The Perilous PURRsuit (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 26)

by Patricia Fry

  Savannah nodded. “Sure, we’re in no real hurry, are we?” She glanced into the backseat. “I’ll see if Teddy wants to eat while we’re stopped.”

  Michael buckled up and pulled out onto the freeway. “You’re right. We’re in no real hurry. I think Keith and Holly are expecting us late Tuesday, and we should make it by then if the kids and the critters can handle a long drive each day. If not, we’ll take it more slowly.”

  “Yup, gotta be flexible when you have little ones,” Gladys said. She glanced down at Buffy. “And, as you said, critters.”

  Savannah ran her hand over Rags, who was now sprawled across her lap. “We really ought to check into animal restraints for when we travel like this with them.” She faced Michael. “You know, that little boy’s therapy cat might not have run off when Marci hit their car if he’d been in a restraint.”

  Michael nodded. “Good idea.” He glanced in the rearview mirror and asked, “But where would we put them? The seats are all taken up.”

  “Hmmm. Something to think about,” Savannah said quietly. “Perhaps we could rig up something for them in the cargo space.”

  ****

  Fifteen minutes later the family sat around a picnic table at a small park with beverages from a fast-food drive-through and Savannah’s homemade granola bars. Rags and Lexie wandered as far as their leashes would allow and Buffy lay contented in a portable pen set up nearby in the shade. “So what do you think this is?” Michael asked as he examined the small satchel.

  “Open it,” Savannah urged.

  “Yeah, I could do that.” He looked at her. “Or maybe I should take it to the nearest police station.”

  Savannah put her hand on his arm. “Open it, Michael. We want to see what’s in there, don’t we, Mom?”

  “I suppose,” Gladys said while helping Lily with her granola bar. She peeled a banana and broke a few pieces onto a napkin for the toddler, checked to make sure Teddy’s infant seat was shaded, then looked at the satchel. “Yeah, I’d like to see what someone threw away—or lost.” She chuckled. “Cases like that are always mysterious. There’s one in the story I’m reading and I’m eager for them to open it so I’ll know what the mystery’s all about.” She grinned across the table at Savannah and Michael. “I think the mistress’s missing diamond bracelet is in there.”

  “In here?” Michael asked. “What mistress?”

  “No,” Gladys said, giggling, “in the story I’m reading. Yeah, open it, Michael.”

  He grimaced. “But do we really want to get involved?”

  When Lily said, “Open Daddy, open,” Michael smiled at her, pushed his iced tea aside, and moved the case closer. “Okay, it’s unanimous.” With exaggerated flourish, he popped open the fasteners and lifted the lid. When the women both leaned forward to see what was inside, he quickly closed it.

  “Michael,” Savannah complained.

  “Oh, okay.” He opened it wider, saying, “Well, it’s not someone’s life savings.” He winked at Gladys. “Or the mistress’s bracelet. It’s just a bunch of papers.”

  “What kind of papers?” Savannah asked, reaching for one. She studied the document, then blurted, “Oh, my gosh, Michael, do you know what this is?”

  “No, what?”

  “It’s…” Savannah started, “…I think it’s someone’s identity.”

  “Identity?” Gladys questioned.

  “Yes.” She took a few more items from the case. “Here’s a passport, and this looks like a birth certificate.”

  “Yeah,” Michael agreed, filing through some of the documents. “This is a birth certificate for someone named… ” He frowned. “… Tinker Bell.” He looked at Savannah, then Gladys and repeated, “Tinker Bell?”

  Savannah raised her eyebrows while reading from another document. “Here’s one for Sir Meows Alot.” As Savannah continued shuffling through the papers, she became aware that Rags had joined her. He rested one paw on her knee and reached toward the documents in her hand. “He smells something,” she said. “Look at his little nose going.” She ran her hand over his head. “What is it, Rags?” Without warning, the cat jumped up onto her legs and quickly moved to Michael’s lap, where he began sniffing inside the open case. He then leaped onto the tabletop and pawed at the documents.

  “What are you looking for?” Michael asked. “I don’t think you’ll find any kitty treats in there.”

  When Gladys picked up one of the pages Michael had set aside, she looked it over and announced, “This isn’t a birth certificate for a person. It’s for a cat. A Himalayan cat.” She gazed at Buffy. “Isn’t that what she is?”

  Michael nodded. He looked more closely at some of the other papers. “Oh, yes, Sir Meows Alot is a Himalayan too.” He grinned at his mother-in-law. “I thought this belonged to some guy from the Himalayas—you know, in Asia.”

  Savannah smirked playfully at his attempt at humor, then said more seriously, “Rags must be catching the scent from the cats, and he’s trying to find a new friend in there.” She looked at Buffy. “You ought to be the one interested in this stuff. It belongs to some of your relatives.”

  “So, Michael, do cats need passports to travel?” Gladys asked.

  “Well, depending on where they’re going or coming from, they may need a type of passport, yes. There are different requirements for different regions—all related to health issues,” he explained. “Savannah and I carry health documents for our animals when we travel with them across state lines.” He studied the item in Gladys’s hand. “That looks like a people passport to me.”

  Gladys opened it. “Yes, for Desiree Ogilvie, born in Missouri in 1947. I don’t see an address or a phone number.”

  “Here it is,” Savannah said, holding up another piece of paper she’d found inside the case. “She lives in St. Louis. I’ll call her. Hopefully, this is her cell phone number.”

  “Why?” When Michael saw her staring at him, he asked in more detail, “Why do you hope that’s her cell phone number?”

  “Well this satchel probably came from her car, which means she’s traveling in this area. If I call her before she gets too far away and if this is her cell phone number, she can come back and get it. If it’s a landline phone, I guess we won’t be able to reach her.”

  “Or we can meet her someplace on up the road,” Gladys suggested.

  Michael pushed the case aside and picked up his tea. “Oh, let’s just find the local police station and turn it over to them. No fuss, no muss.”

  After thinking about it, Savannah said, “I actually think it would be more efficient if we give her a call.” She glanced at her husband, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and punched in the number.

  It didn’t take long for a woman to answer. “Hello?”

  “Hello, you don’t know me, but I think I have something that belongs to you. Are you Desiree Ogilvie?”

  “Um… uh… yes,” the woman said hesitantly.

  Savannah smiled. “I presume that you have some Himalayan kitty-cats.” When the woman didn’t respond, she said, “Um… well… I’m calling to let you know that we found…”

  “Why are you tormenting me like this?” the woman spat. “Please, I beg you, bring them back. They’re all I have. Please!”

  Before the woman could continue, Savannah heard another voice. “Hello, Savannah Ivey? Are you Savannah Ivey?”

  “Well, yes,” she said, flashing a puzzled look at Michael and Gladys. “Is something wrong? I’m only trying to return…”

  “I’m well aware of what you’re trying to do, ma’am.” Before Savannah could respond, he said, “The gig’s up, lady.”

  “What gig?” she asked, frowning for her family’s benefit.

  “You know what gig. Now…”

  Confused and rather disgusted, Savannah held her phone out and looked at it, then ended the call.

  “What was that about?” Michael asked.

  She quickly reached for Lily, who was attempting to scoot off the
picnic bench. “Where are you going, little one?”

  “Play,” Lily chirped. “Kick ball.”

  “You want your bouncy ball?” Gladys asked. “Grammy will get it for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Savannah said, lifting the toddler. “Here, let Mommy help you get down.” She peeked under the blanket that shaded Teddy’s face and smiled at the sleeping cherub, then sat across from Michael and began nibbling on a granola bar.

  Gladys promptly joined them. She smiled while she watched the child try to kick the ball. “That ball doesn’t get much action.”

  Michael chuckled. “No, she hasn’t developed a talent for soccer—at least not yet.” He frowned across the table at Savannah. “So what happened on the phone? Did that woman hang up on you?”

  “No, I hung up on her and whoever the man was that started yelling at me.”

  “What?” Gladys said. “Why? You were only trying to be a Good Samaritan.”

  Suddenly Michael stood up. “Rags,” he called, walking after the cat, who was wandering away dragging his leash. When he returned, he said, “Hon, you moved the bench when you got up and I had his leash hooked under the leg.” He leaned over. “Here, I’ll loop it under the table leg. That ought to hold him.”

  “Kick, Daddy,” Lily said.

  “You want Daddy to kick the ball?” he asked. “Okay, here goes. Get ready to catch it.”

  The women watched as Michael and Lily played a lively game of kickball. After a while, he scooped up the child and held her in the air over his head, laughing as she giggled with delight. He then said, “Let’s take Lexie for a walk, shall we? She probably needs some exercise.” When Michael and Lily returned after a lap around the small park with the dog, he secured Lexie to a tree in the shade near her water bowl. At that moment, he glanced to the right, then to the left. “What the…?” He quickly picked up Lily.

  “Oh my!” Gladys exclaimed.

  That’s when Savannah noticed two police officers were walking toward them, hands resting on their holstered firearms. The blond female stopped several yards away, while the male approached and asked, “Is one of you ladies Savannah Ivey?”

  Suddenly feeling a strong sense of dread, Savannah said, “I am. Has something happened back home?” She started to stand.

  “Stay where you are, ma’am. We just want to talk to you.”

  “What about?” she questioned, aware that her heart was pounding wildly in her chest.

  When she made a move to stand up again, the officer said more gruffly, “Put your hands where I can see them.”

  “What’s this all about?” Michael asked, moving toward Savannah with Lily in his arms.

  “Who are you?” the officer asked.

  “Michael Ivey. Why are you treating my wife like this and in front of our children, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Well, for starters,” he said, “your wife has been accused of theft and attempted extortion.”

  Chapter 2

  “What?” Gladys shrieked. “Oh my heavens!”

  When Michael took a few more steps forward, the female officer warned, “Stay where you are, sir! Hands where we can see them.”

  The first officer glanced at Michael, then focused on Gladys. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Gladys Jordan.” She pointed at Savannah. “I’m her mother.”

  The officer gestured for his partner’s benefit. “Check her.”

  “She’s clean,” the woman responded after quickly patting Gladys down.

  “Give her the child,” the man said to Michael. “Go sit next to your wife with your hands on the table.” He then checked both Savannah and Michael, presumably for weapons.

  “Okay, okay,” Michael said, finding it impossible to hide his frustration. “Will you tell us what’s going on?”

  The officer pursed his lips. “You heard the charges.” He then asked, “Are you in on the racket too?”

  “No!” Michael ran his hand through his hair. “I mean, there is no racket. We’re just traveling through on our way to Colorado with our children, as you can see.”

  “Coincidence, is that what you’re saying?”

  Michael looked puzzled. “Coincidence? What are you talking about?” When Lily started to fuss, Michael glared at the officer. “You’re scaring our daughter, not to mention the rest of us.” He then said more calmly, “Listen, I’m Dr. Michael Ivey from Hammond, California. This is my wife and my mother-in-law. We’re on our way to Colorado.” He looked at the officer closest to him. “Can you tell me your name so I know who I’m talking to?”

  “Sergeant Charles Portola.” He nodded to the female. “That’s Officer Candace Clausen.”

  Michael glanced at her, then addressed the sergeant. “Can you tell us how you came to your crazy conclusion that my wife is an extortionist and a thief?”

  “Well, sir, are you aware that she called the victim in St. Louis?”

  “Victim? Do you mean Desiree Ogilvie? Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

  This stopped the sergeant. He took a deep breath and stared at Michael before continuing. “Well, the detective there let us know the situation and he told us exactly where Ms. Ivey was hiding out.” He grinned. “We found her through the GPS app on her phone, you know.”

  Michael grimaced. “Well, that was pretty smart, but you’ve still got it all wrong.”

  Suddenly, the sergeant noticed something. “Hey, what’s that under the table there? Check it out, will you, Clausen?”

  The officer stooped and looked under the picnic table. When she saw Rags walking toward her, she stood up. “It’s a cat. A cat on a leash.” She did a double take. “Hey, what’s he got in his mouth?”

  “Uh-oh,” Michael murmured, reaching for the cat.

  “Uh-oh is right,” the sergeant said, trying to beat him to Rags. “Looks like evidence to me.” When Rags darted back under the table and the sergeant couldn’t get to him, he picked up one end of the table and moved it over slightly, then reached down toward the cat again.

  Michael let out a sigh. “Just let me get him, will you?”

  “I want to see what that is he has,” Sergeant Portola insisted.

  “It’s probably one of those documents belonging to Ms. Ogilvie,” Michael asserted.

  The sergeant stood up straight and stared at Michael. “So you do know about the scam.” Michael raised his hands defensively. “Listen, we don’t know about any scam.” He gestured toward the black case. “All we know is that this bag flew either off of or out of someone’s car—I believe it was a white SUV—and it hit our car. I swerved to avoid it coming through the windshield, and it ricocheted off the side. I can show you the dent.” When Michael started to stand, Officer Clausen stopped him. “No you don’t. Just stay where you are.”

  Meanwhile, another police car pulled up. A dark-haired officer stepped out and joined them. Sergeant Portola nodded in his direction. “Officer Moraga, thanks for stopping by. Looks like we’ll need you for transport.” He glanced toward Rags. “Hey, you like animals. See if you can get that piece of paper from the cat there under the table.” He returned his attention to Michael. “So how did you end up with this… um… bag?”

  “After the near accident, we pulled over. I wanted to make sure everyone was all right. That’s when we saw this case lying on the shoulder. We thought it might be something of value to someone, so we picked it up. My wife called Ms. Ogilvie to let her know we’d found it.”

  The sergeant appeared to be unmoved by Michael’s story, but he was interested in Officer Moraga’s struggle to retrieve the document from Rags. “What is it?” he asked.

  The officer studied the tattered page before handing it to the sergeant. “Looks like some sort of registration paper.”

  “For a Himalayan cat,” Portola said upon perusing the document. He looked down at Rags, then he spotted Lexie under a nearby shade tree. “Is that your dog?”

  “Yes,” Michael said.

  He motion
ed toward the tabletop. “Is that the case you alleged fell out of a car in front of you?”

  Feeling more and more impatient, Michael blurted, “Yes.”

  As the sergeant reached for the case and opened it, Rags jumped up next to him. “No!” he said, trying to push him away with one hand. “Moraga,” he called, “can you control this cat?” Before the officer could comply, however, Sergeant Portola shouted, “Hey, he’s contaminating the evidence!” He quickly grabbed the cat, who was preparing to sit down in the open case. “No you don’t,” he growled.

  “What is it you think he’s doing?” Michael demanded.

  “He was going to use this evidence as a litter box, that’s what?” he complained.

  “He wasn’t going to do anything of the kind,” Savannah insisted. “And what my husband said is the truth. We almost had a wreck trying to avoid being hit by that thing. Go look at the dent in our car.”

  “Hey Sarge,” Clausen called. “Look at this. I found another cat hiding out in a pen. It looks like one of the cats that was taken—you know, in those pictures they sent over.”

  The sergeant gazed in the direction Officer Clausen indicated. “Well, I’ll be. It appears that we’ve found—what’s his name, Sir Eats Alot…” He turned to Michael and Savannah and said in a mimicking tone, “Just passing through, huh? On your way to Colorado.” He got in Michael’s face. “To do what, sell this stolen cat?” He turned to Moraga. “Call Animal Control. Have them come pick up these animals.”

  “No!” Savannah shouted. “No! These are our cats and dog.”

  Michael motioned for Savannah to calm down. “Listen,” he said to the sergeant, “you say you’re looking for a male Himalayan? Well, I can tell you, this is a female and she isn’t a true Himalayan—she’s only part Himalayan. And she is our cat.”