the cat focused on an old freezer which, miraculously, was still plugged in and running. Yup, inside was a body, and this gruesome discovery opened up one of the most tangled webs of crime and drama ever to visit our typically quiet town. It even spilled over into our home, where Rags found the clue that clinched the killer’s fate. Oh yes, that was one convoluted case that revealed some unexpected secrets that touched many lives.
A couple of years later when Iris took on the job of turning an old home into an elegant bed-and-breakfast inn, Rags was called in to ferret out a bunch of feral cats who were living in the walls. Decades earlier, someone had actually built tunnels and stairways in the walls for the outside cats so they could come inside without the other people in the household knowing it. Iris didn’t want to leave any cats behind during the remodel, so Rags volunteered to help lure them out. Well, I volunteered Rags, but he didn’t object.
In the middle of this project, Rags stumbled upon a skeleton inside the walls of the structure. Of course, this led to a detailed investigation involving many twists and turns before the mystery of who-done-it was finally solved.
Ironically, once the inn was open, Iris brought in a whole new batch of cats. She decided to offer an unusual amenity—cuddle cats for those who wanted to entertain a cat in their room. And Rags was on hand to help select just the right cats for the job.
****
Because Rags travels well and just for fun, Colbi and I decided one year to take our cats with us on a weekend girls’ trip to the mountains to celebrate Iris’s birthday. My aunt accompanied us, but she didn’t bring any of her cats. In fact, she questioned my sanity when I announced that Rags would be joining us.
That weekend Rags and Dolly had their first boat ride, both of them taking it in their stride. And, true to his nature, Rags managed to find a body floating in the small lake one fright-filled night.
The cabin where we stayed belongs to Detective Craig. It has been in his family for years and he goes up there to stay when he wants to get away and relax. That’s what we four women planned to do—relax and enjoy the beautiful scenery together. Rags and Dolly, however, had other ideas. Between the two of them, they managed to expose some of the Sledge family secrets—things that even Craig didn’t know about, and things that seemed to still be lurking around the area, and maybe even living in the cabin.
After reading the eerie entries in Craig’s mother’s journal, which the cats had brought to our attention, we began to take the strange sightings and sounds we were experiencing in that cabin quite seriously. One night we became so terrified that we gathered up the cats and took a small boat to the other side of the lake, where we thought we could call for help. It was on that late-night trip across the lake that Rags leaped out of the boat onto what turned out to be a dead body and he floated around on the corpse until we could lure him back aboard.
This shocking discovery, along with some of the passages in the journal, sparked a huge investigation into some strange things that were happening in the small mountain community, and led to a grisly discovery that had been hidden underwater for decades.
Oh, how we wanted to disbelieve the meaning of the things the cats were uncovering. None of us was ready to face what appeared to be a gruesome reality. It occurs to me that Rags pretty much stepped up his game that weekend by being extremely inquisitive and persistent and by involving Dolly. It’s as if Rags has a job to do in this installment of his nine lives and he’s going to do it to the best of his ability despite his limitations as a cat.
I had to scoff at that last statement. When I consider all that Rags has done to help in sticky situations over the years, I wonder if it’s perhaps we humans who have the limitations. The communication gap can certainly cause misunderstandings, which means Rags has to work even harder sometimes to get his message or his point across to someone of the human persuasion.
****
Not too long after Michael and I were married and we had bought the old farmhouse from Auntie, strange things began showing up inside. Among them were personal letters and an exquisitely tatted hanky, all belonging to some unknown person. This certainly had us puzzled, because we were not letting Rags out alone at that time. We figured the house was large enough that Rags could get the exercise he needed and his curiosity satisfied without having access to the out-of-doors. I still took him out on his leash, and sometimes off leash, when I could watch him closely. He’d calmed down some by then, maybe because he was older—more mature—or because he had more space to roam inside and out. Plus, he had the stairs, which he used regularly. Yes, he was getting plenty of physical exercise. Maybe lacking, at that time for Rags, was adequate mental stimulation.
One of the reasons I didn’t let him out on his own was because of predators. We lived in the country, where coyotes, birds of prey, and other wild animals roamed, and we didn’t feel this was a safe place for a cat to run free.
However—and there always seems to be a however with Rags—unbeknownst to us, for maybe a couple of months or more he had been helping himself to the great outdoors. I don’t know if he was methodical in his quest for freedom—if he consciously hid his escapes from us—or if we just weren’t paying close enough attention. But it was during this time that those strange things began showing up in the house. Naturally, I thought he was finding them hidden inside somewhere. Maybe he’d taken them from a visitor’s purse or jacket pocket.
But, no. When a homeless woman was found dead on our property, the random things we’d found helped to identify her. But how had they gotten into our house? Had the woman broken in? If so, why had
she left things rather than take things? It was certainly a puzzle—a sticky mystery.
At the same time, my friend, Colbi was staying at our house recuperating from smoke inhalation. She’d been held captive by a criminal cat hoarder for several days in a cold, dank basement and then left to die in a fire. We didn’t think it was wise for her to go back to her home until her captors were caught. During that time, Michael and I had plans to take a little weekend trip, so Damon stayed with Colbi at our home. One morning, they found something in Colbi’s bedroom that indicated someone had come into the house. Whoever it was had left copies of one of Colbi’s newspaper columns, which included her photograph, covered in red ink, made to look like blood. These pages were spread all over the front yard. But most frightening was the one Colbi and Damon found in the guest bedroom, where she was staying. Craig Sledge promptly put a deputy on duty at our home to guard Colbi. But that didn’t stop the occasional appearance of strange items in the house. We were at a loss to know what was going on.
It wasn’t until Rags walked into the living room soaking wet one evening that we knew he had found yet another way to escape. It was raining that night, and after exhausting any other possibilities as to why he was wet—water was running someplace in the house and he decided to play in it, for example—we realized that he was indeed running away again. While we were annoyed with Rags, we were awfully glad to know that a stranger hadn’t found a way into our home. Certainly, Rags isn’t the one who scattered copies of the newspaper column all over the yard, but he must have brought one in, along with the hanky and the personal letters.
That time, it took us a good while to discover his latest escape route. But he finally inadvertently showed it to us and we were able to secure it.
Unfortunately, this did not keep Rags out of trouble; an occasional guest would let him out or he would dart away when we took him someplace. Oh no, Rags can’t be completely contained, which is why he’s such an interesting fellow.
