PAWtners in Crime (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 10)

by Patricia Fry

  Savannah peered at Arthur for a moment before asking, “Were you sedated when you were in the burn center?”

  Arthur looked at Ruth questioningly and she responded, “Artie doesn’t have much memory about the first part of his stay.” She said to him, “Yes, you were, Artie, for the first few days—maybe even a week—heavily sedated.” She looked at Savannah. “But after that, they gave him meds only for pain.”

  He thought for a few moments and smiled. “I remember meeting Suzette.” He turned to Savannah. “She had been in a car accident and came in with awful burns. We still stay in touch, even though she’s in Maryland. I hope to go see her sometime. She’s the only other one besides Ruthie who knew my situation these past seven years.”

  “How is she doing?” Ruth asked. “She was a sweet girl.”

  “Great,” Arthur said with a smile. “She started getting reconstructive surgery after about a year. She sent me some pictures—she looks real good. She’s going to school soon to become a plastic surgeon—imagine that, Ruthie.”

  “That’s a wonderful way to give back,” she said.

  “Suzette has applied at a couple of colleges in California, so I might get to see her sooner rather than later,” he said, smiling. He pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket. “Here’s a picture of her.”

  “She’s lovely,” Savannah said. “Look at those beautiful eyes. And there’s not a single hint of a scar that I can see.”

  “She says she still has some bad patches on her back and one leg, but otherwise, perfect,” he said, smiling at the picture before putting it away.

  Savannah looked at the young man for a moment. “Arthur, you live a rich life, you know it?”

  “I do?”

  “Yes, and the more I learn about you, the more impressed I am. I had no idea you were maintaining a long-distance relationship with a wonderful young lady.”

  He became quiet. “I’m used to keeping secrets, I guess. That was my life for so many years.” Just then, he noticed Rags sitting on the window ledge Michael had installed for the cats in the kitchen. “He likes to look out at Peaches, doesn’t he?” Arthur asked.

  “Yes. And he likes to visit her. It’s early, do you want to take him out to the corral? You could also take the mare an apple from the orchard.”

  “Sure.” He stepped into the kitchen, saying, “Hey Rags, wanna go for a walk?” After gulping down a glass of water, Arthur proceeded to put the cat’s harness on him. He had just snapped the leash to the harness, when he saw Koko enter the room. He hoisted her across his shoulders before stepping out onto the wraparound porch leading Rags.

  “Don’t forget Peaches’s apple,” Savannah called after him as he walked down the ramp.

  “He sure loves his animals,” Ruth said. She turned toward Savannah. “He has helped me to have a greater appreciation for animals, too.” She then ran her hand over Lily’s curls. “She will grow up loving animals, don’t you think?”

  “Being the daughter of two veterinarians and surrounded by cats and dogs and horses—probably so,” Savannah said, laughing. Just then, Michael returned. As he lowered himself into a deck chair, Savannah asked him, “So what have you been doing today?”

  “Well,” he said, overly dramatically, “I took care of our daughter all morning, changed the litter boxes, replaced that screen that blew off last week, trimmed a tree so it wouldn’t rub on the screen in the wind, painted the tack room wall—let’s see, what else…oh yes, I repaired that loose doorknob in the pantry, grilled hamburgers for our early dinner. I haven’t even had time to read my Sunday paper,” he complained.

  “You poor thing,” Savannah said, patting his knee. “You have a rough life, don’t you?”

  Ruth laughed. “You two are too much.”

  Michael peered out at Arthur. “What’s he doing?” he asked.

  “Getting out of Dodge.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just relaxing with the animals for a while. He’s taking Rags and Koko for a walk to visit Peaches.”

  “It’s uncanny how dog-like his cat is. She rides on his shoulders, hangs around with him when he takes her outside…”

  “She is attached to Artie, that’s for sure,” Ruth said. “…more than any of the other cats were.” She leaned forward. “Looks like he found something.”

  Savannah smiled. “There’s still a lot of stuff around this property—Adam is always coming up with an old type of nail or something…”

  “Yeah, from the turn of the century,” Michael said. “I believe they actually manufactured nails here on the property in order to build this house. We still find handmade nails in the area where the barn burned. Adam also finds old bottles from time to time.” He chuckled. “Our gardener Antonio saves things he digs up in the garden beds and out in the orchard for Adam.”

  Savannah added, “Yeah, but the thrill for Adam is finding the things, so Antonio hides them and then gives us hints as to where to send the boy next time he comes to visit. Adam and Rags have a blast uncovering little treasures.”

  “Cool,” Ruth said, smiling.

  “Whatcha got there, Arthur?” Savannah asked as he headed toward the house, leading Rags, Koko following behind.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe a clue.” He held his hand out toward the others, palm up.

  “It’s a pocket knife, isn’t it,” Michael said, taking it from Arthur. He turned it over and added, “With a money clip attached. Or a money clip with a little pocket knife attached. Interesting.”

  “Looks new,” Savannah said. “I mean, it’s not an antique.” She took it and turned it over a few times in her hands, then rubbed some dirt from it. “It’s personalized.”

  “What?” Arthur said.

  “Look, initials. CP. Or is that an R.”

  Arthur took it and handed it to Ruth. “You have good eyes, Ruthie, what do you think? It’s kind of scratched. Is that a P or an R?”

  After studying it, Ruth asked, “Do you have a magnifier?”

  “Sure,” Michael said, heading into the house. When he returned, he handed a magnifying glass to Ruth and she and Savannah agreed that it was a P.

  “CP? As in Charles Peyton?” Michael asked.

  “I doubt it,” Arthur said, after some thought. “For one thing, this is a bit flimsy for his taste. It is first-class, classy, all the way for Charles Peyton. But it is his initials.”

  Ruth shook her head. “No, Artie. He never uses just his first and last initials. Everything in the house includes his middle initial. Even the plate under the doorbell chimes reads CLP. Remember the dishes we ate from in your quarters?” she asked.

  “Oh yes, always CLP. You’re right, Ruthie. What does the L stand for again?”

  “Lamont. Charles Lamont Peyton.”

  “Well, it’s comforting to know that he hasn’t been lurking around here, but I wonder who has. Who does this belongs to?” Savannah asked, not expecting an answer.

  “Probably whoever painted that message on the tack room,” Michael said, peering out in that direction. “Is that where you found it?”

  Arthur nodded. “Yes, just outside Peaches’s corral under some hay. Actually, Rags and Koko found it. I was petting Peaches and they went after something in the hay…probably a mouse. Once it had scurried away, I looked down and Rags was pawing at this.”

  “Leave it to Rags,” Savannah said. She then added, “Hey, we need to tell Craig about this. Michael may be right—that it belongs to the guy who left that…disgusting message.”

  Chapter 16

  The star of Monday morning breakfast in the Ivey household was peach pie.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever had pie for breakfast,” Ruth said, chuckling. “I feel rather rebellious—like I am breaking rules.”

  “I know what you mean,” Savannah said in a near whisper. “It’s good to be bad once in a while, don’t you think?”

  Ruth laughed. “Well, I don’t
know. I’ve never thought about it before. I guess I have too much conditioning to be good.” She stared down at her coffee for a moment before confiding in Savannah, who was feeding the baby. “Both of my sisters went down the wrong road when they were young and…never came back. They broke our parents’ hearts. I was the youngest—their last hope—and I wasn’t about to hurt them the way my sisters did. So I was a model child—never did anything out of line.” She thought for a moment and added, “It was really very confining, but I kept my resolve never to do anything to worry or disappoint my parents.”

  “That must have been a challenge—there are so many temptations for children and teenagers. How did you manage?”

  “I became a homebody—a bookworm. My parents were overly protective of me, so I never went anyplace where I would be tempted. I studied a lot—excelled in school. But I was not very good at socializing. I figured that the best way to be a model daughter was to stay away from other kids who might convince me to do something wrong. I think that is why I decided to teach. I didn’t have a normal childhood and I thought it would enrich my soul to spend time with children.”

  “What happened to your sisters?” Savannah asked.

  “Lisa was killed in a car accident—her boyfriend was driving drunk. Mattie, I think, lives on the streets. Her experiment with drugs and alcohol became a lifelong habit. It was awful watching her ruin her life right before our eyes, and there was nothing my parents could do to help her.” She looked at Savannah. “You know, you have to want help in order to be helped.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Savannah said. “I’ll bet your parents were proud of you.”

  “I think so. We were about as close as a family could be.”

  Just then Arthur walked in from outside. “Peaches is fed and watered,” he said. “She’s sure a nice horse. She’s so friendly.”

  Savannah nodded. “Yes, she’s great. She was Michael’s wedding gift to me.”

  “Cool,” Arthur said.

  “That’s a bit out of the ordinary, is it not?” Ruth said, laughing.

  “But she was just what I wanted,” Savannah said.

  “What did Craig say about that money clip?” Michael asked when he joined the others for breakfast.

  “Hi hon,” Savannah greeted. “Oh, he’s going to call me back.” The two of them looked at each other and laughed when they heard her phone ring. “Hi Craig, anything new?” she asked into her cell phone.

  “Yeah, the boy…and the cats…did some mighty good detective work there. Do you know the name of the paparazzi that Arthur had the scuffle with—the one that got so blasted angry?”

  “No, I don’t recall hearing his name.”

  “Well, we got his name. It’s Carl Padilla.”

  “CP—Oh my gosh. Do you think it’s his?” she asked.

  “I know it is—he identified it. Doesn’t recall where he lost it. Was there any money with it?”

  Savannah thought for a moment. “Arthur didn’t mention finding money, so I would say no.”

  “Well, he claims there was,” Craig said, “so you might want to look around the area. He says he’s missing three-hundred dollars. And he’s pretty upset about it. The guy’s a real psycho, so the money could be a figment of his imagination or wishful thinking. Uh, he may not be the one who painted on your tack room. He’s a paparazzi—he might have been there simply taking pictures and lost the money clip when reaching into his pocket for a lens cap or something.”

  “Taking pictures that late at night?” she asked. She hesitated before saying, “Oh, what you’re saying is he may not have been the guy we saw out there last night. He could have been here some other time. But he was still trespassing, right?”

  “Yup,” Craig agreed. “Savannah, about the break-in at Ruth’s place…I got a call from the police department there and they found a print different from any of yours. Ask Ruth if there’s been anyone else in the house—grocery-delivery person, repairman, plumber…anyone.”

  “Well, did you check that print against this guy—Carl Padilla?”

  Craig cleared his throat. “Yes. Not his. The print was on the water pitcher. The water was not contaminated, by the way. The guy must have just been thirsty while he was inside the house doing—we don’t know what. Maybe this was a random break-in and not personal.”

  “Just a minute, Craig,” Savannah said. A few seconds later, she came back to the phone. “Ruth said she has had no one in the house—no repairmen or delivery people at all—at least not in the last month.”

  “Hmm. I’ll make a note,” Craig said. “The police plan to fingerprint that crazy accountant, only he’s in the hospital. He had some sort of a diabetic attack and a problem with one of his legs. He fell and it wasn’t healing right.”

  “Craig,” Savannah said, “the guy Ruth saw running from her house was limping. And another thing—people with diabetes drink a lot of water. That’s one of the symptoms of diabetes for animals as well as people.”

  “Yeah? So it could have been Wilkerson there on a mission to follow through with his threat to Arthur.” He paused. “It will be interesting to find out if that’s his fingerprint.”

  She let out a sigh. “That poor kid—I just hate that this is happening to him. He’s just trying to find his place in society. I hope he can hold it together through all of this.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “And you, Craig. You’ve been a good friend to Arthur.”

  “Well, I like the boy and I want to see him succeed and live his dreams.”

  Shortly after Savannah ended the call, she noticed Arthur come in from feeding the horse. “You didn’t happen to find a wad of cash or any bills scattered around out near the corral, did you?” she asked.

  He frowned. “No. Why?”

  “Craig said the guy you attacked has the initials, CP—Carl Padilla. He identified the money clip and said he’s also missing some cash.”

  Arthur’s eyes darkened. “That darned…” he started. “So he’s still after me, is he?” He glanced at Savannah. “Do they think he left that…message on the side of the tack room?”

  She shrugged.

  “Well, it serves him right if he lost his wad of cash.” He glanced at Savannah and smiled a little. “No, I didn’t find any money, but I’ll take my feline colleagues out there and we’ll see if we can find it.”

  “Why don’t you take Lexie?” Savannah suggested.

  Arthur thought for a moment before saying, “I think the cats are better investigators.”

  Savannah smiled. “You’re probably right. The only things I’ve seen Lexie dig up are old bones.”

  By the time Savannah was ready to return to the task of straightening the kitchen, Ruth had already finished it. When she saw Savannah enter the room, she said, “I think Miss Lily is ready for a change of scenery.”

  “Probably,” Savannah agreed. “Let me get her little sweater and we’ll take her outside for a while.”

  Before she left the kitchen, Michael returned. “I’m off to work,” he said. He bent down and blew raspberries on Lily’s neck and laughed when she giggled. “See you this afternoon,” he said, kissing the baby’s cheek. He kissed Savannah and then said, “’Bye, Ruth. You ladies have a nice day.”

  The two women were relaxing on the large porch with Lily when Savannah gazed out at Arthur and the cats. “Has he always hated his stepdad?” she asked.

  Ruth thought for a moment. “No. Actually, at first, Mr. Peyton treated the kids quite nice. They went on some trips—Artie was probably too young to remember, but Mr. Peyton had a playground built for them and he’d go out there with the kids sometimes and play with them. Artie should actually have good memories of his relationship with Mr. Peyton before the accidents. I was rather stunned when he decided he hated him and he has never been able to tell me why. I’m not sure he knows why. I figured he was just resentful because his mother kept him hidden away. Instead of blaming her—his
lifeline—he put the blame on Mr. Peyton—decided to hate him.”

  “Interesting,” Savannah said. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “There’s Antonio. I want to talk to him.” She started to walk out toward the raised garden beds and stopped. “Hey, Ruth, come on and meet Antonio,” she said as she released the brake on the baby’s stroller and pushed it down the ramp.

  “Hello Ms. Savannah,” the gardener said. He leaned over to engage Lily. “Hello, bambina. Bonita bambina,” he said, smiling widely as Lily slammed her ragdoll against the tray of her stroller. “She is big,” he said, gesturing with his hands.

  “Yes, she’s growing,” Savannah said. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, “Antonio, I’d like you to meet our friend Ruth.”

  He grabbed the hat off his head, held it to his chest, and said, “Nice to meet you, señorita.”

  Ruth nodded her head. “You, too, Antonio.” She then said something in Spanish that Savannah didn’t understand.

  The gardener responded with enthusiasm, and within a few moments the two of them were involved in a lively conversation. After much gesturing and laughter, Ruth turned to Savannah. “Oh, sorry about that. We are leaving you out.” She glanced at Antonio, smiling, “It felt so good to use my native language.” She nodded to Antonio. “Thank you for indulging me, señor. My Spanish is rusty.”

  “Good,” he said. “Very good Spanish.” He squinted and gestured toward Arthur. “Your boy?” he asked Ruth.

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “What he’s looking for?” he asked.

  “Money,” Savannah responded.

  “Oh, money,” Antonio said, quickly shoving his hand into his pocket. “I find this.” He opened his hand, revealing a few hundred-dollar bills.”

  Savannah lowered her brow. “You found it? Where?”

  He pointed. “There, where the boy is. I was looking for the pala…shovel,” he said. He pulled the bills apart, displaying three one-hundred-dollar bills.”

  “Arthur,” Savannah called. When he looked up, she motioned for him to join them. “Arthur, this is Antonio,” she said. “He found these bills at the corral.”