by Patricia Fry
Savannah poked Lily in the tummy playfully. “And she can teach you patty-cake.” With that, Lily began patting one hand against the other rather awkwardly. “Yeah, patty-cake,” Savannah said.
“See, she can do it. Big girl,” Mary said. She then pointed toward the house behind Savannah. “Uh-oh, do you want him out?”
Savannah turned in time to see Rags stepping out through the front door and trotting down the porch steps. “No. Darn it. I guess the door didn’t latch. Rags!” she called, but it was no use; he quickly jaunted off around the side of the house out of sight. “Better go see if we can capture him,” she said. “Drive safely. See you soon,” Savannah called out as she moved, baby in her arms, toward the errant cat.
Dang, where’d he go? she wondered. “Rags, here kitty, kitty. Rags, where are you?”
“Ki-ki,” Lily said.
“Do you see the kitty?” she asked, glancing around the area.
“Ki-ki,” the baby repeated while holding her hands out in front of her and shrugging.
Savannah chuckled and kissed the baby. “Yes, he’s all gone, isn’t he?” She called out again, “Raaags!”
“Aaag!” the baby shouted, mimicking her mother.
Savannah couldn’t help but laugh out loud and snuggle for a moment with Lily. She said, “Well, we’d better go change you, get our jackets, and see if we can find the kitty.”
“Ki-ki,” Lily said, as Savannah carried her inside.
By the time Savannah had Lily strapped into the stroller and had started the trek around the property, her cell phone chimed. “It’s Auntie,” she said to the baby as she answered it. “Hi.”
“Are you missing a member of your family?”
“Yes,” Savannah said. “Is he over there? That darned cat.”
“Not original, Vannie,” Margaret said.
“What?”
Margaret repeated. “That darned cat. Someone already used it in a movie and a book,” she said, laughing. “Yeah, he’s here—came looking for Jack, I guess. Maybe he was trying to escape your guests. Didn’t he like his playmate?”
“I thought he did. He and Regina seemed to have a good time getting to know each other.” Savannah let out a sigh. “Hey, I have his harness with me. Lily and I’ll come get him. Do you have him corralled?”
“Oh yes, he’s in the house with me, lounging on the sofa like this is some sort of exotic spa or something.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Yeah, please do, before he asks for a massage or maybe a facial.”
“Hi, Rags,” Savannah said as she walked into her aunt’s living room carrying Lily a few minutes later. “Just what do you think you’re doing, anyway?”
“I guess your company was too much for him,” Margaret said in the cat’s defense, while reaching for the baby. Savannah headed for the cat, harness in hand, when suddenly, Rags slunk off the sofa and ran around behind it.
“Rags,” Savannah said, sharply. She walked to the right side of the sofa just as Jack sprinted between her ankles, joining Rags.
That’s when they heard a man’s voice. “What are you two doing?”
“Oh, hi Max,” Savannah greeted. “Rags escaped and came to visit Jack. I don’t think he wants to go home.”
Max laughed. “That cat not only marches to a different drummer, he has a whole diverse orchestra behind him.”
“So how did things go with Sam?” Margaret asked. Before Max could respond, she explained to Savannah, “He’s taking this mentoring thing with Sam really seriously. Today they went to the cat colony down in the baranca near the old Barrister orchard, didn’t you?”
Max nodded. “It went well. I believe he’s beginning to understand animals, their needs and requirements, and his obligation to them as a caretaker. I’m feeling rather…positive about his progress.”
“That’s good to hear,” Savannah said. “Max, I bet you make an excellent mentor. And you seem to enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” he said. “I like Sam. He’s a good kid who hasn’t been given many breaks in life.” He cocked his head and turned back toward the kitchen. “Oh, I think that’s my delivery. See you later, Savannah.”
“Here he comes,” Margaret said from the other end of the sofa. “Hey, he’s got something. Rags, have you been in my jewelry box?” she almost shouted.
“Ki-ki,” Lily said, pointing and squirming to get down.
“Yes, there goes the kitty with some of my stuff,” Margaret complained, placing the baby on the floor and heading toward the kitchen after the cat.
“Do you have kitty treats?” Savannah asked.
“Yes,” Margaret said, reaching into a cupboard. She handed Savannah a packet.
“Mmm, your favorite,” Savannah said enticingly as she knelt down and held out a couple of treats for the cat. “Come on, boy.” She frowned and turned toward Margaret, “Hey, I thought you said he had something. I don’t see anything.”
“Well, he did have something, like a little gold necklace.” Margaret looked around the room, then peered into the living room. “Oh, there it is. Now Lily and Jack are interested in it. No, pretty boy,” Margaret said, rushing to retrieve the item.
“What is it?” Savannah asked, slipping the harness on Rags.
“A tiny necklace.”
“Is it yours?” she asked her aunt.
“No,” Margaret said, shaking her head slowly. When Lily reached for it, she pulled it away from her. “No, no, baby girl.” She examined it again. “Looks like a baby’s locket on a tiny chain. Is it hers?” she asked, nodding toward Lily.
Savannah drew closer, narrowing her eyes. “No. She doesn’t have a locket. Gosh, I wonder if it belongs to Mary’s little girl Crissy. Did he have it when he came in here?”
“No,” Margaret said. “I’m sure he didn’t.” She then chuckled when she saw Lily squat down to peer at two of the Sheridans’ house cats, who slept in matching beds.
“When did you first see it?” Savannah asked her aunt.
“Well, Rags came out from behind the sofa with it.”
“And you don’t know where it came from?”
Margaret shook her head. “The only baby who’s been in this house is Lily.” She squinted in contemplation. “Hey this might be a long shot, but remember the night we found the note in the basement?”
“Yeah,” Savannah said, taking Lily’s hand and walking her away from where Layla was eating kibbles.
“That night, Rags took the envelope behind the sofa—do you remember that?”
Savannah peered at her aunt for a moment. “Yes, but he came out with the envelope, right?”
Margaret nodded. “Yes, but maybe while he was back there, this dropped out of it and he remembered it and came back to get it.”
“Oh, Auntie, you should write fiction.”
“Or,” she said dramatically, “he dropped it that night and didn’t know it and happened to find it there just now.”
Savannah thought for a moment. She took a deep breath. “Could be. Let me see that,” she said, ushering Lily toward her aunt, who handed the necklace to Savannah and picked up the baby.
“It sure looks like a baby locket, doesn’t it? It’s engraved with an A. See that?” she showed it to her aunt. “That’s a fancy A, isn’t it?”
“Where are my glasses?” Margaret complained. “Oh, here they are,” she said, snagging the purple-framed specs off the dining room table and slipping them on. “Yes, that’s an A. It’s not Lily’s or…what’s her name? …Crissy’s.” She grabbed Savannah’s arm in a panic. “Hey, maybe it belongs to the little girl who was kidnapped.”
Chapter 5
That evening a few members of the Hammond Cat Alliance showed up at the Sheridans for an emergency meeting Margaret had called to discuss the break-ins at their cat-rescue shelter. President Ida Stone was absent, so Margaret ran the meeting.
After casual greetings among members and a
shower of attention given to some of the household cats, Margaret called the meeting to order. “As some of you know, we’re being vandalized here. No cats have been harmed or lost yet, but they are certainly in danger. Whoever is bothering them seems to be working alone, to do what, we don’t know.”
“What is this person doing, exactly?” Kitty Wilson asked.
“Well, he seems to be trying to let the cats out. He…or she…comes in the night and opens the doors to the cat pens. We started locking them. Now he’s cutting holes in the mesh—holes large enough for the cats to escape through.”
A few of the women commented, “Oh no.”
“That’s awful.”
“Who could be doing it?”
Margaret continued. “The strange thing is, he hasn’t taken any cats. He simply opens a pathway for them to escape.” She took a breath. “We’ve installed cameras and we’ve caught him on tape, but we still can’t figure out who it is. We’ll show one of the tapes in a few minutes.” She glanced around the room. “Next, I guess we’ll hire a security company. You know how seriously the sheriff’s department takes complaints about cats,” she said sarcastically.
A rumble of voices reverberated briefly, then Betty Gibson spoke up. “Why you, Maggie? Could it be personal?”
When everyone stared at Betty, she explained, “It could be a disgruntled employee…maybe someone wanting to destroy your reputation.”
“Gosh, could it be another shelter director or someone who wants to start a shelter here?” Colbi suggested.
Savannah spoke up. “Yeah, there are people who don’t understand the ongoing need for out-reach programs to protect cats. They want to help cats, but they don’t understand the magnitude of the overpopulation problem. They might look at other facilities as competition.”
“Sure,” Betty said. “Remember when we had a problem with that among our own members? We worked hard to adjust those attitudes so we could finally work together to help abandoned cats instead of against one another.”
Again, there was a rumble of comments.
Finally Margaret said, “Someone out to ruin our reputation? Gosh, I hadn’t considered that. Do any of you know about another shelter starting up or could animosity be coming from the owners of an already established shelter?” She thought for a moment then said, “I did have what I considered a minor run-in with Sandra Swanson a few months ago—do you all remember that?”
“Yes,” Iris said. “That blond floozy showed up at our fall meeting, right? She had all those questions about laws and regulations, and when you suggested she sort it out with the county, she got kinda huffy.”
“You answered a whole bunch of her questions,” Colbi recalled. “But, yeah. Iris is right. She didn’t seem to accept the answers.”
“Well, she evidently came from a jurisdiction where the regulations were loose,” Savannah said. “She wanted us to give her carte blanche to operate like she had back there.”
“That’s right,” Margaret cut in. “She countered everything we tried to tell her. She definitely had a chip on her shoulder.”
Betty spoke up. “I remember thinking she might even be a detriment to the feral cat population because of the way she seemed to be thinking.” She glanced around the room. “Did they ever open their facility? Does anyone know?”
“I wonder,” Margaret said. “It may be worth checking into.” She cringed a little. “Gads, I’d hate to think we’re being sabotaged by someone from the cat-rescue community, for heaven’s sake.”
“Hopefully not,” Betty said. “Could it be someone from your neighborhood? I think we’ve all experienced complaints from neighbors—cats yowling, a perceived odor, too many people coming and going, and we all know there are people who don’t believe in caging animals, even when it’s temporary and in their best interest.”
“Do you have anyone in the neighborhood who might do this?” Iris asked. She chuckled. “Aren’t Michael and Savannah your nearest neighbors?”
Margaret laughed a little and said, “Yeah, I’m the one who should be complaining about their animals—one of them actually escaped today and came over here.”
“Ha-ha,” Savannah said. She suggested, “It could be that crazy new neighbor of ours.”
“Mr. Crankyshaw?” Margaret said, laughing. “Why would he do it?”
“Why would anyone do it?” Savannah asked, causing the room to become silent for a few moments.
Finally Kitty asked, “So you haven’t lost any cats?”
Margaret shook her head. “No, but it’s unnerving to know that someone is trying to defeat the very purpose of our work.”
A collective “Hear! Hear!” reverberated through the room.
After much discussion and a showing of the videos the Sheridans had recorded of the stranger in the cathouse, the meeting was adjourned and only Savannah, Iris, and Colbi remained.
“Well, girls,” Margaret said, “that didn’t produce the sort of resolution I had hoped for. I think we need to take things into our own hands.”
Savannah put her arm around Margaret’s shoulders. “Oh, Auntie, you certainly have some concrete possibilities to consider—that odd shelter woman with that wild blond hair, and Mr. Crankyshaw.”
“Why would you suspect him?” Colbi asked.
“I don’t suspect him,” Savannah insisted, “any more or any less than anyone else.” She thought for a moment and added, “It’s just that he seems to have some odd opinions about cats and he doesn’t keep them to himself.”
“But he’s old,” Margaret said. “I can’t visualize him dressing up and coming here in the middle of the night to cut the pens open and let cats out.”
“He walks over this way nearly every day without much effort,” Savannah reminded her. “I think he should be considered a suspect.”
“Could it be an inside job?” Iris asked.
“What?” Margaret demanded.
“Yeah,” Colbi said, “one of your volunteers who’s holding a grudge or something?”
Margaret thought about that and said quietly, “I sure hope not.”
“So, Maggie, what do you have in mind?” Iris asked. “It sounds like you have a plan.”
“Well,” Margaret said, her eyes flashing, “I believe in woman power and I’d like for us to get together some evening when we expect him and jump him.”
“Jump him?” Colbi questioned wide-eyed. “Us?”
Margaret nodded. “Yeah, jump him, rip that stupid grim-reaper hood and mask off, and find out who it is once and for all.”
“What would we do with him once we catch him?” Iris asked.
“Turn him over to the sheriff’s office, of course,” Margaret said. “They’ll make sure he gets his due comeuppance once they know who he is. They just don’t seem to have time to do the legwork necessary to capture him.” She glanced around the room, an impish smile pasted on her face. “Well, we have legs, ladies. Let’s use ‘em.”
“You got that right, Maggie,” Colbi said, gazing at Iris’s and Savannah’s long legs.
“So who’s in?” Margaret asked, looking around at the others. “Vannie, I know you’ll be here, right?”
Savannah glanced away, grimaced, then said rather meekly, “I suppose.”
Margaret wrote something on a note pad. “I’ll put you down as a firm yes.”
“If Savannah’s going to be here, I’ll come. Could be fun,” Iris said, winking.
Colbi cringed a little. “Okay, count me in, I guess.”
“Good,” Margaret said. “I’ll contact Brianna. I’m sure she’ll want to be involved.”
“When?” Colbi asked.
Margaret looked briefly at Savannah. “Let’s wait until after the baby’s birthday party, shall we?”
Savannah let out a sigh. “That would be great. Thank you.” She looked around at the others and asked, “Did you all get your invitations?”
Everyone chimed in, “Sure did.”
“So cute.”
“C
an’t wait.”
Iris smiled. “We’ll be there with bells on.” She then asked, “Hey, did Craig tell you he made some progress in the child-abduction case?”
Margaret shook her head. “I didn’t know our favorite detective was on the case, did you, Savannah?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve been busy with party plans. Haven’t talked to him in ages. What did he find out?”
“Well, he located the people who ran a nursery here on this property, Ferne and Randolph Greene. Ferne Greene says…”
Suddenly Iris heard giggling. She looked around the room at the others. “What’s so funny?” she asked suspiciously.
“Oh nothing,” Colbi said, sitting back in her chair, hands in her lap, trying not to laugh. When Iris continued to stare at her, Colbi said, “Well, the name Ferne Greene just struck me funny.” When Iris didn’t respond, Colbi said, “Ferne Greene owned a nursery…ferns belong in a nursery and they’re green…I thought it was rather humorous,” she said, trying to contain her giggles.
“You and your word fetish,” Iris said, teasing her.
“Can’t help it,” she said unapologetically. “Go on.” Still trying to stifle her giggles, Colbi then exclaimed, “Hey, you could be in a nursery, Iris!”
Everyone joined Colbi in laughter. They laughed even harder when Colbi got so tickled she began laughing uncontrollably. Restraining herself a little, she said, “So could Lily,” before bursting out laughing again.
“Well, at least we have real names,” Iris said, “not something someone made up.”
Suddenly, Colbi stopped laughing. “Made up?” she said. “What are you talking about? Haven’t you heard of Colby, Texas and Colby, Kansas, Colby Wisconsin and…and…and…” she said, excitedly, “Colby Nolan, the cat that earned an MBA degree at Trinity Southern University?”
“What?” Margaret said, furrowing her brow.
Iris attempted to squelch a chuckle, saying, “No, Colbi, I haven’t heard of any of those places.” She narrowed her eyes. “A cat earned an MBA degree?”
Colbi nodded. “Sure did.” She leaned toward Iris. “Okay, now we’re ready to hear what Craig said, Ms. Flower…I mean, Iris,” she said, smiling.
