The Perilous PURRsuit (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 26)

by Patricia Fry

  The Perilous PURRsuit

  Book 26

  by Patricia Fry

  The Perilous PURRsuit

  A Klepto Cat Mystery

  Book 26

  Author: Patricia Fry

  ISBN: 978-0-9994724-0-8

  All rights reserved

  © 2017 Matilija Press

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 1

  “Murder!” Michael shouted. “He’s accused of murder?”

  The ranger nodded. “Yup. Mounted police and search teams on ATVs are roaming all over this park looking for him. So you’d better not get in their way or you could find yourself in danger or in trouble. We’re advising visitors to stay out of this area for now.” He chuckled. “Shouldn’t take them long to nab him, though. He’s up there in years and on foot.”

  Michael winced.

  “What’s wrong?” Savannah asked when she and Holly caught up to their husbands.

  Keith took a deep breath and gestured toward the ranger. “This guy tells us there’s a search team out looking for him.”

  “They think he’s killed someone,” Michael added.

  “What?” Holly gasped. “Who? Who’s he supposed to have killed?”

  When the ranger noticed the two couples were waiting for his response, he said, “A fisherman down on the lower fork of the Ridge River. The hiker who found the body saw someone run into the brush and his description matches that of the old hermit.”

  “Tell me,” Michael said, “has the…um…old hermit caused any trouble before? I mean, from what I understand, he’s lived up here for quite a while. Has he ever been accused of anything like this before?”

  The ranger thought for a moment. “Not as far as I know, he hasn’t.” Just then something caught his eye. He pointed. “Hey, there’s a varmint in your car! Did you leave your windows down? You don’t want to do that out here,” he warned.

  Savannah glanced back at Keith’s Jeep. “No. That’s our cat.”

  The ranger continued to stare. “A cat? I don’t see many cats in the park. Is he a good camper? Are you folks camping up here?”

  Keith nodded rather absentmindedly. “We’re staying up at Brody’s Lodge.” He then asked, “So if he’s lived up here for a while and he’s never been in any trouble, why is he being accused now?”

  The ranger scratched his head. “Because of the description, I guess. …gray beard, long hair, grungy clothes, that old bucket hat…”

  “Bucket hat?” Holly questioned.

  “Yeah. You know—what fishermen wear.”

  Keith and Michael exchanged looks and Keith said, “My brother and I’ve been driving and hiking around this area for over a week now, and we’ve seen a dozen or more guys who match that description.”

  “Oh…um…well, I guess that’s probably—you know, something to consider. I’m sure the authorities have a…”

  Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Savannah grabbed Michael’s arm and Holly dashed to Keith’s side.

  “It’s not hunting season, is it?” Keith asked anxiously. “There’s no hunting around here in the spring and summer, right?”

  The ranger shook his head. “No. Listen, I’d better finish putting out these cones and go alert those folks who’re camping up in the pines.” He appeared to be distracted for a moment, then mumbled, “I should check on that—find out who’s shooting.”

  Keith moved back so the ranger could drive off. He looked at Michael. “Do you think…?”

  “…that they shot him?” Michael finished. He lowered his head. “God, I sure hope not. We’re so close to finally knowing him.”

  “What should we do?” Savannah asked, sounding a little panicked.

  When no one spoke Holly suggested, “Let’s go down to the Ridgecrest Café and find out what people are saying.”

  Savannah nodded. “Good idea. If something has happened, someone in there will know about it.”

  Michael grimaced. “Gosh, this has been a roller-coaster ride.”

  “Sure has,” Keith agreed. “We think we’re close to finding him…”

  “Then he disappears into thin air,” Michael said.

  Holly chuckled nervously. “Well, you have some help now.” When the others looked at her, she explained, “A whole search team is out there looking for him.”

  “Yeah,” Savannah said, “but that could hinder more than help. They’ll either arrest him or force him deeper into the wilderness.”

  “Or kill him,” Keith said under his breath.

  Savannah looked briefly at Holly as they slid into the backseat of the Jeep Wrangler. She thought back to the day before she, Michael, and their children, along with her mother, had left their home in Northern California and begun their trek to Colorado in search of Scott Hanson—the man presumed to be Michael’s and Keith’s father.

  ****

  It was a pretty Sunday morning in June. Savannah and her mother were going over the list of last-minute things they still had to pack. “Toothbrushes, snacks for the road, dog and cat bowls…” Savannah noted.

  “Will there be room for a cooler in the car?” Gladys asked, “…for Lilliana’s juicies, fruit cups, and things like that?”

  “Maybe the small one.” Savannah chuckled. “We’ll look like the Beverly Hillbillies going down the road.”

  Gladys laughed. “You’re not putting your rocking chair on top of the car for me, are you?” When two-and-a-half-year-old Lily walked into the room, Gladys teased, “Can’t you just see Grammy riding on top of the car in a rocking chair?”

  Lily looked confused, then shook her head. “No, Gammy!” she insisted. “You can’t ride on the car top.” She rushed to her grandmother and leaned across her lap. “You ride in the car with me.”

  Gladys smoothed the toddler’s soft blond curls. “Okay, honey. I’ll ride in the car with you and Teddy.” She looked at the kitchen clock. “It’s almost noon. Vannie, what time are we supposed to be at Colbi’s and Damon’s?”

  “One. Yeah, we’d better get a move on.” She smiled. “This will be the first time we’ve gone to a Sunday friends-and-family lunch without first going to church.”

  “Yes. But I think everyone understands. We are, after all, leaving on an extended vacation first thing in the morning.”

  “An extended vacation?” Michael repeated when he came in from outside with their Afghan-hound-mix dog. “It’s more like an expedition leading us to who knows where.” He looked down at Lexie. “And with her and two cats along, it’s likely to be a fiasco of an expedition.”

  “Now, let’s not borrow trouble, Michael,” Savannah said.

  He laughed. “Borrow trouble? No need.” He pointed at the large gray-and-white cat that lay sprawled out in a pink canopy cat bed. “We have enough potential for trouble right there.”

  “Rags will do just fine,” Savannah soothed. “He’s a good traveler as long as…”

  “Yeah,” Michael said, “as long as he doesn’t run amok, go on a stealing spree, or otherwise throw a wrench into a perfectly perfect situation.” He looked down at the cat and winced. “What am I getting myself into?”

  Gladys winked at her son-in-law. “Like your wife said, I wouldn’t invite trouble, Michael.”

  “Invite trouble?” He laughed facetiously. “Just having him along is an invitation to trouble.” He walked out of the room, muttering, “Lordy, lordy, will I ever learn? I cou
ld have put my foot down, but oh no, I have to cave.” He shook his head. “That cat will ruin my vacation just as sure as I’m muttering to myself right now.”

  Savannah and Gladys couldn’t contain their laughter.

  ****

  An hour later, the Ivey family and Gladys approached the Jacksons’ front door just as Damon pulled it open and greeted them. “Hi ya’ll. Come in.”

  “Ya’ll?” Michael mimicked. “What is this, a hoedown? Were we supposed to wear Western garb?”

  “Yeah,” Damon joked, “didn’t you get the memo?”

  Wide-eyed, Savannah stepped inside and glanced around the room. She then relaxed, saying, “Oh, he’s kidding. No one’s in costume.”

  “Except for Iris,” Michael said, grinning at the tall redhead as she walked toward them.

  “What?” Iris glanced down at her tangerine cold-shoulder shirt, flower-print capris, and tangerine beaded sandals. “This isn’t a costume,” she cranked.

  Michael took a step back. “Oops, sorry.” When Iris, hands on hips, feigned a disgusted look, he smiled. “You look fabulous, Iris. Really, you do.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Iris reached for the infant he held. “Let me take this bundle. Oh, he’s growing like a weed, aren’t you, sweet boy?” she cooed as she walked away with Teddy in her arms.

  “Welcome, guys,” Colbi said, joining them. She hugged Savannah, then Michael. She took Gladys’s hand and greeted her warmly, then stooped and addressed Lily. “Hi, cutie.”

  “Where’s baby Mary?” Lily chirped.

  “You want to play with Rosemary?” Colbi pointed. “She’s in her bouncy chair. See her over there with her grandpa Craig and your auntie Bri?”

  “We’re the last ones here, again?” Michael complained.

  Colbi smiled. “Not a problem. I’m just glad you could be here with all that you have going on.” She grabbed Savannah in another hug. “Oh, I’m going to miss you guys.”

  “We’ll be back,” Savannah said. She looked at Michael. “Eventually.”

  Colbi smiled weakly, then invited, “Well, come in! Dinner will be served soon.”

  “What are we having?” Michael asked.

  “Does it matter?” Damon joked.

  Michael grinned impishly. “Um…maybe.”

  “Fajitas,” Colbi said, “tossed green salad, and fruit for dessert.”

  “My favorite,” he said.

  She leaned toward Michael. “Some of the greens and fruit are from your garden and your orchard.”

  “Cool.”

  Savannah smiled at her husband, then asked Colbi, “Can I help?”

  “It’s ready. Just put your things in the guest bedroom, if you want, and find a seat. Tables are set up out back.”

  “Oh good. It’s pretty out.” Just then, something caught Savannah’s eye. “Hi, Dolly.” She squinted and asked, “…or is this Molly?”

  “That’s Molly,” Colbi said. “She looks a lot like her older sister, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes. She’s a beauty.” Savannah called to her daughter, who was playing with one of Rosemary’s toys. “Lily. Lily, come see Molly-kitty.”

  The toddler promptly joined Savannah, looked at the light-gray tabby, then glanced around the room. “Where’s baby kitty?” she asked. “Mommy, where’s baby kitty?”

  This is baby kitty,” Savannah said. “This is Molly-kitty all grown up.”

  Lily stared at Molly, then shook her head. “No, Mommy. No baby kitty.” She jabbed a finger toward the tabby. “That’s not baby kitty!”

  Just then Dolly sauntered into the room and jumped up onto a nearby cat tree. Molly joined her. Lily stared at the two cats for a moment, then pointed a pudgy finger. “More big kitty, Mommy.”

  “Yes, little Molly is a big kitty now. Aunt Colbi has two big kitties.”

  Lily petted both cats for a few minutes until Dolly leaned toward the child and sniffed her face. Lily giggled. “Kitty tickles,” she squealed. Then sober-faced, she asked, “Mommy, where’s baby kitty?”

  When Savannah heard Colbi laughing behind her, she said, “Oh, you just wait, little mommy. You’d think it would get easier when they get older. But not when they develop that mind of their own.” Savannah picked up the toddler. “Let’s get you a plate of food, shall we? Want to eat, sweet pea?”

  “No,” Lily said, “I want baby kitty.”

  Once everyone was seated and the food had been served, the chatter among the guests accelerated. Dominating the table-talk was Detective Craig Sledge’s update on the case pending against Brianna’s abductors. Nearly everyone listened as he said, “We’ve located some of the other victims who were kidnapped and held for ransom while traveling with the Goffs’ agency. Most of them have agreed to testify. We’ve also picked up a couple of other participants in the extortion schemes.” He turned to Brianna. “Those knuckleheads will be off the streets and out of the jungles and swamps for a long time to come.”

  Bud squeezed Brianna’s hand and she managed a faint smile. She made eye contact with Colbi and asked quietly, “Did you have counseling after your… um… ordeal—you know, when you were held hostage that time?”

  Colbi shook her head. “No. But I probably should have.” She choked up a little. “There are times when I become more frightened than maybe is normal—like when I’m alone at night somewhere.” Colbi asked, “Will you see someone?”

  Brianna shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve been thinking about taking a martial arts class and perhaps starting a group where women who’ve been victimized can get resources and support. I’ve seen the need through my medical practice.”

  “Among geriatric women?” Savannah asked. “I mean, up until recently, you worked with the senior population.”

  “Oh yes, Sis. The elderly are often targeted by cowardly predators looking for an easy mark. And it’s important for women of all ages, who’ve been violated in any way, to regain our sense of power.”

  “Absolutely,” Colbi said in a strong voice.

  From across the table, Margaret raised her hand. “I’ll take your course.”

  Brianna chuckled. “Why, Aunt Maggie? You’ve never been victimized, have you?”

  Margaret became more serious. “Oh, haven’t I?” She glanced at Savannah. “I was attacked in the swamps of San Francisco when your sister and I were out there looking for her naughty cat.” Before the others could speak, she added, “And, Colbi, you and I were tied up and left to starve in the old Fischer building. Remember that?”

  Colbi raised her eyebrows. “I sure do.”

  Margaret continued. “And what about the time Vannie and I were abducted by that crazy Joe Forster?”

  Brianna winced. “Yeah, I’d forgotten about those incidents. I guess you could use an empowerment class.”

  Colbi smiled. “Good idea, Bri. Let me know how I can help you get something started.”

  “Me too,” Savannah offered. She then focused on Iris. “How’re things at the bed-and-breakfast inn? Still having fun? Are you keeping busy?”

  “Yes and yes,” Iris said, smiling. “I’ve thought a couple of times about selling the place, but then what would I do? I have a good staff, I can get away when I want to, and I do enjoy the guests. It’s a happy place, Savannah.” She swooned. “And the cats make it so entertaining.”

  “So you still have the cuddle cats?”

  “Sure do. Francine has an assistant now to help her take care of them. And guests love them.” She leaned toward Savannah. “We adopted out Crystal—you know, Melody Kaiser-Plumb’s cat. Francine and I thought she’d be happier in a one-family home. She wasn’t adapting very well to all the changes in guests.”

  “What about your decorating business, Iris?” Savannah asked. “Don’t you miss that?”

  “Not as much as I thought I would. No, Savannah, I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be at the moment. I could change my mind at any time. But for now, I’m happy.” She patted her husband
’s arm. “We’re happy—right, babe?”

  “Huh?” Craig asked, after taking a bite of his fajita. He swallowed. “Um, yeah, whatever you say.”

  Savannah and Iris laughed.

  “Hey Bri, when will you become my new doctor?” Margaret asked.

  “I’m already working in the office—my name’s on the door along with Dr. Stevens’s, so you can request me if you want to. He’ll probably retire officially in a month or two.”

  “How do you like it so far?” Damon asked.

  “I think I’ll be happy there. I really love being back in Hammond.” Brianna glanced at her fiancé. “I mean, full time, not just on weekends at Bud’s place.” She smiled. “You can’t believe how many people come into the office that I know—or knew a hundred years ago when we lived here.” She laughed. “My patients are mainly second- and third-generation family members.” Turning to Savannah, she asked, “Hey, Sis, do you remember Eleanor Winslow?”

  Savannah nodded. “Our second-grade teacher?”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I treated her seventeen-year-old grandson for a minor sports injury this week.”

  “Oh my gosh. Her daughter was only about thirteen when I had Mrs. Winslow, wasn’t she? What was her name, Pam?”

  “Yes. Pam told me she has four children. The oldest one is actually twenty. Makes me feel old.” Brianna finished the last bite of her fajita, then asked, “Damon, how’s the novel coming?”

  He smiled. “Good. I have a bona fide first draft.”

  Colbi shivered. “I can’t wait to read it.”

  “He hasn’t let you read it yet?” Michael asked. “Savannah hasn’t let me read her cat’s memoir, either.”

  “Michael,” Savannah scolded, “I don’t even have anything written—it’s just notes.”

  “Well, you could let me read the notes,” he complained.

  Damon grinned. “It’s a rare author, Michael, who’ll let anyone read his work before it’s in a near-final stage.”