Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery)

by Fry, Patricia

  “You’re a doctor?” Sergeant Gonzales asked.

  “A veterinarian.”

  He pointed toward Michael, then in the direction Savannah had gone. “Oh, both of you?” Then, as if something clicked in his mind, he asked, “Are you at the clinic over on East Straley?”

  Michael nodded.

  “We used to bring our family dog to you,” he said. His demeanor turned sullen. “… until their mother—my now ex-wife—gave him away because, at four and six years old, the children wouldn’t take full responsibility for Bandit,” he said with sarcasm.

  Michael grimaced. “Awww, that’s cruel and unusual punishment.” He leaned forward in his chair, saying, “You know, I offer workshops addressing that very thing. Parents need to dispense age-appropriate responsibilities and have reasonable expectations. Kids should have chores. But parents need to understand that it’s up to them to make sure the animal is getting what it needs. Too bad for your kids that she didn’t sign up.”

  “Yeah, it really is. It broke their hearts to give him away.” Ramon Gonzales sat with his thoughts for a moment. Then he smiled. “I’m remarried now and we just got a family dog for our six-year-old twins and, of course, the older kids really enjoy him when they’re with us, too.”

  Savannah returned from the kitchen, placed a cup of coffee in front of Michael and offered the other gentlemen a refill. When they both declined, she set the quarter-full carafe on a nearby table. As she sat down, she said to Michael, “The detective was just asking me how well we know Iris.” She then addressed Sledge. “Michael has actually known her longer than I have.”

  Michael nodded toward Savannah. “But you and Iris have become pretty good friends in the last couple of months.” He sipped his coffee, then said, “To answer your question, Detective, Iris has been cleaning my clinic now for about four years. I’d say she’s a good friend. She’s had some tough times and still does with that mixed-up son of hers, but she’s a good person.” He frowned. “May I ask why you’re asking about Iris?”

  Craig Sledge leaned his chair back. “Just like to get some background information on key players in my investigations, that’s all.”

  Savannah stiffened her posture. “Key player? What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s just that…” he looked down at something in his hand before saying, “It’s my phone—gotta take it. Excuse me.” He walked down the steps and around the side of the house for privacy. Within a few minutes, he stepped back up onto the porch and motioned toward his partner. “Gonzales, we’d better finish our work here. I’m sure these folks have something more important to do today than entertain us.” He winked in Savannah’s direction. “Hey, thanks for the coffee. I needed that. Okay if we go upstairs?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Savannah jumped to her feet and rushed toward the kitchen door. “Just let me put the cat away.”

  ***

  Savannah looked up from the newspaper in time to see the investigators coming back down the large staircase. “We’re finished here, Ms. Jordan. Thank you for letting us intrude on your Sunday. I’d like to ask that you keep the yellow tape up in the backyard.” He hesitated before saying, “I’m going on a gut feeling now, but I think there’s something we’re missing out there and, if it isn’t inconvenient, I’d like to make it off limits for a few more days.”

  “Not a problem, Detective. I’ll ask Antonio…the gardener…to stay away from there.” She winced a little and asked, “Can we have someone come in and clean upstairs?”

  “Yes. Let me give you a card…” He searched through his wallet for a few seconds. When he couldn’t come up with it, he turned to Gonzales. “Sergeant, do you have the crime scene cleaner’s number?”

  “Sure.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to Savannah. “This is who we recommend. They do a good job.”

  “You mean they have special services for cleaning crime scenes? Hmmm, I didn’t know that.” She studied the information on the card, then glanced up at the sergeant. “Thank you.”

  Michael joined Savannah at the front door and walked out on the porch with her. They watched as the two men climbed into the unmarked car, drove to the end of the long driveway and turned out onto the highway. “Hey, whose car is that?” Savannah shielded the sun from her eyes and pointed to a lone black Chrysler sedan parked along the main road outside the Forster property. “I wonder if someone drank too much of the happy punch yesterday and called a designated driver.”

  “Could be,” Michael said, turning back toward the house. They walked in and he started to close the front door, when he had another thought. “Savannah, it might be the murdered guy’s car. Oh wait. Look, I’ll bet that’s someone coming to get it.”

  They stepped back out onto the porch and squinted in the direction of the Volkswagen that had just pulled up. “Do you recognize those people, Michael?”

  “Sure don’t. Maybe I should go down there and ask who they are.” Before he could, they noticed one of the strangers walking toward the house. The couple watched as the man drew closer. When he had almost reached the porch steps, they knew that he wasn’t a man at all, but a pudgy boy of about sixteen.

  “Uh, hello. Are you Ms. Forster?” he asked.

  “No, I’m Savannah Jordan, but I live here. The house belongs to my aunt.”

  “I’m Steven Byrd. My dad…” he put his head down.

  Savannah’s demeanor softened. “Oh yes, I know. I am so sorry,” she said. She glanced toward the road and quietly asked, “Is that his car?”

  “Yes. My uncle and I came to maybe take it home.”

  Savannah frowned. “I don’t think you should do that.”

  “Yeah,” Michael agreed. “You know this is a crime scene and the investigator will probably want to impound the car and check it over in case there are any clues.”

  “That’s what my mom said and she wanted us to get some things out of it before that happens. She figures it can’t cause any problems since our family’s fingerprints are all over the car, anyway. We need my little sister’s car seat and my mom’s kit.”

  “Kit?” Michael asked, creasing his brow.

  “She sells stuff and it’s in the car in a kit.” He shrugged. “You know, jewelry and stuff.”

  “Well, this is between you and the detective—it’s none of our business,” Michael said. “But I would be careful not to disturb anything that might be considered evidence—your dad’s cell phone, for example or a note with this address and someone’s name on it. These things could be important.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Steven said looking over Michael’s shoulder into the open doorway. “Is…is this where he…died?”

  “Yeah,” Michael said quietly, as he watched sadness wash over the young man’s face.

  “Were you close?” Savannah asked tenderly.

  Steven pressed his lips together in an attempt to keep them from quivering. “Yeah. When he was around. He was what Mom calls a workaholic. He got kinda obsessed with business—especially the project he was working on. It made him kinda weird. Things just haven’t been the same for us this whole year.” He hesitated. “Something was wrong with Dad. We don’t know what it was, but he changed. We kinda knew something bad would happen someday.”

  Savannah wanted to reach out and hug the boy, but curbed the urge. She hoped that her sincere words would give him some comfort. “Steven,” she said as he started to turn away, “I am so sorry for you and your family. Please let us know if there is anything at all we can help with.”

  He managed a slight smile in her direction. He then looked up at Michael. “Hey, you’re the vet, aren’t you? Dr. Ivey?”

  “Why yes,” Michael said. He looked more closely at the boy. “Do I know you?”

  “We used to bring our dog to you when I was a kid. He was the tri-color Aussie. He had something wrong with his eye. Do you remember Prince? You saved his eye. My mom said you were a miracle doctor.”

  What a great smile, Savannah thou
ght as she listened to the boy talk about his dog.

  He turned sullen again. “Gosh, I miss Prince.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do remember Prince and you—you were younger…what eleven or twelve? What happened to him, Steven?” Michael asked hesitantly.

  “Hit by a car—died right there in the street. It was horrible…” His voice trailed off. He took a breath and looked up at Michael. “Dad was supposed to fix the lock on the gate. He didn’t have much time for things like that anymore.” He looked up at the house again, and then turned away.

  Savannah and Michael watched as Steven walked slowly toward the car where his uncle was removing a canvas bag from the trunk. They took the child booster seat and the two of them drove off in the Volkswagen.

  “How sad,” Savannah said as they walked up the steps and into the house.

  “Gosh, it sure is,” Michael agreed. “Meeting that boy put an emotional twist on this whole thing.”

  The two were silent for a few moments when Michael asked, “Hey, have you eaten?”

  “No, you?”

  “Not yet—how about brunch at the diner?”

  “Sure. Let me get a light jacket.” She rubbed her upper arms and shivered a little, saying, “It’s getting kinda cool all of a sudden.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Savannah walked through the door of the most popular restaurant in town, known to locals simply as The Diner.

  “Iris, you look tired. What time did you come in?” Savannah asked as she slid into the booth the waitress indicated.

  “I have the breakfast and lunch shift today—came in at six.” Iris did a quick scan of the café before sitting down across from Savannah. “Boy am I beat. I waited up for that son of mine to come home—wanted to have a little talk with him. It just wasn’t right, him taking off like that yesterday and leaving the younger boys to do all the take-down work.”

  “What time did he get home?”

  “Not until after midnight. But as it happened, I fell asleep in my chair and he snuck in and went to bed without me knowing it. When I woke up this morning, I was stiff and sore and not very well rested, as you can imagine. I left a note for Damon that I want to talk to him when I get home this afternoon. He needs to know that the investigators have some questions for him. And, frankly, I wonder what he knows about all this.” She put her elbows on the table, locking her fingers together in front of her. Then leaning forward, she whispered, “I mean the murder and the missing money.”

  “Do you think he knows something?”

  She considered Savannah’s question and sighed. “Well, there’s as much of a possibility he does as anyone else, I suppose.” She looked over at the window behind the counter and noticed her next order was up. She started to scoot out of the booth, but stopped and asked, “Hey, are you eating alone today or is Dr. Mike joining you?”

  “Yes, he went back to the car to get the newspaper; he’ll be right here,” Savannah said, turning to glance out the window in hopes of seeing him. Before her friend could leave, Savannah said, a smile lighting up her face, “Oh, Iris, the mare had her foal.”

  “The sick mare? She did? When?”

  “Last night—well, more like early this morning. We were there with her most of the night. We’re all dragging today.”

  “Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Yes. She had a beautiful little filly. Michael checked on them this morning and he said they seem to be doing just fine.”

  “Hi ladies,” Michael said with a wide grin as he walked up to the booth. Iris started to stand and Michael said, “Oh no, sit. Stay.”

  Both women laughed.

  “Michael, it sounds like you’re talking to Lexie,” Savannah scolded.

  “Oh sorry.” He started to scoot in next to Savannah. “Please join us. I’ll sit next to my lovely fiancée.”

  Iris stood up. “It’s okay, Dr. Mike. I have to go back to work.” She pointed a finger in the air. “You two want iced tea, right?”

  Savannah looked at Michael. He nodded and she said, “Yes, thanks.” As the older woman turned to leave, Savannah called after her, “Good luck with your son.”

  “What’s wrong with her son?” Michael asked as he slid into the other side of the booth.

  Savannah feigned a pout. “Don’t want to sit next to me?”

  “No, it’s not that,” he said pensively. He smiled and added, “I just want to look at you. I love looking at you.”

  “Good save, Dr. Mike,” Savannah said with a laugh. Then she noticed that his eyes were looking, not at her, but at something behind her.

  “Hey, there’s our Detective Sledge.”

  “Where?” Savannah craned her neck in the direction of the diner door. “Hmm, I wonder what he wants.”

  “Maybe he’s hungry. I hear that a lot of people eat breakfast or…er…” he looked at his watch… “brunch on Sunday.”

  “Silly.” She turned back around to face Michael. “No, it looks to me like he has business on his mind.”

  “I think you’re right. Here he comes,” he said under his breath.

  “Hello again, Detective.” Michael slid toward the opposite side of the booth. “Care to join us?”

  “Just for a sec.” He perched on the edge of the seat next to Michael and acknowledged Savannah with a nod.

  “Do you always work on Sunday?” she asked.

  “Just when there’s an active case. You can’t let clues go cold.”

  “Oh, that reminds me, Detective. Did you know that the victim’s car is parked outside the gate in front of our house?”

  Sledge, who had been allowing his eyes to wander around the interior of the restaurant, snapped to attention. He fixed his stare keenly on Savannah. “It is? I didn’t notice it. We wondered how he got to your place—forgot to ask the widow when we delivered the…uh…news…last night. What kind of car is it? I’ll get a tow truck over there to impound it right away.”

  “Newer black Chrysler sedan, four-door,” Michael responded.

  “Okay, thanks,” the detective said while writing something on a small notepad. He then glanced from Michael to Savannah, a slight frown on his rugged face, and asked, “How do you know it was Byrd’s car?”

  Savannah slipped out of her jacket. “His son and another relative came by the house this morning and told us it was. We suggested they should leave it where it is until you can examine it, and they agreed.”

  The detective smiled broadly. “Well, aren’t you quite the sleuth. Thank you.” He started to make a call and then looked over at Savannah, asking, “Did you get a license number?”

  She looked from Michael to the detective. “Afraid we didn’t think of that. Sorry.”

  He pointed at Savannah while putting the phone up to his ear, and said with a chuckle, “You’re fired, young lady.”

  After making a request for a tow truck, Sledge placed his phone on the tabletop. “By the way, Ms. Jordan, do you recall anyone at the party with hair the color of Ms. Clampton’s?”

  “Uh, well, let me think. Yeah, I’m pretty sure there was another woman—maybe two—with red hair. And our young friend, Charlotte; she has red hair. Why?”

  Iris walked up to the table balancing a tray holding two tall glasses of iced tea. “Hello Detective Sledge,” she said dully, while setting the glasses in front of Savannah and then Michael. Tucking the tray under one arm, she took her order pad from her apron pocket and grabbed her pencil from the neatly wrapped twist at the back of her head. She faced the detective without looking at him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Yes.” Sledge eyed the two glasses she’d brought to the table. “An iced tea sounds refreshing.”

  Iris nodded. She addressed Savannah and Michael. “Are you two ready to order?”

  “How about a waffle and sausage?” Savannah handed her menu to Iris. “With fruit.”

  “And for you Dr. Mike?”

  “Sounds good—same for me.”

  “Anything for you?” She
faced the detective, her eyes on her order pad.

  “Nothing for me.” As Iris started to turn away, he said, “Actually, Ms. Clampton, I want to make an appointment to speak with you further and your older son.”

  The woman froze in place and stared down at the floor.

  “Iris,” Michael said, “are you all right?”

  “Oh, yes,” she responded. She straightened her posture, glared over at the detective and said, “I’ll be home around three-thirty. You can come by at five, if you want. You have my address, right?”

  “Yes. See you at five. And, Ms. Clampton,” he said as she started to walk away, “I’ll need a sample of your hair.”

  “My hair?” she reached up with her hand and brushed back the loose strands she’d purposely left out when she wrapped her hair up that morning. “Why?” she asked.

  “Protocol, just protocol. Do you have a brush or comb with you today? I could take the sample now.”

  She stood staring at the detective. Finally, she snapped, “I’ll get it.” She spun on her heels and rushed away.

  “She’s kinda uptight, ain’t she?” Sledge remarked.

  Savannah and Michael didn’t comment. They just watched as their friend disappeared into the kitchen.

  ***

  Savannah and Iris had become friends after Savannah moved to Hammond and into her aunt’s house. Iris was several years her senior. In fact, she’d gone to school with her Aunt Margaret. Life wasn’t easy for her. Iris had told Savannah of her difficult marriages and the heartbreak she experienced when her third husband left his two boys with her. She loved the boys and was dedicated to raising them as her own. They were good boys. But she worried about them—that they would be influenced by her older son Damon.

  Not only did Iris work long shifts at the diner, but she did side jobs cleaning the veterinary clinic and a couple of other businesses. She and Savannah had hit it off when Savannah joined Michael in his practice. Iris had a knack for decorating and offered to help Savannah set up her office and examining room one weekend. That’s when she learned of Iris’s difficult past.

  Savannah had been handling the trauma of her abduction and attack at the hands of Joe Forster pretty well. But one afternoon, she and Iris were working on the décor at the clinic, and she broke down. “It’s so silly,” Savannah said between sobs. “The smallest thing will set me off.”