Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat

by Patricia Fry

  She started to tear up—she wiped at her eyes. “Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt Beverly. She was such a kind person, and trusting. I always felt like she needed me because she was so small like a child and childlike in her ways…if you know what I mean. What’s the word? Naïve.”

  Damon rested his elbows on his knees; clasped his hands together. “If we give you a ride into town, would you be willing to describe the man to our friend Detective Sledge and maybe look at some pictures to see if you can identify him?”

  “Just show me a bill from an old Dracula movie—that’s him,” she said, laughing. She thought for a minute, looked from one to the other of her guests. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Well,” Damon said, “you might be helping to catch Beverly’s killer.”

  There was little response from Mary.

  “Colbi asked, “Where’s your favorite place to eat? We could go there for the meeting and buy you lunch.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to eat at that Mexican restaurant on 10th Street.”

  “Fine. We can arrange that,” Colbi said. She then turned to Damon. “Do you want to see if you can make an appointment with the detective?”

  Damon stood, pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, and walked down the path away from Mary’s camp.

  Colbi watched him for a moment and then turned back to Mary. “Why are you so far from the others?” she asked.

  Mary took in a breath and smacked her lips a few times. “Well, I like people all right. I have friends—like Beverly—but I have this problem with commune living. I want my space—always have and that hasn’t changed now that I’m here in this camp.”

  “How’s tomorrow at noon?” Damon asked, still holding the phone in his hand.

  Mary looked from Damon to Colbi, glanced to one side, raised her eyebrows, flicked something off her arm, looked down, and then asked, “I can order whatever I want?”

  “Sure can,” Damon said.

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah. Okay then. Noon tomorrow. And you’ll come here and pick me up?”

  Damon spoke into the phone, “We’ll meet you at El Ranchito at noon tomorrow, Craig.

  ’Bye.”

  In the meantime, Colbi said to Mary, “We’ll pick you up wherever you want.”

  She thought about it for a moment and then said, “How about at the gas station on Market. I’ll be there in the morning. I’ll wait there for you, okay?”

  “Yes,” Colbi said. “Perfect.” She stood up. “We’ll see you about fifteen minutes before noon.” She started to follow Damon down the path, but turned and walked back toward the woman. She put out her hand. “Thank you, Mary for your hospitality. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. It must be hard for you.”

  Mary stood, hesitated and then let Colbi shake her limp hand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning around nine forty-five, Michael called out, “Adam’s here,” as he rushed to the front door to welcome his son, his former wife, and her new family. “Hi buddy,” he said as he scooped the eight-year-old up into his arms and spun around the room with him, making airplane sounds.

  Adam giggled.

  Just then, Savannah walked into the living room. She glanced at her husband and his son and then looked over at Marci and Eric, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think he ever grew up,” she said with a laugh. “Please, come in.” She gave Marci a hug, greeted Eric with a smile, and then reached over and tickled little Rose on the tummy, and watched her giggle. “Sit down, if you dare,” she said. “We have low-flying aircraft in here this morning.”

  “Hi Savannah,” Adam said, once Michael had set him down on the floor.

  “Hi honey,” she responded, reaching out and putting her arms around him.

  The boy hugged her around the neck and then stepped back, looked at her tummy, and said, “Whoa.” He looked up at her. “It’s getting big. Is it a brother or a sister?”

  “Still don’t know,” she said with a smile. She then addressed Marci and Eric, “Coffee anyone? I also made iced tea.”

  “Do you have any horse toast today?” Adam asked.

  Savannah stooped over, put her hands on his shoulders, and said, “No, but I have something better.”

  “What?” he asked in anticipation.

  “Horse cookies and cocoa. Sound good?”

  “Yeah!” Adam shouted.

  “Adam, honey,” Marci said, “let’s not use your outside voice in the house, okay?”

  He glanced down. “Okay,” he said quietly.

  “Adam, why don’t you and I go get the horse cookies? Okay?” Savannah suggested.

  “Yeah,” he said more quietly this time.

  Savannah looked over at Marci and Eric again. “So what can I get you to drink?”

  “Got enough of that hot chocolate?” Eric asked.

  “Sure do.”

  “I’ll just have water,” Marci said.

  “Can Rose have cocoa?” Savannah asked.

  Marci winced.

  “I’ll go get her sippy cup,” Eric said.

  Marci smiled over at him. “Good idea, babe.” She turned toward Savannah, saying, “Then yes, I guess it’s safe for her to have cocoa.”

  “Look, Mom, palomino horse cookies, pinto horse cookies and even a pony cookie for Rosie. Here, Rose,” he said handing her a small cookie shaped like a horse with a frosting mane and tail. “I’m having the…which one is this, Dad?” he asked holding up one of the cookies.

  “Buckskin. See the dark legs, mane, and tail and the dark stripe going down his back?”

  “Yeah, buckskin,” Adam repeated.

  “Looks like that one has the most frosting,” Marci said with a laugh.

  Adam looked sheepish while continuing to lick at the chocolate frosting.

  “Hello everyone,” Colbi said as she entered the room. She looked over at the boy who was sitting on the couch next to his mother. “You must be Adam.”

  “Yeah…I mean, yes,” he said.

  “I’m Colbi and I have something here you might like to play with today.”

  “What?” he asked.

  She opened her cardigan sweater and watched as Adam’s eyes grew wide.

  “A kitten!” he exclaimed. He set his half-eaten cookie on a napkin Savannah had set on the coffee table and rushed toward Colbi and Dolly. “Where did you get it—did Rags have kittens?”

  “No, but he thinks this is his kitten,” she said with a laugh. She sat down on the ottoman and placed the kitten in her lap. “This kitty got lost and found her way to my house where I feed a lot of lost cats. Most of them are kind of wild…”

  Adam looked up at Colbi, ran his little hand over the kitten’s fur, and asked, “Is she a feral cat? Aunt Maggie and Uncle Max have feral cats.”

  “Could be,” Colbi said. “But this one sure likes people. Want to hold her?”

  “Yeah!” Adam said enthusiastically. “She’s so small. Look Savannah, I can hold her and her feet don’t even drag on the floor like Rags’s feet do.”

  Savannah smiled and winked.

  “She’s soft,” he said as he rubbed his cheek against her fur. Dolly stretched toward Adam so she could smell his face. “Hey, she’s licking me,” he said, laughing.

  “I think she tastes that cookie you were eating,” Colbi explained. She stood up and introduced herself to Marci and Eric. She spoke to four-year-old Rose and then she excused herself. “I’m working with someone on a computer project today. He’s probably wondering where I ran off to.” She looked over at the boy. He was sitting down with the kitten on his lap, moving the string to his sweatshirt hood and watching the kitten bat at it. “Adam,” she said, “since I’ll be working today, would you like to entertain Dolly?”

  His face lit up into a smile. “Sure!” he said. He looked over at Michael and Savannah. “Can I?” he asked.

  “Sure can,” Michael answered.

  After Marci, Eric, and Rose
had left, Adam asked if he could take Rags for a walk.

  Savannah nodded. “Good idea. He hasn’t been out for a while. It’s probably time for Dolly’s nap. Shall we go put her to bed so we know she’s safe while we go outside?”

  Once they had tucked Dolly in, Adam ran to retrieve Rags’s harness and leash. He got help putting them on the cat and the three of them walked outside with Rags in tow. Lexie trailed along, as well.

  “Hey where’s he going?” Adam asked as the trio followed the cat. Rags tugged on the leash, pulling Adam out through the corral and into the orchard.

  “I don’t know. I guess he wants to explore. Exploring is fun,” Michael said.

  “Yeah. But he’s pulling me. My arm’s getting tired.”

  “Want me to take him?” Michael asked.

  “Naw. I can do it,” Adam said.

  Before they knew it, Rags had led them through the orchard and onto the Tindles’ property. When they reached the little wooden shed, Rags stopped and sat down. He looked over at the shed and cocked his head. He then got up and, with Adam following along behind holding the leash, he walked over to the other side of the shed and stood up with his paws on the door.

  “He wants in,” Adam said. “What’s in there, anyway, Rags? You never brought me out here before,” he said looking around.

  “No, I’ve never seen him out here, either, “Savannah said. “I wonder what he’s looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said, but I don’t feel right trespassing on old man Tindle’s property. I think we’d better lead him back over to his own yard, okay, Adam?”

  ***

  In the meantime, upstairs in Colbi’s room, where she was working with Jason—a tech guy from the sheriff’s office, she shouted, “Bingo! Those are definitely some of the cats in these pictures we got from the shelter—those that were rescued from the fire at the hoarders’ place.”

  Jason said, “Well, it looks as though they’re up and running again and using photos from their earlier scams.” He changed position, looked over at Colbi and said, “Now, to dig for the information we need to pinpoint their whereabouts; let’s just hope it isn’t a public place.”

  “Wait!” Colbi shouted. “Go back a couple of frames. I want to get a look at that guy.”

  “What guy?” he asked.

  Colbi watched as Jason flipped through some still shots and some video, then she said, “There! Stop!” She leaned in and studied the image of the man holding up a scrawny cat for the camera. “Black hair—probably dyed—dark eyes, heavy brows, and pale white skin. He’s dressed all in black. Ewwww. Looks creepy. I wouldn’t want to meet him in an alley at night—or anywhere else, for that matter.”

  “Yeah, he’s kind of Old-World—like an old English cop…”

  “Or Dracula-like,” she said. “What’s that?”

  “Where?” Jason asked.

  “In the corner behind him, over near that other cat. It’s a walking stick, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, looks rather ornate. Unusual.”

  “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. Her voice was only slightly raspy now, especially when she spoke loudly or used a high pitch. “I think he might be the killer!”

  “Really?” Jason said.

  “What time is it, Jason?” She looked at her watch. “Oh, eleven fifteen. Damon will be here to get me in a few minutes. Can you print that out? I think Savannah has a color printer in her office. I hear them downstairs; let me go ask if we can use it.”

  In a few moments, Colbi picked up the house phone and placed a call to Jason, who was still upstairs. She laughed into the phone and said, “Hey, I’m not supposed to be going up and down stairs more than necessary, so how about if you email the photo to savannah@redworld.net. I’ll go turn on the printer and meet you here at the bottom of the stairs. We’ll print the picture out from Savannah’s computer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  By eleven thirty, Damon and Colbi were on their way to pick up Mary at the gas station and convenience store. They found her sitting on the corner of the busy street on an overturned white plastic bucket. She held a crude sign that read, “Anything helps.” Damon pulled into the parking lot near her. She spotted them, picked up the five-gallon bucket, and walked over to the car. “Are you ready?” Damon asked, through the driver’s side window.

  “Yeah, I guess. Let me get my stuff,” she said, walking across the parking lot. She stopped and motioned for them to follow her, so Damon drove slowly toward the back of the parking lot and parked. The couple stepped out of the car and watched as Mary disappeared into a wooded area between the back of the parking lot and the freeway. Within a few moments, she emerged struggling to pull a shopping cart through the weeds and leaves up onto the pavement. Damon reached out and helped her bump it up over the curb.

  “Oh God, where will we put that?” Damon asked, rubbing his hand through his hair.

  Colbi said, “Gosh, Mary, this isn’t going to fit in the car. Can’t you leave it here?”

  “Oh no,” she said shaking her head, “I have to keep it with me.” She looked Colbi in the eye, frowning. “People steal things, you know.”

  Damon looked down into the basket and said, “We can take your stuff, but not the basket. Will that work?”

  Mary thought about it for a minute and said, “Yeah. I can get another basket.” She pushed the basket toward the car. Damon opened the trunk.

  “No, it can’t go in there. Gotta keep it with me—where I can see it.”

  “But how will you carry it?” Damon asked.

  Colbi thought about it for a minute and said, “The bucket. All of this will fit into your bucket, won’t it?”

  “Maybe,” she said, looking down at the bucket she had set inside the basket.

  Just then, a young man wearing a blue shirt with a grocery store logo on the front jumped out of a pickup truck and walked over to the trio. “You can’t take that shopping cart,” he said, looking from one to the other.

  “Yeah,” Damon said, “we’re just emptying it out so you can have it.” He reached over and removed the bucket. When he started to grab some of Mary’s things, she lashed out.

  “No, I’ll git it. You stand back,” she said. “It’s my stuff. I’ll git it.”

  Colbi and Damon watched her take each item and place it into the large white bucket as carefully as if she was handling newborn kittens. After what seemed like several minutes, Mary said with a smile of satisfaction, “Just fits.”

  Once Mary’s bucket was placed on the backseat and everyone was seated in the car, Colbi glanced at the clock on the dash. It was eleven fifty-five. Eight minutes later, Damon pulled into the parking lot at El Ranchito. He looked back at Mary. “You can just leave your stuff there. I’ll lock the car.”

  “Oh nooo,” Mary said.

  Damon watched as she climbed out of the backseat, pulling the bucket out behind her. After locking the car, he led the way into the back door of the restaurant. Colbi motioned for Mary to go ahead of her and she followed behind. Damon spotted Craig waving from a large circular booth against one wall. He waved back and headed in Craig’s direction. “Craig, this is Mary,” Damon said after the detective had scooted out of the booth to greet them. “She was a good friend of Beverly Jones.”

  Noticing that she had both hands rigidly wrapped around the bucket handle, Craig simply nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mary. Thanks for coming.” He motioned for Mary to sit down. She set the bucket on the seat and scooted in next to it. Craig retrieved a briefcase off the seat on the other side of the table and allowed Colbi and Damon to slide in. Craig sat directly across from Mary.

  The homeless woman looked around and said, “I’m going to use the facility. I’ll be right back.” She started to step out of the booth, looked back at Colbi, and said, “Order me a large Coke, will ya?” Before walking away, she picked up the bucket and lugged it along with her.

  “What’s with the bucket?” Craig asked when she was out of sight.

 
“It was either that or a shopping cart,” Damon said with a laugh.

  Colbi handed Craig a file folder she’d carried in. “We think this is him.”

  He glanced up to make sure Mary wasn’t returning yet, opened the folder, and took a look at the photo. “Good,” he said. “I printed out a half-dozen mug shots matching the description she gave you two.” He studied the photo Colbi had given him again. “Nope, didn’t see this dude among them,” he said, tucking it into his briefcase.

  “What would you like to eat, Mary?” Craig asked after Mary returned to the table and they’d all had a chance to look at their menus.

  She glanced around the room and then looked out the window, down at her bucket, and back at the menu. She looked up again and said as if she’d memorized it, “Steak fajitas, beans, rice, and extra tortillas…corn.”

  “Sure thing,” Craig said as he motioned for the waiter to come over. Once they’d placed their orders, Craig asked, “Mary, so you’ve been out to where Beverly was living, and you saw someone there at night, is that right?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Yes. He wore black, all black, and it was like he was flying.”

  “Well Mary, did you get a look at his face? Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “Sure do—black hair, dark black eyes, white skin like it was powdered or something.”

  Craig stared at the woman and said, “I brought some pictures I’d like you to look at; will you do that for me?”

  “Yeah, I like looking at pictures. That’s no problem.”

  The waiter arrived with a tray full of beverages. He set Mary’s Coke in front of her and she immediately pulled it toward her, leaned over, and took a long swig. Craig removed a couple of file folders from his briefcase. He opened the one Colbi had given him and discreetly moved her photo into the file with those he had brought. He removed seven photos from the folder and handed them to Mary.

  “Wait,” Colbi said, reaching over and pushing the woman’s Coke aside. She grabbed a napkin, and wiped the moisture from the glass off the table in front of her. She then took the photos from Craig and laid them on the table.