Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat

by Patricia Fry

  Michael, who had been watching the female sparring match, stood up and headed for the kitchen, saying, “Coffee’s ready. Come on, hon, I’ll make you a cup of that tea you like.”

  “What time’s church?” Brianna asked as she followed along after the trio.

  “We’ll leave here at nine thirty,” Savannah said over her shoulder.

  Upon entering the kitchen, Brianna looked out the large west-facing window and said, “Hey Sis, where’s your horse?”

  “The horse is gone?” Michael asked, a look of surprise on his face.

  “What?” Brianna covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes filled with apprehension. “You didn’t know she was gone? Oh my gosh.”

  “No, Brianna. She was there when we went to bed last night, wasn’t she?” Michael asked in all seriousness. He rushed to the window and looked out. “Did we have a big wind or something?”

  Brianna glanced over at Savannah, fear in her eyes, and was puzzled to see her sister grinning at Michael.

  “Oh Michael, stop it.” Savannah turned toward Brianna. “We’re boarding her with Bonnie—you remember Bonnie. She’ll exercise her and feed her until I can ride again.”

  Brianna gave Michael a disgusted look; slapped at him.

  He laughed. “Gotcha, Sis.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, you just wait, Mister.” She ignored his laughter and turned toward Savannah. “Oh yes, I remember Bonnie. Sweet gal. Loved that old Mr. Wilson horse she let me ride. She was right; he was harmless and he brought me back home in one piece.”

  Savannah joined Brianna at the window, a hint of melancholy in her voice. “I miss my mare—I miss seeing her out there in her corral every morning when I get up.” She took a breath and continued, “But it isn’t fair to keep her cooped up when I can’t ride for so long. And I know she’s in good hands with Bonnie.”

  Brianna walked over to the counter and dished up some applesauce for herself, then offered her mother a bowl. “Savannah made this out of apples from their orchard,” she said.

  Gladys looked over at her older daughter. “Oh Vannie, you are such a Dolly Domestic these days.” She paused and then said, “Maybe the modern term would be Martha Stewart. Who would have guessed?”

  Brianna took a few bites of applesauce. She looked from Savannah to Michael and said, “Hey, do you guys ever see or hear strange things out here at night?”

  “What do you mean, ‘strange?’” Michael asked with a crooked grin. “Snoring? That would be me.”

  “No, outside. I think I heard some sort of wolves.”

  “Oh, probably our coyotes,” Savannah said, sitting down at the table, stirring her hot tea.

  “You have coyotes?” Gladys asked.

  “Well, there are coyotes living in the foothills and they’ve been coming down closer lately. We don’t know why. Did you hear them too, Mom?” Savannah asked.

  “No, I didn’t hear a thing. I was dead to the world.”

  “Did you say you saw something, Bri?” Savannah asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “I don’t really know. I got a text in the night. I was still awake and thought it might be important, so I looked at it. It was from Bud—we texted back and forth a little and then I was wide awake. I came down to the kitchen to get a drink of water and started hearing the wolves…or coyotes…or whatever. It was kind of spooky, so I turned off the light and looked out the window. That’s when I saw something.”

  “Wolves?” Michael asked.

  “No. At least I don’t think so. Something sort of without shape. Something swishy and whitish. I saw it or them moving around and then disappearing. I could see real faint lights—sort of fuzzy lights. Oh, I don’t actually know what I was looking at…sort of a glow and it was kind of ethereal.” She set her spoon in her bowl and looked from Michael to Savannah. “It was, you know, eerie.”

  Savannah glanced sharply at Michael. He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement and said, “Well, you’re the second person to have mentioned this…sighting, Brianna.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, your sister keeps telling me about something moving around out there at night. You saw this out beyond the orchard, right?”

  “Yes!” Brianna said, excitement in her voice.

  “Well, I’ve never seen it. But now that there are two sightings, I’m going to have to investigate, I guess.”

  “You didn’t believe me?” Savannah said.

  “Aw honey, I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”

  “Well, that’s what it sounded like to me.”

  Brianna, sensing tension in the air tried to lighten the mood. “Hey Sis, let’s take a walk out there this afternoon when we get back from church, want to?” Brianna said. “We’ll go exploring like we did when we were kids.”

  “Great idea, don’t you think, hon?” Michael said, reaching over and squeezing Savannah’s hand.

  She thinned her lips, blinked her green eyes, and smiled. “Yes, sounds like fun. Only…”

  “Only what?” Brianna said, frowning over at her sister.

  “Only, I don’t know if I can keep up with you anymore.”

  Brianna threw her arms up in the air. “Yay!” she said exuberantly. “I can finally out-walk stilt woman.”

  “Don’t count on it, Brianna,” Michael said. “She can still chase me around this house and usually catch me, too.”

  “Only because you want to be caught,” Savannah said, slapping Michael on the arm.

  Everyone laughed.

  “Hey hon,” Michael said, addressing Savannah in a more serious tone, “did you get a chance to look at the paper last night?”

  “No, why?” she asked, apprehensively.

  “There’s a story about Colbi’s disappearance.”

  “Oh no,” Savannah said, her forehead creasing into a frown. “What’s going on?”

  “No one knows. They found both of her cars at her house. It looks like there was a scuffle outside her home and she is gone—vanished.”

  “Now, how old is this missing person?” Gladys asked. “How do you know her?”

  “She’s around my age,” Savannah said, “…maybe a little younger—thirty, maybe… She’s a sweet thing—a reporter for the newspaper. She writes about cats—well, and other animals, and she does some feature articles, too.”

  “Iris’s son has also become a writer and the two of them work together at the paper,” Michael explained. “From what Iris tells me, Damon is sweet on her.”

  “Oh, I wondered about that,” Savannah said with a smile. “So they are an item?” She frowned and lowered her eyes. “Damon must be out of his mind with worry.”

  “Yes, according to the article, he was the last one to see her before she disappeared.”

  “Good gosh.” Savannah gasped. “They don’t think he had anything…”

  “I hope not,” Michael said. “There was no indication of that in last night’s story.”

  The room went quiet for a few moments and then Michael said, “Well, ladies, I have a few chores to take care of before we head out.” He slapped his napkin onto the table and stood to leave.

  Everyone turned their heads toward the sound of Lexie’s jangling collar. “Yes, you can go out with me, girl,” Michael said, watching her step out of her bed, stretch, and shake. He opened the side kitchen door and the two of them walked out.

  Several minutes later, Michael pushed the door open and he and the dog came back inside. The three women were clearing the table and rinsing the dishes. “Savannah,” he said, concern in his eyes, “do you know what happened to that bag of grain we had in the tack room?”

  Savannah cocked her head and thought. “No. It isn’t out there? It was there when Bonnie came and took Peaches. I would have given it to her, but she said she feeds the same brand and would supply it as part of our boarding agreement.” She thought for a moment and finally said, “No, Michael. There should be over half a bag left. And a bag of alfalfa pellets, too.”

 
“Gone,” Michael said.

  “And my saddle?” she asked apprehensively.

  “Oh the tack’s there. But I wanted to take the leftover feed to the shelter for that new pony they rescued. They can use it, and I don’t want to leave the bags here and encourage mildew and rats over the winter.”

  “Good idea.”

  “But it’s gone.”

  “Maybe Dottie comes in and eats it.”

  “No, Dottie couldn’t carry the bag away—both bags are gone.”

  “Who’s Dottie?” Gladys asked.

  “Neighborhood bunny—one of Lexie’s friends,” Michael said absently. He raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t like this. I’m going to get a padlock today and lock that sucker up.”

  “Good idea,” Savannah said. She looked up at the clock. “Oh, nearly nine…” She addressed their guests, “You two better get ready for church.”

  ***

  After the service, Gladys and Savannah walked arm-in-arm toward the car. Brianna and Michael were bantering with one another a few yards ahead of them. Gladys said, “This is such a nice small church—has a comfortable feel.” She looked up at her daughter. “Bob has a church. I go with him occasionally. Really should get back into the habit of attending regularly.”

  Savannah smiled. “We enjoy the spiritual dose once a week. And Adam seems to like attending the children’s program on the weekends he’s here visiting his dad.”

  “Seems as though everyone in town knows the Iveys,” Gladys remarked.

  “Well, when you’re in business in a small town, you do know practically everyone. And Michael just joined the chamber of commerce, so he’s getting to know some of the business leaders in the area.”

  “You guys hungry?” Max asked as he and Margaret caught up with Gladys and Savannah.

  “I could eat a…well, not a horse…” Savannah laughed. “…but a cow, maybe.”

  “Gotta feed our baby,” Margaret said, patting Savannah’s belly.

  “Meet you guys at the diner,” Michael called out to Margaret and Max as they veered off and walked toward their own car.

  ***

  Once everyone was seated at a table for six at the diner, Savannah asked her sister, “Where’s Bud today?”

  “You guys are making him work,” she said, feigning a pout.

  “That’s not right,” Michael said. “He’s a veterinarian now, not a tech. He doesn’t have to do rounds on weekends, unless there’s a problem.”

  Brianna was silent—looked down at her hands in her lap.

  “What’s wrong, Sis?” Savannah asked, concern in her tone.

  “Nothing,” she responded curtly. “Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted.

  “Hi everyone,” Iris greeted. “Good to see you Mrs. Jordan, Brianna. What can I get you all to drink this morning?”

  “Hi Iris; it’s Gladys,” she said reaching her hand out.

  Iris took her hand and smiled warmly. “Gladys,” she said.

  After Iris took the orders and turned to walk away, Michael asked quietly, “Iris, any word about Colbi?”

  Iris lowered her eyes and slowly shook her head. “Nothing. Damon is…well, he’s devastated. So worried, he can’t sleep. We just can’t imagine what has happened to her.” She moved in closer and said in a hushed tone, “Damon seems to think she was working on a story about cat hoarders when she disappeared.”

  “Cat hoarders?” Savannah repeated. “That would have been an interesting story.”

  Margaret spoke up. “I hear Damon was the last one to see her.”

  Iris glared over at Margaret. “Maggie, don’t even go there,” she warned. She glanced around the room and then back at Margaret. “We don’t want to attract any trouble. Damon is hurting. He’s confused. He loves that girl. She’s all he can think about.” She stared hard at Margaret. “He had nothing to do with her disappearance.” She took a breath, as if she wanted to say something more, but instead, snatched the menus from the table, turned quickly and walked away.

  “Oh my,” Margaret said, trying to look innocent, “I didn’t mean to open a can of worms.”

  “Well, obviously, you did,” Max scolded.

  “I’ll have to apologize to dear Iris. I didn’t mean…” she started. “It’s just that…”

  “Yeah, with him recently out of jail and all…” Michael tried to take up the slack. He leaned across the table toward Savannah’s aunt. “But Maggie, you’ve gotta know this is a sensitive subject for Iris. And Damon has never been in any trouble for hurting anyone. His trouble was more about hurting himself with those drugs.”

  “Yeah,” Brianna said, “you guys better hope he doesn’t go back to them.”

  “Why would he do that, Bri?” Gladys asked.

  “To try to block the pain, Mom…that’s what druggies do. They can’t face reality, so they self-medicate.”

  “How do you know that?” Gladys asked, facing her younger daughter.

  “I’m a doctor, Mom, remember?”

  “Let’s change the subject,” Michael suggested. “Brianna, I want to hear about your new job.”

  “Yes,” Max said, “I hear you’ll be working with seniors.”

  Just then, Iris walked over and broke in. “Sorry guys,” she said. “I’m in a bit of a foul mood this morning. Didn’t mean to snap at you.” She patted Margaret on the arm. She pulled a chair from another table and perched on the edge of it. She glanced around the room and then spoke to the group in hushed tones, “I just found out that Frank told the sheriff’s investigators that Damon and Colbi were arguing in here Thursday night. I guess they will be questioning Damon about this. Has me pretty scared.”

  “I can imagine it does,” Michael said.

  “But I know…” she started. She then looked over at the window behind the counter. “Crap, order’s up—I’ll talk to you guys later,” she said as she stood, replaced the chair, and walked away.

  Chapter Four

  In the meantime, on Sunday around noon, Damon drove his 1998 Honda Civic down the rutted driveway toward Colbi’s house. He stopped the car outside the ring of yellow police tape and killed the engine. Where is she? What could have happened to her? He felt as if his heart would break. There was a knot in his stomach. Gotta stay focused, he thought to himself. Need to feed those cats.

  Damon exited the car, reached into the backseat, and unloaded a large bag of cat kibbles. As he carried it toward the porch, he saw movement. Swatches of different-colored fur appeared and then disappeared above and then under the porch. He stopped. He could see those round green eyes peering at him from between the steps. He bent down and stared back for a few seconds before continuing with his mission. Cats of all sizes and colors scurried to position themselves within their individual comfort zones as Damon approached the feeding area. Some waited cautiously near the food bowls, while others hid in nearby shrubs, around the side of the house, or deep under the porch. He reached in and pulled the bowls out, filling each of them to the brim with the kibbles. He then slid the bowls back under the porch shelter and began filling the two large water bowls with fresh water.

  Before walking away, he took another look and saw the smallest cat—the long-haired, light-grey-and-white striped cat with the round green eyes—sitting back and staring. Looks like he’s shaking, he thought. He moved closer. Looks cold. He stood up. But what can I do about it? These cats are wild and they know how to fend for themselves. All cats can hunt and find shelter. Cripes, I don’t even know why I’m feeding them, except…except that I know Colbi would want someone to.

  He walked over to his car and put the bag of cat food on the floorboards in the backseat. As he rose, preparing to climb into the driver’s seat, he heard the sound of car tires crunching on the sparse gravel and hitting ruts along the driveway. He looked up and saw a sheriff’s unit pulling in behind him. He watched as Deputies Jim and Ben stepped out.

  “Jackson?” Jim said.

  “Yeah,” Damon responded.

 
“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Sure, what?”

  “First, what are you doing here?” Jim asked taking a sweeping look around the property.

  “Feeding the cats.”

  “Cats?”

  “Yeah, Colbi feeds a bunch of wild cats out here. I’m pretty sure she would want me to do it while she’s…” He felt a wave of emotion and couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Can you prove it?” Jim asked.

  Damon frowned. “Well, yeah. The bag of food is right here in the car. You can go look at their dishes—they’re full. I just filled them.” He looked confused. “What’s this all about?”

  Jim said, “I understand you were the last one to see Ms. Stanton…” He looked at his notes. “…Thursday, before she disappeared, is that right?”

  “I think so. Like I told Craig, we had coffee that night after work.” He looked around and asked, “Where is Craig, anyway—isn’t he the investigator?”

  “He asked us to talk to you.” Jim cleared his throat and continued, “You were heard arguing.”

  “Huh?” Damon scratched his head? “Arguing? Me and Colbi?”

  “You’re denying that you and Ms. Stanton argued that night? Loudly?”

  Damon snickered. “I guess you guys don’t know Colbi. She’s small, but she is big on opinion and she can sure voice it loud and clear when someone challenges her.”

  “So you challenged her?” Jim asked.

  Damon shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  “About what?”

  “Cats!” he said with a chuckle.

  “Cats? How’s that?”

  “Oh, I don’t like cats and she really likes them. I guess she was ranting about how special cats are and how people abuse them—things like that. I wasn’t really paying much attention to her. I’ve learned that, with Colbi—you just have to kind of let her do her thing until she runs out of steam.” He shook his head. “Oh no, we weren’t arguing. But I guess she was talking kind of loud. She always raises her voice when she’s defending her position.”

  “So you weren’t angry? You didn’t yell at her?” the deputy asked.