by Patricia Fry
The uproar that followed was so loud that no one heard the knock at the door. Suddenly, however, Michael saw the door open. "Wait!" he called.
Savannah prepared to snap the towel again, when he shouted, "Stop! Game over. We have company."
"We do?" she said turning in time to see Craig walk into the kitchen.
"Hi, Craig," Michael greeted. "Are we disturbing the peace?"
"Yeah, what's going on for crying out loud?" Craig looked around at everyone. When he caught sight of the mess in the sink, he said, "Looks like a massacre. Are you Vikings pillaging a village or something?" He looked at Gabby. "This fair maiden isn't your sacrifice to the gods, is she?"
"That's Gabby," Lily said.
Adam picked up some of the fish innards. "This is fish guts. Savannah was trying to hit us with that towel, and Dad was going to tickle her as punishment, but Teddy won the game when he cried."
Appearing confused, Craig gazed around at everyone, then said, "Okaaay. Each to his own, I guess. In our household we might play gin rummy or work a puzzle, but hey, if this is how you people roll, who am I to judge?"
Laughing, Savannah reached for Craig's arm. "Come in and have a seat."
He pulled away. "Not until you lay down your weapon."
"Weapon?" she repeated confused.
"That damn towel," he explained.
Everyone laughed boisterously.
"What brings you here?" Savannah asked, leading Craig into the living room. She faced him. "Mom's okay, isn't she?"
"Yes. She was fine last time I talked to her about an hour ago."
"Jake?" she said. "Is there a problem with Jake?"
"There's no problem, Savannah," Craig insisted. "Can't I stop by to visit with friends without there being a reason?"
"Not usually," she said, moving one of Lily's stuffed bears from the sofa and inviting him to sit down. She kicked Michael's shoes under the sofa and sat across from Craig.
"I'm not interrupting dinner, am I?" he asked. "Do you need to be cooking?"
"No, Michael and the kids are going to fry the fish. Everything else is ready. What's up?"
Instead of responding, Craig nodded toward the hallway and asked, "Who's this? Look at those eyes. That's one cute cat. I didn't know you were still adopting cats. What's up with that?" Without waiting for Savannah's response, he attempted to lure Lizzie to him. "You're one of those aloof ones, are you? We have some like you at the inn. So pretty you want to touch them, but you can't unless you have a ten-foot pole." When Rags sidled up to him, Craig petted him. "Hi, Rags. How are you? Is this your new girlfriend?" He looked at Savannah. "Can cats that have been—you know, fixed…can they still have girlfriends?"
Savannah laughed. "Lizzie's a foster. I'm fostering her."
"Where'd she come from?" he asked.
"That colony next door at the Randolphs' ranch."
He looked down at the cat. "I don't remember seeing this one. I think I would have remembered her. It's a girl, right?"
Savannah nodded.
"Why does she look at me like that?" he asked.
"She likes you," Savannah said. "She's interested in you. I think she finds you as interesting as you find her."
"Do you really think so?"
"Could be. She is cute, isn't she?"
Craig took a breath. "Savannah, you know I like cats okay. I have one of my own and we have all those at the inn—those cozy cats or whatever Iris calls them, but this cat… She's different isn't she?"
"You have good instincts, Craig. I think she's something special."
"Of course I have good instincts. I'm in law enforcement." When Lizzie walked toward Craig, he said, "Oh, here she comes. Hi, Lizzie, is that your name? Lizzie?"
"Yes, Teddy named her. He wanted to call her Lizard."
Craig chuckled. "Leave it to the boy." He ruffled the cat's fur and crooned, "Hi there, cute thing."
"So you've met our new guest cat?" Michael asked, entering the living room with the children.
"Yes, she's something, isn't she?"
"I guess she is. Everyone who meets her goes ga-ga over her." Michael asked, "Do you want her, Craig? We're looking for a good home for her."
"He can't have her," Savannah barked.
"Savannah," Michael scolded, "you have to let go. We agreed that you're only fostering her, remember?"
"I know, Michael. She'll get a good home; no worries."
He looked at her suspiciously, then asked Craig, "So what's up?"
The detective took a breath and sat back against the sofa, saying, "I just wanted to touch base with you about Gladys's dilemma. Has she been staying in touch with you?"
Savannah and Michael nodded. She asked, "Is there something she's not telling us?"
"Probably not."
"She's not in any danger is she?" Michael asked.
"No-no, I don't think so, only…"
"Only what?" Savannah asked.
"I'm a little nervous about her staying down there visiting those pawn shops with the suspect still on the loose, that's all."
Alarmed, Savannah asked, "Craig, do you think that woman's dangerous?"
Rather sarcastically, he said, "She killed once."
"Why would she hurt Mom?" Savannah asked. "Anyway, Karl's with her."
"I'm sure she's fine," Craig said. "I'd just rather see her home here with your family…" he rolled his eyes "…as kinky as your behavior is, than running around LA among the less desirables—you know in pawn-shop alley."
"Us too," Savannah said, "but she's one stubborn and very determined woman. I think she's just about finished with what she went there to do—that's the impression I got when I talked to her earlier. She said she'll be flying home maybe tomorrow."
"Good," he said. He frowned and pointed. "What's she doing?"
The others craned to see what Craig was pointing at.
"She's all rolled up in that newspaper!" Adam exclaimed.
"How'd she do that?" Gabby asked. "I made a tent for her to play under. She likes diving under paper." Giggling, she said, "Oh my gosh, she looks like a kitty burrito."
The others laughed as well, and Savannah said, "I've never seen anything like it. I don't think she can get out of there." When Lizzie looked up at her and mewed, she said, "You really are stuck, aren't you, sweetie?"
"I'll unroll her," Adam offered.
"Wait," Savannah shouted. "I want to get a picture."
"Me too," Craig said, snapping a few with his phone. He shook his head. "Only at the Iveys will you see something as bizarre as this." He glanced at Rags. "…except it's usually him causing a commotion."
"Can we unroll her now?" Gabby asked.
Everyone laughed when Adam pushed Lizzie and she rolled over a couple of times becoming released from the newspaper. Gabby picked her up and kissed her little face. "Poor kitty. Poor Lizzie-kitty."
Lily ran up and hugged the kitten as Gabby held her. "Poor Lizzie. Was she scared?"
"I don't think so," Gabby said. "She's not much of a scaredy cat."
Craig laughed, shaking his head, then stood up. "Well, thank you for the entertainment, guys. He ruffled the fur on Lizzie's head. "Cute cat." He added, "Enjoy your fish dinner. By the way, who caught all that fish I saw in there?"
"Mostly Gabby," Adam said. "She had beginner's luck."
"No I didn't," Gabby insisted. She grinned. "It was skill. I held my pole just right."
"Adam, buddy," Michael said, patting him on the back, "girls out-fish guys, that's all there is to it. No one knows why it's true, but it's fact. It's probably because they're prettier. Those fish don't want to be pulled into a boat by an ugly guy wearing a funny fishing hat. They opt for the pretty lady in a pretty shirt."
"Maybe it's the color. They like the brighter colors girls wear," Adam said. "That's gotta be it."
"Yeah," Craig said, winking, "that's probably it."
Chapter Eight
Monday morning came on the heels of a busy weekend. Savannah was in
the living room fixing Lily's hair when she heard, "Yoo-hoo! Where is everyone?"
"In here, Auntie!" Savannah called.
"Hi," Margaret said. "Getting your hair fixed, huh, Lily?"
Lily nodded, then yelped, "Ow!"
"Sorry," Savannah said. "I didn't expect you to nod your head." She turned to Margaret. "So did you catch the lone colony cat? You set a trap last night didn't you?"
"I set two and caught them both. Just dropped them at the clinic."
"Two?" Savannah repeated. "Who else did we miss besides the white bi-color tabby that was hanging out with Goldie?"
"Remember the old grumpy-looking black one?"
"Oh yes. We left him behind, did we? Good. I'm glad you got him."
"Heck, he's probably too old to impregnate the females anymore," Margaret said.
"But who deserves a loving home more than old Grumpy Black?" Savannah asked. "Hopefully he'll find one with a senior person or couple. I think he's more than ready to retire and settle down don't you?"
Margaret nodded. "I'm surprised we didn't catch him before this." She brightened. "Hey, did you hear that one of the white and bi-color cats Mr. Nolan took home has a chip? I guess Michael went out to his place to do a check on all his cats and the ferals he took home with him. One has a chip—a female."
"Have they found her owner?"
"I haven't heard yet—oh wait," she said, looking at her phone. "Hey, it's Scarlett. Hi, Scarlett," Margaret said, walking into the other room. She returned shortly smiling widely. "They found her family," Margaret announced, "and they're eager to have her back." Margaret shimmied. "It makes me so happy when this happens." She looked at Savannah. "What did you find out about the tabby? Did she have a chip?"
"Tabby?" Savannah questioned.
"The one you're fostering," Margaret said, making air quotes.
"I am fostering her," Savannah insisted. "Why doesn't anyone believe me?"
Margaret laughed. "Because we can all see how ga-ga you are over that little cat." She looked around. "Where is she, anyway?"
"I'll get her," Lily chirped, running out of the room. "She sleeps in Mommy's shoes," she said, giggling as she returned with Lizzie in her arms.
Margaret smiled and took the cat from Lily. "She is one sweet kitten." She looked up. "So does she have a chip?"
Savannah shook her head. "No chip. She's a free spirit."
Margaret played with Lizzie for a few moments and said, "They found the little injured black cat's family. Evidently they'd been out of the country."
"Really?" Savannah said. "I'm so glad. Do they want her back? What's her story?"
"It seems she lives on the other side of the river. She evidently left home when the family brought in a cleaning crew. They'd had a fire nearby and had a lot of smoke damage in the house. They thought they had Ember secured, but someone must have let her out and with all the noise, she just kept running. She somehow met up with this colony of cats and they eventually found themselves at the Randolphs'. Who knows how colonies form? I imagine each cat and each grouping has a story."
"How long's she been missing?" Savannah asked. She shook her head. "You know I don't think she was well-accepted among that bunch of cats. I never once saw her interact with any of them. She was a loner. That's probably how she got the wound. She didn't fit in and one or more of them were bossing her around."
Margaret nodded. "Could be. The owners said she's been gone for about a month."
"Poor thing," Savannah said. "So they want her back, I hope?"
"Oh yes. They're on their way to the clinic as we speak. Do you know how far that little girl traveled?"
"Well, it must have been at least three miles," Savannah said.
"More like eight or ten," Margaret corrected.
"How far up river are they?" Savannah asked.
"About ten miles unless she got a ride or swam across the river. Her owners think she might have hitched a ride in one of their workers' vehicles or maybe a delivery truck she found along the way."
"That makes sense." Savannah smiled. "I love happy-ending kitty stories. Let's hope the rest of the cats are so lucky."
Margaret nodded, then frowned. "What's all this?"
"Do you mean our rug decorations?" Savannah asked.
"Rug decorations?" Margaret looked at Lily. "Is this your doing? Did you decorate the living room like this?"
Lily shook her head.
Teddy rushed up to Margaret and said, "Lizzie."
"Lizzie?" Margaret questioned.
"Those are Lizzie's toys," Lily explained. "Rags's toys, Buffy's toys, Glori's toys, and Lizzie's toys." Wide-eyed, she said, pointing, "Lizzie takes them out of the basket and drops them there and there and there…"
Margaret laughed. "That cat is a clown. Colbi told me about the powder incident." More seriously, she said, "Vannie, I hope you put that powder away; you don't want her licking it or breathing it in."
"No, I don't," she said. "Yes, I put it away."
"She made a burrito," Lily said. When Margaret looked confused, Lily laid down on the floor and rolled over a couple of times, saying, "Lizzie rolled herself in the newspaper. Gabby said she's a burrito."
"In the newspaper?" Margaret asked. "Crazy cat."
"Crazy-cute," Savannah said.
Margaret squinted at Savannah. "You're going to end up keeping her, aren't you?"
"No," Savannah insisted. "No. I'm just her foster mother. I'll re-home her, I promise. That was my goal—my responsibility." She winced. "As hard as it will be to see her go, I will definitely place her in a wonderful forever home. Gosh, she's a dear cat. I sure do love her."
Margaret chuckled when she saw Lizzie playing with one of her shoe laces. She petted her and smiled.
Lizzie looked up at Margaret and mewed.
Just then Adam joined the others. Margaret greeted him, "Hi, there, Adam. I didn't know you were here."
"I live here," he said. "Well, half time."
"I heard," Margaret said. "That's great. Nice to have you in the neighborhood."
He grinned, then said to Savannah, "I fed the horses and gave them water. What time do you want us to exercise them?"
She smiled. "Probably while the kids nap. Sound okay?"
"Sure," he said, picking up Lizzie and trying to entice her with the string on his sweatshirt hood. He put her down and asked, "Okay if I use the computer, Savannah? I want to see if Simon can talk."
"Sure," she said, smiling. She asked Margaret, "So what brings you here this morning?"
Margaret let out a sigh. "Your mother."
"Is something wrong?" Savannah asked, concerned.
"No, not really. I just hate to see her running around down there in LA in the tracks of a possible killer."
"Craig came over last night and said pretty much the same thing," Savannah reported. "So has something else happened?"
"She called a few days ago to ask me about some of Mother's and Grandmother's things—if I could remember any identifying marks or if I had pictures of any of them. I did. I remembered something else about one of those pieces this morning and called to tell her. I just hope it helps and that she gets her butt back up here soon. Did you know she may have met the fugitive?"
"No!" Savannah said.
"Yes, she went back to her rental and the woman was there. Your mother said she's a nice looking woman of around forty. Oh, while your mother was there, someone came and took the cats. You knew there were stolen cats in your mother's rental, right?"
Savannah nodded.
"Well, they were Turkish angoras."
"Wow! So which of the women took them—MaryEllen, the renter or Amanda, her friend who was probably living in Mom's storage unit and maybe killed someone?"
"I think it was the renter's friend. From what I could gather, she had them listed for sale. I think that's how they caught up to her," Margaret explained.
"So they took her in?" Savannah asked.
"No, she had gone by the time the polic
e or animal control or whoever arrived. Gladys gets the idea that the police haven't put two-and-two together yet—you know, that the woman in the storage unit, the one who stole Gladys's belongings, the one who steals cats, and the one who's staying at her rental property is the same woman. Your mother's totally confused, but I don't think she's spending much time thinking about it or trying to figure it out, because she's so focused on finding her things—our mother's things."
"Was she able to prove ownership of more of her belongings, with the pictures and other information you sent her?" Savannah asked.
"I think she'll be able to. If they believe these things are hers, they'll let her take them. The pawn shop guy will be dinged. Shame on him for taking in stolen goods," Margaret griped. "But it could be a while before your mother gets everything back. I think they'll hold it all until trial. That's disappointing." She chuckled. "Karl had to stop a scuffle between your mother and that woman."
"What?" Savannah said. "She didn't tell me about that, either."
"Of course not, and she probably doesn't want me to tell you, but I find it so humorous I can't resist." Margaret ran her hand over Lizzie as she sat licking her paws on the sofa between her and Savannah. "Evidently, your mild-mannered mother challenged the woman—Amanda is her name. She confronted her about your old doll. She's really in a tizzy about that doll."
Savannah grimaced. "Yes, she wants it for Lily. I doubt she'll ever find it. The best she can do, if she wants to fulfill her promise to Lily, is to buy a doll and either make or buy clothes to fit it."
Margaret grinned. "Well, so your mother asked that Amanda chick about the doll. The woman acted all innocent and, in fact, insulted that your mother would accuse her like that. Mind you, Gladys was only asking in her polite way, but the woman, probably feeling guilty, went off on her. Gladys was so mad that she took a few steps forward and got in her face. Karl pulled her back. That's when the woman disappeared into the kitchen and, without anyone knowing it, shot out the side door and left. Your mother was so frustrated."
"I'll bet she was." Savannah chuckled. "Mom became aggressive? Hard to imagine."
