Merriment, Mayhem, and Meows

by Patricia Fry

  Merriment, Mayhem, and Meows: A Klepto Cat Mystery

  Book 21

  by Patricia Fry

  Merriment, Mayhem, and Meows

  A Klepto Cat Mystery

  Book 21

  Author: Patricia Fry

  ISBN: 978-0-9985356-0-9

  All rights reserved

  © 2017 Matilija Press

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  “Iris, what’s going on?” Savannah asked breathlessly when she caught up to her friend. “Two men just escorted Mavis and Michelle outside—and it didn’t look like the women wanted to go with them.”

  Iris had noticed this, too. “Hell if I know. One of those guys is Vince, our hired security guard. Craig!” she hissed, trying to get his attention as he chatted with Michael and Damon.

  Damon motioned in her direction. “Craig, I think Mom wants you.”

  By then, Iris had moved closer. She grasped her husband’s arm. “Craig, who’s that man with Vince and what are they doing?”

  “Who?” the detective asked, gazing at the few guests who lingered in the expansive lobby of the newly-opened Kaiser Bed-and-Breakfast Inn.

  “Your security guard and another man just took my business partner and her friend outside and I’m pretty sure it was against their will.”

  Craig frowned, handed her his beer, and walked toward the French doors.

  “What was that about?” Colbi asked when she and Savannah joined Iris.

  Margaret walked up next, holding twenty-one-month-old Lily by the hand. “Iris, those guys were pretty rough with Mavis and what’s-her-name, don’t you think so? What happened? Are they under arrest or something?” She gasped. “Maybe it’s a home-invasion robbery.”

  Iris stared after her husband. “I don’t have the slightest idea. Craig’s checking it out.” She looked around the room and realized that most of the guests had left or were preparing to leave, but there were some who still seemed to be enjoying the ambiance. “It’s not quite five; I’d better mingle,” she said, glancing once again toward the French doors. She put Craig’s beer on a side table and picked up a tray of smoked salmon and cream cheese on poppy-seed crackers.

  Savannah watched as Iris cordially approached two women in the plush lobby. Gads, I hope everything’s okay. The last thing Iris needs is another problem here. Isn’t it enough that she was brutally attacked; that they found a virtual cemetery full of murder victims buried on the property; and that her client, Melody Kaiser, died unexpectedly, leaving Iris part owner of the place, along with Melody’s daughter, Mavis? I wonder if the Kaiser homestead will ever overcome its reputation as a gangster den. Or will that stigma continue to haunt this place? Savannah thought back to the day Iris announced that the bed-and-breakfast was scheduled to open.

  ****

  “September twenty-fourth!” Iris said loudly enough for her three tablemates to hear.

  “What’s September twenty-fourth?” Margaret asked, having been distracted by a game of peek-a-boo with her grandniece, Lily.

  Iris smiled brightly and pushed a red ringlet from her forehead. “The open house at the newly refurbished Kaiser Bed-and-Breakfast Inn—that’s just two weeks from tomorrow.”

  Savannah clasped her hands together. “Oh, Iris, how exciting!”

  “I’m so happy for you,” Colbi said, reaching out and hugging her mother-in-law. She pulled back. “How do you feel?”

  “It must be like giving birth,” Savannah suggested.

  Iris rolled her eyes. “Yeah, after a very long and painful labor.” She thought for a moment, then smiled. “Actually, I feel great.” She began to tear up. “I’ve established the showplace I’d hoped to create.” Lifting her chin, she added, “And I can’t wait to flaunt it.” She glanced around at the others, asking, “When was the last time you saw the place?”

  “Not since the attic fiasco,” Margaret said. She shuddered. “You know, when Benjamin Kaiser tried to burn us to death up there.”

  “Yes, over a month ago,” Savannah admitted. “Before you had the landscaping done.”

  Colbi grinned. “Iris, it seems that your friends are seeking their excitement elsewhere these days.”

  Before Iris could respond, Margaret added, “Yeah, after you dug up all those bodies and cleaned out the attic, it’s just another old house with no special allure.”

  “And no more mysteries to solve, now that the greedy, brutalizing stalker who attacked you is in jail.” Savannah faced Iris. “He and his grandfather are still in jail, aren’t they?”

  Iris nodded. “At least I hope so. I haven’t seen any of those Kaiser creeps around, thank heavens.” She added, “You girls could have come out and helped me with the work.”

  “Speaking of which,” Savannah said, “how are things going with Mavis and her friend…what’s her name…Michelle? Are they doing much of the actual work?”

  “Or are they just idea people?” Colbi asked, flipping her light-brown hair over one shoulder.

  Savannah tilted her head. “Yeah, somehow, they don’t seem like worker bees to me.”

  “Actually, you’re right,” Iris agreed. “The work crew and I got more accomplished when those two weren’t around.”

  Before she could continue, the waiter approached with an iPad, ready to take their order. “What can I get for you ladies today?” He focused on Iris.

  “I’ll have the butternut squash ravioli and a side salad with your house vinaigrette.”

  “Sounds good,” Margaret said, closing her menu and placing it on the edge of the table with Iris’s. “But I’ll have ranch dressing on the side.” She leaned toward the waiter. “Now, that comes with your sundried-tomato bread, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When he looked at Savannah, she said, “I’d like the chicken salad sandwich on sundried-tomato bread and a small serving of mac and cheese for the baby. Could I also have a bowl of fresh fruit?”

  Colbi waited for the server to finish logging in Savannah’s order. “Bring me the chicken salad sandwich, too. That’s the one with dill and whole grapes, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” the waiter said. He picked up the menus while thanking the women, then left to place their orders.

  “Cookie,” Lily said, reaching toward the middle of the table.

  Savannah opened a package of saltine crackers for the toddler and handed her one. “Here you go, punkin.” She then addressed Iris. “So, where did your business partners go while you were toiling away at the inn?”

  “They’re still working on some things—you know, in other cities—events and activities they couldn’t cancel. So they’ve been traveling quite a bit. When they’re in town, I send them on errands.” She grinned. “I got pretty good at knowing which projects to discuss with them and which ones to do when they weren’t looking. They could sure complicate the simplest detail, those two.”

  “So what do they do?” Savannah asked. “What kinds of events and activities?”

  “They’re event planners of the hoity-toity persuasion,” Iris said in a rather condescending manner. “They plan these elaborate events all over the world for dignitaries—you know, politicians and celebrities. When you hear about a major campaign dinner or a gala affair here or abroad, these two gals could be the planners behind it.”

  Margaret shook her head in disbelief. “Wow! Who would have thought?”

  �
��Yeah, they don’t seem hoity-toity,” Colbi agreed.

  Iris shrugged. “I don’t think you have to be snooty or snobbish in order to cook for and serve the elite.”

  “They cook, too?” Margaret asked, pushing one side of her dark-brown bobbed hair behind one ear.

  “Yes,” Iris said. “They’re master chefs and they’ve created a high-class catering and event-planning business with quite a few employees, from what I understand. Mavis and Michelle met in culinary school in France, I think it was.” She paused. “You’ll be able to sample some of their food at the open house.”

  “Did you run a check on them?” Margaret asked.

  Iris chuckled. “Shouldn’t Mavis be running a check on me? She’s an heir. I’m just a peon who her mother decided to trust with the old home she inherited.”

  “So true,” Savannah said, laughing.

  “Vannie,” Margaret snapped, “you’re calling Iris a peon?”

  Savannah glanced at Iris. “Uh…no. I didn’t mean…” She took a deep breath. “Well, she said it, not me.”

  “It’s okay.” Iris looked around the table. “So who’s coming to the open house?”

  After everyone chimed in to the affirmative, Margaret asked, “Iris, if Mavis and her friend are planning the event, what’s your role?”

  When Iris noticed the others waiting for her response, she folded her hands in front of herself and swooned a little. “Well, I’d love to just arrive at one o’clock and float—greet folks and visit, give tours, and not have to worry about the food and service.”

  “So you want the role of inn keeper extraordinaire, do you, Ris-Ris?” Savannah suggested.

  Iris grinned impishly. “Yeah, don’t you think I’ve earned it?” She raised one finger in the air, her green eyes flashing. “But it’s only temporary. At some point, I’ll be ready to go on to other things and leave the inn to the younger women.”

  “They’ll do the cooking?” Margaret asked. “I mean for guests?”

  “Yes, after they fulfill the rest of their obligations all over the world, they want to settle down here and run the inn—do the cooking, hiring, managing employees—all that stuff I don’t want to do. I’m looking forward to moving on.” Iris winked. “Of course, with my share of the profits, as was provided for in the contract Melody and her attorney drew up before Melody died.” She looked at the others. “I’ll get a generous chunk of cash off the top, plus a percentage of profits accumulated up until the time I decide to leave.”

  “Is that on top of your fee for the refurbishing?” Margaret asked.

  Iris winced and avoided eye contact with her friends. “Well…”

  “Oh no, Iris,” Colbi said, “don’t tell me you waived your earnings in lieu of profits.” She glanced around at the others. “That’s not generally a very good way to go, do you think?”

  Margaret shrugged.

  Savannah thought about the question before responding. “It could be a gamble. Let’s hope it pays off.”

  “I’m convinced that it will,” Iris said. “Anyway, I’ve been paid most of what I earned over these many weeks.”

  “When did you say the shindig is?” Margaret asked, slipping her phone out of her purse.

  Savannah reached for her phone. “Yeah, I want to put it on my calendar, too. Where is it?” she asked, sounding a little panicky. She’d dug in her purse, felt her pockets, and glanced around on the booth seat, when she heard the other women start to laugh.

  “There it is, Mommy,” Colbi said, pointing across the booth toward Lily, who sat poking her finger at Savannah’s phone screen. “Oh, that’s cute,” she said, quickly taking a picture of the child.

  “Did she turn it on?” Margaret asked. “She doesn’t know how to play games on there, does she?”

  Savannah shook her head. “Well, I sometimes let her play baby games when Michael and I take a long drive. But I sit with her to watch so she doesn’t delete my address book or something.”

  “Is it turned on?” Iris asked.

  Savannah peered at the phone. “Yeah, she’s scrolling through the photographs.” She asked the toddler, “Can Mommy have the phone now?”

  When Lily balked, Savannah looked around on the table finally saying, “Here, punkin, I’ll trade you a cracker for Mommy’s phone.”

  The others laughed when Lily thought about it for a moment, then pointed to the screen saying, “Kitty. Me. Daddy.”

  “Yes, there you are with Daddy and Buffy. Can I have my phone now?”

  Lily shook her head and continued to poke her finger at the screen.

  “Want a cracker?” Savannah asked, showing the baby an unopened package of saltines.

  Lily looked at the crackers and shook her head again.

  Sounding a little exasperated, Savannah asked, “How about ice cream?”

  At that, Lily held the phone out toward Savannah and dropped it. She picked up her spoon and began chanting, “I-cream! I-cream!”

  “You’d better hope they serve ice cream here,” Margaret said.

  Colbi laughed. “Yeah, or you’re going to be one sorry Mommy.”

  “I-cream!” Lily shouted. “I-cream, Mommy. I-cream.”

  “Hold your horsies, little one. Mommy will get it for you.”

  Just then the waiter approached with their lunches and proceeded to place the plates on the table. “Will there be anything else?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Savannah said. “Can I have a small bowl of ice cream, please?”

  “Vanilla, or orange sherbet?”

  “Lily,” Savannah said, “do you want white or orange ice cream?”

  “Orange!” Lily said rather loudly.

  Margaret laughed. “You heard the boss.”

  Once Savannah had her daughter settled with her meal and the ice cream had been delivered, she typed the open-house date on her appointment calendar. “That’s three weeks before Arthur and Suzette’s wedding.”

  “That’s right,” Colbi said. “Are you and Michael going?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Are you?”

  “We’re planning on it if my doctor will let me go. I’ll be in my third trimester, you know.” She asked, “Maggie, you’re going, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Max and I are already taking inventory of our wedding-appropriate wardrobe.”

  “How’s that going?” Iris asked, smirking playfully.

  “Not very well.” Her face lit up a little. “I was hoping you’d take me shopping and help me find something I can live with.”

  Iris sat straighter. “I can do more than that, Maggie. I can help you find something that looks amazing on you.”

  “Really?” Margaret let out a long breath and looked down at herself. “That’s hard to believe.” She glanced at Savannah and Colbi. “Now, I don’t want a teenie-bopper outfit like my niece, here, and your daughter-in-law can wear—and you, Iris. You have the figure to dress young, even though you’re as old as I am.”

  “Auntie,” Savannah scolded, “don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I think you’d look smashing in some of today’s styles, don’t you, Iris?”

  “Definitely,” Iris agreed. She reached across the table and patted Margaret’s hand. “Cheer up; nothing will look good on you with that long face. But I can tell you there are plenty of fashionable dresses available for your body type, Maggie.”

  “Pshaw, my body type,” Margaret grumbled. “What’s that, bulging hourglass? El blimpo? Cow-esque?”

  “Stop!” Iris insisted. “You’re an attractive woman who’s maybe limited in the styles you can wear because of your…uh…short stature. But I can help you find those that are most appealing. Trust me.”

  “If you say so,” Margaret said apprehensively.

  Iris smiled at Colbi. “How about you, my petite grandbaby incubator? What are you wearing?”

  “I don’t know. Do you have any ideas for me?”

  Iris cringed. “Fashion is so different for baby
-mamas these days. Maggie, remember when pregnant women wore smocks?”

  “Smocks?” Colbi and Savannah repeated in unison.

  “You mean like those that dentists and doctors wear?” Colbi asked.

  Iris swooned. “Oh, they used to have the cutest smocks for pregnancy in all styles, colors, and patterns. They hung loose. The baby bump wasn’t such a public spectacle as it is now.” She frowned. “Today you see women—even in their eighth month—wearing tight t-shirts that barely cover their bulging belly.” She explained with hand gestures, “The smock flowed from the shoulders over the tummy. Maternity clothes could actually be quite stylish and attractive.” When Iris saw Savannah staring at her, she narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  “The pictures I’ve seen are hideous.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, my mother looked like a sack of potatoes in her smocks.” Savannah laughed. “And those smock dresses—holy-moly.”

  “You prefer everyone seeing the outline of your baby bump?” Iris asked.

  Colbi rubbed her bulging tummy. “I can’t wait for mine to show more.”

  “You’re showing,” Margaret said.

  “Yeah, barely—just enough to make me look like I’m getting fat. The doctor says the way I’m carrying the baby, I probably won’t get very big.”

  “So you’ll have a small baby?” Margaret asked.

  “He says most likely around seven pounds.”

  “When’s your due date?”

  “End of October or early November. They say the first baby is usually late.”

  “Yikes, a Halloween baby!”

  Colbi looked askance. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I think that would be cool,” Iris said.

  “Yeah, you would—you and your fascination for woo-woo stuff,” Margaret snarked.

  Colbi glanced at Margaret. “Well, I’d prefer a November birthday for our child.”

  “Do you know what it is yet?” Savannah asked eagerly.

  “Yes,” Colbi said, grinning impishly across the table at her. “A baby.”