The Celebrity Cat Caper (A Klepto Cat Mystery Book 6)

by Patricia Fry

  "Yes. So how are you this morning?" she asked. "You had quite a night, didn't you?"

  "Sure did."

  "And you came back to look for clues?" she asked. "You don't have conclusive evidence that Lance killed anyone yet?"

  "It's starting to come together," he said. Just then he noticed Michael walking toward them. "Hi guy," he said. "You were right about Grayson's accomplices."

  "Huh?" Michael said.

  "I found a couple of the homeless who hang out on the west side near the library. When I told them Grayson was dead, they had no problem spilling their guts about helping him dispose of that freezer. Of course, they didn't know what was in it. They ID'd Grayson. We may never have the evidence we need to tie that case up in a pretty bow, but the circumstantial is awfully strong."

  "Gosh, what type of evidence do you need, Craig," Savannah asked, "a confession?"

  "Pretty much."

  Michael scratched his head. "Did you find out how he got into the library?"

  "No," Craig said. He looked beyond Michael toward the tack room. "Is that your jacket, Michael? Your cat's messing with it."

  Michael looked up. "No, not mine. Is it yours, Savannah?"

  She spun around. "No." She walked toward the cat and picked up the light-blue windbreaker off the ground. "It looks familiar," she said. Just then something fell from the jacket. "Keys," she exclaimed.

  She started to pick them up when Craig said, "Wait." He walked over to the keys, lifted them with a pen, and examined them.

  Suddenly Savannah shouted, her voice a few octaves higher than normal, "Lance! He wore a jacket like this the day of the party!"

  Craig carefully slipped the keys into a small evidence bag and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "He must have taken it off when he became aware of us last night. He had a dark flannel shirt on when we found him. He shed this jacket probably so he wouldn't be easy to spot. That creep actually thought he could get away from us," he said with a snicker.

  "You always get your man—or woman—is that it, Craig?" Michael said.

  "Pretty much," Craig said. He patted his pocket and said, "What do you want to bet the library key is on this ring?"

  "So you think he kept it all these years?" Michael asked.

  "Yeah. Wouldn't you, if you'd left a body there in a freezer? He had to know it would be discovered at some point and that he'd have to go to plan B."

  "And he'd need the key in order to execute plan B, right?" Savannah said. "Craig, do you know where he lived?"

  "Yeah, while here in this area, he bunked with a young gal in Straley. I hear that she works as a receptionist for a doctor's office there." He pulled his notepad from his pocket and flipped through the pages. "A Dr. B. Jordan on Hart Street. I plan to go talk to him this afternoon."

  Savannah exclaimed. "Craig, that's not a him, that's my sister!"

  "What?" he said.

  "Dr. Brianna Jordan is my sister. You know my sister."

  "Yeah, but, I guess I didn't remember her last name. Well, I'll be. So do you know her receptionist, Monica?"

  "Sure, I've met her. She was dating Lance Grayson? Good grief, she's only a kid—maybe twenty."

  "Twenty-four," Craig said.

  "That's disgraceful. He was more perverted than I thought," Savannah said in disgust.

  "He was a piece of work, all right," Craig agreed. He scanned the yard and said, "Well, I'd better look around and then I have to head over to Straley." He pointed at Rags. "I think your cat is ready to get some exercise, there."

  Savannah looked at Rags. "Yeah, he seems a little antsy. I'd better go walk with him."

  "Okay, see you guys later," Craig said. He patted his jacket pocket and added with a chuckle, "Thanks for the evidence, Deputy Rags. Good work."

  ****

  "Vannie, we've been robbed!"

  "What? Oh, Auntie, how? When? What did they take?"

  "I don't know for sure. The only thing I've found missing so far is one of my diamond earrings—you know those sweet teardrops Max gave me for our anniversary," Margaret said. "One of them is gone. I'm just sick."

  "Have you looked everywhere?" Savannah asked.

  "Yes, everywhere. It's gone, I tell you. Gone!"

  "Don't give up hope, Auntie," Savannah said. "I lost a bracelet once. Couldn't find it for weeks. Finally, it showed up when I moved my dresser out to clean. I'd looked under there, felt all over underneath the dresser, and came up with nothing. When I pulled it out weeks later, there it was, hiding in the crook of the dresser leg."

  "Okay, I'll keep looking, but what if I vacuumed it up or picked it up with cat hair and it's at the Hammond dump?" Margaret wailed.

  "Want me to come over and help?" Savannah offered.

  Margaret paused, then said into the phone, "No. I'll keep watching for it. You're probably right. It's here somewhere; I just haven't looked in the right place yet." She took a breath and then asked, "So what are you two doing today?"

  "I took Rags out for a walk earlier. Lily is up from her nap and I was just thinking about what to fix for dinner."

  "You sound so domesticated. Well, enjoy. I'll talk to you later."

  "Okay, good bye," Savannah said before ending the call. So what are we going to fix Daddy for supper?" she asked in the baby's direction. Just then, her cell phone rang again.

  "Oh hi, Craig," she said into the phone. "What did you find out in Straley?"

  "Not much. I met Monica, but she didn't have much to say. She sure was upset when I told her Grayson was dead. In fact, she was too distraught to be questioned. She even had to leave work. I offered to drive her home—I really wanted to look around at her place—but she declined. Guess I'll have to get a search warrant."

  "Gosh, that poor girl. Sounds like she really had it bad for that jerk. It's probably best that he's out of her life."

  "That's what I'm thinkin'."

  Brring, brring.

  "Oh Craig, my house phone's ringing. I'd better get it. Can I call you back?"

  "No need. Just wanted to catch you up to date. 'Bye, Savannah."

  "Hello?"

  "Hi Vannie, it's your sister."

  "Well, hi. Whatcha doing?"

  "Just leaving the office. Hey, I'm headed your way. I wondered if I could borrow your rug shampooer. Now that Frankie is past his baby kitten stage, I want to clean the carpet here at my apartment."

  "I thought Frankie and his mom lived at Bud's ranch."

  "Yeah, but I miss him when I come back to Straley, so I take him home with me most weeks. He's gotten to where he enjoys car rides."

  "Cool. I'd love to see him...and you. Yes, come on by."

  An hour and a half later, Savannah heard the sharp toot of a car horn in front of her house and she hurried to greet her sister. She swung the front door open and noticed that Brianna was not alone. Savannah watched as a young woman climbed out of the passenger side holding a half-grown white kitten who was wearing a harness attached to a leash. "Savannah, you remember Monica," Brianna said, as the two women approached the house.

  "Hi," Savannah said. She then reached out and scratched the cat's neck. "Hi Frankie, you cutie patootie."

  Monica smiled weakly; looked down at the cat.

  "She had a rough time of it today," Brianna said. "I talked her into coming to the ranch with me this evening. She loves animals."

  "I can see that," Savannah said. "Come on in. Rags will enjoy seeing Frankie, I'm sure."

  As they stepped inside, Brianna spotted Lily in her cradle swing and exclaimed, "There's my precious niece." She knelt down next to the baby. "Look how big you're getting, and pretty. Yes, you're prettier every time I see you…yes you are…" she said. She turned toward Savannah. "Can I pick her up?"

  "Sure. She'd love it." She then said, "So you're going to shampoo your carpets, huh?"

  "Yeah. Your machine's smaller and easier to use than those you rent from the hardware store."

  "Isn't that the truth?" Savannah said. "Works pretty good, too.
"

  "Monica, you can put Frankie down, if you want. Oh, here comes Rags."

  "Wow, what an awesome cat," Monica said, squatting and reaching in his direction enticingly.

  Rags walked up to her and butted her hand with his head and then rubbed one side of his body against her, knocking her off balance.

  "And he's strong," she said, catching herself before falling over.

  "Yes, he is," Savannah agreed. "Ragsy, Frankie came to see you," she said to the cat. "Wanna play with Frankie?" She reached down and unsnapped the leash from the harness and the kitten rushed up to Rags and rubbed his body against him. He then spotted the staircase and raced up the steps, Rags on his tail.

  "Well sit down," Savannah invited. "Can I get you something to drink?"

  "Do you have bottled water?" Brianna asked.

  "Sure," Savannah said. "Monica, would you like water, lemonade, iced tea?"

  "Water's fine," she said. "Thanks."

  "This is a great house," Monica said, when Savannah returned. "I used to live in a house kind of like this as a kid. I have nice memories of that time."

  "Yeah," Brianna said, "Savannah and I have childhood memories of this house, too. My sister and her husband bought it from our aunt."

  "Cool," Monica said.

  "So how's your job going, Monica?" Savannah asked. She grinned impishly at her sister before asking the younger woman, "Is she a good boss?"

  Monica smiled. "The best."

  "Of course, you have to say that while she's sitting right here," Savannah joked.

  "No, I really mean it. She's more than a boss to me—she's sorta like a mother."

  Briana grimaced. "Well, I would have said friend. I'm not old enough to be your mother, am I?"

  "Naw, but I don't know much about my mother, so it's nice to think of you in that way."

  "Monica was adopted," Brianna said, when she saw Savannah look at Monica inquisitively.

  "Were you raised here in the area?" Savannah asked.

  "Yes, part of the time. My dad, John Bloom, was an attorney in the next county."

  "So you had a nice upbringing?" Savannah asked. "You were pleased with your adoptive parents?"

  "Yes, I do okay," she said pulling her shoulder-length hair back into a knot. Pretty face, Savannah thought. There's something familiar about her. Maybe it's because I've met her before.

  "Here come the rowdies," Brianna said. "Frankie's having such a good time. Maybe I should get him a kitty playmate. He loves company."

  "You've got a good kitty there, Bri," Savannah said. "I don't know if I'd push it."

  "Yeah, you're probably right," she agreed. "He is a good boy. I might get a cat like…Rags. Then what would I do?"

  "What's wrong with Rags?" Savannah asked, expressing hurt feelings.

  "Oh gosh, where do I start?"

  "You love Rags. You used to enjoy hanging out with him when I lived in the city."

  "Yeah, he kept me entertained, that's for sure," Brianna said. "He's one energetic fellow." She turned toward Monica and said, "You know, we should get going over to Bud's. His mom's making a tamale pie for us."

  "Are you staying over?" Savannah asked.

  "No, not on a workday night. We'll eat, visit, and head home, right Monica?"

  "That's about the size of it," she said, looking a little melancholy.

  Once the women had left with the white cat and the rug shampooer, Savannah carried Lily and her cradle swing into the kitchen and started putting a salad together. She smiled over at her daughter and started singing, "This is the way we chop our lettuce, chop our lettuce, chop our lettuce, this is the way we slice our tomatoes and shake, shake, shake our salad dressing."

  When Michael walked in, Lily was watching Savannah with interest.

  "Oh, I didn't hear you come in," Savannah said.

  "Obviously," he said laughing.

  "What's that you've got?" she asked.

  "I don't know. Found it sticking out from under the throw rug under the coffee table. Looks like a letter. It's not yours?"

  Savannah looked at it more closely. "I don't think so. Who's it addressed to?"

  Michael turned the envelope over and said, "Monica Bloom."

  Savannah faced her husband. "Monica? Let me see that," she said. She looked at the return address, "Grayson." She made a face and said in disgust, "This must be from Lance."

  Michael looked confused. "Do you mean your sister's receptionist—that Monica?"

  Savannah nodded.

  He scratched his head. "But how…?" he started.

  "Well, Bri came by a little while ago with Monica and Rags must have…"

  "Oh no, not Rags again. Will it ever end?"

  Savannah put her hands on her hips. "Will Walter ever stop playing with Lexie? Will Buffy stop being cute? No, it's in their DNA. It's who they are. Rags is a klepto and that's not going to change," she snapped.

  "Well okay, then," he said with a chuckle. He turned serious. "I think you'd better turn that over to Craig or give it back to this Monica. It's not your business, Savannah."

  She picked up her phone. "Hmm, to call Bri or to call Craig…I just don't know." Before she could decide, her phone rang. "Oh hello Craig, you just helped me make a difficult decision."

  "What is it, Savannah?"

  "Well, Monica Bloom was just here and Rags…"

  Craig began to chuckle. "Don't tell me…"

  "Yes, you probably guessed it. He found something and hid it. Michael just discovered it."

  "What is it?"

  "A letter to Monica from someone named Grayson. I'm assuming it's Lance."

  "Wow!" he said. "Now I have a decision to make. Do I read the private letter or not?"

  "It's been opened already," she said.

  He hesitated before saying, "Oh hell, I'll be right over, Savannah…if it's okay with you."

  "Sure, we'll be here."

  After hanging up, Savannah went back to preparing dinner. Before she could explain to Michael what she knew about Monica, her phone rang again. "Oh hello Auntie," she said. "What's up?"

  "Well," Margaret said, laughing, "I have something to tell you."

  "What?" she asked.

  "I found my earring."

  "Oh good news. Where?"

  "You're not going to believe it."

  "At the dump?"

  "No."

  "In the shower drain?"

  "No. You'll never guess, so you might as well give up."

  "Then where?" Savannah asked.

  "The litter box?"

  "What? One of the cats swallowed it and…"

  "No, nothing like that. It was clean, if you know what I mean. It was just buried in the litter box in the back room."

  "How do you think it got there?" Savannah asked. "One of your cats…"

  "I don't think so. I think it was one of your cats."

  "Oh no," Savannah cried. "Rags?"

  "Who else?" Margaret said.

  "Well, I'll be. That's a first—at least I think so." She thought for a moment and said, "Maybe I'd better pay closer attention to what comes out of our cats' litter boxes." She sighed deeply. "Maybe Michael's right. He really is getting to be a pain. But he's my pain and I do love him."

  She heard the doorbell and saw Michael head toward the front door. "Hey Auntie, speaking of Rags, he found something today that Craig wants to see. He's here now. Gotta go."

  Once the trio was seated around the kitchen table with bottles of water in front of them, Craig asked Savannah, "So how is it that Monica Bloom was here today?"

  "Bri brought her by. As you know, she'd had a rough day and my sister wanted to offer a distraction. Apparently, she likes animals and Bri thought she'd enjoy seeing Bud's parents' ranch."

  Craig stared at her as if in thought. "Uh-huh," he muttered. He picked up the envelope and turned it over a time or two. He then reached into it and pulled out the letter.

  "A long one," he said. He stared down at the letter for a few minutes whil
e Michael and Savannah watched.

  Finally Savannah said, "Well?"

  Craig looked up at her and then glanced in Michael's direction, "Lance was her father," he said weakly.

  "Her what?" Savannah asked.

  "Her father," he said more clearly. Evidently, she was adopted when she was still a baby. Grayson is her biological father and he just came into her life a few years ago."

  "Where's her mother?" Michael asked.

  Craig cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "It seems that she's still around—hiding in plain sight, as they say."

  Savannah frowned. "What does that mean, Craig?"

  He shook his head. "It's hard to believe, guys, but you know that wrinkled woman who drives that decorated golf cart around?"

  "Oh gosh, yes," Savannah said. "I see her in town a lot. I spoke with her at the library the day we were filming. She even pulled into our driveway once."

  "When was that?" Craig asked.

  "Oh, one day when the film crew was here, actually. I saw her drive that gaudy cart in, stop and look around, and then she left. You know, there's something wrong with her."

  "It's called alcohol and drugs," Craig said. "Her name's Kathleen Eckhart. We know her well at the station."

  "So what does she have to do with this Monica?" Michael asked.

  "Kathleen's evidently Monica's mother."

  Savannah's jaw dropped in disbelief. "That woman and Lance?" She thought about it for a moment and said, "Yeah, I can imagine that she was pretty when she was younger…before…"

  "Yeah, she was," Craig said. "I saw a picture of her once holding a baby, as a matter of fact. She was a knockout."

  "Shocking," Savannah said. "So what else is in the letter?"

  "Grayson mentions a package. He says he's sending it to Monica and she's supposed to keep it safe until he comes for it."

  "Wow, I wonder what that's all about," Savannah said.

  Craig pursed his lips. "That's what I hope to find out, and soon." He looked up at the couple. "By the way, Grayson did have a key to the library on that key ring your cat found."

  "You expected as much, didn't you, Craig?" Michael said.

  "Yeah. Hey, I see you're about to have dinner. Let me get out of your way so you can proceed with your evening of relaxation."

  "Will you get to relax this evening, Craig?" Savannah asked.