Love at First Purr

by Patricia Fry

  Mr. Nolan watched Smokey ease off his lap and curl up on the passenger seat, then he stepped out of the van and squinted at Savannah. "Are you by any chance with the Hammond Cat Alliance, young lady?"

  "Yes," she said. "I'm Savannah Ivey."

  More enthusiastically he asked, "Doc Michael Ivey's wife? Hey, you're a vet, too, aren't you?"

  "Yes," she said. "Do I know you?"

  "Probably not. But I know your husband and I know about the cat alliance. My wife was a member when Margaret Forster…um, I guess she's Margaret Sheridan now, started it."

  Savannah smiled. "She's my aunt."

  "Huh?" Mr. Nolan said.

  "Maggie Sheridan is my aunt."

  "Is that right?" He explained, "My wife was a member of the alliance when it first started. Ask your aunt about her."

  "Well, Mr. Nolan, transport is on the way," Craig said, pushing his phone into his pants pocket. Shall we gather up the cats?"

  When Savannah saw a black cat rub up against Mr. Nolan's ankles she asked, "Can you put your hands on some of these feral cats? It appears that at least that one's not afraid of you."

  Lawrence Nolan looked down at the cat. "Oh yes, that's Barnaby. He's friendly. What did you call him, a feral cat?" He shook his head. "No. None of these are feral. Not Barnaby…" he pointed, "nor Queenie over there. She's going to have kittens just about any day now."

  More excitedly Savannah asked, "Can you catch her for us?"

  "Well, yes," he said.

  "What about that bi-color over there and that striped cat; have you made friends with them?"

  "Sure," Mr. Nolan said matter-of-factly.

  Savannah looked around, then asked, "After you load your cats into the transport vehicle, can I get you to help me put the other cats inside your van? Then we can come up here with carriers and take them to safety."

  "I could," Mr. Nolan said, "or like I said I can take them to my home with me. We're all old friends now, you see. They trust me."

  Savannah hesitated, then asked, "Can you accommodate that many cats at your home? I thought you said they run loose."

  "Of course. Do you know where I live?" he asked. When she shook her head, he continued, "You'll have to come by sometime and see my setup. It would probably be of interest to a veterinarian who rescues cats."

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Well, our cats have the run of the house, but we've also designated a large room as the cat room and it has an outdoor room attached."

  "So they don't run loose at your home?"

  "No." He asked, "Do you know June Balcomb?"

  Savannah nodded. "I sure do."

  "Well, it's similar to the setup she has in her home for her personal cats. It's perfect for our menagerie." He chuckled. "The wife and I have around a dozen cats altogether. What's another five, except to bring more joy into our home?" He pointed and laughed. "Hey, looks like your cat has rounded up some of my friends."

  Savannah looked in time to see Rags at the end of his leash walking toward them with Queenie and Barnaby following.

  "Thanks, buddy," Mr. Nolan said, chuckling. "I'll take it from here." He picked up Queenie and put her inside his van. "Come on girls and boys," he said softly. He lifted Barnaby in next. "Here comes Roscoe and Barbara." He winked and asked, "Do you know what singer I named her for?"

  Savannah grinned. "Barbara Streisand?"

  "Right-o!" he said, ushering the grey cat into the van. He looked around. "Is there anyone else out there wanting a ride with me to Casa de Gatos?"

  "House of the cats, huh?" Craig said, chuckling.

  Mr. Nolan nodded. "Hey, I think your cat sees someone else out there. Who else wants to go to the city?" He motioned to Savannah, saying, "Let him go. Let's see if he'll bring any of the others back." He looked at Rags for a moment and asked, "Say, is that Rags? I've read about him, haven't I?"

  Savannah nodded.

  He stood up straighter and guffawed. "Well, I'll be darned. Hello there, Rags." He leaned over and petted him. "I've wanted to meet you in the flesh and here you are helping me round up wayward cats. Isn't this an unexpected pleasure?" He stood up again and waved his hand. "Go, Rags. Go bring in the rest of them, will you?"

  Savannah walked along behind Rags as he led her into a brushy area. "Oh no," she complained. "I don't really want to run into a snake or something. Here, kitty-kitty," she called, hoping to lure in any cats who lingered. "Here, kitty-kitty."

  Just then Rags stopped. He tilted his head and pricked up his ears. That's when Savannah saw it: A large orange tabby cat peeking through the foliage.

  "Hello there, Goldie," she crooned.

  "You found Goldie?" Mr. Nolan called. "How did you know…?" He chuckled. "I guess her name would be obvious, right? It's either Marmalade, Ginger, or Goldie. I call her Golden Girl. She's expecting kittens. Let me see if I can put my hands on her. Stand back now," he warned. Moments later he announced, "Got her. Oh no," he said, "the kittens are coming. We need to get her to a safe place and quick."

  Savannah followed the frail man back to the van and watched as he laid Goldie on a blanket. "Let me take a look," she suggested, walking closer. She handed Rags's leash to Craig and leaned into the van over the laboring cat. "Craig, I think she needs help. Let me call Bud and see if he'll meet us at the clinic."

  "Why not Michael?" Craig asked.

  "He's home with the kids, you know, since Mom's out of town."

  "Here comes the transport," Craig said. "You go ahead with Mr. Nolan and the cats. I'll meet you at my car. Want me to take Rags?" he offered.

  Savannah thought about it and said, "No. I think Rags wants to stay with Goldie and she seems okay with him. I'll see you down below."

  "Mr. Nolan, are you ready to return to civilization?" Craig asked after they'd successfully transferred ten cats to the transport van.

  "Yes. Okay, let's go." He shook his head and said quietly, "I guess I'll have to plan a new rest of my life."

  Craig chuckled. "I guess you will, Mr. Nolan. Welcome back."

  Minutes later as Savannah got Goldie and Rags settled in Craig's car, Gabby approached, asking, "Who was that guy? Did I see cats in the van?" When she saw Goldie, she asked, "You caught that orange cat? What's wrong with him?"

  "She," Savannah emphasized, "is Goldie and she's trying to have kittens." She looked at Gabby. "Hey, we may need your help. Want to help us save a litter of kittens?"

  The girl's eyes widened. "Yes. Where are you taking her?"

  "To the clinic. Check with your grandmother. We'll wait here," Savannah said. She smiled watching Gabby run at full speed back to the ranch house.

  ****

  "Bud, I'm sorry if I interrupted your supper," Savannah said as he opened the clinic door and ushered her, Craig, and Gabby in with Rags and Goldie.

  "No problem," Bud said, "although…"

  "Although?" Savannah questioned.

  "Well, your sister's a really good cook and she made one of my favorites tonight."

  "What?" Craig asked, amused.

  Bud shook his head. "I don't know what it's called, but it has chicken, chilis, white beans, and tortillas in it. It's kind of a soup. Very tasty." He shrugged. "But it heats up nicely, so no loss. I've missed out on meals that weren't as forgiving—you know, like pizza. If you don't eat it hot and fresh, you might as well not eat it at all." He led them into an exam room and looked at the blanket bundle Savannah carried. "So one of your ferals is having trouble pushing out her kittens, huh?"

  Savannah nodded and gently placed the cat on the table. "It appears so." She said, "By the way, Bud, this is our friend, Gabby. She's Randy Randolph's niece…"

  "Favorite niece," Gabby added quietly.

  Everyone chuckled and Savannah explained, "Gabby's very fond of cats. She's been helping us with the colony at her uncle's place, and she excels in science. Who knows, she may choose to be a veterinarian some day. Gabby, this is our partner in the clinic, Dr. Bud."

  "Hi," Gabby said. "Do you th
ink you can help Goldie have her kittens?"

  Bud ran his hand over the cat. "Well, let me take a look at her and see what we're dealing with." He glanced at Savannah. "How did you catch her? Haven't you been setting traps all week and coming up dry?"

  Savannah chuckled. "Yes, but you know how a mother cat in labor—even a wild one—will sometimes accept help. I'm just glad we found her." When Rags reached his paws up the side of her leg, she said, "Yes, Rags, you helped find her, didn't you?"

  Bud grinned. "Of course, he did."

  "It was pretty amazing," Savannah explained, "there's a guy who's been living in the brush not too far from where we're trying to trap those cats. The reason we're not getting any in the traps is because he's feeding them. And he's made friends with them. He ended up taking a bunch of them home with him. Do you know Lawrence Nolan?"

  "Sure. Hey, I heard he was missing," Bud said. He frowned. "He was living with the feral cats? He does love his cats. His wife does, too. Yes, they have a lot of them. Well, I'm glad to know he's okay. He's quite an interesting man." As Bud spoke, he examined Goldie. He winced. "Yeah, I suspect she has a kitten blocking the canal. Savannah, want to help me get an x-ray to see exactly what we're dealing with?" Moments later, as he led Savannah back into the exam room, Bud let out a deep sigh and asked, "Want to scrub?"

  "Huh?" Savannah said. "You have to go in after them?"

  He nodded.

  "And you want me to assist?" she asked.

  "Why not? You can do the surgery if you want. You're licensed." He looked at Craig. "Would you be willing to help?"

  "Oh," Craig said, startled. "Me? Do what? I mean, I…um…"

  "We may need some kitten rubbers," Bud said.

  "What?" Craig asked.

  Savannah laughed. "Oh, it's fun and very important." More seriously, she said, "The kittens might be compromised, depending on how long she's been in labor. It can be hard on the kittens. Some might not be breathing when they come out or they'll have trouble breathing. We need to massage them and see if we can help them take those first few breaths."

  "I'd like to help," Gabby said.

  "Of course," Bud said. "I was hoping you would."

  When Bud returned to the room with gowns, masks and gloves for the others, Savannah directed Craig and Gabby in how to wash their hands, and put on the scrubs.

  "I don't know if this is a good idea," Craig said. "Maybe I should wait in the lobby with Rags."

  "He's okay," Bud said. "Rags can stay. We may need your help, Detective."

  "But…" Craig said, backing away. He shook his head. "I don't think I'd be very good at this."

  Savannah frowned at him. "I can't believe this. All the things you have to deal with in your line of work and you're squeamish about a kitten birthing?"

  "I'm not squeamish," Craig insisted.

  Before he could continue, Bud asked, "Everyone ready? Let's get started."

  ****

  "That was amazing!" Gabby said as Craig drove her and Savannah home later that evening. "Six perfect little kittens in all colors of the rainbow." She giggled. "It was so much fun helping them to live. Savannah, don't forget to send me that picture you took of me actually saving baby kittens." She swooned. "I just can't believe I got to do that."

  Savannah smiled. "And you did a great job, honey. I sent the picture to your grandmother's phone. She's probably looking at it as we speak. They'll be so proud."

  "I'm kind of proud of myself," Craig said.

  Savannah grinned. "Why?"

  "I didn't pass out. It was really rewarding to see those little tiny cats start to wiggle, squirm, and squeal."

  "Exciting, huh, Mr. Detective?" Gabby said.

  "Very exciting," he agreed.

  Savannah turned in her seat to look at Gabby. "You're going to be up late writing in your diary this evening."

  "Yes, and I don't want to miss a single detail. I have lots of pictures in my head to draw too."

  Savannah and Craig smiled at one another. He said, "A perfect end to a very nice day. Purrr-fect."

  ****

  "Hi, Mom," Savannah said into the phone later that evening after putting the children to bed. "I was hoping you'd call. I've been thinking about you. How is everything?"

  "Crazy," Gladys said. "Oh, Vannie, you won't believe what happened. I went to meet my new renter—she knew I was coming and welcomed me graciously. She's a lovely woman, but…"

  "But what, Mom?" Savannah asked.

  "I couldn't believe my eyes. There, sitting in the living room right in plain sight was that antique side table your great uncle built for my grandmother."

  "Well, that's not unusual, is it?" Savannah asked. "You're renting your place furnished."

  "But I didn't leave that in the house. I'm sure of it," Gladys insisted.

  "Oh, Mom, you probably did and you just forgot."

  "I don't think so, Vannie. And that's not all. MaryEllen, my renter, allowed me to do a walk through. Well, when we got to the master bedroom, there was my brass vase, which I know I didn't leave in the house. In fact I distinctly remember packing it away. I was concerned about it tarnishing or something, so I did some research to find out if I needed to handle it differently—you know, take extra steps when packing it. Well, there it was in my house."

  "How odd. Did you say something to the woman?"

  "Of course I did. She said that her friend, the one who's staying with her, gave it to her. Evidently her friend appreciates nice antiques. MaryEllen said she admired the vase, so her friend gave it to her. Now do you think that's true? Is she making it up?" In a pinched voice, Gladys said, "Vannie, could MaryEllen be the one who broke into my storage unit?" She took a breath and said, "Did I leave something in the house with the name of my storage company and the unit number? Maybe I accidently left an extra key to the lock."

  "I doubt it, Mom," Savannah said. "Remember, someone broke in. They didn't have a key. Unless…"

  "Unless what, Vannie?"

  "Well, I guess they could have used a key to remove your lock before putting the new one on there." She paused, then asked, "Did you meet her friend? The one who she said gave the vase to her?"

  "No, but I hope to. Vannie, do you think she's the one who's been sleeping in my storage unit? Or she could have bought my things from the thief. Anyway, I told Detective Klein what I found. He's handling the case—you know, the murder case and the burglary case. I also gave him MaryEllen's name since she's in possession of my belongings."

  "Hmmm," Savannah muttered, "that's all very puzzling. So are you ready to come back to Hammond where it's safe?"

  "I'm safe here. Why would you think I'm not?"

  "Because, Mom, it sounds like you're getting close to uncovering a burglary ring or something. You may be surrounding yourself with questionable characters." When Gladys remained silent, Savannah said, "Hey, I hear you called Craig."

  "Yes, I had a few questions about police protocol. He knows my Detective Klein and he assured me he seems to be going about the investigation quite appropriately. You see, I'm concerned about getting my things back and Detective Klein doesn't seem to be making that a priority."

  "No, I imagine not," Savannah agreed. "His priority is getting a killer off the streets."

  "I know. I know," Gladys said. "And Karl has been very helpful in assisting me with my priority. So I actually shouldn't be complaining, only…" She let out a long sigh. "I guess I should just let Detective Klein do his job."

  "Good!" Savannah cheered. "Do you think you can do that?"

  "I've done it so far, haven't I?" Gladys snapped.

  Changing the subject, Savannah asked, "Do you know yet who was killed?"

  "Yes. There was a piece in the paper about it this morning. Karl and I saw it while we were eating breakfast. It was a local man who managed beach rentals. Evidently Amanda—at least they think it was Amanda, although she wasn't named in the newspaper story… Well, she was caught sleeping in one of the houses that happened to be vacan
t. It appears there was a tussle and the manager was killed. This happened some weeks ago. The neighbors were on vacation and when they returned they checked their security camera and found a picture of a woman leaving the place in a hurry carrying a large bundle. They didn't name her, but they showed a grainy picture of her and they're asking for the public's help in finding her."

  "What do they think was in the bundle?"

  "Stolen property, I imagine. Or it could have been her belongings," Gladys said.

  "So she may have been living in your storage unit for some time, then," Savannah said.

  "I guess so, which makes sense since she was able to remove so many of my things without being noticed. I guess she was seen, but not identified as a thief." Gladys took a sharp breath. "Vannie, I told you that they found IDs in my storage unit belonging to more than one woman. Something with Amanda Kirk's name was there, but also MaryEllen's ID and another woman named Zelda something. So we're not actually certain that Amanda is the one who took my things. Now that some of them have shown up in my house, I'm seriously wondering if MaryEllen's involved."

  "Didn't you say people saw Amanda Kirk at your unit and at the beach?"

  "Yes, but as I understand it the identifications are inconclusive because the woman or women they saw were always covered up in big hats, hoodies, or scarves. Amanda is reported to have long dark hair, but so does MaryEllen. Oh, I'm just so confused. I don't know how Craig does this day in and day out. There are so many details that don't quite fit together. It's driving me crazy."

  Savannah chuckled. "That's because with you it's personal. It's your property you're dealing with. You're too close to the situation."

  "I guess so," Gladys said. "But how and why this woman or gang of women chose my unit and now possibly my house is a question I hope is resolved." She whined, "I just want my belongings back and the sooner the better so I can get back home. I sure miss the kids."

  "They miss you too, Mom. So," Savannah asked, "did you see the cats?"

  "Cats?"