By Cat or By Crook

by Patricia Fry

  “Oh?” the stout woman said, staring up at Savannah, who, along with Iris, towered over her. She asked sweetly, “Where is this miracle cat of yours?”

  Savannah pointed. “In his carrier there.”

  “And he’s going to do what?” Melody asked.

  Savannah looked a bit apprehensively at Iris, who responded, “We believe he can flush out the cats. I think you agree that we really do need to remove them from the attic. We don’t want guests waking up in the night to the sound of thunderous paws overhead and wondering what wild thing is up there.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Iris,” Melody said. She narrowed her eyes. “But I beg you, do not harm a hair on those cats’ little bodies. Once they’re free, I hope to re-home them with Dr. Mike’s help.”

  “They won’t be harmed,” Iris said rather impatiently. “In fact, this is Dr. Mike’s wife. She’s also a veterinarian.” Iris nodded toward Margaret. “And Maggie and her husband run a cat shelter. These ladies know and love cats.”

  Melody looked at the two women with more interest. “Oh, that’s wonderful. The Kaiser kitties will be in good hands, then. Thank you so much for coming out here to help. It’s a mystery to me how the cats are finding their way overhead, if, indeed, they are.” She waved her hand in front of her, saying, “Well, I’ll let you experts figure all that out. I have enough concerns to keep me company.”

  “So you don’t know how the cats get from outside into the attic?” Savannah asked. Before Melody could respond, Savannah lowered her brow. “How many cats are we talking about, anyway?”

  “There are eleven—all spayed and neutered, according to your patient husband. I understand a local organization took over their care in recent years, before I came here to handle my mother’s affairs.” She scowled. “I don’t much like the idea of their ears being clipped. I have to tell you that straight out. But I guess it’s necessary to mark feral cats.” She relaxed a little. “Anyway, I’m terribly grateful that someone stepped up to save those cats that remain here.”

  “Hey, I think Betty and Edie were managing the cats out here,” Margaret said.

  Melody looked at her. “From the Hammond Cat Organization?”

  “Hammond Cat Alliance,” Margaret corrected.

  “Yes, that’s it. You know those people?” Melody asked.

  Margaret, who stood about the same height as Melody, grinned. “I started the group.”

  Meow! Meow!

  Upon hearing Rags’s complaints, Savannah excused herself. “I’d better go get him.” When she returned leading the cat on his leash, Melody gushed, “Oh he’s quite striking.

  And his name is…?”

  “Rags,” Savannah said. When she saw the hint of disdain on the woman’s face, she added, “Ragsdale.”

  “Ragsdale, Ragsdale,” Melody repeated. She squinted in Savannah’s direction. “Isn’t there a cat sanctuary around here by that name?”

  Savannah smiled. “Yes, June Balcomb’s Ragsdale Cat Ranch.”

  “It’s named for that cat right there,” Margaret said smugly.

  Melody glanced at Margaret, then reached out and petted Rags as he walked past her.

  “So, Ms. Plumb, about your cats…” Savannah said, “…do you know where they live…I mean when they aren’t in the attic?”

  The woman petted Rags one more time, then stood and smoothed one side of her dyed brown chin-length hair. “They live among that stand of trees and shrubbery out behind the house.” She tilted her head and looked Savannah in the eyes. “I believe most of them are descendants of my grandparents’ cats, Abe and Mrs. Lincoln.”

  The others chuckled at the names and Melody continued, “Father didn’t like cats. When my grandparents died, Father banned the cats from the house. I was just a child then and his new rule broke my heart. I couldn’t stand the thought of my sweet Lulu and Felix living outside like…well, like wild animals.” She grinned. “My parents didn’t know it, but I often slept among the trees with the cats and all the resulting kittens. Oh my, there seemed always to be a litter or three or four of kittens. Of course, most didn’t survive, you see.” She focused on Margaret. “Your people helped to save the lives of those few cats that are left, and my goal is preservation.”

  Before anyone else could speak, Melody continued, “Yes, Iris has told me that you believe the cats are finding their way into the attic.” She rolled her eyes. “An attic we didn’t even know existed.”

  “You mean the attic was a secret?” Margaret asked.

  “I guess you’d say that. My brothers and I were unaware of it until Iris discovered the hidden stairway and began telling me of the racket she was hearing overhead at night.” She addressed Iris, “But you haven’t found any cats up there?”

  Iris shook her head.

  “Just evidence of cats having been up there,” Savannah said. “And we found where they’re probably coming into the attic.”

  “But no one seems to know how the cats are getting into the house,” Iris explained. “We haven’t been able to find their entrance from outside to inside.”

  “Oh dear,” Melody said. “Maybe some of them are trapped up there.”

  Iris gazed in her direction. “What?”

  “Maybe there is no way in or out. Do they live up there?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t look like it,” Savannah said, adding, “or smell like it. There were no cats up there Saturday morning. But since Iris hears the overhead ruckus only at night, we thought we should go up after dark and make sure it actually is cats she hears. And Rags might be able to help us find out how they’re getting in.”

  Iris looked down at Rags, who sat at Savannah’s feet, giving himself a licking bath.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “We’re willing to give it a try, right Ragsie?”

  “How is it that you lived here as a child and didn’t know about the attic?” Margaret asked.

  “Boarding school,” Melody said. When she noticed Margaret was staring at her, obviously waiting for more, she explained, “My brothers and I lived abroad for our schooling. When we weren’t in school, we were most often traveling with our parents.”

  In order to close an uncomfortable gap in the conversation, Savannah said, “Well, shall we go take a look in the attic, ladies?”

  Margaret put her hands on her knees and stood from the chair where she had perched. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  “Good luck,” Melody said. She looked at Iris. “I expect a report tomorrow. We’re meeting with the builder at noon, right?”

  Iris nodded.

  Before the three women could walk away, Melody said, “Remember, do not harm a hair on their little bodies.”

  “No one will get hurt,” Savannah assured her.

  “Perfect,” Iris said. She turned to Margaret and Savannah. “Shall we go?”

  “This is a big place,” Margaret said as the three women made their way up the wide staircase to the second floor. “How many rooms will they rent out?”

  “Two suites and four smaller rooms. The suites can be divided, so there are eight guest rooms altogether and quarters downstairs for the manager.”

  “Wow! This is going to be some showplace, Iris. I’d like to live here.”

  Iris faced Margaret. “They’ll be taking applications soon, Maggie. Interested?”

  “Not if I have to cook and clean, I’m not…and mollycoddle cantankerous, demanding guests.” Margaret shook her head. “Not my cup of tea.”

  Iris laughed. “Well, you can be a paying guest then, and have your breakfast served to you in bed.”

  “Now, I like the sound of that,” Margaret said, smiling. She stopped in her tracks. “Only don’t put me in that room where someone got bumped off, okay?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, where you found the blood.”

  Iris laughed. “Okay, Maggie.” She pointed. “Here’s the way to the attic. Stand back while I bring the stairs down.”

  “It’s hard to beli
eve the owners didn’t know about the attic,” Savannah said.

  “You heard her,” Margaret said. She mimicked Melody, “Boarding school.” She added, “But I wonder why they’re not curious as all get out to see what’s up there. They haven’t been up there, Iris?”

  Iris shook her head. “No. Not that I know of. Actually, I don’t see the brothers very often. They both have homes abroad. Melvin was staying with Melody for a while, but he hasn’t been around here in a few weeks. He may have returned home. She’s really the only one who seems interested in the place and she’s more focused on moving forward with the project than exploring anything that may have happened in the past.” After thinking about it for a moment, Iris said, “Melvin used to come around fairly often. He always seemed to be looking for something. I don’t know if he’s a bit slow or if he’s just sneaky.”

  “Sneaky?” Savannah asked.

  “Yeah, like a snoop. I used to see him tapping on walls and digging holes. Him and Willie.”

  “Who’s Willie?” Margaret asked.

  “He’s one of the laborers. I don’t know what in the heck they’re looking for, but they were always digging holes and covering them up, making more holes and covering them up, like squirrels looking for nuts.”

  “Did you ask them what they were doing?” Savannah asked.

  “Once,” Iris admitted. “Melvin pretty much told me to mind my own business.”

  “So none of them has been up in the attic to see what goodies Mommy and Daddy and their grandparents may have left up there?” Margaret asked.

  “Apparently not,” Iris said. “But I think Melvin left town before we discovered it.” She laughed. “If he had been here when we found out about the attic, he would have been the first one to climb these stairs. I remember the day we removed the brick and river rock from the downstairs fireplace. Melvin must have spent hours, if not days, poking around in there with a flashlight and probe.”

  “Has he found anything interesting?” Margaret asked.

  Iris shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m too busy working to follow that snoop around.” She stiffened. “He’d just better not be messing up my handiwork, that’s all I can say. He can snoop all he wants while the place is in disarray, but once we finish a project, he’s toast, as far as I’m concerned.” After pulling the attic ladder down, she made sure it was secure. “Who wants to go first?” When neither woman spoke, she began climbing the steps. “Okay, follow me, then.” Once at the top, she disappeared, returning promptly with a flashlight in her hand. “Okay, come on up.”

  After surveying the situation, Savannah handed Margaret the cat. “I’ll climb up a ways and you can lift him up to me.”

  “Ooof, he’s heavy,” Margaret said, struggling to boost Rags to where Savannah waited.

  “Got him,” Savannah said. “Now Rags, hold still. You’ll make us both fall. Iris,” she called, “I’m going to lift him onto the floor there. Will you grab his leash while I finish climbing up?”

  “Yeah. Okay, I got him,” she said. “Come on up.”

  “We should have brought another flashlight,” Savannah said as she entered the attic.

  Iris shined the light around the room. “There’s one of those old lanterns. I’ll pick up some oil for it tomorrow.”

  “And a wick,” Savannah suggested.

  “What?”

  “It probably needs a new wick,” she explained.

  “Doing okay, Maggie?” Iris called as she watched Margaret make her way up the ladder.

  “Yeah, I think so. Whew, that last step is a killer,” she said as she hoisted herself into the attic, where she joined the others. She then covered her mouth, saying, “Oooh, not the best terminology to use in this place, is it?” When the others stared at her, she repeated, “Killer.”

  The women all laughed rather nervously.

  “Rags, settle down,” Savannah said, holding tightly to his leash.

  “What’s he doing?” Iris asked.

  “He’s interested in something off in that direction. Shine your light over there, Iris. What’s over there?”

  “I sure don’t smell anything,” Margaret said. “Are you sure it’s cats coming up here? Live ones?”

  “Ick, Auntie, if they were dead ones, there’d surely be an odor.”

  “Savannah seems to think it’s cats,” Iris said. She continued to shine the flashlight around the room. “But I don’t see any now.”

  “Maybe they’re sleeping,” Margaret suggested.

  “Yeah,” Savannah agreed, “I see a lot of cubbyholes, nooks, and crannies perfect for catnaps.”

  “And bedding,” Margaret added, noticing fabric folded into many of the boxes. She looked more closely. “What is all that stuff, anyway?”

  “In the boxes? I don’t know,” Iris said. “Like I told you, this is the first official exploration of this portion of the house since…well…maybe since the fifties or even before that.”

  “Not really,” Margaret said. When the others looked at her, she explained, “You said you think the cats have been up here exploring.”

  “Boy, he’s sure pulling, isn’t he?” Iris observed. “What would happen if you let him go?”

  “That, I don’t know,” Savannah said. “Point the light over that way and I’ll follow him.” When Savannah saw the beam of light shining on the far wall, she loosened her grip on Rags’s leash and allowed him to pull her along. “Hey, shine that thing on the floor in front of me, Iris,” Savannah demanded. “I want to see where I’m stepping.”

  “Oh, sorry. Is that better?”

  “Yes, I guess. That’s strange,” Savannah said, stopping. “I can see light coming through from below. There are little holes in this floor. I hope it doesn’t collapse on us.”

  “Really?” Iris said, moving closer to where Savannah stood. “Gosh, you’re right—little tiny holes. I can see light coming in from the hallway.”

  When Margaret joined the others, she said matter-of-factly, “Bullet holes.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like a spray of buckshot to me. Someone either shot into the attic trying to kill someone or from the attic into the hallway.” Margaret gasped. “Iris, where did you find that bullet hole you told us about?”

  “In the living room, why?”

  “Oh, I guess that wouldn’t have come from this far away.” She shivered. “Gads, I wonder what happened up here.”

  “Rags, just a minute,” Savannah nagged. “Let me get my footing around all this debris.” Suddenly she stopped. “What do you see, boy?” she asked. “Iris, bring your flashlight closer.”

  “Ow!” Margaret yelped. “Damn junk. I stubbed my toe on something.”

  “I should have warned you not to wear sandals in a construction zone,” Iris said.

  “Thanks a lot.” Margaret covered her stylish dark-brown bobbed hair with her arms. “Hope I don’t need a hardhat.”

  “So what is he after?” Iris asked, ignoring Margaret and catching up with Savannah.

  “Hey, I think this is a mobster’s hit list,” Margaret called out from just left of Iris.

  Iris faced her. “What? A hit list?”

  “Yeah,” Margaret said rather breathlessly. “It’s a book of names and some of them are crossed off.” She moved closer to the beam coming from Iris’s flashlight and added in a hushed tone, “Oh my God, Vannie, Dad’s on this list.” She looked at her. “Your Grandpa Brannan.”

  “What?” Iris said, looking over Margaret’s shoulder. “Let me see that.”

  “See, right there. Joseph Brannan with two check marks next to his name.” She gasped. “Hey, there’s Colonel Atkins. Vannie, you wouldn’t know him.”

  “I did,” Iris said. “He died when we were young, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” Margaret said, her eyes wide. “Wasn’t there something odd about that? Helen came home and found him dead on the floor. I remember that because I babysat the kids next door to the Atkins’s and I used to see the colonel out
in his yard pruning his roses all the time. I remember Dad saying something about him falling and hitting his head.” She looked at Iris, then Savannah. “He was murdered. Look, here it is in black and white—his name’s crossed off.”

  “Is Grandpa’s name crossed off?” Savannah asked.

  “No.” She paused before saying, “There are just those two check marks by his name. I wonder what that means.” Suddenly she dropped the book. “Vannie, Mom and Dad were killed in that car accident.” She grabbed Savannah’s arm. “Do you suppose there was foul play? Maybe someone tampered with their brakes or something.” She stared up at her niece before asking quietly, “Why would a mobster want to hurt Mom and Dad?”

  “Oh, Maggie,” Iris said. “All you kids were grown when that happened. The timings off, don’t you think? This place was abandoned at least ten years before your parents had that accident.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Margaret said picking up the book.

  “Who else is on that list?” Iris asked, trying to get a better look. “Hey, that’s Mr. Fletcher. He was a teacher at the high school. Remember him?” She looked into Margaret’s eyes and said hesitantly, “His name’s crossed off, too.”

  Margaret shook her head. “I don’t remember him.”

  “He drowned while he was out fishing with a buddy. I’ll never forget the day I heard a couple of teachers talking about him afterward,” Iris said. “I was kind of upset. When I heard his name come up, I listened. They said he was killed because he knew something. One of the teachers said he’d been scared lately because of something he knew.” She put one hand over her mouth. “Oh Maggie, could this actually be…?” Before completing her thought, she shook her head vigorously. “Just put it back,” she insisted. “Let’s forget we ever saw it.”

  “No,” Margaret said. “This is juicy stuff. I want to know more.”

  “It’s none of your business, Maggie. It belongs to the estate owners. Put it back, will you?”

  “Just let me borrow it. I’ll bring it back.” Margaret looked Iris in the eyes. “I’ll bet your hubby would like to see it.”

  “See what?” came a voice from the attic opening.