by Patricia Fry
“They have a lead. Did you know that?” Savannah reported.
“No. What? What sort of lead?” Margaret asked excitedly.
“Well, Damon saw him have some sort of altercation with one of the homeless men yesterday. Someone named Gravel.”
“Gravel…Gravel…” she repeated. “Is he a sort of tall wiry guy with messy hair, faded clothes, and a gravelly voice?”
“I don’t know.” Savannah chuckled. “I think you’ve pretty much described all the men who showed up to eat yesterday.” She asked more seriously, “What do you know about this guy?”
“Well, I just thought of something I’d forgotten about. Vannie, I saw Craig talking kind of rough to someone out by that old elm tree yesterday afternoon. I think it was around twelve thirty or one.”
“Really? Could you hear what they were saying?”
“No. They were too far away.”
“You said the guy had a gravelly voice,” Savannah reminded her.
“Yeah, after Craig left him and headed back to the serving line, the other guy walked past the playground and he was talking to himself. You know how the homeless weirdoes do.” After pausing, Margaret said, “Your cat was there. Ask him what they were arguing about.”
“Rags? What do you mean?”
“Bri brought him out to visit the children, and he escaped. When she caught up to him, Rags was sitting next to the trunk of that old elm, watching Craig. Hey, maybe Bri heard their conversation. Has anyone talked to your sister?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll tell Iris about it right away—or are you going to call her?” After thinking about it, Savannah suggested, “Why don’t you call and give her that information? I really need to get busy around here if I’m going to be ready for the book signing.”
“Is Lily coming with you?”
“No, I’m taking her to Barbara’s day care to play with the other children.”
“Okay, I’ll call Iris. What time will you pick me up?”
“How about ten thirty? I have to stop and drop off Lily.”
“Sure. See you then.”
****
“Rags, no!” Savannah screeched later that morning when he slipped past her out through the open car door. He raced down the sidewalk in front of the library, dragging his leash behind him.
Margaret laughed. “Oh boy, I can see this is going to be one of those days with your cat.” She opened the tailgate of Savannah’s SUV and started to remove the cat carrier. “Come on Jack, but don’t pay any attention to Rags. I don’t want you being influenced.” When she turned to speak to her niece, she saw her running along a narrow strip of lawn, chasing after Rags.
“Darn it, Rags. Stop!” Savannah shouted, knowing full well that no cat, even Rags, will respond to verbal commands, especially when he doesn’t want to.
When Margaret saw what was happening and noticed the traffic danger, she quickly closed the tailgate and hurried off to see if she could help corral the errant cat.
Both women were shocked at what happened next.
Before they could catch up to Rags, he suddenly stopped and began sniffing the air. When he noticed a man sitting on a low block wall just to his left, Rags lowered his head and walked toward him.
“Crazy cat,” Savannah called out to her aunt after slowing her pace. “He never misses an opportunity to get petted.”
But it wasn’t petting Rags wanted. He seemed more interested in settling a score. When Savannah saw the cat draw closer to the man and growl, she darted toward him, but not before Rags had lashed out with one paw. The unkempt man screamed and threw himself over the wall, landing in a planting of yarrow.
Before Savannah could get her hands on Rags’s leash, he dove at the man again, landing in the middle of his chest, then he quickly jumped up onto the wall and watched the man struggle awkwardly to his feet.
“Oh, my gosh, Rags!” Savannah said, grabbing the cat’s leash and quickly picking him up. “What was that all about?” She grimaced. “Rags, what’s wrong with you?” She couldn’t help but stare after the man who was limping away as fast as he could. When she heard Margaret approaching from behind, she spun around, asking frantically, “Auntie, did you see that?”
“I sure did,” Margaret said breathlessly. “Vannie, that man…” She leaned over with her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath, then pointed. “He’s the one…” She took a couple of quick breaths. “...I’m pretty sure he’s the one.”
“What one?” Savannah asked impatiently.
“That’s the dude Craig was pushing around yesterday. Vannie, he’s the one I told you about.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Savannah looked at her aunt. “You said Rags saw Craig arguing with him?”
Margaret nodded vigorously before muttering, “Uh-huh, he sure did. And it looks like Rags remembers him.”
“We’d better call Iris.” Savannah placed Rags on the ground, handed Margaret the leash, and pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. Seconds later, she said into the phone, “Iris, hi. It’s Savannah. Hey, you know that guy Damon and my aunt saw Craig fighting with yesterday?”
“Fighting?” Iris repeated.
“Well, you know, arguing with.”
“Yeah. I told the detectives about that.”
“Well, we know where he is,” Savannah said, her voice an octave higher than normal. “Rags just attacked him.”
“What?” Iris shrieked.
Speaking more quietly, Savannah explained, “We’re down here at the library for a book signing and that guy was sitting on the wall—you know, the wall that goes around the library. Rags must have recognized him.”
“Your cat?”
“Yeah, Auntie said Rags was there when Craig and the man were arguing. Did you know that?”
“No,” Iris said. “So what happened?”
“Rags got away from me just now and pounced on the man. Iris, the cat meant business. I saw blood on one of the guy’s arms.”
“Is he still there?” Iris asked.
“No. The last time we saw him, he was limping north on Spruce Street. Oh wait,” she said, “I can still see him. Hey, make the call to the sheriff on your other phone. We’ll follow him so he doesn’t get away.”
“We’ll do what?” Margaret asked, sounding panicked.
“Come on.” Savannah gestured, picking up Rags with one arm and moving in the direction the man had gone.
“Yes, Savannah, keep an eye on him,” Iris instructed. “I’ll call Ramon. Stay on the phone and let me know where he goes.”
When Rags began struggling to get down, Savannah handed Margaret her phone. “Here, you talk to Iris.” Once she had a better grip on Rags, she hastened her pace.
“Vannie,” Margaret complained, “we’ll be late. The kids are already starting to arrive.”
Savannah slowed and looked back at the library. “It’ll be okay if we’re a little late. It’s for a good cause.” After thinking about it, however, she said, “Auntie, maybe you should go back and let them know we’re here.”
“And miss out on all the fun? I don’t think so,” Margaret protested.
Savannah grinned at her aunt and shook her head. Within seconds, Iris came back on the line. “Okay, I’ve made contact with Ramon. Can you still see the guy?”
“Hi, Iris. It’s Maggie now. Vannie’s trying to manage her cat. We’re on the guy’s tail. He’s heading toward Bailey Street. Oh, he cut through the alley behind the shoe repair shop. Shoot. Come on, Vannie, we don’t want to lose him.”
“Please don’t lose him,” Iris pleaded.
Shortly, Savannah placed Rags on the ground and held tightly to his leash. “I see him.” More excitedly, she said, “Rags sees him, too. He’s really pulling.”
Into the phone, Margaret said, “Iris, he’s crossing Bailey toward Richmond.” She stopped to catch her breath. “Hey, there’s a sheriff’s car. They’re pulling over. Darn, the homeless guy saw the cops and he’s run
ning the other way. They’re out of the car and chasing him now.”
“Oh no, he can’t get away,” Iris said. “Are they catching up to him?”
“I’m not sure,” Margaret said, sounding winded. “They went around the corner where we can’t see them.”
Savannah glanced over her shoulder at the library. “Auntie, we’d better get back to the signing. A lot of people are starting to show up.”
“Iris,’ Margaret said, “we need to get back to the library.”
“Let me talk to her,” Savannah said, reaching for the phone. “Iris…” she started.
“Oh hi, Savannah. Please, can’t you stay just until they catch him?”
After thinking about it, Savannah said, “Okay.” She faced Margaret. “Auntie, go back, will you? I promised Iris I’d stay with the perp. Go let the librarian know we’re here.” When Margaret balked, Savannah said, “Please, Auntie.”
She turned toward the library. “Oh, all right.”
“Okay, Rags,” Savannah said, “let’s go.”
“Do you see them?” Iris asked.
“Rags knows where they went. I’m following him.”
“You sound out of breath.”
“I am. He’s moving pretty fast. Oh, Rags, you can’t go out into traffic. Whew, that was a close one. I see them, Iris,” Savannah reported. “I see the officers. I don’t think they caught up to the guy. Dang it. Rags is still pulling, so I’m still trying to keep up with him.”
“Ma’am,” one of the officers said when he saw Savannah coming toward them, “you’d better move back.” He put up his hand. “Stop there, ma’am. We’re in pursuit and we don’t know where the dude is or what he’s likely to do.”
When Savannah noticed Rags continuing to pull in the opposite direction from where the officers were searching, she pointed. “I think he went that way.”
“Huh?” the officer said.
“My cat seems to sense he went that way.”
The officer smirked. “That’s the direction of the Busy Bee Café.” He glanced at Rags. “I’m pretty sure they have clam chowder on the menu today. That’s probably what he’s after.”
“Oh hi, Savannah,” the second officer said when he spotted her.
“Hello, Ben.” She nodded to the right. “I was telling the deputy that Rags seems to think he went that way.”
“Thanks,” Ben said. He motioned to the other officer. “Come on, Franco.”
“What?” he asked. “…just because the cat…? What’s the deal, man?”
“Come on, I’ll clue you in later.” But before heading out, Ben turned to Savannah. “Can we take him with us?”
“Sure, I guess,” Savannah said, relinquishing the leash. She noticed that Franco was lagging a bit behind Ben, looking down at the cat and scratching his head.
Several minutes later, the officers returned with Rags still on his leash and the homeless man in tow.
“Hey, I’m the victim here,” Gravel ranted as Franco helped him into the backseat of their patrol car. “That evil cat clawed me all up. I’ll probably die of rabies!” he shouted.
“Thanks, Savannah,” Ben said, handing her Rags’s leash. “He was hiding in a trash bin and Rags led us right to him, didn’t he, Franco?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the deputy said, closing the car door and walking toward his partner. “A cat?”
“This isn’t your ordinary cat,” Ben explained. “He’s actually one of us—an honorary member of the force.”
“No kidding?” Franco said, still disbelieving.
“Yeah, he’s helped us locate missing persons, saved a woman from a burning house, acted as an eyewitness…he’s a pretty incredible cat.”
Franco chuckled. “They ought to make a movie about him.”
“They did,” Ben said. “Didn’t they, Savannah?”
She nodded. “Hey, he’s doing a book signing today at the library and we’re late. We’d better get over there.”
“A book signing?” Franco said, shaking his head.
Savannah grinned and swiftly headed back to the library with Rags trotting alongside.
****
“So how did the book signing go today?” Michael asked over dinner that evening. He gazed toward one of Buffy’s pink canopy beds, where Rags lay sprawled out on his back. “Looks like you wore the star out.”
“Well, yeah. He had a really big day. Not only was he the center of attention at the book signing, he sniffed out a suspect for Ben and his new partner, Franco.”
“He did what?” Michael asked, almost choking on his iced tea.
“Well, my aunt and I spotted that Gravel guy—the one who’d had some sort of conflict with Craig yesterday at the church.”
“Where, for heaven’s sake?”
“In front of the library. Auntie recognized him and we called Iris.”
Michael narrowed his eyes inquisitively. “Yeah, so how did Rags get involved?”
“Actually, it was Rags who first identified the guy.” She widened her eyes. “He attacked the man.”
“Attacked him? Why?”
“Auntie said Rags saw the incident when Craig was arguing with the homeless man and he must have remembered the guy.”
“I don’t believe this,” Michael muttered.
“So I called Iris and told her we’d found that Gravel guy and she asked me to stay on the line and keep an eye on him. He ran off and we followed him. Ben and Franco showed up, and they lost Gravel’s trail, so Rags helped them find him.” She chuckled. “He was hiding in a trash bin.”
“Good Lord,” Michael said shaking his head slowly. “While I’m at work, my wife and our cat are out chasing bad guys.” He looked across the table at Savannah and asked more seriously, “So did this guy lead the authorities to Craig?”
“I don’t know. The last time I talked to Iris, she said nothing had come of it.” She pushed her plate away. “I can’t eat any more. I think I’ll call her again.” She picked up her phone and placed the call. “Hi, Iris. Anything?”
“No. That Gravel guy seems to be a dead end, dammit. Oh Savannah, where is he? What has happened to my husband?”
“Iris, you two didn’t…”
“No, Savannah,” she said sharply. “The cops asked me that, too. Were we fighting? No. We’re fine—in fact, we’re better than fine. They wondered if maybe he was losing it—you know, getting dementia, or something. But I’ve seen absolutely no signs of that, have you?”
“No.”
Iris spoke more quietly. “Did I tell you they found his car?”
“No. Where?” Savannah asked eagerly. “Were there any clues in it or around it?” When she saw Michael look at her with interest, she reported to him, “They found his car.” She asked into the phone, “Where, Iris?”
“It was left with the keys in it down in the brush near the river. They searched the area, thinking Craig might have become ill or something. And they checked the car for fingerprints. So far, nothing. What would he be doing down there? Why would he drive into the brush like that?”
“Maybe he didn’t,” Savannah suggested.
“You mean he was kidnapped and the kidnappers hid his car? That’s even more frightening.” Iris began to choke up. “I want my husband home.” She paused, then said, “Savannah, it’s Ramon on my other phone. I’ll call you back.”
When Michael saw Savannah’s face, he grimaced. “No news, huh?”
All she could do was shake her head. Within minutes, her phone chimed again. “Hi, Iris.” She held her breath.
“Ramon said they had to let that Gravel dude go, but they’re keeping a tail on him.”
Savannah remained quiet for a moment before asking, “Iris, do you need anything?”
“Just my man,” she said quietly. She let out a deep sigh. “No, Savannah. The boys have been wonderful. Of course, they’re torn up too. But they’re staying close and helping out.” She chuckled a
little. “You should see Tommy kitty. He’s really attached to Craig, you know, and he seems to sense that something’s wrong, because he’s sure staying close to me. He’s on my lap right now. He didn’t eat his breakfast—maybe just a few kibbles. Poor thing. He’s hurting, too.” She paused before saying, “Well, kiddo, I hope to call with good news soon.”
“Me too, Iris. Let us know if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure.”
After ending the call, Savannah began clearing away the dinner dishes, when Michael asked, “So did Rags get to sign any books after all the excitement?”
Savannah turned to face him, then gazed briefly at the cat. “Yes, he did. We were a little late getting to the library and, as you can imagine, Rags was pretty wound up. By then, the children were sitting quietly on the floor listening to a volunteer read one of our books. Jack was mingling with the children and the librarian suggested I turn Rags loose.”
“Oh no,” Michael said. “You didn’t do that, did you?”
“Well, I was kind of rattled after the chase, and I agreed. Of course, Rags wasn’t ready to settle down. He wanted to run around the room and race among the children. The more the kids squealed with delight, the more rambunctious Rags got.” She shook her head. “When things started to get out of hand, Auntie helped me corral him. I snapped the leash on him and tried to calm him down. But the damage had already been done.”
“Damage?” he asked.
“Well, yeah—the kids were acting up, the librarian and volunteers had pretty much lost control, and,” she took a deep breath, “Rags had upchucked on the mayor’s wife’s cashmere sweater.”
“What?”
“I’m afraid so.” She explained, “Mrs. Kittredge had brought her grandson to story time. Somehow her sweater ended up on the floor—I guess it slid from the back of her chair. Later, she told me that Rags had hurled a hairball on her sweater.” She sighed. “I said we’d pay for having it cleaned or for a new sweater, whichever she wanted.”
“Oh, my gosh,” Michael said, resting his head in his hand.
