GALLERY CAT CAPER, THE

by Patricia Fry

  "Wow, like a time-bomb? Will she implode?"

  "Well, Rochelle says you don't want to be in the way when someone boils over; you just don't know what they'll do."

  "So why is she in this state?" Michael asked.

  "Who knows?" Savannah said. "Rochelle says it's probably tied to a deep-seated anger stemming from disappointment or jealousy, maybe." She took a sip of coffee before saying, "Jealousy could stem from disappointment, I guess."

  "Did you tell them about Dawna's face changing?" he asked in an almost mocking way.

  She sat quietly for a moment and then said, "Actually, I did. Iris had experienced something similar once and she told us about it. We were both interested in Rochelle's input. Iris said she was so freaked-out when it happened to her that she never told anyone about it until now."

  "So what did Rochelle say?" Michael asked.

  Savannah took a breath. "Well, she said she doesn't know for sure, but her instinct is that when this happens, we're actually seeing that person's inner core—it's a peek into their true self—the self that's motivating their actions, their negative emotions." She shifted in her chair. "Michael, you know how sometimes you meet someone who you don't think is particularly good-looking…but the more you get to know that person, they actually become prettier—there's a sort of more pleasing quality to their appearance? Have you had that happen?"

  "Um, well, I guess." After thinking about it for a moment, Michael said, "I used to think Iris's son, Damon was an unattractive guy—but that's when he was doing drugs. Now that he's all cleaned up and contributing to society, he's really a nice-looking man. Is that what you mean?"

  "Kind of, yes. But with Damon, his transformation was because of a healthier lifestyle…and a healthier state of mind. What we discussed yesterday was something a bit more mysterious, I guess. But yeah, Rochelle told Iris and me that what we experienced was of a…higher power. We had a glimpse into another level of the person's personality or psyche." She took a sip of coffee. "I guess we all have good and bad elements inside us. Most normal people try to behave in public, so you see the person they want others to see. Someone who harbors a lot of hatred, anger, jealousy, for example—may display that negativity all the time or sometimes. And it can actually be visible in their facial features." She paused for a moment. "We don't question it when we see someone who is down on his luck, or living a horrible life. We expect to see the anger in his demeanor and even his features. But it's not expected when the individual is attempting to live a split life—successful on the outside and miserable on the inside."

  Savannah took a sip of coffee. "I asked Iris about the friend she had this experience with—if she or he ever demonstrated negative tendencies."

  "And what did she say?" Michael asked, obviously interested now.

  "She said it was someone she dated for a while. When she saw the transformation, it scared her a little, but she didn't take it all that seriously. Guess what?"

  "What?" he asked.

  "A few months later, the dude went down for murder. It seems he was living a respectable life only on the outside. Under it all, he was a conniving crook. According to Rochelle, when something evil starts eating at you, it begins to surface in unique ways."

  "Hey, was that…?" he started.

  "The guy Rags identified as a murderer a few years ago?"

  "Yes!"

  "I'm pretty sure it was," Savannah said.

  "Vannie," Gladys said, from behind them.

  "Oh hi, Mom. Come on out and enjoy our balcony with us," Savannah said.

  "Yeah, our lanai," Michael said, gesturing flamboyantly. He offered Gladys his chair. He then pulled a chair from the room out onto the small balcony, took Lily from Gladys, and sat down with her. "Did you finish feeding yourself and all the animals?" he asked the baby.

  "Oh, this was a messy morning," Gladys said. "She had the cereal and peaches all over the place. She's one determined young lady, that one."

  "Determined?" Savannah asked.

  "Yes, she knows her mind and is starting to express it," she explained.

  "Oh no," Michael lamented.

  "What?" Savannah asked, frowning.

  "Two women making demands…I don't know if I can stand it," he said.

  Gladys laughed. She patted his shoulder. "Get used to it, Michael. With three females in the house, Vannie's father quickly learned to just say, 'Yes.'"

  "Oh, is that how it goes?" he asked, shaking his head. "Well, both of my girls have me wrapped around their little fingers already. And do you know what?"

  "What?" Gladys asked, looking at him skeptically.

  He glanced at Savannah and said, "It's just where I want to be."

  Gladys smiled. "You're a good man, Michael."

  ****

  "Hi Peter, come meet some friends of ours," Michael said when the artist joined them on the deck later that afternoon. "Iris and Craig Sledge, this is Peter Whitcomb."

  "Hey, you're the one who painted that picture in our bedroom," Iris said, excitedly.

  Peter smiled. "Probably. Which one is it?"

  "It's labeled Dancing in the Light. It's…well, just stunning," she said, practically swooning.

  "Yeah," Craig said. "She stood there and stared at it for hours, talking about the light and the dark of it."

  "Oh Craig," Iris scolded. Then she said to Peter, "It's just so interesting. I could look at it for hours."

  "Better than your ocean view?" Michael asked.

  "Just about," she said.

  "I have prints of that painting at the gallery, if you're interested. I'll give you my family discount."

  "We'll be down. Thank you," she said.

  "What's that you have there? Treats?" Savannah asked.

  He nodded. "Want one?" He opened the box he held to reveal a variety of bakery items—cookies, two red-velvet cupcakes, a few chocolate mini-cupcakes, and one piece of baklava.

  "Sure," Savannah said, taking the box from Peter. "Let me put these on a platter. I just made some coffee."

  "Before you go," Peter said, grabbing the baklava, "this one's mine." When Savannah feigned a scowl, Peter said, "Hey, I'm celebrating."

  "Oh, what are you celebrating?" Michael asked.

  "It was touch-and-go there for a while, but my work was selected to hang in a home that's being used in a new TV smash hit. It's something we've been working on for months and we've been side-lined by a lot of snags." He walked to a chair in the shade and sat down. "I don't know what happened. There seemed to be a disconnect in our communication with the jury and we almost lost the opportunity."

  "Well, congratulations," Michael said.

  "Yes, that's way cool," Savannah said, before walking away with the box of pastries.

  Iris followed her into the kitchen. When they returned, the women set a tray of freshly poured coffee and a platter of the pastries on the table and everyone moved their chairs around it.

  "Yum, red-velvet," Craig said, taking a cupcake and placing it on a small plate in front of him. He looked at Peter. "This isn't your favorite, too, is it?"

  Peter smiled and shook his head.

  "I'll have cookies," Michael said. "…good for dunking."

  Peter took a small bite of the baklava, then set it on his plate. He picked up the coffee mug and cupped it in his hands. "Another nice day, huh?"

  Michael nodded and dipped his second cookie into his coffee.

  "Is it always this nice?" Craig asked.

  "Oh no. We get what they call the marine layer. It loves to hug the beaches, especially this time of year. We haven't had much this year. So we picked a good one for you to visit." He turned to Savannah. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

  "Oh gosh, yes," she said with emotion. "It's been wonderful. We can't thank you enough for…"

  Peter put his hand up. "I'm glad you're here. You've been…well, your support means a lot." Just then he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. He looked at the screen, pressed his lips together, and
stood, walking away to take the call. "Gotta go guys," he said, after ending the call. "They need me at the gallery." He started to leave and then picked up his plate and cup and headed for the kitchen.

  "Hey, don't bother with that. I'll get it," Savannah said.

  He winked. "Heck no, you're on vacation." When he returned, he said, "See y'all later," before bounding down the deck steps and heading up the beach.

  "Well, that was a short visit," Savannah said.

  Michael grinned. "Yeah, like he said, he's not on vacation."

  Iris turned to her husband. "Hey Craig, let's take a walk on the beach. I want to look for shells."

  "Sure," he said. He turned to Savannah and Michael. "Want to go?"

  The two of them looked at each other and both shook their heads. Michael responded, "Naw, I think I'll sit that one out."

  "Lily should be up soon and I want to spend some time with her," Savannah said.

  The couple had just left the deck when Gladys appeared. "Look who's up from her nap."

  Savannah reached out and took the baby. "Oh, you're wearing your little bathing-suit. Wanna go swimming?"

  "Swimming?" Gladys asked.

  Savannah smiled. "I filled her plastic pool and left it out so the sun would warm the water." She lifted the piece of plastic she'd laid over the top and felt the water. "Nice and warm." She slipped off her shorts, took the baby from Gladys, and climbed into the pool with her.

  "Oh, look at that—she is a little pollywog, isn't she?" Gladys said, snapping pictures of the baby with her phone.

  "Hand me those toys, would you, Michael?" Savannah asked.

  "Aww, a rubber ducky. Now isn't that cute?" Gladys said, snapping more pictures of the baby surrounded by her pool toys.

  "That is cute," Savannah agreed. "Hey, Michael, get some pictures to send to everyone back home."

  "Look at Daddy, baby girl," he said, trying to get her attention.

  After a while, Savannah said, "Michael, would you get a dry towel for Lily? I think she's had enough swimming." She watched as he stepped into the house, but he didn't come back right away. "What's he doing in there?" she asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

  Gladys, who was on a lounge chair watching Lily and Savannah in the little pool, craned her neck to peer through the windows. "It looks like he's in the kitchen doing something," she said.

  Suddenly, Michael stepped outside through the sliding doors and announced, "Lexie's sick. I think she ate something. She's throwing up."

  "Oh no," Savannah said, climbing out of the pool with Lily. She grabbed her terry cover-up, handed it to her mother, and said, "Here, Mom, use this to dry her off." She then reached for a slightly damp beach towel, wrapped it around herself and ran toward the house. "What happened, Michael?" Savannah asked as she walked into the kitchen and saw him kneeling on the floor comforting Lexie. Rags sat on the table watching.

  "I don't know. I think maybe she was trying to eat that piece of baklava, because she vomited it up almost whole. It appears that she also tried to swallow some sort of plastic thing and I think that's what caused her to vomit."

  Savannah lowered her brows. "Well, that's odd. I've never known her to eat a foreign object, have you?"

  "No," he said, as he continued to gently rub Lexie's head.

  Just then, Rags jumped down from the table and walked over to where Lexie lay. He bumped up against Michael with his head and then rubbed against him before ambling toward the open wastebasket.

  At the same time, Savannah peered into the wastebasket. "What plastic thing?" she asked.

  "It's right there on the top with the baklava. Maybe under the napkin I used to pick it up. It's a pink doodad."

  Savannah picked up the baklava with the napkin and turned it over to examine it. When she did so, it fell apart and a large piece dropped to the floor. "Oh, I see it," she said, straining to get a closer look.

  Just then she heard a voice calling, "Hello…"

  Savannah turned and was surprised to see Blake at the sliding door. "Hi," she said. "Come on in."

  The PI stepped inside. "Thanks." She looked from Savannah to Michael and Lexie. "Everything okay?" she asked.

  "I think so," Michael said. "Lexie just got into the trash and it appears that she was punished for it."

  "Yeah, karma," Savannah said, grinning.

  "What happened?" she asked, a look of concern on her face.

  Just then Rags walked up to the piece of baklava Savannah had dropped and began examining it. Before she could stop the cat, he sniffed it briefly and then viciously attacked it with one violent swat of his paw.

  "Wow!" Blake said. "If that wasn't aggressive!"

  Savannah sighed. "Yeah it was." She turned toward Michael and asked quietly, "Did you see that?"

  He nodded, solemnly. He then took a deep breath and asked Blake, "Do you happen to have access to a lab where we could have this analyzed?"

  "What? Why?" she asked, frowning.

  "Well, Rags has this uncanny ability to communicate strong messages like what you just saw. Savannah, would you agree that there could be something wrong with the baklava?"

  She nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

  They both looked at Blake, expectantly.

  "Well, yeah, I actually do have a connection at a lab…" she started to say, when Savannah interrupted.

  "Oh my gosh," she almost shouted, "Peter ate some of it!"

  "It may be nothing," Michael said, in an attempt to keep things calm. "Anyway, he couldn't have eaten much. There's quite a bit here."

  Blake peered at the couple for a moment, then pulled out her phone. "I'll make a call. Put it in something clean—preferably paper, not plastic," she instructed.

  After a few minutes, Blake pushed her phone into the pocket of her Capris and reported, "He said to bring it on down. I'm on foot. Want to drive me over there, Savannah? It's just five miles or so from here."

  "Sure, let me get some clothes on."

  ****

  Forty-five minutes later, Savannah called Michael's cell phone. "It's contaminated," she said, choking back emotion. It probably would have killed Lexie if she'd kept it down. We're going to stop by the gallery before coming home. How is she?"

  "She's fine," he said. "She's right here with us on the deck under the umbrella." He chuckled. "All she needs is a pair of shades."

  "Shades?" Savannah asked.

  "Sunglasses."

  "Oh," she said. "I get it. See you later, Michael."

  "Gads, parking is kind of a problem around here, isn't it?" Savannah said, as she drove slowly along the narrow streets searching for a parking place near the gallery.

  Blake laughed quietly. "Yes, we should have taken the car back to the beach house and walked down."

  "Here's a spot," Savannah said, as she pulled in. She laughed. "But you're right. We'll be walking farther than we would have if we'd gone home."

  "Oh well, Savannah, I'm sure you didn't get that great figure looking for the closest parking space," Blake observed.

  Savannah chuckled.

  Within a few minutes, the two women stepped into the gallery. "Hi Savannah," Dawna said. She then noticed Blake and her demeanor became noticeably more rigid. "Oh, hello," she greeted without enthusiasm.

  "Is Peter here?" Blake asked.

  "Uh…he's…" she started.

  Just then the gallery door opened and Peter stepped in. "Savannah, Blake…" he said. "Two of my favorite people. What are you doing down here…" He glanced from one to the other, a puzzled look on his face, "…together?"

  "Can we talk to you, Peter?" Blake asked.

  "Sure," he said, leading the two women toward his office.

  "Uh, maybe we should go…somewhere," Blake suggested.

  Peter looked confused. "Is everything all right?"

  Blake glanced at Dawna again and said, "Sure. Just need to talk. Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

  "No," Peter protested. "No more coffee. I've had way too much c
offee today. Please, spare me." His demeanor perked up. "How about a beer?"

  "Sure, a beer. Whatever you want," Blake said.

  "Okay if I have Michael and our friends come down?" Savannah asked Blake quietly as they walked together away from the gallery.

  "Yeah," she said. "Tell them we'll be at The Hut, a half block south of the gallery."

  By the time Savannah, Blake, and Peter had placed their drink orders, Michael arrived with the Sledges. He introduced them to Blake and the server took their orders.

  "Cool joint," Craig said, looking around.

  Peter nodded. "Yeah, it's a fun place." He then turned to Savannah and Blake and asked, "Okay, now why did you two kidnap me?"

  "Peter," Blake said, "we think someone may have tried to poison you."

  "What?!" he almost shouted. He looked around to make sure his outburst went unnoticed, leaned in toward his PI, and asked, "What are you talking about?"

  "That baklava you were eating was contaminated with some sort of poison." She motioned toward Michael and Savannah and said, "Their dog tried to eat some out of the trash and got sick."

  "Well, I think she vomited because she got a piece of plastic caught in her throat," Michael corrected.

  Savannah nodded. "And Rags let us know there was something wrong with the baklava Lexie had vomited up, then Blake and I took it to have it tested."

  Peter looked from one to the other of his tablemates, sat back in his chair and, with a confused look on his face, he said, "What?"

  "Maybe I can explain," Michael said.

  "No, I think I get it—the dog tried to eat it, threw it up, the cat…" he drew his eyebrows together. "…what exactly did the cat do?"

  "Well, he swatted really aggressively at it."

  When Peter gave him a blank look, Craig started to chuckle. "You gotta listen to that cat. He knows a piece of evidence when he sees it. He's helped me solve a lot of cases with his keen sense of…" he shrugged. "I don't know what it is, but he knows when there's something wrong."

  Savannah nodded. She then said, "Anyway, Blake has a friend at a lab and we asked him to analyze it."

  "Yes," Blake said, "and it was tainted, all right." She leaned forward. "Peter, where did you get the baklava?"