by Patricia Fry
Bud shrugged. “We lost him.”
“How, for heaven’s sake?” Craig grumbled.
Damon shook his head. “There’s something odd about that guy. I think he has some sort of unnatural powers.”
Brianna’s eyes lit up. “Really? Like supernatural?”
“I don’t know,” Damon admitted, “but it seemed as though he flat disappeared into thin air.”
“It’s true,” Bud agreed.
Craig snickered. “Now fellas, when you’re not accustomed to chasing down slick operators, sometimes they can bamboozle you. He probably hid around the side of the house so you’d think he ran off into the distance. He’s just slick, that’s all.”
“He’s not slick,” Mattie said. When everyone looked at her, she explained, “I know his kind. He’s trying to scam you.”
“Out of what?” Iris asked, her eyes wide.
“Well, already he got a meal,” Mattie explained.
“That’s right,” Iris agreed rather sheepishly.
“That he did,” Margaret said. She addressed Mattie. “So do you think that’s all he wants?”
“Oh no,” Mattie said in a rather mysterious tone. “He wouldn’t have brought up that baloney about the missing thing he’s looking for if alls he wanted was food. No, he has something up his sleeve. I don’t know what it is, but Ms. Iris, I’d watch out for him if I was you.”
Before Iris could speak, Michael returned from having taken his phone call. When Savannah saw the look on his face, she frowned. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
He grimaced, then said quietly, “I’ll tell you about it later.” He took Teddy from her and lifted him up in the air. “Right now,” he said jubilantly, “I want to play airplane with my boy.”
Chapter 2
“Well, that was an interesting afternoon,” Savannah said as Michael drove the family home an hour or so later.
He nodded.
“I’m curious about Craig’s opinion of that Oliver Silver character, aren’t you?” She faced him. “Do you think that’s even his real name?” When Michael didn’t respond, she added, “I mean, it’s such a—oh, I don’t know—a special name.” When he still didn’t react, Savannah glanced at her mother in the backseat, then nudged her husband. “Michael.”
He jumped a little. “Oh, were you talking to me?”
“Yes.” She winked at her mother. “The children are asleep and Mom’s almost asleep; who did you think I was talking to?”
“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” he asked. “Something about a name? Who’s name?”
She spoke more slowly. “Oliver Silver. Do you think that’s his real name?”
He frowned. “Why would you question it? What reason would he have to lie to us about his name?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like his name would be more basic like Chuck, William, Eddie, George.”
Michael laughed. “Basic? Aren’t those the names of English royalty?”
“Well then, how about sea-captain names like Christopher Columbus or Francis Drake?” When Michael simply rolled his eyes, she said, “Oh, never mind. You don’t have an ear for names like I do. They fascinate me. But it bothers me when a name doesn’t fit the person.” She patted his leg. “Hey, who called you earlier? You’ve seemed worried about something ever since that call.” She sat straighter, worry lines appearing on her forehead. “It wasn’t about Adam, was it?”
He shook his head. “No. Adam’s fine. In fact, I talked to him this morning while you were bathing the kids. I promised we’d all do FaceTime later today. He wants to see Teddy playing with the stuffed horse he gave him last time he was here.” He grinned. “I think Adam’s priming his baby brother to become a cowboy.” Michael hesitated, then said more quietly, “It was Peter on the phone.”
Before he could continue, Gladys patted him on the shoulder. “Michael, would you mind stopping at the drugstore on our way home? I’d like to pick up another pair of reading glasses.” She chuckled. “Teddy’s rough on them.”
“Sure,” he said, pulling into a small strip mall. Once he’d parked and Gladys stepped out of the car, he glanced at Savannah and took a deep breath. “Peter said he’s being harassed again—maybe threatened.”
“Threatened? In what way? Why?” she asked.
“I imagine because of the level of recognition he’s getting from his art. You know, like when we visited him in Los Angeles a few years ago and his business manager was throwing that jealous fit.”
Savannah smirked. “Yeah, jealous fit is right. She was doing her best to ruin him and build her reputation off his success. What a…”
“Shhh. Little ears,” Michael warned.
“I wasn’t going to say anything bad. But she sure was behaving like a—you know.”
“Yes, she was.” Michael looked at Savannah. “Well, this could be something like that—a disgruntled San Francisco artist trying to undermine all that Peter has worked for or some crazy person acting out against him for no other reason than the fact that he exists.”
“Hmmm,” Savannah muttered. “So what’s happening? Did he give you any specifics?”
“Not really. He just said he’s getting these notes and that they’re awfully unsettling.”
“I can imagine. So are they coming in the mail?”
“Evidently on the windshield of his car, at his studio, at their apartment, even at their new house. He feels as though he’s being followed and watched.” Michael winced. “He hasn’t told Rochelle.”
“Oh!” Savannah said, surprise in her tone. She smiled. “It must be hard to keep something like that from Rochelle.” When Michael looked confused, she explained, “…her being psychic and all.” Before Michael could respond, she let out a yelp.
He frowned. “What?”
“Michael, do you remember a month or so ago when Rags found something in our yard? It was the day I finished writing Rags’s memoirs.”
Grinning, he asked, “What something? He’s always finding something in the yard when we take him outside.”
“Well, it was a note of some kind. You thought it was a child’s artwork. Someone had cut out letters and glued them onto the page. Remember—some of the letters were missing and it was all muddy? It looked like my mare had stomped on it, then chewed on it.” She raised her eyebrows. “I thought it was a threatening note.”
“Oh Savannah, there weren’t enough letters left on it to make that determination. I think you were still in mystery mode at the time, since you’d just finished your book and all. It didn’t seem threatening or intimidating to me. It wasn’t even addressed to us.” He hesitated before adding, “It wasn’t addressed to anyone, was it?”
“I guess not.”
He continued, “And it looked old and weathered—like it had been out in the orchard for a while.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said. “But we’d had all that rain and wind just before Rags found it. Michael, it had the earmarks of a threatening note. Anyway, if it wasn’t important, why did Rags bring it to me?”
“Oh hon, why in the devil would we be getting a threat if someone was targeting Peter? That just doesn’t make sense.” Michael patted Savannah’s leg and changed the subject. “Peter asked when we’re coming to the city.”
“I’ll know as soon as Rob sends us our tickets.”
“Our walking papers, huh?” he joked.
“Well, more like our flying papers, I hope.” She acknowledged her mother as she returned to the car. “Got them?”
Gladys nodded. “A purple pair and a blue pair.”
Savannah smiled, then pointed. “Hey, it doesn’t look like there’s anyone in that coffee shop, I’d like to get a mocha.” She started to get out of the car, then turned back and asked, “Anyone want anything?”
Both Michael and Gladys declined.
When Savannah returned, she took a few sips of her drink, smacked her lips for effect, and asked, “Michael, have Peter and Rochelle moved into their new home?”
&nb
sp; “Yes,” he said, glancing at her as he pulled out onto the street. “They want us to stay with them while we’re there.”
Savannah looked surprised. “Oh. I’ll let Rob know we won’t need rooms in San Francisco, then. Did you tell Peter that we’ll have the children with us and, Rags and Mom?”
“Yes. He said they’re looking forward to entertaining all of us, especially the kids. You know, they hope to have a baby soon.”
Savannah shook her head and laughed. “Well, entertaining someone else’s children is a surefire way to quash that urge. Did you warn him of the dangers? Peter and Rochelle need to know it’s not all peaches and cream and fun and games.”
“Yeah, I warned him that his and Rochelle’s blessed peace will be interrupted, especially with your cat along.” Michael became more serious when he said, “But Peter seems eager to have us stay. He’s kind of worried about this threat thing.”
“Why does he want to involve us, for Pete’s sake? What does he think we can do?”
“Well, he mentioned that maybe Rags could help identify the stalker. Rags made him a believer when he sort of led the charge that implicated Peter’s business manager the last time he was being hassled.”
Savannah laughed. “A believer in what? How naughty and unruly a cat can be?”
“You said it, not me,” Michael said, grinning. He parked the car in front of their house and said in a more lively manner, “Hey, did you know that Peter and Rochelle read Rags’s memoirs?”
Savannah’s face lit up. “My book? Wow! I have at least two readers. How cool is that?”
“Your aunt has read it, hasn’t she? And your mom.”
Gladys nodded. “I sure did. I’ve been telling everyone about my daughter, the author.”
Savannah smiled at her mother and Michael continued, “Iris and Craig must have read it by now. I’m sure they were eager to see what you wrote about them.”
“Yes they have,” Savannah agreed. She crossed her fingers, saying, “And so far no complaints. But I’ve heard a lot of comments.”
“Like?” Michael prompted while opening the car door. He waited to hear her response.
“Oh, mostly that they didn’t know Rags had been involved in so many crazy escapades. Auntie said she knew about a lot of them, but had forgotten some over the years. Do you know what she told me?”
“What?” Michael asked.
“She said that Rags really is one heck of an interesting cat.”
“So that’s her review of your book?” he asked, laughing. He released Teddy from his car seat and lifted the sleeping baby into his arms, then asked Savannah, “What did Craig say? You told a lot of stories in there that involve him.”
Savannah chuckled. “Yeah, I think Craig considers himself a bit of a celebrity now. Iris said he’s getting a kick out of telling people about the book and sharing some of the stories. He’ll be a good promoter.” She unbuckled Lily from her car seat, and asked, “So what does Peter think Rags can do while we’re there?”
“He hopes that with Rags around, the identity of the guy who’s harassing him will somehow be revealed.”
“I guess it could happen.” Savannah giggled. “I’m pumped that Peter and Rochelle read my book.”
“Yes, and they have it on display in their studio. Did you know that?” Michael asked.
“No! Cool,” she said, walking up the porch steps ahead of him with Lily.
“Maybe you and Rags can do a signing there,” he suggested, unlocking the front door.
****
Two days later Savannah called Michael at the Ivey Veterinary Clinic. “Hi. Rob sent our itinerary this morning. Can you get off day after tomorrow? Our first three signings are over the weekend in San Francisco.” When he didn’t respond, Savannah said, “Michael?”
“Yeah. I’m here. Whew, that’s short notice.”
“No it’s not,” she insisted. “You knew we’d probably be leaving this week.”
“Yeah, I guess I kinda did. It just crept up on me.” He asked, “Can you do it—I mean get everyone ready and packed and the animals taken care of?”
“With Mom’s help, yeah, I’m sure we can.”
“So what’s the itinerary?” Michael asked.
“Do you have time to hear it now or do you want to wait until you get home this evening?”
“Lay it on me, baby. I’d like to know what I’m up against.”
Savannah took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, here goes: we drive to San Francisco Thursday and stay with Peter and Rochelle. We have a signing on Friday and two on Saturday. Sunday we’ll head for Los Angeles, which is where Mom gets off. Her house is rented, so she’ll stay with a friend. Rob has reserved a suite for us in a nice hotel. We have signings Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights.
“Nights?” he asked.
“Well, early evening, actually. Friday we fly from LAX to Phoenix and do at least two signings. Rob said he may also set up something in a school there. He’s been in touch with a few principals and teachers.”
Michael interrupted, “...who obviously don’t know about Rags’s evil side—his ability to disrupt a classroom full of children, in fact an entire school…”
“Oh, Michael,” she complained. She continued reading the itinerary. “From there, we’ll fly to Albuquerque for two nights, then on to Denver. I asked Rob to include Denver so we could meet up with your brother and Holly.”
“Then we get to come home?” he asked.
Savannah chuckled. “Well, yeah. We’ll fly back to LA April first to get our car and pick up Mom. It’ll be a busy two-and-a-half weeks—but fun, don’t you think so?”
“Yeah, I guess. As long as everyone cooperates.”
“You’re referring to Rags, aren’t you?” she asked suspiciously.
“Well, yeah. Isn’t he our biggest travel liability? It’ll be a challenge.”
“Rob will be with us at some of the stops and he said he’ll be happy to help wherever he can.”
“Yeah, what does he know about taking care of kids and a—well, an unpredictable cat?”
Savannah laughed. “Unpredictable. That’s a good term for Rags. Hey, we’ll just have to coach Rob. He’s willing to help, and that’s a good thing. Now, let’s not borrow trouble.”
Michael sighed. “Okay. Well, time to get back to work. Edie’s bringing her kitty, Sally, in this afternoon. Oh, and I may be a little late getting home tonight. I have to go by Gil’s and Betty’s place and do a pregnancy check on a couple of goats.”
“Okay, hon. See you later.”
Savannah ended the call, then listened for a sign that the children were awake. All was quiet, so she decided to call Rochelle. “Hi,” she said into the phone. “How are you? Is this a good time to chat?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “Yes, this is a good time. I’m glad you called. I’ve missed you.”
“Me too,” Savannah said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Do you know when you’ll be here?”
“Yes,” Savannah said brightly. “How’s Thursday afternoon?” When Rochelle didn’t respond, Savannah said, “I’m sorry. Is it too short of notice? Hey, we can make other arrangements—you know, stay in a hotel. It’s not a problem.”
“No…no. We’re both looking forward to seeing all of you. Your mother will be with you, right?”
“Yes, and Rags. So, Rochelle, we’ll certainly understand if you can’t accommodate us.”
“No, really. We want you to stay with us.”
Savannah smiled. “Good. We’re eager to see you and your new place. Are you all moved in?”
“Almost. Well, we’re definitely living here, but I’m still moving things around and trying to find the right accents for the right places.” Her tone accelerated when she said, “Hey, maybe you can help with that. Your home is so perfectly accented.”
Savannah laughed. “Iris has a lot to do with our décor. But these days, instead of elegant country, it’s more like early ba
by-clutter.” She was slightly disturbed by the sound of her friend’s laughter. She seems guarded, Savannah thought. “Rochelle, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound as—well, as upbeat as usual. Is something wrong?”
“Hey, I have a down day once in a while,” Rochelle practically snapped. Then she softened her tone, saying, “I’m entitled, don’t you think so? I’m not immune to an occasional negative emotion.”
Savannah wasn’t sure how to respond, so she muttered, “I’m sorry, Rochelle. Of course. It’s just that I’ve never seen you…”
Rochelle interrupted. “No. I’m the one who should apologize. That outburst was uncalled for. It’s just that…”
“What, Rochelle? Is it anything I can help with?”
“I don’t think so. I just sense that there’s—well, something bothering—no, tormenting Peter and…” she paused and took a deep breath. “I’m worried, that’s all. Peter admits that he does have an issue he’s trying to deal with and he doesn’t want to trouble me with it. You know, Savannah, we’re trying to have a child. He doesn’t want me worrying about anything.” She laughed. “Isn’t that a kick? Who does he think he’s dealing with? Doesn’t he remember that he married a psychic?” She lowered her voice. “Savannah, this…uh, issue could get dangerous; at least that’s what my gut is telling me. I see danger signals ahead and, well, Savannah, to tell you the truth…”
“Which is what I’ve always expected and received from you, Rochelle,” Savannah interjected. “You’ve always been truthful with me.”
“Thank you. Well, kiddo, I think this issue, as Peter calls it, involves you too—mostly Michael, but also you and me.”
“What?” Savannah cried. “How can that be? I thought it had something to do with Peter’s success.”
Rochelle was quiet for a moment, then said, “You know about this?”
“Just what Michael told me. I guess Peter called him. He said that yes, Peter’s concerned about something or someone. It’s probably some weirdo who’s envious of what Peter has achieved with his art. I guess that’s a hazard of putting yourself out there. In fact, I’m sort of doing the same thing by having written a book. I may have fans, but there will be some sour grapes and people with ill intentions. Heck, I’ve already experienced some of that with Rags’s children’s books.”
