by Patricia Fry
Margaret pulled into Savannah’s driveway and said, jokingly, “It’s been swell, ladies. We should do it again sometime.”
“Yeah,” Savannah said, “we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, so better get used to it.” She smiled over at her aunt. “It has been fun. Thanks for including me—and for bringing the chair, Auntie. Thoughtful.”
“’Bye Maggie,” Colbi said, as she stepped from the backseat. “When shall we go out there again?”
“I’ll let you know when the permission thingy comes in and we’ll make our next plan; all right with you two?”
Both women nodded.
“Okay, then. I have to go get ready for a night out.”
“A night out?” Savannah quizzed.
“Yes, Max and I are going ballroom dancing. It’s a special event for those of us who can’t keep our feet still.”
“Or your hips,” Savannah said with a laugh.
“Just you never mind about my hips,” Margaret said as Savannah closed the passenger side door.
“’Bye now,” Savannah said with a wave.
Colbi reached out and gave Savannah a hug. “You must be tired. Ready to recline for a while?”
“Yeah,” Savannah said. “Sure am.”
“Can I come in and fix you a cup of tea or something?”
Savannah waved her hand in front of her. “Oh no. I’m just fine. You go on now and take care of your yard full of feral cats. They’re probably waiting for you.”
“I’m sure of it,” Colbi said as she climbed in the driver’s side of her old pickup truck.
***
Wednesday morning, Savannah was sitting in the overstuffed chair in her living room embroidering a whimsical elephant pattern on a newborn-size sleeper when she heard a rap at the front door. “Come in, Auntie,” she said upon opening the door. “What brings you out?”
“Well, I figured you wouldn’t be venturing over this morning with Lexie in this cold snap, so I thought I’d come see you.”
“Good. Want coffee?”
“Sure. What’s that you’re making?” she asked, looking down at the project lying on the ottoman.
“Just doing a little embroidery. Gotta have something to do and the baby will need these things.”
Margaret picked up the sleeper. “Nice work, Vannie. I didn’t know you could do this stuff.”
“I couldn’t. I’m self-taught.”
“Impressive,” she said smiling up at her niece. Just then, something else claimed her attention. “Hi Lexie,” Margaret greeted, rubbing the dog on both sides of her neck. She ran her hand over Lexie’s back as she walked over to pet Walter, who was curled up on a dining room chair. As she smoothed his fur, something else caught her eye. She looked toward the hallway and saw Rags sitting there. He closed his green eyes and yawned just about as wide as a cat can yawn. “Did we wake you?” Margaret asked with a grin.
“So sit down and tell me about the dance,” Savannah said as her aunt walked back into the room carrying a mug of coffee.
“Very interesting,” she said with a hint of mystery in her tone.
“How so?” Savannah asked, sitting sideways in the overstuffed chair and pulling her feet up under her.
“I had a chance to talk to Jim after he’d had a beer and I learned a few things about the Fischer building.”
“Oh that’s right, Deputy Jim and his wife do ballroom dancing, too.”
“Yes.” She leaned toward her niece and said, “Did you know that some people believe the place is haunted?”
“Well you said that before, and Deputy Jim sort of alluded to the fact that something weird was going on out there.”
Margaret waved her hand in the air. “Yeah, but he was more open about it last night—more talkative. They get calls about strange sightings every once in a while, I guess.”
“So what is it?”
Margaret smiled and began wriggling her fingers toward the floor in an attempt to entice the Iveys’ Himalayan-mix cat. “Come here, Buffy. Let me pet you, you sweet thing.” She then glanced up at Savannah and asked, “What is what?”
“The sightings.”
Margaret reached down and lifted Buffy into her lap. She looked over at her niece and shrugged. “They don’t know. The officers never see anything or if they do, it’s so fleeting they can’t make out what it is. According to Jim, they sometimes hear noises coming from inside the building. They can’t see where anyone’s getting inside. I guess they figure it’s the cats creating the illusions and making the sounds. He said it’s an eerie place out there at night.”
Savannah shuddered. “Who would even go out there at night?”
“I guess kids out drinking and making out, the homeless, the neighbors out for a walk…hell, I don’t know,” Margaret said. Suddenly, her face lit up. “I want to go there some night.”
“Of course you do,” Savannah said. Her eyes widened. “But not with this kid, you’re not.” She looked down and shook her head. “No way, José.”
“Awww, come on. Won’t you come out and play with me?”
“Been there, done that with you, Auntie. No! Go play with Colbi, she’s young and she’s got courage.”
“She’s about the same age as you are, isn’t she?” Margaret asked. “…early thirties?”
“Yeah, I guess she is,” Savannah said. “But she’s still foot-loose and fancy-free. Savannah unfolded her legs and planted her feet on the floor. Leaning forward a little, she said, “Take Brianna. My sister will surely go adventuring with you.” She put her hand on her baby bulge. “Not me. Sorry.” Glancing over at her aunt, who looked slightly dejected, she said, “But I’ll be waiting to hear what you see over there at night. I do love a good ghost story—just don’t want to be a part of it,” she said, shaking her head.
Margaret sat up straight and edged her cell phone up and out of her jeans pocket. “It’s Max,” she said. “Hi Max, what’s up? Are you overcome with cat drama by now?”
“Nope, all’s fine,” he said. “Just wanted to let you know your permission letter came through on the fax just now.”
“Oh good. Thanks. I’ll be home in a few.” She clicked “off” and looked over at Savannah. “We got our permission. I’ll have copies made for you and Colbi and whoever else might be going out there, just in case that nosey guard-wannabe comes around again. I’ll let Jim know we have it, in case he gets a report about us.”
“Nosey guard-wannabe?” Savannah questioned. “You don’t think he’s a real security guard?”
Margaret tilted her head and narrowed her brown eyes. “I’m beginning to wonder. Sure doesn’t sound like he has any authority out there. What do you think?”
“Hard to tell. He pretty much looked authentic to me except…” Savannah bit her lower lip, frowning.
“Except what?” Margaret asked while running her hand over Buffy’s head and then smoothing the luxurious fur down the cat’s back.
“I think he was wearing spats.”
Margaret raised her head abruptly and stared over at Savannah. “What?” she asked. “Spats? Who in the hell wears spats? What makes you think he had on spats?”
Savannah arched her brows. “Sure looked like spats to me—over a pair of sport shoes. I thought I could see white and streaks of fluorescent orange showing through here and there.”
Margaret was silent. She absently petted Buffy while saying, “Well, maybe they don’t pay those guys much and he can’t afford the appropriate shoes. Or he stepped in dog poop and had to take them off or…”
“Okay, okay. Maybe it wasn’t so weird.”
“Well, it’s actually pretty clever, don’t you think? But I didn’t even know they made spats anymore. Where do you think he would find them…if, indeed, that’s what he was wearing?”
“Oh, you can get anything on the Internet,” Savannah said, flippantly.
Margaret sighed deeply and then said, “Well, Buffy my dear, I could sit here all day with you, but we have cats to save.” She ran he
r finger along Buffy’s cheek. “You just don’t know how good you have it, do you, girl?”
Savannah smiled over at the little cat. “Oh, I think she does.” She then said, “I still bless the day Mrs. Armstrong’s family said we could have Buffy. The old gal traveled so much when she was alive, that Buffy boarded with Michael most of the time, anyway.”
“Humph, boarded, you say?” Margaret chuckled. “This kitty has never been caged in her life, has she?”
“Oh no. Not the princess,” Savannah said, smiling over at Buffy. “Mrs. Armstrong insisted she be treated as one of the family. And that’s what she became—one of our family. Sure do love that kitty.” She raised her eyes to meet her aunt’s. Changing the subject, she said, “So we can go out and finish our evaluation, right? When?”
“Yes, as soon as possible.”
***
An hour later, permission letter in hand, Margaret and Savannah pulled up to the Fischer building. They parked outside the fence and walked in carrying a garden hose, a pair of pliers and a bag of kibbles.
“There are more white cats out here today,” Savannah observed.
“Yes,” Margaret said. “These must be offspring from some of Fischer’s original cats.” She grimaced. “Such a shame they were turned out like this.”
After the two women made sure there was running water, they affixed a hose to the spigot. Margaret moved the handle back and forth several times with the pliers in an attempt to remove any calcium deposits. Once they had clean water running freely through the hose, Savannah filled the cats’ water bowls. “I still can’t believe there’s water out here. Someone must be paying the water bill and that’s just plain bizarre, don’t you think? I mean, why?”
“Yeah, it’s strange,” Margaret said as she poured kibbles into three large bowls.
Once the cats were fed, the women stood back and observed them, using Savannah’s notes for reference.
Thirty minutes later, Margaret said, “Okay, I think that’s all we’re going to see today. How many, Vannie?”
“Nine identified. Still a few shy ones—just eyes under the building and in the shrubs. Dang, we forgot the flashlight again.”
“Yeah, I’m out of practice. Used to be better equipped when I went out on these missions.”
Savannah chuckled. “You sound like you’re part of the FBI or a SWAT team—talking about ‘missions.’”
Margaret stretched to her five-five height and glared at Savannah, hands on her ample hips. “These missions can be every bit as dangerous and important, don’t you think, Vannie?”
Savannah pushed one finger into her aunt’s shoulder. “Dangerous? With you, yeah!” she said, laughing. Suddenly, something caught her eye. She leaned toward her aunt and said, “We’ve got company.”
Margaret spun around and saw an elderly man walking toward them using a cane. “Hi,” she called out.
There was no response.
The women watched and waited. When the man was within a few feet of them, he stopped and looked directly at Margaret, who was at his eye level. “What er you doin’ to them cats?” he demanded, slamming the end of his cane into the dirt next to his feet.
“Well, we’re feeding them—taking care of them,” she said. “Do you live around here?” she asked.
“Yeah, I do and I don’t think yer allowed here. They don’t want you botherin’ the cats.”
Margaret looked at him, creasing her brow. “Who?”
“Who what?” he asked, peering from under the wide brim of his garden hat and over the top of his rimmed granny glasses.
“Who doesn’t want us bothering the cats?” she asked.
“Well, the owner, that’s who,” he said pulling a red handkerchief out of his overalls pocket and wiping the back of his neck with it.
Now that’s odd, Savannah thought. He’s wiping sweat that isn’t there. “Do you know who the owner is?” She asked.
“Sure, they live here at night, of course. Them’s their cats and I know they don’t want you on this property. So I suggest you scram,” he said jamming the cane into the dirt again for emphasis.
Both women stood silent for a moment, staring at the man. I wonder how old he is, Savannah thought. He’s sure wrinkled. Hope he doesn’t have a heart attack getting all upset at us like that. Let’s see if I can defuse the situation. She held her hand out toward the little old man and said, “I’m Savannah Ivey and this is my aunt, Margaret Sheridan. We’re with the Hammond Cat Alliance and we have permission to be here to evaluate and manage this group of cats. It appears that the owner isn’t taking very good care of them.”
The man peered up at Savannah, squinting his eyes suspiciously. “Hammond Cat Alliance?” he said. “You folks got into some trouble a while back, didn’t you?”
“Trouble?” Margaret asked.
“Yeah, someone got killed at your meeting,” he said. “And before that, some of your members were kidnapped.” He pointed the cane at them while saying, “I read about you in the papers.”
“Oh, are you interested in cats?” Margaret asked.
“No, just gossip, news, killings…things like that,” he said. Suddenly, he leaned over and began to cough and gag.
Savannah and Margaret looked at each other and back at the man. “Are you all right?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, just got a condition, you know.”
Margaret picked up the half empty bag of cat kibbles. “Okay. Well, we’re finished here for the day; we’d better get going. Can we give you a lift to your house?” she asked, not at all sure she wanted this odd fellow in her car.
“Naw, I’m out for a walk—better finish walkin’.” He looked around and said, “I guess I can go back home now that I run you two off.”
Margaret rolled her eyes for Savannah’s benefit.
Savannah smirked and shook her head. She took one more look at the man as he exited through the gate. Odd old guy, she thought. Then something caught her attention. Was that a streak of florescent orange I saw on one of his shoes from under the legs of his overalls? Oh, probably my imagination.
***
It was five-thirty that evening when Michael walked through the door of his home. “Hi hon,” he said when he saw Savannah stretched out on the sofa. Feeling okay?”
She looked up at him and reached out for his hand. “Yeah, just tired. Everyone says that’s normal at this stage in the game.” She eased herself up to a sitting position, pulled her husband toward her, and kissed him.
Michael sat down next to her, wrapped one arm around her, and put his other hand on her tummy. “Oh, there it is,” he said with a wide grin, his light-blue eyes twinkling.
Savannah smiled. “He (or she) is happy to have you home, too!” she said.
“So what adventure did you take our little one on today?” he asked.
“Well, Auntie and I…” she started.
“Oh no, do I want to hear more? You and your aunt? That’s a dangerous combination.”
“Oh stop,” she said feigning annoyance. “Nothing bad happened. It was a calm day. We got the water spigot at the building working, fed the cats…”
Michael scrunched up his face. “Don’t you think it’s odd that no one has turned off the water to that place after all these years?” he asked.
“Yeah, I was saying that very thing today. But it’s handy to have water for the cats without having to haul it.” Savannah pulled back slightly from Michael. “Hey, Colbi and Damon are setting traps over there this evening. Hopefully, they’ll bring cats to you and Bud as soon as tomorrow.”
“When are they going over?” Michael asked.
“They were planning to go around six.”
“In the dark?”
“They had a meeting at work this afternoon and Damon convinced Colbi they could set the traps using flashlights to light the area.”
Michael leaned back against the sofa. “Hmm. Why don’t we go over there? I’d like to see where you’ve been hanging out and maybe I can give
Damon a hand.”
“Okay.” Savannah looked at her watch. “Do you want to eat now or when we get back?”
“I can wait, if you can,” he said. “I had a late lunch. It got busy this morning and I couldn’t get away until nearly two. Are the animals fed?”
“Yup. All fed. I’ll get a handful of crackers and a few slices of cheese—maybe an apple and a bottle of water or iced tea and we can be off.”
“Sheesh, you carry a lot of baggage,” he joked.
“Just wait until you see how much stuff it takes to travel with a baby,” she said.
“Well, that doesn’t make sense—what does a baby need?”
“Michael,” Savannah said sternly, “where have you been? Haven’t you seen all that stuff we got at the shower and that we’ve bought? Babies require a lot of things.”
“Yeah, but when we take them someplace?” he questioned.
“Okay, you need a car seat, maybe a stroller, a playpen or small baby bed, diapers—sometimes lots of them—blankets, a change of clothes, jacket or sweater for cold days, booties, baby wipes, pacifier, toys, special baby food, his own spoon and sippy cup…”
“Oh my gosh!” Michael looked Savannah in the eyes—lines of concern appearing on his face. “We’ll never be able to fit all that in your car or the cab of my truck. We’ll have to buy a bus!”
“Well, we should be thinking about a larger car at some point—we will have two kids to haul around sometimes, you know.”
“Oh, that reminds me; Adam’s coming this weekend. That’s okay with you, isn’t it?”
“Sure. I’ve missed him since he’s been busy with soccer—or is it baseball?”
“Basketball.”
***
In the meantime, Damon and Colbi pulled into the driveway of her home in separate cars. “Interesting meeting, don’t you think?” she said as she climbed out of her car.
He walked over to help carry her things. “Yeah. Looks like Boggs is going to make some positive changes around the office.”
“And some of us will be up for a promotion—if you’d call it that,” she said. As they stepped up onto the porch, Colbi flipped through her small ring of keys and slipped the correct one into the door lock. “Watch out for flying kittens,” she said as she opened the door slowly, switched on the light, and glanced around the room.
