by Patricia Fry
“Why?” Damon asked.
Michael explained, “I guess some feel it could confuse a kitten if you feed, pet and play with him using your hand. People who play real rough with a kitten can generally expect it to be a rough and even bitey cat.” He turned to Savannah. “We have some of those feather toys on wands around here, don’t we?”
“I’m sure—up in Rags’s stash, probably.”
“I’ll go get one,” Michael said. In a few moments they heard him say, “Oops, here comes Rags, down the stairs toward you.”
“Uh-oh, whatcha got now?” Damon asked when he spotted the cat.
Everyone looked toward the staircase in time to see Rags ambling down the last step dragging something between his legs. He walked slowly toward the middle of the room and sat down. He dropped the item, looked around, then picked it up again and walked over to Savannah. He dropped it, then reached up, put his paws on Savannah’s knees and licked the kitten’s head. Dolly flipped herself over and sat on the edge of Savannah’s knees, staring eye to eye with the large grey-and-white cat. Savannah reached toward the treasure with her hand, swinging her knees to one side and leaning over sideways. When Damon saw her struggling to reach it, he rushed over and picked it up.
Damon held it out for everyone to see.
“What did he bring the kitten this time?” Colbi asked.
Damon turned it over in his hands, studying it. “I don’t know. It’s kinda dirty.”
“Savannah, is it yours?” he asked, holding it up for her to see.
She said, “Ewww, it is dirty. No, I’ve never seen it before.”
Damon walked it over so Colbi could examine it. At the same time, Rags kept his eyes on his treasure and the kitten had her eyes on Rags.
“It looks like a lady’s hanky,” Colbi said. “My grandmother used to collect old-fashioned hankies. Look, there’s a design on it—more tatting.”
“Tatting? Is that like tattooing?” Damon asked.
“Noooo. Remember I told you it’s like crocheting…sort of.” She reached out and took the item from Damon.
Just then Michael walked into the room carrying two feather toys on wands. “What did he have?” he asked, stopping to stand behind Colbi’s chair. He looked down at the item.
She turned it over in her hands a couple of times. “Hmmm, what’s this?” she asked as if talking to herself. “Initials,” she said for everyone to hear. She strained to see it. “B, A…U…or maybe that’s a J. Oh wait,” she said, “Beverly A. Jones.” She dropped her hand, which was holding the hanky, into her lap.
“That’s the name on that letter Rags found, isn’t it?” Savannah asked.
“Yes,” Colbi said.
“Where in the world is Rags finding this stuff belonging to someone we don’t even know?” Michael asked.
“Well guys,” Damon said, “better sit down. We have some things to tell you.”
“Uh-oh,” Savannah said. And then she lurched forward. “Auntie! Is she okay?”
“Yeah,” Damon said. “Everyone you know is just fine, but…” he grimaced, “guys, there was a murder.”
Savannah closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She collapsed a little into her seat. “Not again,” she said.
“Where?” Michael asked.
Damon glanced over at Colbi and then back toward Michael and Savannah. “Your orchard.”
Savannah gasped. “Oh my gosh, who?” The kitten took a step off her lap and walked across the sofa cushions toward Michael. He leaned back so she could climb up onto his lap, but she just curled up next to his leg and began licking herself.
“It was this Beverly Jones woman,” Colbi said, her voice accelerating. “Someone hit her with something and she died right out there. That person or someone else—we don’t know, yet—spread copies of my picture, dripping blood, all over the yard that same night.”
“What?” Michael and Savannah cried.
Damon explained, “Well, they were pictures from one of Colbi’s newspaper columns. Someone had painted streaks of red all over them, making it look like blood. One of the pictures ended up in the house—right in Colbi’s room. But no one knows how that happened.”
“Yeah, just like we don’t know how that hanky with Beverly’s initials got in here or that letter addressed to her.”
“Not only that,” Damon offered, “Rags had the mate to a glove Beverly was wearing when she died.”
Savannah and Michael sat stunned.
“Who is…was…this woman?” Savannah asked quietly.
“Craig said she was living like a homeless person in the Tindles’ shed and feeding animals—wild animals—at night. She was dressed in this white gown and they found these little lanterns among her stuff. So that’s probably what you were seeing late at night,” Damon said.
“We probably won’t be seeing that again, now that poor Beverly’s gone,” Colbi said.
Savannah shook her head. “I’m in shock. Do they know who killed her?”
“No,” Colbi said quietly.
“Jeesh, is there a killer running around loose?”
Everyone sat silent.
“We’ve had a sheriff here since Sunday,” Colbi said. “Didn’t you see him out there?”
“No,” Michael said. He stood up and the kitten rolled toward Savannah. She ran her hand along Dolly’s back and the kitten settled back down to sleep. Savannah looked over at Michael as he started to pace. Suddenly he stopped. “How in blazes are these things winding up inside this house? That’s what I want to know. Who’s bringing them in?” He perched on a chair. “Who has been in this house—I mean aside from our usual visitors and Helena?”
Damon and Colbi both shook their heads slowly. “No one, Michael,” Damon said. “That’s what’s so puzzling. Craig asked us over and over about Rags going outside, but Maggie and both of us kept telling him Rags does not go out by himself.”
“That’s right,” Savannah said. Thinking out loud, she said, “Now he has been known to sneak out. I had a problem with him doing that when I lived in LA, but that was in summer when we had windows open.” She looked over at Colbi and then Damon. “He had this knack for pushing screens out and escaping. When I discovered this, I nailed all of the screens on.” She thought for a moment. “No, he has no escape route in this house. And we aren’t leaving windows open in this weather.”
“Speaking of weather,” Colbi interjected, “is that rain I hear?”
Damon walked over and pulled a curtain back. “Yup, it’s raining.” He started to drop the drapes and then pulled them back again. “What’s that?” He squinted to see and then said, “Oh, I guess the officers are changing shifts.” He watched the unmarked car grow near and then waved out at the driver before letting the drape drop.
“Who was it?” Colbi asked. “Ben? Tim?”
“I don’t know,” Damon said. “Couldn’t see through the tinted windshield.”
Knock-knock.
Damon turned back toward the door and peered out the stained glass window next to the front door. “Looks like Craig. Oh, that’s right, he was coming by this evening.” He pulled the door open wide.
Craig stomped his feet and wiped them on the mat before stepping inside. “Boy, it’s coming down out there,” he said. “Where can I put this raincoat?” he asked.
Savannah stood and walked toward him. “Here, give it to me, I’ll just drape it over this chair near the heater vent.”
Craig took the coat off and spread it out over the chair before turning to her and saying, “Welcome home? Good trip?”
“Yeah, very nice to get away.” She frowned. “But I hear you had some excitement while we were gone.”
Michael stood and greeted Craig. “Does it ever end? What’s going on, anyway, Craig?”
“Not in my business, no, it never ends,” he said rubbing his hand over his head to smooth his graying hair. “There’s always another grudge, another jealous rage, another crazed spouse, another distraught man or woman.”
“We’re not sure, yet. Could be the old woman was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Oh Detective, any leads on those awful hoarders?” Colbi asked shuddering.
He hesitated.
“Sit down, Craig,” Savannah invited. She motioned toward a chair across the room.
Michael took his seat next to Savannah, and Dolly jumped down on the floor and strutted toward the kitchen with her tail held high.
Craig said, “We think we have a lead on them in South Carolina, but we’ll know more once we do more investigation. It’s complicated to locate Internet scammers, but I’m learning that there are ways to pinpoint their whereabouts if they don’t change location, computers, and hook-up too often. Some of them actually do their scamming using library computers.”
Colbi thinned her lips and shook her head. “What really has me puzzled is what did Beverly Jones have to do with the pictures of me and why would she scatter so many of them around like that?”
Craig leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Remember, Colbi, there was someone else out there that night—the killer. She didn’t whack herself over the head.”
“Oh yes, the killer,” Damon said. “So you think he brought the pictures here?” he asked. “But you don’t think this is the same person who kidnapped Colbi?”
“Hard to tell.”
“Well I have been doing some research while I’ve been resting,” Colbi said. “And I’ve seen what I believe are some of the same photos the hoarders have used before. In fact, if any of those cats are still alive, you might be able to take pictures of them to compare with the photos I saw on the Internet just today.”
“Are they asking for money?” Michael asked.
Colbi nodded. “Yes, and they’re using pretty much the same type of spiel as they were before. I think it’s them.”
Craig sat up straight. “Can you get that stuff to us, Colbi? Or I can have our tech experts come over and see what you have—maybe they can use their expertise to locate these people.”
Colbi nodded. “Send them over. I’d sure like to catch those…” She grimaced and wiped at her eyes, trying to catch the tears before they began to fall.
Craig cleared his throat, looked down at the floor. “I came here to share something with you.”
The room suddenly went silent. Just then Savannah noticed Rags walking toward her. She reached out to him and he head-bumped her hand. She recoiled, creased her brow. “Rags, you’re wet.”
Everyone looked at the cat. “He tracked something on the carpet. What is that?” Michael said.
Just then, the cat jumped up with his front paws on Savannah’s knees and she said, “Mud! Rags, where in the world have you been?”
“You know, I took a shower earlier in the downstairs bathroom; maybe he went in there and got his feet wet,” Damon said.
“And then he played in that potted plant I told you not to put in there,” Michael said to Savannah. “You know how he likes to dig around in the dirt.”
“Yeah, especially when it’s been a while since he’s been outside,” Savannah said. She shook her head. “And he does like water. I’ve seen him put his face up to the bathtub spigot to drink and he doesn’t even mind if the water splashes him.” She ran her hand over his head. “You are such a high-maintenance cat. I just don’t know how I’ll have time for a baby and you,” she said with a sigh.
Just then, Dolly re-appeared. She stopped in the doorway between the dining room and living room and sat down, staring wide-eyed over at Rags. Suddenly, she stood up, arched her back, fluffed out her feathery tail and began sideways hopping toward Rags on all fours.
“She looks like a piece of popcorn in a hot skillet,” Damon said laughing out loud. Everyone joined him in the laughter.
They watched as the fluffy kitten jumped on Rags’s tail in full attack mode. When he pulled it from her grasp, she danced around him and then leaped onto his back, sliding down again to the floor. Rags rolled over and began patting at the kitten playfully. Dolly took a few steps back and then, flattening her ears, she dove toward Rags grabbing him with her front paws around his neck and biting at him ferociously.
Damon’s smile faded. He looked over at the others. “Is she mad?” he asked.
“Naw, that’s the way kittens play,” Colbi said. “Good thing Rags is a good sport.”
“What a crack-up,” Damon said, now laughing. “I’ve never watched cats play like that before.”
Just then, Rags stood up and ran up the stairs. Dolly appeared stunned for a moment, looked around, and then sprinted quickly after him.
It took a moment for everyone to stop laughing and return their attention to Craig. When they did, he asked Damon and Colbi, “So did you two hear anything last night?”
She shook her head.
Damon said, “No, what happened?”
“Well, there was a sighting last night. The officer thought he saw someone lurking out near the horse corral.”
Damon could see that Colbi was upset. He scooted the ottoman over next to the arm of her chair, sat down, and put his hand on hers. She grasped his tightly. “Who was it, Craig?” he asked.
“Well, he got away, but they did get a look at him and he left this behind.” Craig reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something dangling from a fine gold chain.
“Oh my Gosh,” Colbi said. She stood and walked over to take a closer look. “It’s my locket.” She took it from Craig, held it to her chest, and began to cry. Damon moved to her side and put his arm around her. Once she was able to take a breath, she said through sobs, “This is my reminder that I’m an orphan.” She opened the locket and looked at the photos of her mother and her father. She closed it and held it to her again. She asked apprehensively, “Where did you find this?”
“Colbi, where was it the last time you saw it?” Craig asked.
“In my purse. I’d put it in there because the clasp kept coming loose and I wanted to have it fixed before wearing it again.” She sniffled and took a ragged breath. “They took my purse and my laptop, my ID…everything.”
She looked Craig in the eyes again. “Where did you find it?”
“Well, as I said, the officer thought he saw something or someone out there last night. I warned him about the wild animals coming around because of that crazy woman feeding them, so he was watching for all manner of life—human and animal. When he saw something move, he pulled his gun and watched to see what might emerge. What happened next was kind of eerie.”
All eyes were on Craig.
Suddenly, Savannah shouted, “Wait! Gotta pee. Can you hold up until I get back?”
Now all eyes were on Savannah as she quickly stood and rushed down the hallway, disappearing into the master bedroom.
“She does that a lot, these days,” Michael explained quietly. “Comes with being pregnant, I’m told.”
Savannah returned promptly, sat down next to Michael and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”
A few chuckles were heard.
Craig continued, “Okay, so the officer is watching, right? Alls he sees is something black, sort of flapping and moving around in the shadows. He can’t tell what it is, so he just stays still and watches with his gun drawn. Pretty soon the image is gone. He figures it has left the property—made a get-a-way. But how? Where did it go? He decided to mosey over to where he’d seen it. He crouches and moves in that direction, gun in hand, concentrating on the area where he’d seen the figure. He is almost to the spot when he hears something behind him. He turns and sees a large black-cloaked image over near the porch. Before the officer could react, this guy made his escape in a dang golf cart—you know—one of those battery-operated things that can sneak up on you?”
“Good lord,” Michael said.
“But that’s not the clincher,” Craig said. “The officer swears he saw a coyote jump into the thing with the cloaked fig
ure as he drove off.”
“A coyote?” Savannah said.
“Yeah, that’s what he said. And when he checked around the area where he saw the guy, he found this necklace hanging on the porch railing out there.” He took a breath and looked around the room. “Oh, and he said it appeared that the guy in the cloak was carrying some sort of cane or walking stick, although he didn’t see him using it when he raced toward the golf cart.”
When Michael saw Savannah gently rub her baby belly, he knew what she was thinking. She was in full mama-bear mode—frightened to death for their baby and ready to do anything to protect their child. He said to Craig, “You don’t see many golf carts around, so it shouldn’t be hard to trace one to this guy, do you think?”
Craig shifted in his chair. “Well, the thing is, we did trace it. Got a call from the golf course across the way; they had one stolen last night. It was found five miles down the highway in a ditch, pretty smashed up. We’ve impounded what’s left of it, and we’re going over it with the proverbial fine-tooth comb. From what I hear, they even found some sort of animal fur in the cart. But there are no signs of human or coyote and no blood around anywhere.”
“Yeah, they probably just ditched it,” Damon said. He laughed. “I mean, literally—ran it into a ditch and took off in another vehicle.”
“Or they live or are staying in that area,” Michael said.
“Hey, you guys are good—been taking lessons from your cat?” Craig laughed. “We’re covering all of those possible leads and clues. Hope to come up with something and soon.”
“Yes, soon,” Colbi said. “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand.”
Chapter Twelve
“Good morning,” Savannah said as she walked slowly into the kitchen where Colbi sat sipping coffee. “Have you seen Rags?”
“No,” she said frowning. “As a matter of fact, he wasn’t here for breakfast. I thought he was with you.”
Savannah thought for a moment. “I wonder if he got locked in somewhere. I’d better go check.”
“Check what, hon?” Michael asked as he entered the room.
“Rags. I don’t know where he is. I wonder if he’s locked in a closet.”
