Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat

by Patricia Fry

  She heard the door open and saw light shining in. She sat up and scanned the area where she’d smashed the pitcher. A few shards remained, which she quickly picked up and folded into one hand. Then she turned to see a morbidly obese woman standing in the doorway.

  “What’s this about money?” she growled. “George says you have money and you’re interested in buyin’ your release.” She stared down at Colbi through bloodshot eyes set in a fleshy, wrinkled face.

  Wow, George didn’t marry any beauty queen, Colbi thought. She noticed that the woman had had a bad dye job at some point and her bright red hair had grown out to mostly grey. Looks like she hasn’t combed or even washed her hair since a family of rats moved into it, Colbi thought.

  The woman walked across the room, unfolded a small portable stool she carried, and promptly sat on it, rolls of blubber taking the gravity trail downward. Colbi wondered how she would get up off the little seat. She envisioned it disappearing into the folds of Lida’s body, never to be found again.

  “Yeah, I can get money. Is that what you want?” Colbi asked.

  “That’s only part of it,” she said. At that point, the woman started coughing. She leaned forward, coughing and sputtering, trying to catch her breath. “Crap. Gotta go lie down. I’ll…be…back,” she said haltingly in-between fits of coughing. She made her way to the door, pulled it closed, and continued coughing and gagging her way back up the steps.

  ***

  The following afternoon, Savannah greeted one of her favorite regular guests—sixteen-year-old Charlotte. “Hi, hon, I’m so glad to see you,” she said as she opened the door for the teen.

  “Hi. Where’th Ragth?” Charlotte asked in her charming lisp. She then looked toward the kitchen and said, “There he ith. Hi Ragth.” She walked toward him, stopping to pet Buffy, who was napping on a dining room chair. “Hi Buffy,” she said, kneeling down and scratching the Himalayan-mix cat under the chin. “Buffy liketh to be thcratched like thith.”

  “Yes she does,” Savannah said. “Oh, here comes Lexie.”

  “Hi Lecthi, wanna go for a walk?” The child stood and smoothed the fur on the dog’s back.

  About that time, Walter nudged the back of Charlotte’s leg. “Oopth. Oh Walter, what are you doing?” She laughed.

  Savannah reached for her phone and snapped a picture of Charlotte surrounded by all of the Ivey animals. “So who are you going to play with first, today?” Savannah asked.

  The girl looked around her, brushed a light red curl off her forehead, and said, “I don’t know.”

  Savannah smiled over at the youngster. I sure enjoy the days when Charlotte comes to play with the animals. She’s so smart and responsible for someone with Down’s. Such a lovely teen. “How about this? Why don’t we take Lexie and Rags outside—you can hold Lexie’s leash and I’ll watch Rags. The sun will be setting soon, then we can come inside and you can play with all of them in the house for a while.”

  “Okay.”

  Charlotte knew where to find the leash and she put it on Lexie. “Let’th go,” she said. “Come on, Ragth.”

  “We’re right behind you,” Savannah said as she ushered the cat out through the side kitchen door. “Let’s take Lexie over to the side of the house. She probably has to go potty.”

  “Okay,” Charlotte said, leading the dog in that direction. Savannah and Rags followed. Lexie stepped into a row of shrubs and Rags started digging in the loose dirt in one of Antonio’s raised garden beds. Charlotte looked over at Rags and asked, “Can Ragth go outthide by himthelf?”

  “No, not anymore,” Savannah said. “When we lived in Los Angeles, I let him out and he used to go steal things from the neighbors.”

  “He did?” Charlotte said looking rather shocked.

  “Yes, didn’t I ever tell you about that?”

  “No,” the girl responded.

  Savannah laughed. “Well, I’d let him out sometimes, but also he would sneak out when I wasn’t looking. He used to bring home socks, bathing suits, toys, hats…anything he could carry. And every weekend, I’d put all the stuff he took in a wagon and walk around the neighborhood returning everything.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Ith that why he can’t go outthide anymore? Becauth he wath naughty?”

  “No, it’s because there’s more danger for cats out here in this rural area—you know, coyotes and things. So we only let him out when we’re with him now. That’s the new rule for Rags.” Savannah smiled. Just then, she looked around and spotted Rags heading out toward the corral. “Uh-oh, where does he think he’s going?”

  Charlotte looked over at him. “I don’t know. Maybe he’th looking for your horth.”

  “Oh, maybe so,” Savannah said. She then motioned to Charlotte, saying, “Let’s let him go and follow him. Want to? I need the exercise.”

  After a few minutes, Charlotte said, “He’th running. I can’t run that fatht.”

  “Yeah, this isn’t good. I don’t want him to get away.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Charlotte, would you walk back and get Rags’s harness and leash, please? You know where we keep it, right?”

  “Yeth.”

  “ Here, let me hold Lexie,” she said, taking the leash in her hands.

  By the time Charlotte had returned, Rags was halfway across the orchard, still moving away from Savannah and Lexie. “Charlotte, see if you can catch him. Here, give me the harness; he’ll run from you if he sees it. You go catch him and bring him back here. Can you do that?”

  “Yeth. I can do that.” The girl rushed off in the direction the cat was taking her, moving only a little awkwardly through the orchard. After a few moments, she called out, “I got him. Here he ith,” she said as she walked slowly back toward Savannah with the cat in her arms. Savannah walked out to meet her and the two of them slipped the harness over his head, secured it, and then Charlotte held fast to his leash.

  “Come on, Ragth,” Charlotte said, in an attempt to walk him back to the house. “What’th wrong with him, Thavanna? Why doeth he want to go over there, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” she said shaking her head and frowning. I’ve never seen him take off like that before.”

  “What are you girls doing out here?”

  Savannah looked up and saw Michael coming toward them.

  “Ragth went over there,” Charlotte pointed, “and we had to go get him.”

  “Yeah,” Savannah added, “he acted like he knew right where he was going and we couldn’t stop him until Charlotte went to get his harness.”

  “He doesn’t look any too happy that you’re dragging him back, does he?” Michael noted. “Here, let me carry him to the house. You’re ready to come in, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I think we’ve had enough of the out-of-doors for today, don’t you, Charlotte?”

  “Yeth, now I can play inthide with Buffy and Walter, too.”

  A little bit later, Charlotte came down the stairs with her arms full of Rags’s toys. Rags trotted beside her with a small stuffed raccoon in his mouth. “Hey Thavannah,” she said, “ith thith yourth?”

  “What?” Savannah asked, as she looked up from the stack of mail she was sorting in her lap.

  “Thith note. It wath in Ragth’th toybocth.” She dropped the toys on the floor and walked over to Savannah with the item.

  Savannah looked at it. Oh, it’s one of Auntie’s business cards. Looks like Rags has chewed it a bit. She turned it over and started to hand it back to Charlotte, when suddenly, something occurred to her. She looked at the card again. Someone had written the word “hoarder” on the back of it, with an address below it. That’s the place where Auntie and I went that day we met Dora Lipton and Charlotte—when Auntie was trying to chase down the catnapper. Hmmm, she thought, Iris said Colbi was working on a story about cat hoarders when she went missing. Do you suppose…? She stared down at the card.

  “Ith it yourth,” Charlotte asked, “or Ragth’th?”

  “I think I’ll keep it, C
harlotte. Thanks. I might need this,” she said, placing it on the table next to her and patting it. Just then Rags jumped up with his two front paws on the table and attempted to swipe the card off onto the floor.

  “No, Ragth!” Charlotte said. “It’th Thavannah’th card, not yourth. Let’th go play with your toyth. Come on Ragth.”

  ***

  “How did things go in Straley today?” Savannah asked her mother and sister as she served them each a glass of wine that evening.

  “Love these glasses, Savannah. Where did you get them?” Gladys asked as she held up one and admired it.

  “Auntie gave them to us as a wedding gift. She had them for a long time, I think.”

  “Yes she did.” She looked at her daughter. “These were your great-grandmother’s glasses; did you know that?”

  “No. Auntie didn’t tell me that.”

  “Yes, I remember Grandmother serving sherry in them on special occasions at her home in Maine,” Gladys reminisced. “I’m so glad you have them, Vannie.” She reached over and put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “Now do take care of them. They’re antiques.”

  “I will. Although I’m not sure I can enjoy using them now that I know how really special they are.”

  “Oh that’s silly, honey,” Gladys said. “That’s what we have things for…to enjoy.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Mom. And I do love them.” She glanced over at Brianna, who seemed a little distracted. “Aren’t you going to tell me how your day went, Sis?”

  “Grueling,” Brianna said, taking a gulp of wine.

  At the same time, Gladys said, “Quite well, I think.”

  “Wow, that’s two very different opinions,” Michael said, from the wingback chair across the room. “Didn’t you go together?”

  “Yeah, we were together,” Brianna said. “We just have different ideas of a productive day, I guess. I didn’t find an apartment. We looked at so many I’m confused now about which one has the two bedrooms, one bath with a tub and shower, and which one is walking distance to work—which ones require a security deposit, which ones are month-to-month and …”

  “Oh Brianna, I wrote it all down. All you have to do is read my notes. We’ll go back tomorrow and meet with those people we missed today and you should be able to make a decision by lunchtime,” Gladys soothed.

  “Okay, Mrs. Organizer, I’ll let you choose. I’m confused as hell. Maybe, since Savannah’s horse isn’t using the tack room this winter, I’ll just rent it from her. There’s a bathtub out there. They could hook up hot water to it.”

  “Oh lovely,” Savannah said, laughing out loud. “A nude bather in our backyard, that’s all we need.”

  “I’ll hang sheets on the corral, so no one can see me.”

  “You’re talking crazy, girl,” Savannah said.

  Michael spoke up. “I forgot to ask what you two girls found when you went—what was it ‘adventuring?’ ‘exploring?’ yesterday.”

  “Not much,” Savannah said.

  “Yeah, just some animal food scattered around,” Brianna added.

  “Animal food?” Michael asked.

  “Some dried-up fruit from your trees, looked like kibbles, grain…leafy salad stuff…”

  Michael scratched his head. “Well that’s odd.”

  “Yeah, it was over on the Tindles’ property out behind their old shed,” Savannah explained.

  “What do you think it means?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t know,” Savannah said. “I can’t imagine old Edgar Tindle carrying something out there in the middle of the night to feed…what? He doesn’t have any animals that I know of. After his corgi died, he and Annabelle said, ‘no more pets.’ With them both being so decrepit now, I never see them outside, even in the daytime. I’m sure they’re both snoring away in their bedroom when we see the activity over there.”

  Michael shook his head. “Savannah, you’ve gotta wake me up next time you see that. I want to investigate. I can’t imagine what’s going on over there. They don’t have a grandson living with them or anything, do they?”

  “Not that I know of. I was thinking about going around to their door one day and paying them a visit.”

  “Let me see what you see first, and then I’ll go have a talk with them,” Michael said. “There may be something going on that they know nothing about—trespassers.”

  “Or ghosts,” Brianna suggested. She looked at the faces staring back at her, and felt a need to defend her comment. “Well, it looked like ghosts out there to me.”

  Chapter Six

  Five days, Damon thought as he drove over the rutted driveway leading to Colbi’s house early Tuesday morning. Five days and five long nights she’s been gone. He pulled up behind Colbi’s truck, turned off the ignition, and sat staring toward the old house. “There are the vultures waiting for their food,” he said to himself when he spotted an array of cats milling around the feeding area. He laughed a little when he saw a small calico playing with the tail of a big grey, yellow-eyed boy. Happy, he thought. Cats seem to be happy—well, some of them do. That big one looks kind of grumpy. He smiled. I guess I’ve never noticed that cats have different personalities. Since I’ve been coming out here to feed them, I’ve seen some silly cats, scaredy cats, sneaky cats—hate those sneaky ones. Some of these cats are bossy, some are loud, some are quiet. Some want to be seen and others obviously don’t. I guess they each have a story, just like every person does.

  When he noticed that most of the cats were sitting or crouching and looking his way, he decided they knew why he had come—to bring food. “Hungry, huh?” he said when he climbed out of the car. Hmmm, he thought, I guess some cats are even smart. “Are you guys smart?” he asked in their direction. He pulled the bag of cat kibbles out of the backseat and headed toward the porch. After he had filled all the bowls, he started to walk away, but something caused him to stop and look back. There, peering out from beneath the porch steps, was the small grey striped cat with the round green eyes.

  He set the bag of food down and walked toward the little cat. “Well, hi there. Aren’t you going to eat?” He walked toward the steps, knelt down, and peered in at the cat through where the slat was missing. “You’re shaking,” he said quietly. “Is that because you’re scared?” If he was scared, I guess he would be running from me, Damon reasoned. He moved closer and heard the little cat sneeze. “You don’t look so good,” he said, concern in his voice. What would Colbi do? What should I do? How do you help a wild cat? Maybe I should try to catch it and take it to Dr. Ivey. I wonder if I need heavy gloves. He thought for a few moments and then said, “Hell cat, if you need help, you’d just better let me grab you.”

  Damon reached with one hand through the opening where a board was missing under the first step from the top. The kitten hissed quietly and stepped back. “Damn. Come on cat. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to see if we can get you some help so you’ll feel better.” He reached out again, angled one hand behind the little cat and was able to grab a handful of his long fur. He eased the kitten through the hole and held it up where he could get a good look at it. “You really are shaking, little one. You feel cold.” He put both hands around the kitten and pressed it to him. You’re coming with me,” he said. He looked over at his car and frowned. “Wanna go for a ride? Sure hope so,” he said under his breath.

  Damon walked over to his car and opened the back door. He looked around for something he could wrap the kitten in. In the meantime, the little guy began to squirm in his hands. He looked down at him and then had an idea. He slipped the small cat inside his jacket and zipped it part way up. The cat did not protest. Damon went back to where he’d left the bag of food, loaded it into the car, and then, being careful not to disturb the kitten, he climbed in behind the wheel and started the car. The engine sound and the crunching of gravel and dirt under his tires seemed to startle the kitten, but he soon settled down. In fact, Damon thought the shivering had been replaced by a purr.

>   The dashboard clock said seven thirty. I wonder if it’s too early to call Dr. Ivey. I don’t know what time his clinic opens. Never been there. Never had a reason to go there. He put one hand against the kitten and heard a tiny mew. “I guess you’re okay in there.”

  He reached over to the passenger seat and picked up his phone. Halfway to work now, on a surface street, he pulled over and called his mother to get the Ivey’s phone number. He made the call: “Oh, hello Savannah,” he said. “This is Damon—Iris’s son. Uh, what time does your clinic open?”

  “Oh hi, Damon.” She paused and then said in all sincerity, “You’ve been in our thoughts. We’re so sorry to hear about Colbi.”

  “What? What have you heard?” he asked, panic in his voice.

  She hesitated. “That she’s missing.”

  “Yes,” he said, grimacing. “I thought maybe you’d heard something new.”

  “No. I sure hope they find her soon. You must be worried sick.”

  “Yes. It’s been awful.” He hesitated. “Um, the reason I’m calling, I have this cat. I think he’s sick.”

  “You have a cat, Damon?”

  “Well, not my cat. There are all these cats at Colbi’s place. I’ve been feeding them while she’s…gone, you know. And I think one of them is sick. I wondered if I could bring it in.”

  “It’s sick? Sure. Let me get Michael for you.”

  “Hi Damon. You have a sick cat?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah, I think so. It’s shivering and I haven’t seen it eat anything.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “Like I told Savannah, it’s one of those that Colbi feeds out at her place.”

  “Where are you, Damon?”

  “On my way to work at the paper. I have an appointment at nine thirty.”

  “How about this, can you bring the cat to the clinic in fifteen minutes? I’ll go in a little early this morning and meet you there. We’ll take a look and see what’s going on with the kitty.”

  “Oh, that would be great. Thank you, Dr. Ivey—um, Michael.” He hesitated and then said, “Um, where is your clinic?”