Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 03 - Sleight of Paw

by Patricia Fry

  “She sure is—looks like she’s going to sleep with us tonight unencumbered by the fur kids.”

  Well, good night, honey. I love you,” he said, rolling over and kissing her on the neck and then the lips.

  “I love you too, Michael,” she said dreamily. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, Lexie snoring quietly at their feet.

  ***

  Brrrrrriiiing, Brrrrrrriiing.

  Michael opened his eyes and squinted at the bedside clock. 5:50 a.m. He reached up and pulled the chain on the lamp, picked up his phone and, still sounding groggy from a good night’s sleep, answered it. “Hello? Hey Bud, what’s going on?” Michael quickly sat straight up. “Oh my gosh,” he said. “Are you sure?” He kicked at the blankets to free his legs and swung them over the side of the bed. “Bud, have you called the police?” He stood and walked toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right there.”

  A look of panic spread over Savannah’s face. She rose up off her pillow. “What happened, Michael?”

  He walked back toward her, stopping to grab his jeans off the chair where he had left them the night before. He rolled his head from side to side. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

  “What?” she demanded. And then she asked, her voice shaky and shrill, “Are the cats okay?”

  He stepped into his jeans and fastened them, then sat on the edge of the chair and slipped on the socks he’d worn the day before and his sport shoes. He stared into space, took a deep breath, and said, “Bud found a body at the clinic.”

  She was sitting up now. “What?” She threw the covers back and slid out of the bed. She looked down at her husband. “What kind of a body? Who?”

  “I don’t know. Bud…” He hesitated. “How could this be happening?” He finished tying his shoes and then stood and ran his fingers through his hair. “The sheriff’s on the way. I’ve gotta get over there.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Savannah raced into the bathroom and closed the door. When she returned, Michael was still standing in the middle of the room. She rushed over to the chest of drawers, grabbed a T-shirt and threw it at Michael. “Put this on,” she said, peeling off her nightgown and pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She looked over at her husband while slipping into her Uggs. “Michael, are you all right?”

  “No,” he said moving his head back and forth slowly. “No, I’m not all right. Someone is lying dead in our clinic.”

  Chapter Five

  “My gosh, there are a lot of cop cars,” Savannah remarked as they turned the corner toward the clinic. A synchronicity of red and blue lights flashed against the building, silhouetting the array of uniformed officers who had congregated in the large parking lot. A few neighbors, still in robes, stood watching. Some had their hands wrapped around hot cups of coffee.

  “Hey, Michael, what’s going on?” Dave Taylor from across the street hollered as Michael climbed out from behind the wheel of Savannah’s Honda Accord.

  “I don’t know, Dave. Just got here.” He headed toward the front door of the clinic. “Jim, what happened?” Michael asked when he spotted the deputy.

  In the meantime, Savannah stepped gingerly out of the passenger door, still babying her injured knee. Before she could close the car door, she spotted something on the ground in front of her. Keys—it’s a ring of keys. She picked it up and examined it. Hmmm, that’s odd, she thought. She looked ahead of her and saw Michael approaching Deputy Jim. Eager to hear what he had to say, she tossed the keys into the car and pushed the door shut. She walked away, not noticing that the keys had slid across the seat and slipped down between the seat and the console. She caught up with the two men just in time to see Jim shake his head and hear him mumble, “Doesn’t look good, Dr. Mike. Doesn’t look good.” He walked past Michael and Savannah over to where some of the other uniformed officers stood.

  They both followed Jim with their eyes and watched as he gave the officers some instructions.

  “Michael, can we go in?” Savannah asked.

  “Don’t know. They have tape across the door.” He glanced toward the door and then back at Jim. Finally, he reasoned, “I don’t know why not. It’s our clinic.” He started to move in that direction, but stopped when he saw Jim walking briskly toward them. “Jim, can we go in? We have animals in there that may need attention.”

  “Including our own cats,” Savannah said, her voice quivering a little.

  “Yes,” Jim said. “We need to ask you some questions. Let’s go inside.” He opened the door and led the way.

  Michael caught up with Jim and asked, “Where’s Bud? He called me.”

  “I think they’re questioning him.”

  Michael swallowed hard, frowned. “Jim, Bud said someone died.”

  “Yes,” Jim continued leading Michael and Savannah into the waiting room of their veterinary clinic. “Please sit down here, will you?” He looked over at Michael, who was still standing. “Looks like you’re healing up pretty good. Feeling okay?”

  “Yeah,” Michael said. As if he were on automatic pilot—not totally in the moment and apprehensive about what was going on around him, he added, “Savannah’s still hobbling around with that knee—can’t ride her horse.” He fiddled with something in his pocket, and asked, “Can we go back and check on the animals?”

  Jim thought about his request for a few seconds and said, “I guess that would be okay.”

  Before they could move forward, a man in street clothes walked into the waiting room from the back offices and motioned to Jim. “Wait here,” Jim told Savannah and Michael. He strolled over and talked quietly with the man for a few moments before saying to the couple, “Okay, I’ll walk with you to the pens now.”

  Michael and Savannah followed Jim through the waiting room and down the hallway. Before they entered the doorway to the recovery room, Michael stopped and looked in the direction of some commotion. He saw a yellow tarp covering what appeared to be a body just inside the back door to the clinic. The door was open and several sheriff deputies and other officials were milling around in that area—some talking on cell phones, others talking among themselves. Suddenly, his eyes connected with those of Craig Sledge, who nodded somberly toward Michael and Savannah. “Come on,” Jim said, hastening them into the recovery room.

  The veterinary team checked on the two patients, scooped out a litter box, and gave the animals clean water and a gentle petting to reassure them. As the couple closed the doors to the pens, Jim asked, “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, seems to be,” Michael said. “Now we’d like to see our cats—they’re out near the…commotion…in that large pen. I didn’t know there was all that activity out there. I’d like to bring them in here away from…all that.”

  Jim thought about it for a few moments and then said, “Yeah, go ahead.”

  As the trio walked toward the cordoned-off area, Savannah looked down at where the body lay under the yellow tarp. She slowed her pace, stared.

  “Let’s get the cats out,” Jim said, in an attempt to keep the couple focused.

  “Who is it, Jim?” Michael asked. “Anyone we know?” His speech accelerated, as panic gripped him. “It’s not one of our employees, is it?”

  The deputy frowned. He took in a breath and said, “No, it’s not one of your employees.” He looked over at the cats in the pen. “Let’s move the cats and then we’ll talk.”

  As they walked toward the large pen, Rags jumped up on the platform closest to them. “He’s happy to see us,” Savannah said. “Hi Ragsy. I missed you, too, boy.” Walter sat on top of a small carpeted cat tree closest to the activity, watching intently. “Where’s Buffy?” Savannah asked.

  Michael looked around inside the pen from a series of different vantage points. “Oh, I see her in that pink tent thing over there.” He then said, “Savannah, get Rags, would you? I’ll take Walter. We can put them in separate pens in recovery. I’ll put Buffy with Walter.”

  Savannah followed behind Michael toward the door to the pen. �
�I think she should go with Rags.”

  “Why?”

  “She and Rags are closer now than she is with Walter.”

  Jim, who had been leaning against a wall across from the pen, took a couple of steps forward. “Okay, we can’t stand here and argue—get the cats situated. I need to question you. You might also want to put a notice on the door that you’re closing today.”

  “Oh, we are?” Michael said as he took the clasp off the pen gate. He looked over at the activity near the back door again and shook his head in disgust. “I’ll have Bud call the clients with appointments today.” He started to enter the pen and then stopped. “Where is Bud, anyway?”

  “I told you, they’re questioning him. He should be along shortly. I’ll let them know you want to speak with him.”

  “I can make the calls, Michael,” Savannah said as she entered the pen. Michael stepped in after her and closed the gate. He stood in the center of the pen, trying to digest what was happening around them. Just then another deputy walked toward Jim and called him out of the room. Savannah watched him join the other authorities as they all huddled near the body.

  She tried to ignore the sick feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. A kitty hug—that’s what I need, she thought. Kitty hugs always seem to make things better. She looked over at Rags—What’s that he has? She walked closer and saw him pick up something with his teeth and shake his head with it in his mouth. He then put a claw in it and pulled while holding onto it with his teeth. “What do you have there, Ragsy?” she asked as she grew nearer. The cat dropped it again. This time it floated down to the floor. Rags jumped down, snagged the object in his mouth and leaped back up onto the perch, where he continued to paw and claw at it. Savannah reached over and picked up the large cat. “I missed you boy. Are you okay?” Suddenly, she felt overcome with emotion. She buried her face into his fur and started to cry.

  “Awwww, honey,” Michael said. He walked over and put his arms around her and the cat. He kissed the side of her head. “I know, honey—awfully close to home. Another tragedy. It…it just sucks.” He gave her a squeeze and then rubbed Rags’s head. “He seems to be okay, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Before she turned to carry him into the recovery room, she looked back at the item on the perch. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and took a closer look. It’s a piece of cloth from something. She looked around the pen and saw nothing in there made from this swatch of fabric. Hmmm, she thought to herself, it’s a light-weight woven tweed fabric in browns with a little dark blue running through it. I wonder where it came from.

  Just then, Deputy Jim walked back into the room. Savannah pushed the cloth swatch deep inside her jacket pocket and carried Rags out of the pen. Michael followed her with Walter in one arm and Buffy in the other. Once Savannah had placed Rags in a clean pen already supplied with a litter box, kibbles, and water, she turned and took Buffy from Michael.

  “Hi there, sweet girl,” she crooned, while hugging the little Himmie mix to her. “Here, you keep Rags company,” she said as she set her gently inside the pen. After latching the gate, she walked over to a cabinet and opened it. She rummaged around for a few moments, eventually retrieving a soft flannel pad. She tucked it into the pen for Buffy to lie on. Only Rags thought it was for him and he promptly walked over and sat in the middle of the cushy blanket. Savannah smiled and shook her head. “Okay, I get it. You want to be pampered, too.” And she went back to the cabinet, found another section of blanket and scrunched it into an opposite corner of the pen. She watched as Rags claimed that bed for himself, leaving the original one for Buffy, who immediately ambled over and settled down for a nap.

  Savannah pulled a small pad out of the cabinet for Walter. After placing it inside his pen, she peered in at the black cat and he stared back at her through yellow eyes. “All set?” Jim asked, as he led the couple out into the hallway. Michael closed the door behind them. After taking only a couple of steps, Savannah looked back at the scene at the end of the hallway. She promptly bumped into Michael, who had stopped to stare in that direction. Without a word, the two of them turned and followed Deputy Jim back into the waiting room.

  “Let’s sit here, shall we?” Jim suggested. Savannah and Michael sat next to each other against the wall and Jim pulled a chair out of the line-up and sat down facing the Drs. Ivey. “Michael, I need you to account for your whereabouts last night.”

  “What?” he barked.

  Savannah’s posture stiffened. She frowned at the deputy.

  “Where were you last night, Michael?”

  Michael squirmed in his chair, a scowl on his face. “I don’t believe this. What’s going on, Jim? Who is that back there?”

  Jim stayed on track. He spoke without emotion. “Just answer the question, please.”

  Michael stared over at Jim, shaking his head in disbelief. “At home.”

  “All night?”

  Michael could tell the deputy was serious. He knew he had nothing to hide, so he took a deep breath and said, “Yes. Let’s see, I left the clinic around six, stopped at the deli for some sandwiches, and got home around…he hesitated…six-twenty, I’d say. Savannah and I had the sandwiches for dinner, we worked a little on my remodel project upstairs, and went to bed around ten.”

  “And you were home all night. You didn’t go out at all?”

  “No. What is this all about? Are you accusing me of something?”

  Jim ignored the question. Looking over at Savannah, he asked, “Were you home, too?”

  “Yes. I left the office at five-thirty. I brought the dog home with me. Oh, I did stop by my aunt’s place to drop off some pharmaceuticals for their cats. Then Lexie and I came right home.”

  “Who’s Lexie?”

  “The dog.”

  “And you were home all night? Neither of you went out?”

  “No,” Savannah snapped. She clenched her teeth and pressed her lips together lest she say something she might regret.

  “What’s going on, Jim?” Michael asked. “Why all these questions? Who is it back there—under that tarp?”

  Deputy Jim looked Michael in the eyes. He hesitated before saying, “It’s Pete Gamble. He’s been murdered.”

  Savannah’s hands shot up to her mouth. Her eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh my gosh. Here? How…?”

  Michael sat back in his chair, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Finally he asked, “What happened? What was he doing here?” He looked off into space as if in a daze. And then he stood. He stepped into the center of the room and began pacing, raking his hand through his hair. He turned and said, his voice raised, “And you think that I…” he looked down, trying to gather his thoughts. He then stared directly at Jim and said slowly, “I am not a murderer.” He pointed a finger at Jim. “You should know my character by now. I wouldn’t kill someone just because they got in my face. What are you thinking?” He put his head in his hands and rubbed his forehead hard with his palms.

  Savannah stood and walked over to him. “I’m sure he doesn’t suspect you—he just has to ask these questions. It’s his job, Michael.”

  Jim swiveled in his chair to face the couple. “That’s partially correct, Savannah. It’s my job. But dang, it looks suspicious finding him here, after all he has done to you in the past week. How do you suppose he came to be here—inside your clinic?”

  “He was inside right there when you found him?” Michael asked.

  “Yes and the door was wide open when Bud arrived this morning, or so he says.”

  Savannah walked over and sat down opposite Jim.

  “Who has keys to the clinic?” Jim wanted to know. He picked up his notepad and pencil.

  Savannah responded. “Michael and I, of course. Bud—he checks on the patients early each morning and, when advised, throughout the night. Scarlett, our receptionist, has a key, as do our cleaning people. That would be Iris and Cindy.” She then caught herself and said, “No, not Cindy. She’s out on ma
ternity leave. Our new cleaning gal is Alyce.” Savannah turned toward Michael. “Did you give her a key?”

  “Yes,” Michael said. “So it’s me, Savannah, Bud, Iris, Scarlett, and Alyce who have keys.”

  “And Lisa has a key,” Savannah said. “She’s Bud’s backup.”

  “Now why does…” Jim looked at his notes, “Iris have a key?”

  Michael walked over and sat back down in his chair. He took in a deep breath. “She comes in and cleans the clinic a couple times a week after hours.”

  “And the new cleaning gal? What does she do, what is her schedule?”

  “Well, she cleans and sanitizes cages, examining rooms, and so forth on an ongoing, as-needed basis throughout the day.” Michael explained. “She sometimes comes in early to make sure things are ready for patients or she might stay late to prepare for the next day.”

  “Hmmmm,” Jim said, rubbing his chin and fixing his stare on his notepad. “I’ll need contact information for Scarlett, Lisa, and Alyce, if you don’t mind.” He looked up at Michael. “We have Bud here now and I know how to find Iris.”

  Savannah rose from her chair. “I’ll get that for you,” she said as she walked over to the reception counter.

  Jim looked down at his notes again. “Now wait. Does the one out on maternity leave—Cindy—still have a key?”

  Michael thought for a moment. “Um, yeah, I guess she does.”

  “I’ll need her contact information, too, if you don’t mind, Savannah.”

  Michael leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, and asked, “How?”

  “Huh?”

  “How did he die?”

  “Stabbed,” was all Jim would say.

  Michael sat somber, a look of disbelief on his face. He then straightened his posture and asked, “What I want to know is why is he in my…” he turned his head and looked over at Savannah briefly and then continued, “our clinic? What was he doing here?”