“If all that was true, why was he murdered?”
Silence.
“Exactly! That’s why I’m interested.”
At ten o’clock, Kevin McBride, my partner in Walt Williams Investigations was sitting in my office.
“So what’s up?” he asked. “Do we have a new case?”
“Not officially,” I replied. “Ever heard of D.B. Cooper?”
“Who hasn’t? He’s the guy who bailed out of a jet with a bag full of money. The last I heard, neither he nor the money was ever found.”
“Maybe it has now.”
That got his interest.
“Maggie got a new listing. The owner was Byron Forsythe, a self-proclaimed fortune hunter. He was found shot to death just after returning from his most recent quest. Guess what he was looking for.”
“D.B. Cooper’s money?”
“Exactly! Unfortunately, the cops don’t have a thing. There was no treasure in the house, and nothing to suggest there ever was. They found no fingerprints or other forensic evidence. Forsythe was shot with a .22, but the slugs weren’t in the system. According to Ox, the case is a dead end unless something new turns up.”
“Just because they didn’t find any evidence of the money, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there,” Kevin replied. “Whoever iced the guy most likely took the loot or anything that might lead to where it was hidden. Did the cops find a computer, IPad, or anything like that at the scene?”
“Nothing. Nada. The guy was a recluse and there was nothing in the house worth stealing unless it was Cooper’s money. That’s the only possible motive for murder that I can see.”
“So, are you suggesting we take a look at this ourselves?”
“Are you interested?”
“Hell yes I’m interested.”
At that moment, Clarence strolled into the room.
“Whoa! I didn’t know you had a cat. When did you get him?”
“Technically, I don’t have a cat. This is Clarence. He belonged to Byron Forsythe. We found him when Maggie listed the house. The nephew wanted to send him to the pound but Maggie wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Maggie.”
“He’s just here until we can find him a home.”
“I didn’t think you liked pets.”
“I don’t and for good reason. Clarence has been here two days and already he’s eaten my pizza and crapped on my shoe.”
Kevin chuckled. “Sounds like a match made in heaven.”
“Oh yes, I almost forgot,” I said, picking up the cat. “Feel here, behind his ears. There’s two lumps. I think they might be implants of some kind.”
Kevin massaged Clarence’s back. “I think you’re right. Since there’s two of them, one is probably a microchip that contains pertinent information about Clarence. The other might be a VHF transmitter like the ones wildlife management people implant to track animal migrations.”
“That’s what Maggie and I thought. Guess we’ll have to go to a vet to have them checked out.”
“Yes, you’ll need a vet to read the microchip,” Kevin said, “but I can help with the other if it’s really a VHF transmitter. I’ll just get out my rubber ducky.”
“Not a good idea,” I replied. “I know for a fact that Clarence hates water.”
He laughed. “Not that kind of rubber ducky. This is an electrically short monopole antenna. It consists of a springy wire in the shape of a narrow helix, sealed in a rubber or plastic jacket. It’s used in portable handheld radio equipment.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Remember, I lived in Phoenix for thirty years. Lots of Mexican families, and some of them had VHF devices implanted in their children in case they were kidnapped for ransom.”
“And you have one of those gizmos?”
“Does Raggedy Andy have cotton balls?”
I took that as a yes.
“Any ideas where to start with this Forsythe murder?” Kevin asked.
“Not really. I just got the murder book info from Ox last night. Then Clarence got into the pizza and everything went to hell in a handbasket.”
“I’d like to take a look at the murder scene,” Kevin said. “Then maybe we can canvass the neighborhood and see if the neighbors saw anything. I know the cops have probably already done that, but it never hurts to check. Then we can swing by my place and pick up my ducky.”
“Sounds good to me. Maggie has a lock box on the door. Let’s go.”
Jake Whitfield and Marcus Brody had been watching the brownstone six-plex on Armour all morning. They had seen a woman leave with a briefcase, followed by two men an hour later.
Jake looked at the scanner. “The cat’s still there. I say let’s give it a shot.”
“But how do you know which is the right apartment?” Marcus asked.
“If I’m reading this thing right, it’s the third floor. We’ll go up and knock. If someone comes to the door, we’ll ask for Dick Browning. He won’t be there, of course. We’ll apologize and leave. If no one answers, I’ll pick the lock, we’ll grab the cat and be on our way.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Reaching the third floor, they knocked, listening for movement inside. Hearing none, Jake produced his picks, and a minute later, they were inside.
They spotted Clarence curled up on the sofa.
“There he is,” Jake hissed. “Grab him.”
“Me grab him? Why don’t you grab him?”
“Because I’m driving and you’ll have to hang on to him until we can get him to the vet.”
“Well, okay.”
Clarence, seeing the two men who had murdered his previous owner, leaped to the floor, arched his back and hissed.
Marcus reached down to pick him up, but Clarence spat and ran into the kitchen.
Marcus followed and cornered the frightened cat. He made a grab and Clarence lunged, sinking his teeth into Marcus’ finger and his claws into the back of his hand.
“OWWWW! Son-of-a-bitch!” Marcus wailed, shaking his bleeding hand. “The little bastard bit me!”
“Come on, Marcus!” Jake prodded. “Grow a pair! It’s a cat for chrissakes!”
Marcus grabbed a tea towel and threw it over Clarence who was prepared to strike again.
“Got ‘em! Let’s get out of here!” he said, holding the squirming cat at arm’s length.
They made it back to the car without further incident.
“Hang onto him until we get to Dr. Greely’s clinic,” Jake said, climbing into the driver’s seat.
“Easy for you to say,” Marcus replied, trying to corral the squirming cat.
Clarence broke free and jumped into the back seat.
“Damn!” Marcus bellowed. “He got away.”
“Let him be,” Jake replied. “He can’t go anywhere. Maybe he’ll calm down by the time we get to the vet.”
Jake pulled into traffic with Clarence on his hind legs in the back looking out the window.
Jake and Marcus were so busy, they failed to notice a black van that pulled in behind them. Unknowingly, they had picked up a tail.
By the time they reached the animal hospital, Clarence had indeed become more docile and even allowed Marcus to pick him up.
“That’s better,” he said. “We’ll get that chip in your neck read then turn you loose. Pretty soon you’ll be free as a bird.”
Inside the clinic, Jake approached the receptionist. “I’m Jake Whitfield. I called Dr. Greely. He’s expecting me.”
“It will be just a few minutes,” she replied. “He’s expressing some impacted anal glands right now. Please take a seat.”
“Hope he washes his hands,” Jake muttered, walking away.
Marcus was holding Clarence and everything was fine until a woman entered with a mean-tempered dog. The mutt took one look at Clarence and broke away from his owner. The spat that ensued disrupted the entire clinic.
Marcus dropped the snarling, hissing cat and the two animals faced of
f.
At that moment, another customer entered the clinic. Clarence saw his chance and bolted for the door.
“Quick!” Jake shouted, “Grab him!”
But it was too late. By the time Marcus got to the door, Clarence was a half block down the street.
He ducked into an alley and hid behind a dumpster while Jake and Marcus ran by.
When he was sure they were gone, he ventured out of the alley.
It had been years since he had been on the street alone. He was a housecat, after all. Nevertheless, he was determined to get home. He had watched landmarks along the route to the clinic and knew the way back.
Unfortunately, his journey was fraught with peril.
There were dogs running loose on every block. Most just barked and went on their way. Others were more aggressive.
He had expected such behavior from dogs, but hadn’t anticipated being attacked by his own kind. It seemed every cat he encountered had to test the newcomer.
Fortunately, he was able to hold his own.
When not dodging cats and dogs, he was dodging cars. It didn’t take long for him to realize the huge tires could turn him into a kitty pancake.
Still, he pressed on with one goal in mind --- to return safely to his new home.
Kevin and I pulled up in front of my apartment building just as Maggie was arriving.
Together, we trudged up the stairs to our third floor apartment.
“What have you boys been up to?” she asked.
“We went by your new listing on Brookside,” I replied. “Kevin wanted to take a look at the crime scene. Looks real nice. You’d never know there had been a murder. Your girls did a good job.”
“Then we swung by my place and picked up this little baby,” Kevin said, holding up his rubber ducky.
“What in world is that?” Maggie asked.
“It’s a VHF receiver,” he replied. “We’re going to use it to see if one of the chips in your cat is a VHF transmitter.”
We stepped into the apartment expecting Clarence to greet us, but there was no welcoming committee.
“Wonder where he is,” Maggie said, peering around the room.
“Maybe he’s in his litter box,” I offered. “I did clean it out this morning.”
I checked, but no cat.
Maggie had been searching the other rooms without success and was getting worried. “Was Clarence here when you left?”
“Absolutely!” I replied.
Kevin nodded his head in agreement.
“Well, he’s not here now. You two check all the windows. I’ll check the back door.”
A few minutes later were back by the front door.
“Everything’s secure as far as I can see,” I said.
Maggie stepped into the hall and called. “Claaaaarence! Here kitty, kitty.”
Clarence didn’t come, but her call summoned Dad and Bernice.
“What’s all the commotion?” Dad asked.
“Clarence is missing,” I replied. “He was here when we left, but now he’s gone. Have the two of you seen him or anyone for that matter?”
“Uhhhh, actually, we’ve been --- uhhhh --- occupied,” he replied, winking at Bernice.
She grinned and punched him in the arm.
“How long has he been gone?” Dad asked.
“Couldn’t be too long,” I replied. “He was here when we left and we’ve only been gone a couple of hours.”
“Only one thing to do,” Dad declared. “We need to form a pussy posse! Let’s spread out. He has to be around somewhere.”
Dad got Jerry and the Professor from the first floor apartments and I got Willie from his basement studio, and we scoured the building and grounds for almost an hour, but to no avail.
Finally, we gathered on the front stoop.
I could see Maggie was about to break into tears, when Bernice spoke up. “Isn’t that your cat coming down the street?”
We looked where she was pointing, and sure enough, it was Clarence.
As soon as he saw us, he broke into a trot and headed straight for Maggie. She scooped him up in her arms and hugged the little fur ball who began purring and licking her cheek.
Though not injured, Clarence looked as if he’d had a very trying day. His coat was matted and dirty. If I hadn’t previously learned my lesson, I most likely would have tried to bathe him. Fortunately for both of us, I now know better.
“You poor thing,” Maggie murmured. “Where in the world have you been?”
“And more important,” I added, “How did you get out?”
He looked like he wanted to answer, but of course, he couldn’t.
Maggie carried him upstairs. He hopped from her arms, headed for the kitchen and lapped water from his bowl.
Then he proceeded to clean himself like Maggie said he would.
When he headed to his litter box, we decided to give him some privacy.
The next time we saw him, he was fast asleep. This was definitely one pooped pussycat!
CHAPTER 6
Before Kevin left, he fired up his rubber ducky, and sure enough, one of the implants was a VHF transmitter.
“Real strong signal,” he had said. “Couldn’t have been in there very long.”
Our next step was to take Clarence to a vet to get a reading on the microchip, but we decided to wait until the next day to give the poor cat a chance to recover from his misadventures.
Our visit to the crime scene and canvas of the neighborhood gave us no clues as to why Byron Forsythe had been murdered other than the possibility that he had indeed discovered D.B. Cooper’s missing money. Still, there was nothing to suggest that he had actually found anything at all.
Like the cops, we were at a dead end.
Late that night, Jake and Marcus were parked on the street across from the brownstone apartment building.
“Yep, he’s there, all right,” Jake said, studying the VHF receiver. “Somehow the furry little bastard found his way back.”
“Well, that’s good for us,” Marcus replied. “At least we know where he is. If he’d been flattened by a car or drug off by some animal, we’d be out of luck. We gonna try again tomorrow?”
“Yes, we’ll be here first thing to watch the building. As soon as the coast is clear, we’ll nab him again. This time he won’t be getting away.”
I had just showered, shaved, and was dressing when Maggie popped into the bedroom.
“Before you and Kevin take Clarence to the vet, could you run by the grocers? I have a list. Be sure to get another bag of Friskies. We’re almost out. I’d go, but my buyers want to take a second look at a house before they make an offer.”
“Sure, we’re in no hurry. I’ve got all day.”
“Great! I’ve put the cat carrier by Clarence’s food and water bowls. He’ll be a lot easier for you to manage in the carrier.”
Maggie left, and I was just heading out with the grocery list when I met Dad and Bernice.
“You’re up bright and early.”
“Yeah,” Dad replied, “we got a hankering for one of those fancy coffee drinks, so we’re gonna walk up to Starbucks and treat ourselves to one of those caramel Frappuccino’s.”
As I drove away, I watched the two ninety-year-olds strolling happily, hand-in-hand.
Jake and Marcus had been watching the apartment since daybreak.
The woman was the first to leave, then twenty minutes later, the man and the old couple came out together. The man drove off and the old couple headed up the street on foot.
“Let’s give it a few more minutes,” Jake said, looking at the VHF receiver. “The cat’s there and he’s not going anyplace.”
“I just hope I don’t get bit again,” Marcus grumbled. “Hurts like hell.”
“Not to worry,” Jake said, producing a bottle and a rag from the back seat. “If he gets feisty, this stuff will calm him down.”
“What is it?”
“Chloroform. One whiff of this and he’ll be out l
ike a light.”
“I like it! Can we go now?”
“Yeah, looks like the coast is clear.”
Like the day before, they climbed the stairs, knocked, and hearing nothing, Jake picked the lock.
They stepped into the room, and again, Clarence was curled up on the couch.
Clarence recognized his abductors, hissed, and scampered off the couch.
“Damn!” Marcus muttered. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“Here, take this,” Jake said, handing Marcus the chloroform soaked rag. “I’ll try to head him in your direction.”
For the next ten minutes, Clarence zig-zagged around the apartment, trying to avoid being cornered. He finally took refuge under the couch.
“What now?” Marcus wailed. “I’m not sticking my hand under there. It’ll come back a bloody stump!”
“Now we use the chloroform. Just stuff the rag under the couch. In that confined space, it’ll do the trick.”
Marcus did as he was told, and a few minutes later, Clarence was out cold.
“Told you!” Jake said, grinning. “Go into the kitchen. I saw a carrier by the cat’s food bowl. We’ll put him in there and he won’t be a problem when he wakes up.”
With Clarence in the carrier, they headed back to their car. They had just reached the curb when they heard a voice.
“Hey you! Stop right where you are! What are you doing with Walt’s cat?”
It was the old man and his girlfriend.
“Back off, Grandpa,” Jake growled. “This ain’t none of your business.”
“The heck it isn’t!” the old man replied, advancing rapidly. “Give me that cat!”
Jake pulled his gun. “I said back off, unless you want to get shot over a stupid cat.”
[Lady Justice 26] - Lady Justice and the Cat Page 4
