by Patricia Fry
Cats in the Belfry:
A Klepto Cat Mystery
Book 24
by Patricia Fry
Cats in the Belfry
A Klepto Cat Mystery
Book 24
Author: Patricia Fry
ISBN: 978-0-9985356-6-1>
All rights reserved
© 2017 Matilija Press
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Patricia Fry and Her Books
Chapter 1
“Be careful, Vannie,” Margaret said as the two of them made their way slowly up the old bell tower stairway with Savannah’s cat. She chuckled when she saw Rags tugging against his leash. “He sure seems eager to get to the top.” Before taking another step, she asked, “Hey, want me to take him?”
Savannah hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Maybe you should. I’m a little off balance already with this baby bump, and Rags isn’t helping.”
“Okay. Here, you hold the light and hand me the leash.” But as the women attempted to make the exchange, somehow they lost their grip on the flashlight and it tumbled down the spiral staircase with a clang and a clatter. “Damn!”
“Oh no.”
“I thought you had it,” Margaret complained.
Savannah let out a sigh. “Now what?”
“I guess I’d better go back down and get it. Or,” she hesitated before saying, “we could scrap this witch hunt.”
“So it’s become a witch hunt, has it?” Savannah snarked.
“What would you call it?”
More quietly, Savannah said, “I guess that’s what we were going to find out today. Yeah, it’s getting late. Let’s go back down and regroup.”
“Okay,” Margaret agreed. “Hold onto that railing and step carefully. It’s pretty dark up here.”
“I will. You hold onto Rags.”
“Huh?”
Savannah stopped in mid-step. “Rags,” she hissed. “Auntie, you have him, don’t you?”
“No. You didn’t hand him over.”
“Yes, I did,” Savannah insisted.” You took the leash before you dropped the flashlight.”
“No, I didn’t. And I didn’t drop the flashlight, either. I handed it to you and you dropped it.”
“Are you delusional?” Savannah spat.
Margaret tried to focus on her niece in the near-darkness. “Are you saying you don’t have hold of the leash?”
“No, I don’t!”
“Good God,” Margaret murmured. “What just happened?”
Savannah suddenly felt a familiar knot in the pit of her stomach. “Rags!” she called. “Here kitty-kitty. Where are you, Rags? Come on, boy.”
Margaret tried her hand at enticing the cat. “Here kitty-kitty-kitty,” she trilled. “Rags! Here kitty-kitty-kitty.”
Still holding tightly to the railing, Savannah leaned over and felt around for the cat on the steps. “Where is he, Auntie? Which way do you suppose he went?”
“I don’t know. I’d better go get that light and see if we can figure it out. Maybe he went back down these stairs. At least, let’s hope he did. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?” Savannah asked, not wanting to hear her aunt’s response.
“Otherwise he went up and we don’t know what in the heck is up there.”
“Rags!” Savannah called more loudly. “Rags! Kitty-kitty-kitty.”
Margaret sighed. “Come on, let’s go back down. Now step carefully, Vannie. In fact, let me go first in case you stumble.”
But before they could make any headway, they heard an ear-piercing screech. Margaret grabbed for Savannah. “What in the hell was that?”
Too shaky now to stand, Savannah lowered herself and perched on one of the narrow steps, muttering, “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Rags…”
“Didn’t sound like a cat to me,” Margaret said. “Where’d that weird noise come from, anyway?”
Savannah pointed toward the bell tower. “Up there, I think.” She pulled herself to her feet, using the railing. “Let’s go.” More quietly, she said, “Please be downstairs, Rags. Please, please, please.”
Just then Margaret screamed. She slapped frantically around her head.
“What’s wrong?” Savannah shouted.
“Something just attacked me—a damn bird or a bat, maybe.”
“Are you okay?” Savannah shrieked.
“Yes. Let’s just get out of here.” As Margaret began taking the steps more quickly, she turned and instructed, “Now, you take it slow.” She reached the bottom of the stairs first, picked up the flashlight, and directed it at the few steps Savannah had left to descend.
“Do you see Rags?” Savannah asked.
Once her niece was on solid flooring, Margaret shined the light around the spiral staircase, then into the hallway. “Oh my God!”
“What?” Savannah could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest.
“Your cat! That black bird’s got him!” She shuddered. “It looks like he’s attacked Rags!”
Savannah gasped. “A bird? Is he okay?” she asked, her view obstructed by her aunt, who was now running toward where the cat lay.
“Shoo!” Margaret shouted. “Get off him! Get off him!”
The large black bird unfolded its wings and flew over her head up toward the bell tower emitting a shrill call as it disappeared in the darkness above them.
“Rags,” Savannah said, kneeling next to the large grey-and-white cat. She ran her hand over his body. When he didn’t move, she quickly checked his vitals. “He’s breathing. His heart rate’s a little slow.” She shook him and called his name. “Rag. Rags.”
Just then, the cat opened his eyes and lifted his head. When he saw Savannah and Margaret he quickly stood up, stretched, and yawned.
“Oh Rags, you’re okay,” Savannah said, hugging him to her.
Margaret looked around cautiously. “That bird must have knocked him out or something.”
Savannah ran her hands over the cat, checking for injuries. She gazed toward the spiral staircase and said, as if thinking out loud, “Or he was hypnotized or drugged, maybe.” She enveloped him in her hands and kissed the top of his head. Then, lifting him into her arms, she said, “Auntie, I’d like to take him outside.”
“Yes,” Margaret whispered. “Let’s get the heck out of here.”
As the two women and the cat slowly descended the wide staircase to the ground floor, Savannah thought back to the day they first discussed coming out to this eerie place and the reason they’d thought it was important to do so.
****
It was one week earlier when June Balcomb ushered Savannah and Margaret into her home at the Ragsdale Cat Ranch. “It’s wonderful to see you both,” June said, extending her hand to each of the them. “I hear you’re back from quite a lengthy vacation.”
“We sure are,” Margaret said. “It was a good trip, but I don’t want to do that again anytime soon.”
Savannah nodded. “It was exhausting, but such a lot of fun.” She focused on the elderly woman. “How are you, June? You look well.”
“Thank you.” June glanced down toward Savannah’s feet and smiled. “I see you brought him. Good. Mazie Mae will be glad to see him. Some of the others will too. Come in, come in,” she invited as she led the two women and Rags into what she referred to as the cat room.
“So you still keep your cats separate from the rescue cats?” Savannah asked upon entering the room, which was equipped with
several cat trees, kitty perches, and cozy beds, and occupied by a number of cats of various colors and sizes.
“Yes. They were accustomed to this space and their private outdoor playpen long before we added the area for the rescues. I didn’t want to uproot them. I could see no reason for it.”
“Of course not,” Margaret said. She chuckled. “Oh, look. I think Rags remembers his friends.”
The women watched as the curious cat expressed an interest in a Himalayan that stared at him through clear blue eyes.
“Remove that apparatus, Savannah, and let him mingle, will you?” June instructed.
Once he was free of his harness, Rags joined Mazie Mae at the top of the kitty jungle gym and they spent several seconds sniffing one another. “She remembers her hero,” June said, smiling. She gestured toward the conversation area. “Please sit down wherever there isn’t a cat.” She chuckled. “They do take over.”
“Well, I’ll just put this one on my lap,” Margaret said, picking up an orange tabby from the seat of a wingback chair and sitting down with her.
June smiled. “She’d love it. By the way, Maggie, that’s Marmalade Jam.”
Savannah sat on a satin Victorian sofa next to a tabby cat. “Tabitha, right?” she asked, petting her.
June nodded, then pointed at Savannah. “You don’t have much room on your lap for a cat these days, do you?”
She caressed her bulging stomach. “So true.”
“When do you expect your new little one?” June asked.
“Around May twentieth.”
“So how are things going here at the cat ranch?” Margaret asked.
June looked at Rags as he continued to greet her cats and explore their play area. “Very well. I’m living my lifelong dream of helping cats. And to think it all started with Ragsdale. After he so gallantly saved my Mazie Mae from freezing that night when she was snatched from our home, I knew I would celebrate his legacy in some wonderful and important way.” Her eyes lit up when she said, “And then, you brought me Nola and Luke.” When Savannah started to protest, June put up a hand to stop her. “Yes, you did. You both are responsible even if somewhat indirectly.” She gazed into Savannah’s eyes, then Margaret’s. “Maggie, if I hadn’t attended your Hammond Cat Alliance meeting, I would not have learned about Nola.” She focused on Savannah. “And you, Savannah, you and Dr. Mike had the grand insight to introduce me to Luke.”
Savannah smiled. “It sounds as though they’re working out well for you. I’m sure glad to hear it.”
“Yes,” Margaret said, “it’s not easy to find good—I mean good help for an operation like yours.”
June tilted her head. “Well, I do believe that Nola and Luke brought just the magic I needed to start and run this rescue and feral cat shelter.” She folded her hands under her chin. “They are a godsend, those two. Without them, I would never have fulfilled my dream to help some of the world’s more helpless cats.” She looked Savannah in the eyes. “If I didn’t have this wonderful shelter—Ragsdale’s Cat Ranch—I probably would have faded away into obscurity by now.”
“You’d think all the work would wear you out,” Margaret said.
“Oh no. Just the opposite,” June protested. “It invigorates me.” She leaned forward, a twinkle in her eye. “Of course they do all the work. I’m just along for the ride.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis. “And what a ride it’s been.”
Savannah smiled. “That’s wonderful, June. I’m glad it’s a joy for you and not a burden. As Auntie said, it can be a lot of work.”
“But the rewards make it all worthwhile.” June faced Margaret. “Maggie, do you remember those feral cats you brought to me from the Lander place?”
Margaret nodded.
“Luke has managed to release the fear from most of them so they can be successfully adopted. In fact, I believe a couple of them are enjoying life in loving homes as we speak. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“It sure is,” Margaret agreed.
Savannah giggled. “I love kitty-cat happy-ending stories.” In a more serious tone, she asked, “So, June, Luke seems to have found his niche here, huh?”
“Goodness gracious, yes. He’s a marvel, that young man. I bless the day he came to me.”
“And to think it was just a little over a year ago when we found him—or he found us,” Savannah reminisced.
Margaret smirked. “Yeah, living homeless and pilfering from neighbors to survive.”
“And selling his flutes,” Savannah added. “June, is he still making flutes?”
She nodded. “Yes, in his spare time.”
“And Nola—didn’t I hear she has a beau?”
June shook her head. “Oh no, that broke up months ago. No, she’s single again and I like it that way.” She grinned sheepishly. “Selfish, I know. But I don’t have to worry about her running off to get married and leaving me and the cats.”
“Well, she is young and attractive,” Savannah reminded her. “That’s bound to happen at some point—at least the getting married part. But maybe she won’t leave the cat ranch. Anyway, didn’t you make her a partner in the enterprise?”
“Yes. You’re right. For better or for worse, all this will be hers when I cross over. And I’m confident that she will carry on as I wish.” Suddenly June glanced up and acknowledged the young woman who had entered the room with a serving tray. “Nola dear. Thank you.” With a twinkle in her eye, she addressed the others, “Not only is she wonderful with the cats and the business end of the shelter, she’s the hostess with the mostest.”
Nola smiled at June, then said, “Good morning Savannah, Maggie. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Margaret smiled. “Sounds good. Thank you.”
“Savannah?” she offered.
“Yes, please.” Savannah chuckled and asked, “You aren’t the cook and chief bottle washer too, are you?”
“Heavens no,” Nola said. “June still employs some of her longtime kitchen staff. I asked if I could serve the tea and greet our guests today.” She gazed at Margaret, then Savannah. “I hear you two are embarking on an interesting project—the cat colony out at the old seminary, right?”
“That’s what my aunt tells me,” Savannah quipped.
Margaret winced. “It should be challenging.”
“Challenging?” Savannah questioned, her eyes wide.
“Well…” Margaret started.
June interrupted. “Do you have any idea why no one has tackled that colony before?”
“Yeah, Auntie,” Savannah prompted, “why is that?”
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t really know, other than the fact that the place is pretty run-down, off the beaten path, and I guess the cat population there is kind of out of control.”
June winked. “You probably won’t find a rodent problem.”
“That’s one thing to be thankful for,” Margaret said.
“Do you have permission to go in there?” Nola asked.
Margaret nodded. “Yes, the out-of-state owner plans to take down the building and he wants the cats removed before they start the demolition. That isn’t scheduled for several months, so we can take our time with the project. I want to survey the situation and consider the best way to approach it. We may decide to get the cats stabilized where they are before moving them. A move can stress them.”
June was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “Do you think you’ll be safe out there?”
This piqued Savannah’s interest. “Why? What do you know that we don’t know?”
“That place was in the news a lot during the eighties and nineties. As I hear it told, there’s a lot of negativity around it. You might sprinkle salt or burn sage before getting involved.”
Savannah stared at June, then asked, “Isn’t that for cleansing bad vibes, removing bad spirits, or something? Do you think we’ll encounter evil forces out there?”
“Well, I’m not completely sure. All I know is that there must be a lot of negative energy around
there after some of the activity that’s been reported over the years.”
“Hogwash,” Margaret muttered. When the others looked at her, she said, “Some people just have big imaginations and nothing better to do than spread rumors.”
Nola studied the three women for a moment. “June, how do you know so much about that place?”
She hesitated, petted the cat in her lap, and revealed, “I knew the owner. We were in a couple of civic groups together.” She glanced at the others. “He bought the old seminary decades ago from the religious or spiritual organization that previously owned it.”
“What did your friend do with the property?” Nola asked.
“He planned to create a business development there—offices, you see. He didn’t have a lot of capital, so he hired some…um…shall we say less desirables, and let them board there. That faction attracted others. Soon he’d lost control of the goings-on and he walked away from the project.”
“Was his name Crandall?” Margaret asked.
“No,” June said. She thought for a moment. “I think it was more like Montgomery…Montague, that’s it.”
“Oh, well, he must have sold it. From what I understand,” Margaret said, “the current owner bought it about fifteen years ago and he plans to put up a shopping center. There are new housing tracts going in out that way and I guess he and his investors believe we need another place to shop.” She shrugged. “They’re probably right.”
“I’m all for it,” Nola said. “Anything would be better than what that place has become.”
“So, Nola, you’ve been out there?” Savannah asked.
