Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 03 - Sleight of Paw

by Patricia Fry

  Savannah thought she heard another voice. It was Michael’s. “Call the sheriff, Savannah!”

  Stunned by the horrifying reality of the scuffle going on in front of her, and aware, now, that her knee was throbbing, it took her a moment to comply. This just can’t be happening. I’m so scared for Michael. This maniac really does want to do damage, she thought to herself. She pulled her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and began to dial. Suddenly, Pete freed himself from Michael’s grip. He rushed toward Savannah and knocked the phone out of her hands. She stood there helpless, watching it scoot across the floor to the other side of the room. Michael took the opportunity to grab the baton the attacker still gripped, and the two men struggled hard in an attempt to take control. Suddenly, Michael lost his footing and fell over a chair against the wall. Pete lifted the bat and began pounding it savagely against Michael’s back and head. Savannah couldn’t contain herself. She ran over to Pete, grabbed his shirt, and pulled on the fabric. “Stop it, stop it, now!” she screamed.

  He reached behind him, slapping at her with the small bat. Just then, Michael spun around to face his opponent. “Out of the way, Savannah!” he shouted. He dove for the enraged man, hitting him hard in the stomach with his left shoulder and knocking him to the floor. He fell on top of Pete and the bat went flying. Pete broke loose from underneath Michael and scrambled to his feet. Michael promptly jumped to a standing position. However, before Michael had his balance, Pete swung at him with his fist, making contact against his cheek. Michael staggered backward, giving Pete time to reach over and pick up the baton.

  “I’m going to kill you, you butcher!” Pete lunged again and Michael was fast enough to grab the man’s wrist. Remembering a move he’d learned while on the wrestling team in college, he hooked his right foot around the back of Pete’s legs and slammed him face down on the floor. Michael straddled him and grabbed his other wrist. As Pete thrashed around, Michael moved up and placed his knee in the middle of Pete’s back. Michael had him pinned to the floor; now he strained to twist one of Pete’s arms behind him, making sure to bend it back far enough so that it hurt, rendering him virtually helpless.

  In the meantime, Savannah had made her way behind the reception desk and used the phone to call for help.

  “Are you all right?” Savannah screamed.

  “I think so,” Michael said, his chest heaving with each breath. “Did you call the sheriff?”

  “Yes, they’re on the way. Wait, I think I hear them now—gosh, that was quick.”

  “Dr. Ivey?”

  Savannah and Michael looked toward the voice. There, peering wide-eyed through the open door was a pudgy teenager. “Steven, what are you doing here?” Savannah asked, her voice shaky.

  “Just walking by with Princess.” Steven stared down at Michael and Pete in disbelief. “You know, we live just down the street. I heard yelling and got worried. I called 9-1-1.” He took a step inside and his little Aussie came into view.

  “Thank you, Steven,” she said. And then she quickly added, “Don’t come in here. Stay out there, okay?”

  Pete lifted his head and looked up at the boy, blood covering his nose and mouth. Noticing the dog, he yelled, “Don’t let these butchers operate on your dog, kid. They’ll kill it like they killed mine.” He began squirming and kicking his feet.

  “Just be still, you lunatic,” Michael snarled.

  “I’m gonna sue you two and drag your name through the mud. I’ll ruin you,” Pete said through gritted teeth.

  Steven stared down at the angry man. Suddenly, he turned and moved aside. Michael and Savannah heard another voice. “Okay, what’s going on in here?” Deputy Jim asked as he pushed the door open and entered the room cautiously, his hand on his gun. Deputy Ben followed. Upon surveying the situation, Ben quickly walked over, put his foot on Pete’s right arm until he released the bat he still held in his hand. He then said, “We’ll take it from here, Dr. Ivey.”

  Michael stood and walked slowly and stiffly toward a chair; Savannah rushed to his side. She took his arm and helped him sit down. “Are you all right, hon?” she asked.

  “He got me a few good ones,” he said, lowering his head and patting it with one hand. Savannah examined the area and Michael cringed under the light pressure of her touch.

  “No blood, but I do feel a knot.”

  “Yeah, so do I.”

  “And your pretty face, Michael…” Savannah said, holding back tears. She slid her fingers along his cheek ever so gently.

  “He killed my dog, Sheriff,” Pete said. “And then he tried to beat me up—came at me with that weapon; I had to take it away from him. Look, he bloodied my nose with that thing.”

  “Yeah, Michael bloodied his nose before Pete could kill him with that bat,” Savannah yelled sounding close to hysterics.

  “Okay, everyone calm down. You’ll all get a chance to tell your story.”

  “He killed my dog, man,” Pete bellowed as Ben cuffed him and helped him to his feet. Jim patted him down.

  “Let’s go, Gamble,” Ben said, walking him out the front door.

  “You’re arresting me?” Pete screamed.

  “Just taking you outta here for questioning,” he said.

  Jim looked over at Steven who had backed away from the door for a moment to let Ben through and then stepped back in. “Are you a witness?”

  “Yes, sort of,” the teen said.

  “Wait, I know you, don’t I? You’re Steven Byrd,” Deputy Jim said. “It was your dad…”

  “Yes, my dad was murdered at Dr. Jordan’s house.”

  “So what did you witness here today, son?”

  “I was walking by with my dog and heard banging noises and loud yelling coming from inside here and screaming. Dr. Jordan screamed.”

  “Yes, I did.” She smiled weakly at the boy. “It’s Dr. Ivey now, Steven.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.” He looked down at his hands as he fidgeted with the end of the dog leash for a few seconds. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I could see Dr. Ivey—um—the guy vet, and this dude fighting through the window.”

  “Did you see who started the fight?”

  “No.”

  “Did you hear what they were saying?”

  “Yes.” He pointed in the direction that Ben had taken Pete Gamble and said, “He was swearing at Dr. Ivey and accusing him of killing his dog.” Again, looking down, he ruffled the fur on Princess’s head while mumbling, “That’s about all I heard.”

  “Did you hear either of these men threaten the other?”

  Steven promptly raised his head, his eyes wide and riveted on the deputy’s. “Yeah,” he announced. “The other guy said he was going to kill Dr. Ivey. Um, I think he meant the guy Dr. Ivey.”

  “Okay, Steven, thank you. Can I have your phone number in case we need to ask you any more questions?”

  “Sure. And I’m the one who called you.”

  “Yes, I guess we got two calls. You made the first call. Thank you for doing that.”

  “Yes, thank you so much, Steven,” Savannah said as she limped over to the boy, giving him a hug and petting his energetic Aussie with affection. “How’s she doing?” she asked.

  “Great!” Steven smiled. “She’s a super dog. Thanks for finding her for us.”

  Savannah looked over at Steven. “Thank you for taking such good care of her.”

  The boy’s round face brightened. “Wanna see a trick I taught her?”

  “Sure do.” Savannah glanced back at Michael and Deputy Jim before hobbling after the boy and dog out into the parking lot. Once outside, she noticed that Pete Gamble was sitting in the back of a patrol car. She led Steven off to the other side of the large parking lot.

  In the meantime, Jim pulled a chair around to face Michael, sat down, and asked, “So what happened, Dr. Mike?”

  Michael looked up at him. “It was surreal. I performed surgery on his dog. Everything was going well. But something happened overnight—we don’t k
now what—and the dog died.” He took a deep breath and then coughed. He hugged his middle and bent over a little. “Dang, I guess I have a bruised rib cage.”

  Jim winced. “The paramedics are on their way.” He looked down at his notes. “So the dog died…”

  “Yes, and when I called to tell Pete the bad news, he came unglued…began swearing and making awful accusations. He wanted to come and pick up the dog, which was okay with me. I figured he’d calm down by the time he got here. But, no. He came in here bent on hurting someone—namely me.” Michael leaned forward a little in the chair, his left arm wrapped around his rib cage. Several strands of his straight dark-brown hair hung over one brow.

  “What did he say to you?”

  “He said he was going to kill me.” He choked up a little. “He also threatened Savannah.” Taking a ragged breath, he looked up at the deputy. “He said he would ruin our reputation in this town.”

  “Who struck the first blow, Dr. Mike?” Jim asked, pen and pad poised.

  “I think he did. I mean, he came at me with that club and I couldn’t do much except try to protect myself. When he pushed Savannah and threatened her, that really got my blood boiling and I knew I had to find a way to stop him or one of us…or both…well, someone was going to suffer some serious damage. So I tried to remember some of the moves from my old wrestling days and went from protection mode to, you might say, combat mode. Somehow, I was able to take control and, well, then you got here.”

  “Ever have anything like this happen before?” Jim asked.

  “Never!” Michael said. “Like I told Savannah earlier, I’ve seen a lot of emotions when I’ve had to deliver sad news to a pet owner, but never such outrageous anger.”

  “Did you offer any sort of consolation?”

  Michael frowned and looked the deputy in the eyes. “Consolation? Do you have pets, Jim?”

  “Yeah, the kids have a dog and a cat.”

  “There’s little consolation when it comes to losing a beloved pet. I know the pain and I have great empathy for our clients who lose pets.” He looked down at the floor. “I suggested we do an autopsy to see if we could find out what happened. I offered to do it at no charge.” He looked up, a questioning look on his face. “Is that the kind of thing you’re talking about?”

  “Yeah. What did he say?”

  “Hummph. He just kept spouting profanities, as I recall.”

  Jim scribbled on his notepad and then looked up at Michael. “Do you want to press charges?”

  “Absolutely,” Michael said, reaching back with his hand and touching the goose egg on his head. “That savage belongs in jail.”

  “Okay, then.” Jim glanced through his notes.

  Michael stared at him for a few seconds. “I take it you guys know Mr. Gamble. I heard the other deputy call him by name.”

  Jim sneered and nodded his head. “Oh yes, we know him.” He stood and walked over to look out the door into the parking lot. He then turned to face Michael. “I’d like to speak with Savannah now. Is there some place I can question her while the paramedics look at you?”

  “Sure. She has an office in the back.”

  Jim disappeared out the door and promptly returned with Savannah, who had been talking to some of the neighbors congregated outside. Michael stood when he saw Savannah limp through the door. He rushed over to her. “Oh honey, you’re hurt.”

  “Just my knee—no big deal.”

  Jim glanced down at her knee. “We’ll find out how big of a deal when you get looked over by the paramedics.”

  Savannah scrunched up her face at the thought of being examined. She looked at Michael. “Have you been checked out yet?”

  “No, I’m going to do that right now while you go with Jim to your office for questioning.” Just then, he noticed a petite blond woman probably in her late twenties walk into the room lugging a paramedic’s bag.

  Jim motioned toward Michael. “There’s your first patient, Sarah. Dr. Michael Ivey.”

  She nodded in his direction. “Hello. Want to sit over here for me?” She set her bag next to the chair Jim had vacated and she sat down. Michael took the chair opposite her. She looked at his face. “I hear you had quite a commotion in here this morning. ”After examining Michael, she said, “Sir, you have a pretty nasty bump on your head and a contusion on your cheek there. You don’t have any loose teeth, do you?”

  Michael shook his head. “No.”

  “It appears that you have some bruising around your ribs. And your ankle is a little swollen.” She began to clean and dress a couple of cuts she discovered on his hands and one elbow. “Sir, I don’t see anything life-threatening here, but I recommend that you get checked out at the emergency room over in Straley. We can take you over by ambulance or you can have someone drive you. I would rather you not drive until you’ve been seen.”

  “Why not? I feel okay. I don’t think I need any treatment, do you?”

  “You’re a veterinarian, you know the problems that can accompany a head injury.”

  “Well, I’ve never prescribed that any of my patients refrain from driving,” he said with a chuckle.

  Sarah gave him a sideways glance and handed him a piece of paper. “It’s up to you. Here, take this list of danger signals. If you experience any of them, see your doctor, okay?” She looked in the direction she’d seen Savannah and Jim go and then stood up. “I’ll come back for your wife in a few minutes. Would you make sure she waits in here for me?”

  “Sure will. And thank you.”

  Sarah appeared to be rather surprised at the gratitude. “Not a problem.”

  In the meantime, in Savannah’s office, she blotted her eyes with a wad of tissues. “I don’t know why I’m so weepy.”

  Jim tilted his head a little and stared into her face. “You were assaulted. That’s traumatic.” He looked down briefly. One corner of his mouth twisted upward. “I don’t imagine this is something you encounter on a daily basis.”

  Savannah laughed a little through her sobs. “No. Sure don’t.” She blew her nose into the tissue and took a ragged breath. “Now what was it you just asked me?”

  “Uh, you said that Michael lost his temper. At what point did that happen?”

  “Michael was wonderfully calm. He tried to talk to the guy. So did I. But he wasn’t having any of it.” She thought for a minute. “I don’t think Michael started really fighting back until that monster threatened me.” She paused. “Yes, I think he got angry at that point.” She looked over at Jim. “He didn’t want to fight. He did his best to defuse the situation. He had no choice other than to take a beating and…” She began to choke up. “I’m so glad he didn’t do that.” She sobbed into the tissue in her hand. Her next words were muffled. “He could have been killed.”

  “Okay, Savannah,” Jim said, “what I get from your statement is that Pete Gamble was pretty much riled up when he walked in and he began issuing threats at that point. He was armed and he struck the first blow.” He looked down at his notes. “Maybe all the blows.”

  “Yes, I don’t think Michael ever did hit him.” She smiled a wicked smile. “But he sure slammed Pete down on the floor a good one.”

  Jim looked up at Savannah—a slight grin on his face. He then became serious again. “And do you want to press charges?”

  “Yes! People can’t go around hurting other people like this. It’s uncivilized.”

  Jim chuckled. “Yes, uncivilized, indeed.” He looked over at Savannah. “Are you okay now? Ready to have Sarah check you out?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay,” she said without emotion.

  As Savannah walked into the waiting room, she heard Sarah say, “Sir, you were lucky. This could have been much worse for you.”

  Savannah slid into a chair next to Michael and put her arm around his neck, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “Yes, my husband is quite the scrapper, as it turns out. I didn’t know he had such he-man skills.”

  She pulled back and Michael turned to f
ace her. He managed a strained smile and repeated, “Scrapper? He-man?”

  Sarah chuckled right along with Michael and Savannah.

  “And you ma’am, looks like you got nicked a little there.” Sarah reached over with her gloved hand and touched near a scrape on Savannah’s arm.

  “Oh yes, I guess I caught it on something when I went down.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “He hit you, too?”

  Savannah shook her head. “Pushed me.”

  “Same thing,” Sarah said while moistening a gauze patch with an alcohol solution and dabbing at the fresh cut. “It’s assault. Any other cuts or bruises?”

  “Well, my knee’s sore,” she said, rubbing it gently. “I think I went down on it.”

  “Let’s take a look.”

  Savannah began to pull up her pant leg when she stopped and said, “Darn, feels like it’s swelling.” She carefully worked the fabric up to her thigh to reveal a skinned knee that was already puffy and turning purple.

  “Oh hon.” Michael’s tone was sympathetic. He then twisted his face into a scowl. Through gritted teeth, he virtually growled, “That damn…”

  Savannah reached over and patted his knee. “It’s okay, Michael. I’m okay.”

  “I can’t stand that he hurt you.”

  “Oh nooooo,” Savannah said.

  “What?” Sarah and Michael asked in unison.

  “Blood on my favorite jeans,” she wailed.

  “Now the woman knows her priorities,” Sarah quipped. “Hematoma on the knee—no big deal; blood stains on the clothes—problem.” She laughed, as she dabbed at the scratches with alcohol and taped a patch with ointment over the scraped knee. She looked Savannah in the eyes. “Any head trauma?”

  She shook her head slowly from side to side while working her jeans back down over her knee. “I don’t think so.”