by Patricia Fry
Colbi shook her head. “Apparently not. It’s someone with a selfish cause. The poor guy wants his sleep.”
“Hmmm, so how do we handle that little glitch in our plan?” Savannah asked no one in particular.
“We’ll have to think on it,” Margaret said. “But in the meantime, something else has come up—a new wrinkle, so to speak.” She shook her head and grinned. “All of this publicity your paper’s giving us, Colbi, is bringing people out of the woodwork.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Let’s sit down, ladies,” she said, motioning toward the sofa. “We might as well discuss this here where it’s warm and comfortable. Then we can run out to check on our kitties.”
“Can I get you some coffee, juice, water, tea?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, I’ll get myself a cup of coffee,” Margaret said.
“Me, too,” Colbi said, “if there’s enough.”
Once the women were seated in the living room—Walter lying on the sofa between Margaret and Colbi, Buffy on the ottoman next to Savannah’s feet, and Rags sprawled out across one of Lexie’s dog beds—Margaret explained the new wrinkle. “A woman from out of town called me—well, she called Betty because her contact number was in the paper. Betty sent her to me. This woman knows people here and follows our local news. She read the most recent article about our last meeting on the Internet.”
“So we’ve gone viral?” Savannah asked jokingly.
“I guess so.” Margaret laughed. “Well, she was most interested in the old Fischer place—asked if we had access to inside the building, wondered if we’d seen people around there. She had questions about what exactly we’re doing over there and who gave us permission to be there—stuff like that. Pretty soon,” Margaret continued, “she took a different direction with her questions.”
“In what way?” Colbi asked, creasing her brow. “Does she want to work with the cats? Do you think we need help out at the Fischer place? I kind of think we’ve got it covered, except I guess we could use a bodyguard to keep other people away from the cats.”
“A bodyguard for the cats?” Savannah said. “Maybe we could hire a guard dog.”
The three women laughed.
“No,” Margaret said, explaining, “she asked if we needed funds.”
“Oh, so she wants to donate to our cause?” Savannah asked. “Hey, that would be great!”
“Yeah, it would,” Colbi agreed.
Margaret shook her head, her dark-brown bobbed hair almost brushing her shoulders. “No. But wait until you hear her next line of questioning.”
Colbi and Savannah leaned toward Margaret.
“She asked if our members are crafty.”
“Crafty?” Colbi said crinkling her nose and swiping her bangs to one side.
“What did she mean by that?” Savannah asked. “Sneaky? Shrewd?”
“Devious? Wiley?” Colbi added with a chuckle.
“Well, I wondered that, too. But no, she meant do we create things—you know—like sewing, needlework, pottery…stuff like that.”
“Why did she ask that?” Savannah wanted to know.
“Apparently, she’s some sort of promoter. Her idea is that our members gather some Saturday or Sunday and sell their craft items to earn money for the Alliance.” She looked from one to the other and asked, “What do you think?”
Colbi raised her eyebrows. Savannah narrowed her lips and cocked her head. She said, “Where?”
“Good question, my dear. And I think this is the whole reason Leta called me.” She smiled impishly—looked from Colbi to Savannah and said, “Guess.”
“Guess what?” Savannah asked.
“Weren’t you listening?” Margaret asked. “Guess where she wants to have the flea market.”
Savannah frowned, looked confused.
Colbi stared over at Margaret as if waiting for something more. She brushed a strand of her long hair off her face.
Margaret leaned forward, became animated, and said, “In the Fischer building!”
“Interesting,” Colbi said.
Margaret nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. I guess she’s had her eye on that place and has been looking for something to promote there—I mean, it does have that whole big ground floor where Fischer parked his antique cars—there’s plenty of room for a large event. When she learned about our feral cat project, she thought maybe we could get permission to use the building and she could make some money helping us do a little fundraising.”
Savannah cocked her head. “Yeah, and I suppose if this works out, it’s a foot in the door for her if she wants to do events there in the future.”
“Sure,” Margaret agreed. “So what do you say? We could sure use the money. Maybe we could buy a soundproof shed…” She bounced up and down a little in her seat excitedly and said, “Or one of those compartments they use to explode bombs and grenades in.” She laughed.
“What are we going to do with that?” Savannah asked, looking confused.
Margaret leaned toward Savannah and spoke slowly and deliberately, as if to a child, “To put the traps in. If the cats are in a soundproof room, their yeowling won’t bother the neighbors.”
“Ohhhh, I get it. Yeah, good thinking,” she said
Margaret smirked at Savannah, saying, “Sometimes I think the baby is putting a drain on your brain, girl.”
Savannah made a face at her aunt.
“Anyway,” Margaret said, drawing the word out, “do you think we can come up with enough people who would rent booths to sell their wares?”
Colbi and Savannah sat in silence for a moment and then Colbi said, “Well, let’s make a list of our members who are creative.”
“And those with services they might want to promote,” Savannah added.
“Why can’t we bring in people from the community? It doesn’t have to be just members, does it?” Margaret suggested.
Savannah nodded. “I don’t know why not.” And then she said, “But wait; wouldn’t the insurance be killer expensive if we get the public involved?”
“Oh yes, this woman—Leta Barnes is her name—she said she and her associate would pay whatever liability insurance was required.”
“Wow!” Savannah and Colbi said, looking at each other in surprise. “So how’s she going to make her money? How much of a cut does she want?”
“These are things we’ll have to work out. I told her we’d have coffee with her to discuss it further tomorrow. Are you two up for it?”
“Sure,” Savannah said.
“Yeah, I can take an hour or so off tomorrow—say between eleven and twelve-thirty?” Colbi suggested.
Margaret clapped her hands together in front of her. “Okay then, put on your thinking caps and let’s see if we can come up with a list of crafty people. I’ll make a few calls. I know that we have a couple of quilters in the group; one of them makes pet blankets for shelters. George makes horseshoe figures, Edie and one of her daughters paint glassware…”
“I didn’t know that,” Savannah said. “Did you know that Iris makes jewelry?”
“She does?” Margaret asked.
“Yes. Pretty stuff, too.”
“She made this,” Colbi said, holding up her necklace. “Damon gave it to me. “She could also do color therapy or room design—things like that,” Colbi said.
Margaret clasped her hands together. “Oh that would be fun.”
“Colbi, you and Damon could sell your writing—or teach writing,” Savannah suggested. She then addressed her aunt. “That just leaves you and me.”
“What do you mean?” Margaret asked.
“What can we do? Nothing.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can do a lot of things.”
“Like what?” Savannah challenged.
“Dance, give demonstrations involving cats—bathing, nail-trimming…things like that.”
“Oh that would be valuable, “Savannah said. “Good idea. “I guess that just leaves me,” she said.
>
“How about a booth demonstrating how to make jam from your orchard fruit?” Margaret suggested.
“That would be awkward and messy. How would I manage it? I’d have to have a kitchen.” She shook her head. “No, Auntie, that wouldn’t work.”
“You could hand out recipes and answer questions,” Colbi offered.
Margaret stared over at her niece for a moment and then said, “I’d like to see you and Michael set up a sort of clinic or workshop for pet owners—or just be on hand to answer pet medical questions. Might bring business your way and it would definitely be a worthwhile effort.”
Savannah sat studying Buffy, then looked up at Margaret. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess that could work and it would be fun. Okay, count me…er…us in.”
“Good,” Margaret said. “Now don’t you think we’d better go see what our little Fischer cats are up to?”
“Let’s go,” Colbi said. She looked at her watch. “I have to be back to work in an hour.”
“I gotta go potty first,” Savannah said rushing in the direction of the bathroom.
“You’ve gone twelve times while we’ve been sitting here,” Margaret called after her.
“Have not,” Savannah yelled. Ninety seconds later, when she emerged from the hallway, she said, “Only twice.”
A little later, as the women walked through the gate toward the Fischer building, Colbi said, “I think they’re getting used to us. There’s one of the white ones waiting for her breakfast. Hey look, she’s an odd-eye cat!” she exclaimed.
“Cool,” Margaret said. “Yeah, she—or he—would be pretty, all cleaned up. Would sure like to get my hands on that one.”
Just as the women were finishing up with their feeding job, they heard something behind them. They turned and saw a bald man walking toward them at a fast and confident clip. He called out, “Hey, what ‘er ya doin’ here?”
“Sheesh, what is this Grand Central Station?” Margaret said under her breath.
“Truly,” Colbi uttered.
“Hello sir,” Margaret said. “What can we do for you?”
“Just wondering why yer here,” the man said, pulling off one leather glove and slapping it against his leg, which the women noticed was covered by black leather biker pants. He scowled and pushed his large, wrap-around dark glasses up on his nose.
“We’re feeding cats,” Margaret said as if weary of explaining. “What are you doing out here?”
He appeared to be staring hard at her. “I live here, if you must know,” he spouted, slapping the glove against his leg again. “Why are you feeding cats, anyways?”
“So they don’t die,” Margaret said. She shifted her stance so she was full-on facing the stranger. “Look, we have permission to be here so we can take care of these cats.” She peered at him through a frown and said, “You know, it puzzles me how so many people around here know about this place and the cats and never lift a finger to help them out.”
The forty-something man, of slim build, glanced over at the feeding station and then back at the three women. “They kin take care of theirselves,” he said. He then pointed a gloved finger at Margaret and said, “Now listen to me. When you put them in those cages, they howl and I’m tired of listenin’ to it. I need my sleep…see…”
“Are you the one who keeps letting them out of the traps?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said glancing around.
“We’re trying to get them some medical help. We need to trap them in order to take them to the veterinary hospital.”
“Yeah, can’t you wear earplugs for a couple of nights and let us finish our work?” Colbi asked.
The man stared at her for a moment. “Yer sure spunky for such a little girl,” he said.
He then looked up and down Savannah’s tall, very pregnant frame. “If I hear them cats screaming again, I’m gonna call the cops, ya hear?” At that, he spun on his heels and disappeared out through the gate.
“I’m getting spooked by all of these people,” Savannah said. “With so many against us, we could soon be facing a lynch mob.”
“Or they might harm the cats,” Margaret said quietly. “And this guy could be the ringleader. Did you see those gnarly tattoos?”
“Yeah,” Colbi said. “He sure looks tough for a small guy.” She turned toward Margaret and Savannah. “So what are we going to do?”
“I have an idea,” Savannah said. “We need to get to the cats as soon as they’re trapped.”
Margaret stared down at her shoes for a couple of seconds and shook her head. “Whew, that could be time-consuming.”
“And sleep-depriving,” Colbi said with a laugh. “But makes sense. We could organize shifts out here.”
“Yeah,” Margaret said, “and as soon as the cat falls into our trap, we whisk it off to…where?” She looked over at Savannah.
“Good question. This means we’d have to involve Michael or…hey, I wonder if Bud would like to get involved in this caper…er…a…cause.” She smiled. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and said, “I think I’ll call our newest veterinarian.”
When he answered, she said, “Oh hi, Bud. Not with a patient, huh?”
“Hi Savannah. No, doing a little research. What are you up to?”
“Just calling to ask you a favor,” she said, hesitating a little.
“Yeah?” he responded, sounding slightly wary.
“You’re aware that we’re working with a cat colony out at the old Fischer building, aren’t you?”
“Yes, how’s that going?”
“Well, we’re kind of at a standstill at the moment. Need some help. Now don’t feel you have to do this just because I’m asking. But…well, we’d sure appreciate it if you could…”
“What is it, Savannah?” he asked suspiciously.
“We need someone to sit with the traps at night, and as soon as a cat is trapped, take it to the clinic.”
“Why?” he asked.
“We have neighbors who won’t use earplugs,” she said with a chuckle.
“Huh?”
“The cats we trap are evidently making a lot of noise and the neighbors are letting them out before we can get to them.”
There was silence. “I’ve never heard of that happening before. Is that one neighbor or…”
“No, it seems to be several of them who are bothered by the cats.”
“How far away is that tract from there, anyway?”
“Seems far enough that, with windows closed, you wouldn’t even hear a cat in a trap that’s under a building, but we are getting complaints and we’re being sabotaged,” she said.
“Sure, Savannah. I’d be glad to help out. Maybe I could go out there a couple of times and get our new vet tech, Spence to do it once or twice. How many cats are we talking about?”
“Around a dozen, we think…well ten left, by our count. But you know how it goes—sometimes you catch the same ones over and over again. It could take time to capture and treat them all. If we trap day and night, it might not take as long.”
Bud was silent for a moment. “Yes, it could take some time,” he said with a sigh. “But yeah, I’m in. When do you want me to start?”
“How’s tonight?” she asked.
“Um, Brianna’s coming over tonight,” he said hesitantly. Then he said with a laugh, “But you know what, I’ll get her to come out there with me. She sometimes complains that we do the same thing all the time. This will be something different.”
“Oh yes it will,” Savannah said bursting out laughing. “For my sister…definitely a different way to spend an evening. I love it,” she said still laughing. “Thanks Bud. The traps are here; we’ll leave a couple of cans of tuna and an opener. Good luck…keep us in the loop, will you?”
“Sure. ’Bye.”
***
At seven fifteen that night, Bud and Brianna pulled up to the Fischer building in his veterinary truck. “I can’t believe you’re bringing me out here in the boonies when you have a perfectly
good home where we could get frisky,” Brianna said with a sigh.
He grinned. “Business.”
“No monkey business?” she asked in a flirtatious manner, flipping her dark-brown, naturally curly, but carefully straightened hair off one shoulder. She looked around at the chain-link fence and the large building beyond and scowled. “What is this place, anyway?”
“It’s a secret mission your sister has sent us on.”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “My sister, huh? Wait until the next time I see stilt woman.”
“Stilt woman?” Bud laughed. “Is that what you call her?”
“Yeah, what would you call your sibling who got the only tall, skinny, blond genes in the family?”
“So what does she call you?” he asked, his eyes flashing, playfully. “The voluptuous sister?”
“You mean fat and lumpy,” she said with a pout.
“No, I mean curvaceous and luscious,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
“Now take it easy. We have business to take care of, remember?” she said with a scowl.
He reached over and took her hand. “Come on, Brianna. It’ll be fun. Just you and me in the open air on a…not-so-balmy night under the stars.”
“Not so balmy is an understatement. It’s freezing out there,” she said, shivering.
“Oh you’re bundled up enough. You’ll be fine. Besides, it’s for a good cause.”
“Oh yeah, if I’m going to get frostbite, I would feel better about it knowing it’s for a good cause. Thanks a lot. Big help.”
Bud chuckled. “Come on, it’ll be like camping out.”
As they approached the truck bed, Bud opened a compartment and said, “You take the blanket and flashlight; I’ll get the chairs and wine.”
“Wine?” she said. “Things are definitely looking up.”
While Bud prepared and set the two traps, Brianna held the flashlight. Then they placed the chairs close together. Bud opened the bottle of wine and they sat down, wrapping the large blanket around the two of them.
“Where are the glasses?” she asked
“We’re roughing it,” he responded. He handed her the bottle. “Here, you go first.”
“Out of the bottle? Are you serious?”
“Okay, you don’t have to have any,” he said, preparing to take a swig.
