Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery)

by Fry, Patricia

  Savannah returned from the kitchen in time to notice Iris beaming with pride. She smiled. You’d never know those two boys aren’t her own. She’s as proud of them as any mother would be, Savannah thought. Actually, she has been the only mother they’ve known since they were two and three years old when she married their father. When he left her seven years ago, the boys stayed with Iris. She gazed in Iris’s direction. She’s quite a woman, She was already raising her own troubled teenage son from a previous marriage and then to open her heart to these two boys…

  Suddenly Iris stood. Her eyes darted around the spacious yard. “Where’s your brother?” she demanded.

  “Uh, Damon? He left,” Brett said, tugging at his baggy low-rider jeans that looked two sizes too big.

  “You mean he didn’t help clean up?” Iris insisted.

  No one spoke for a moment and then Gil said, “We got ‘er knocked down. No problem.”

  “Well, he was supposed to stay.” Iris became more and more agitated. “Where did he go?”

  “Don’t know,” Brett said. “Do you, Chris?” he asked, reaching over and flicking the bill of the baseball cap the boy wore backwards on his head.

  The younger boy ducked and pushed at his brother. He then said without making eye contact with Iris or anyone else, “Uh, all I know is, he called someone on his cell.” He motioned with his head. “And he took off down the road.”

  “How long ago?” she asked.

  “Dunno. I guess a couple a hours.”

  “Damn,” she said under her breath, her eyes blazing with anger.

  Max stared over at Iris for a moment and then looked at the Gilberts. “Betty and Gil, can you stay? They want to question us.”

  “You’re askin’ them?” George demanded. “I thought you said we have ta stay.”

  “Well, yeah, we do. I was…a…just…” he stammered.

  “Yes, we can stay,” Betty said, shooting a disgusted look at George.

  “Okay, the porch crowd is accounted for. Now to check in with the kitchen bunch,” Max quipped.

  After he had finished putting together a list of the people present, and highlighting those who needed to leave as soon as possible, he jaunted up the stairs and delivered it to a young sheriff’s deputy who stood just inside the master bedroom door. He briefly explained that those names with checkmarks should be called first. Before leaving, he caught a glimpse of the corpse lying face down on a tarp in the middle of the room. A slight brunette woman wearing a white lab suit and surgical gloves was examining the head wound. He noticed that someone had turned on the ceiling fan and opened the only window in the room. He was surprised at the amount of blood. He started to turn and leave when Jim called out, “Hey, Max.”

  He spun around. “Yes?”

  “Where can we set up our interrogation…um, er, questioning area?”

  “Well, how about in the kitchen? I’ll ask the ladies to finish up their work in there.”

  Jim spoke to one of the other men in the room. “Sledge, follow this guy. He’ll show you where to set up.”

  “Here’s a list of names for you, Detective.” The young deputy handed the paper to him as he walked past.

  “Thanks.”

  When they reached the staircase, Max held back in order to walk at the detective’s pace. “I’m Max Sheridan. I live next door. My wife owns this house.”

  “Sledge…um, Detective Craig Sledge.”

  Once they had descended the stairs, Sledge held the paper up to read it and asked, “Is there anyone I should talk to first? Any witnesses to anything?”

  “Not that I know of. I’d appreciate it if you could speak with George Kreston. He has horses to move and not much daylight left.”

  The detective placed the list on the kitchen table and glanced around the room. “Okay, would you send him in, please?”

  “Coffee? Water?” Max asked.

  “Yes, coffee, black. Thanks.”

  Max then asked the women who were chatting in the kitchen to join the others on the porch. He walked over to Charlotte’s mother and spoke softly. “You might want to keep your daughter away from the front of the house. They’ll be bringing out the body soon.”

  Reba, a plump woman of barely five-four, looked up at Max. She wiped a few strands of her brown highlighted hair from one cheek. “Sure.” The pair looked in the direction of the lovely teen who was laughing with her friend Dora. “She had the best time today,” Reba said. “It’s so nice of you all to include her the way you do.”

  “Charlotte is a wonderful girl and she sure loves cats,” he said. He then grew pensive. “She has a way with them, you know?”

  Just then, the child walked over to them. “Hi Makth.”

  “Hi Charlotte. You have sure been a big help today. Did you have fun?”

  “Yeth. Loth of fun. I like it here,” she responded with her lisp; a wide smile on her face. “I like wearing cowboy thingth,” she added, lifting her tangerine calico print skirt up to her knees by the ruffle. She looked down at her beaded moccasins. “Theeth are my momth thooth,”

  Dora walked up and took Charlotte’s hand. “Let’s go out and watch the sunset, shall we cowgirl?”

  “Okay.” The girl laughed, her soft red curls bouncing as she hurried along toward the door.

  After leading the women out to the porch, Max caught Savannah’s attention. “Would you get the gentleman in the kitchen a cup of black coffee? He’s going to question us. George, go on in.” He pointed. “Through that door halfway down the porch, there.”

  ***

  Most of the guests were questioned and had left by the time Iris was called.

  “Do you have to interrogate my boys?” she asked as she settled into one of the wooden kitchen chairs across from the detective.

  Sledge looked up from his notes. “How old are they?”

  “Fourteen and fifteen.”

  “You can sit in here with them when I question them.”

  “Why? They’re only boys. They certainly didn’t see anything,” she reasoned.

  He looked her square in the eyes. “How do you know that?”

  Iris held his stare just long enough to notice the flecks in his blue eyes and his long lashes.

  “For the record, what’s your name?”

  “Iris Clampton.”

  “I see that you have red hair,” he said, still looking at her.

  “Well, yes. Why?” She ran her fingers through the ends of her straightened hair. She thought she could feel his eyes burn into her face. She looked away.

  He asked, “Was there anyone else here today with hair the color of yours?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” She looked up at him and realized this was a legitimate question, so she responded. “Yes, I saw several people here today with red hair. Why?”

  “Okay, Ms. Clampton, just tell me what you know about the deceased.”

  “Nothing. I don’t know him at all.”

  He paused before asking, “Does the name Marvin Byrd ring any bells?”

  Iris shook her head slowly. “No. Is…was that his name?”

  “Yes, at least we think so. We’ll know more when we print him or get someone to ID him. So you didn’t know him? Did you see him here today? I mean at the party?”

  She leaned forward. “I didn’t see him until we all had to look at him dead in that bedroom.”

  “Now, he would look different if he were living. Think about what he was wearing—jeans, bold striped polo shirt, sport shoes…anything?”

  Iris searched her memory. “No. Nothing at all.”

  “According to his driver’s license, he was forty-three.” Sledge continued to stare.

  Iris squirmed in her chair. Her response was abrupt: “I don’t know him and I didn’t see him at the party.”

  “Okay. Got it.” He tapped a few times on the tabletop. “Now, I hear there’s money missing.”

  Iris felt herself wilt a little in the chair. “God, yes. I’d almost forgotten
about that. It has not been a good day.” She took in a deep breath. “I put the box with the money in the bedroom across the hall from…where the body was found. When I went to get it, it was gone.”

  “The box was still there?”

  “Yes. And the window was open. And, oh, the door was locked.”

  “How much money are we talking about?” Sledge asked.

  “Maybe fifteen hundred dollars. We hadn’t counted it, yet.”

  “Do you have any idea who took it?”

  “Certainly not. Did you look in this guy’s pockets?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm. “Maybe he took it.”

  “Well, if he did, someone took it from him.” He pushed a pencil around on the table for a few moments before asking, “Ms. Clampton, you’re not planning to go anywhere in the next few days, are you?”

  There was that stare again. Iris looked down at her hands. That’s when she noticed a snippet of lace beginning to show through a small gap in her blouse. She quickly fastened the button, then said, “No. I’ll be working every day. Can’t afford to go anywhere. Why?”

  “We may need to talk to you again.”

  Iris felt her stomach tighten and her heart race. The detective’s words bounced around inside her mind—Do not leave town. Anyone else with red hair? Suddenly, she realized he was speaking to her.

  “Ms. Clampton… Ms. Clampton…”

  “Oh, yes?”

  “Will you bring in one of the boys now?”

  ***

  It was past 9:30 p.m. Everyone had been questioned and the body had been removed. Margaret and Max were the only guests remaining. They stood just inside the front door with Michael and Savannah, preparing to leave.

  “I guess the investigator will be back tomorrow to look around outside in the daylight, huh?” Max asked.

  Michael responded. “Yeah, I think so. Hey, that Sledge guy must have given Iris a hard time. She was pretty shook up by the time he finished questioning her and the boys. I was almost afraid to let her drive home.”

  “I’ll spend some time with her tomorrow,” Margaret said. “…see if I can settle her down.” She looked up at her niece. “Vannie, will you be able to sleep here tonight after…what happened? You and Rags can come home with us, if you’d like or you could stay with Michael, couldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay. Thanks, anyway. How are you holding up? You were pretty upset there for a while.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “It was an awful shock.”

  “Aw Auntie. You poor thing.” Savannah reached her arms out to invite a hug.

  Margaret was ready for a hug. She rushed toward her niece, slipped her arms around her waist and laid her head against her shoulder.

  Savannah hugged her tightly. After a few seconds, she stepped back, cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Auntie, are you shrinking?”

  “Hell no!” she spat. “You’re wearing high-heeled cowboy boots. I’m still five-five and a quarter.” She looked up at her niece. “You must be seven feet tall in those stilts you’re wearing.”

  “Am not!”

  “Are too! And you’re skinny, besides,” she said with a pout.

  “Well you’re…”

  “I’m what?” Margaret challenged. “Fat?”

  “No,” Savannah said emphatically. She softened her tone. “But you are curvy.” Patting her aunt’s sides just below the waist, she said, “Love those curves, don’t you Max?”

  “Oh yes,” he said. He then cleared his throat and coughed a little before saying, “Okay girls, I think you’re getting a little punchy. So tell me, do we have a pretty good list of those who left before all the…excitement?”

  Savannah stretched and yawned. “I think so.” She rolled her head back and forth, trying to work a kink out of her neck. “Whew, it’s been a long day.”

  “That list is bound to show up,” Michael reasoned. “Who would keep it? They might spend the money, but they’ll toss the list. Maybe they already have and we’ll find it around here someplace.”

  Max nodded. “Yeah, it’s possible, Michael, that’s for sure.”

  “Ever positive, these two,” Margaret said with a sideways grin.

  “Aren’t they?” Savannah agreed. She put her arm through Michael’s and gazed over at him adoringly.

  Max took Margaret by the shoulders, turned her around and began moving her toward the front door. “Night folks.”

  “Night!” Margaret called over her shoulder. “Me thinks my man is ready for bed!”

  “Oh, wait,” Michael said after pulling his vibrating cell phone out of his jeans pocket. “It’s Bud.”

  Everyone froze in place as Michael put the phone up to one ear. He listened for a few seconds before saying, “Thanks, Bud. I’ll be right there.” He dropped the phone back into his pocket and looked up to see all three faces fixed on him. He announced with some apprehension, “The mare’s in labor.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s gonna be a long night.” Looking over at Savannah now, he asked, “Are you up to it, hon?”

  “Wow!” Savannah shook her head in disbelief. “I guess so.”

  Max headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make a thermos of coffee, You two are going to need it.”

  Margaret followed him. “Let’s pack some of those cookie bars. You kids go get your warm clothes on,” she said, having seemed to acquire a new spurt of energy.

  ***

  It took Michael and Savannah a scant eight minutes to drive to the animal shelter. After Michael changed into the work boots he carried in his vet truck and donned his jumpsuit, the couple walked toward the stalls behind the main building. Michael was first to spot their assistant. “How’s she doing, Bud?”

  The youthful vet tech pulled the stethoscope earpieces out of his ears. “Seems to be okay. Just uncomfortable. The foal’s heartbeat is good. Here, see what you think,” he said as he opened the gate for Michael.

  “How long has she been in labor?” he asked, resting a hand on the mare’s wide side. He couldn’t help but notice the ripple of ribs still showing through her reddish-brown coat above the baby bulge.

  Bud leaned against the stall gate. He peeled off a rubber glove, and ran his hand through his wavy dark-blond hair. “I last checked her around five this afternoon and she seemed fine. When I came back at eight forty-five, I noticed some bleeding and she appeared to be a little stressed—heartbeat was fast and she was having small contractions. I watched her for a while before calling you.”

  “Well, it’s a waiting game from here on out.” Michael checked the feeder. “I see there’s some grain left. Did she eat tonight?”

  “Yes, I fed her at five and she ate most of it.”

  “Good girl,” Michael crooned. “You’re gonna need your strength.” He watched as she let out a soft whinny and swished her tail. She shifted her weight heavily, first on one back hoof, then the other. She stomped a hoof and nickered quietly.

  “Poor girl,” Savannah said. “Michael, is it okay if I come in?”

  “Yes, maybe you can help soothe her. Let’s just hope the little guy goes easy on his mom tonight.” He looked around the stall. “Bud, I’d like to have more room. I don’t want her to feel crowded by these walls. Is there an empty corral nearby?”

  Taking a flashlight out of a duffle bag, Bud said, “I’ll go check.” He returned shortly with news. “There’s a corral around the corner.”

  “Good, she’s between contractions now; let’s get her over there. Bud, take that light. There’s a stand in my truck in case there’s no place to hang it. Savannah, can you grab that bag?” He motioned toward a canvas bag he had set just outside the stall.

  The mare whinnied softly and shook her head.

  “It’s going to be okay, girl,” Savannah said while rubbing the mare’s neck. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  ***

  Over two hours later, Max and Margaret arrived in her Jeep Liberty. Max stepped out of the car. “How’s i
t going, guys?”

  Margaret poured out of the passenger side. “We have coffee and cookies.”

  “She’s working hard,” Michael said, rising from a squat and slowly straightening his six-foot frame.

  “Looks like you are, too, Dr. Ivey,” Max said, pointing at him. “Your jumpsuit’s a mess.”

  “Yes.” He looked down at the manure and blood stains on his lab suit and said, “Should have worn the red or brown one for this job.” He then turned serious. He addressed Bud and Savannah. “If the foal doesn’t crown shortly, I’m going in to check his position. I’m concerned that he’s turned. And this mare can’t take complications. We need to help her foal as quickly and easily as possible.”

  Michael pulled a roll of tape out of his pocket and began wrapping it around the mare’s tail. When her tail was completely encased, he tied the tape off and tossed the roll through the rails into his bag.

  “Poor thing,” Margaret said as she looked into the mare’s soulful, slightly frightened eyes. “She’s so thin. She looks awfully tired.”

  “Yes, it’s been hard on her,” Savannah said. “But she’s hanging in there.” She then murmured into the mare’s mane, “You’re a trouper, aren’t you, sweetie?”

  The mare threw her head and whinnied, tucking in her rear end.

  “The contractions are closer together,” Michael said as the group watched her turn and bite at her right side. “Ohhh,” Michael gasped when a glob squirted from the mare and ran down the leg of his blue lab coveralls. “Atta girl, you keep pushing.”

  It was then that the mare’s legs buckled and she lowered herself to the ground. With Savannah kneeling at her head, the mare rolled over onto her side and began huffing and blowing.

  “I don’t like this,” Michael said. “It seems to be harder for her than it should be. Bud, call Humphrey. He knows about the mare and he may have some suggestions. I’d like to administer something to calm her, but I don’t want to stop the contractions—unless there’s a problem with the foal’s position,” he added as if thinking out loud.

  “Humphrey, the horse expert?” Max asked.

  “Yup.”

  Max pressed the light on his watch. “It’s nearly midnight. It’s not too late to call?”