Mansion of Meows (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 9)

by Patricia Fry

  "What's funny?" Iris asked.

  "That's just about exactly like one of Auntie's outfits back at the mansion. She even has a silver necklace like that."

  Margaret nodded. "All I lack are the tall shoes."

  "Well, then," the woman said, gazing at Margaret's feet, "let's see if I have what you need. What size do you wear?"

  "Seven-and-a-half or eight."

  Hildegard excused herself. When she returned, she announced, "It's your lucky day. We actually have your size." She held the shoes out for Margaret to see.

  "They're perfect," Iris said almost reverently. "Come on, Maggie, sit here and try them on."

  Once Margaret had buckled the shoes, she stood up, wobbling a little. "I'll need to practice walking in these things. But hey, I think I like the altitude up here." She looked at Iris and Savannah. "Now if you gals wear your flats tonight, I'll actually look tall." She continued to walk back and forth in front of a mirror in the high-heeled shoes, checking her image. Finally she stopped and asked Hildegard, "How much are they?"

  The clerk picked up a tag she'd removed from one of the shoes. "Only $50."

  Upon hearing the price, Margaret stumbled. Savannah reached out to steady her. "Holy cow," Margaret said. "That's more than my whole outfit cost me back home, and I bought it new."

  Savannah whispered to Margaret, "How many years ago?"

  Ignoring her, Margaret addressed the clerk suspiciously. "These are secondhand shoes?"

  "Yes, gently used; much loved."

  "And originally around $250," Iris added.

  Margaret took a deep breath. "Well, I'm sorry girls, but I love them. I must have them. They make me feel so... well... "

  "Tall?" Iris suggested, smiling.

  "Yes. I'll take them. In fact, I'll wear them." She looked from Iris to Savannah. "... if you two will spot for me."

  Iris looked confused. "Spot for you?"

  "You know, be there in case I fall off these things."

  All three women laughed.

  "So how far away is that museum?" Margaret asked as they exited the store. "Do either of you remember?"

  "It was about two blocks from the museum to where we are now, "Savannah said, "so probably about two blocks back." She laughed. "Do you think you can walk that far on those platforms?"

  "Or we could stop in here and have a cup of coffee," Iris suggested, motioning toward a small coffee house. "... and have the guys come pick us up."

  "Coffee sounds good," Margaret said. "... and so does sitting down. I don't want to walk blisters on my feet before the premiere."

  Savannah retrieved her cell phone. "I'll text Michael and ask them to meet us here when they finish their tour."

  "Or their beers," Iris said. Suddenly she stopped and shouted, "Wait!" She grabbed Margaret's arm and pulled her in the direction of another store.

  "What?" Margaret complained. "Hey, be careful, I don't want to fall from way up here."

  Iris continued to pull Margaret along. "You'll need something sparkly in your hair. Let's go see what we can find in this place."

  After several minutes, the trio emerged from the accessory store with another package.

  "I love that accent," Iris said. "You can really pull it off with that dark hair of yours."

  "You're sure it's not too... young? I am over fifty, you know."

  "Yes, I know, Maggie—way over fifty—we graduated together," Iris reminded her. "Of course, it's not too young. It's fresh... fun... "

  "It does look nice," Margaret agreed. "But... "

  "But what?" Savannah asked. "You'll look amazing tonight."

  "Yeah, but it's costing me a fortune... $50 for shoes, $15 for the sparkly hair dodad-things I may never wear again."

  "Don't be silly," Iris said. "I wear my sparkles and designer shoes to the grocery store if I want—to the dentist—around the house."

  Margaret frowned. "Around the house? Pshaw! If our kitties saw these shoes coming at them, they'd run for cover." She smiled and stretched one arm up over her head. "Hey, I might be able to reach things on the top shelf in our kitchen, though."

  ****

  "So how was the museum?" Savannah asked as the three couples headed home from their outing in San Francisco.

  "Interesting," Michael responded. "Only Craig got tired of looking at art."

  "You've seen one piece of art, you've seen them all," he complained.

  Savannah grinned. "Don't appreciate fine art, huh Craig?"

  "Fine art, maybe, but I don't get it when someone splatters paint on a canvas, draws a nose or an ear, and calls it art. I just don't get it."

  Without warning, Michael stepped lightly on the brake. "Hey, isn't that Henrietta Peyton?"

  Savannah strained to look out the car window. "Yes. Who's that she's talking to?"

  "Looks like a beggar-woman," Margaret said.

  Iris laughed. "Beggar-woman? In this ritzy neighborhood?"

  "Heck, if I was gonna beg, I'd be doing it here. This is where the money is."

  "She's probably one of the servants," Max said. "She's all covered up with that hooded thing; can't see her face. Ole Henrietta sure looks angry."

  "Yes, she does," Michael agreed. "Hey, isn't that where you spotted the gravestone, Craig?"

  "Yeah, I believe it is."

  "Strange," Savannah said. "Should we stop and offer Mrs. Peyton a ride? It's quite a walk back to the mansion."

  Michael thought about it for a moment. "Naw. I'm sure she can get a ride if she needs one. That conversation looks private. We'd better not interfere."

  Chapter 4

  It was ten minutes after seven that evening when Savannah heard a rap at the door. "Michael, would you get that, I'm washing Rags's face."

  "You're what?" Margaret asked, who, along with Max, had already stepped in.

  "Washing his face for his big debut," she said, as she continued to wipe and blot his eyes and nose gently with a damp cloth.

  "Pshaw! He's so spoiled," Margaret said.

  "And our kitties aren't?" Max asked, playfully. "Who brushes their teeth, brings them treats and toys when you've been gone for more than two hours, runs fresh water so Layla can drink from the spigot... ?"

  Margaret waved her hand in the air. "Oh, everyone does that." She quickly changed the subject. "Well, he does look nice in his pajamas."

  "Don't ruffle his fur," Savannah snapped good-naturedly, when Margaret reached out to pet the cat. Savannah faced her aunt and demanded to know, "What do you mean, pajamas?"

  "Don't you remember, Maggie? He's wearing his tuxedo tonight," Michael said. "Now what can I get you two to drink?"

  Max stepped up to the spacious counter dividing the kitchen and living room. "Do you have a plain ole beer?"

  "I'll have red wine," Margaret said. She then saw a large display of hors d'oeuvres spread over the wide counter. "Wow, have you been cooking all afternoon?"

  "Yeah, right," Savannah said. "No. This is compliments of the Peytons." She smoothed Rags's fur with the damp cloth, then stood and giggled a little. "They might join us."

  Margaret's eyes grew large. "Really. That would be interesting—the Peytons in your bungalow."

  Savannah focused on her aunt. "I love, love, love your look. It is so... you, and so attractive on you."

  Max gave his wife a gentle squeeze. "Doesn't she look great? And look how tall she is."

  Savannah smiled brightly. "Like a goddess."

  "Or a basketball player," Michael exaggerated, entering into the conversation from the other side of the counter.

  "Hi ya'll," Peter called into the room as he pushed on the slightly open door and peeked inside. He ushered Rochelle in ahead of him.

  "Hi," Savannah said, walking toward the couple. "You look gorgeous."

  "Well thank you," Peter said, grinning.

  Savannah hugged him. "You look nice, too, Peter."

  "And so do you," he said.


  Michael chuckled. "We're all beautiful. A big change from how we dressed at the beach."

  Just then Craig and Iris stepped into the room and greeted everyone. Craig generated a chuckle when he edged toward Margaret and asked, "Do I know you?"

  "Gads, do I look that different? I'm not sure that's a good thing."

  Iris put her hand on Margaret's arm. "You look stunning, Maggie. Good job." She spoke quietly, asking, "Do you like the look? How do you feel?"

  Margaret glanced around the room at the others to make sure they weren't still focused on her. She giggled a little. "I feel fabulous." She hugged Iris. "Thank you for the makeover and the new elevation." She laughed. "It's nice up here in the clouds."

  A few minutes later, Rob and Cheryl joined the jubilant group. As everyone chatted, Savannah kept a close eye on the star of the evening. Rags always enjoyed a party; crowds didn't bother him. In fact, he seemed to be born to entertain.

  "Uh-oh," Savannah said at one point, moving toward Craig when she saw him offer Rags a dollop of crab dip. "Don't feed him junk."

  "Junk? You're serving us junk?" he asked, jokingly.

  "Well, it's junk to him. We don't want him upchucking during his autograph session."

  "Is this where the party is?"

  Savannah turned in time to see Charles Peyton entering the room through the French doors. "Yes, come in and join us," she invited. She looked around behind him. "Is Mrs. Peyton with you?"

  "No, she isn't quite ready." He leaned toward her. "She had a little accident while out walking this afternoon and that threw her off schedule. She's a very scheduled woman."

  "We actually saw her this afternoon. I didn't know she was in distress or we would have stopped."

  "Oh?" he said, a surprised look on his face. "Well, the accident must have occurred after you passed her by. She's okay. Just shook up for a bit afterward, that's all." He looked around and spotted Rags, who was perched on a bar stool watching the activity. Charles smiled. "Well, look at him—he's part of the group, isn't he?"

  "He thinks he is," Savannah said, grinning.

  "Can I approach him?"

  "Certainly. He loves attention." Savannah walked with Charles toward the cat.

  "I brought him something," he said. "Nice color for him, don't you think?"

  "It's gorgeous," Savannah said, examining the deep blue harness Charles had handed her. "Oh my gosh, it has his name on it spelled out in silver. How classy is that?" She smiled at Charles. "Thank you. I was just going to put his old faded red one on him. This is great. He'll look smashing tonight."

  Charles glanced around the room. "Like the rest of his party."

  "Hello, Mr. Peyton," Margaret said upon approaching him.

  "Mrs. Sheridan," he said, with a slight bow.

  "It's Maggie."

  "Okay, Maggie. You can call me, Charles, if you want."

  Just then, Max walked up behind his wife and addressed Charles. "Mr. Peyton, I have a question. I'm sure I saw a cat this afternoon wearing Rags's harness. Do you have any idea how that could have happened?"

  Charles cocked his head and looked confused. "This one?" he asked, motioning toward the harness Savannah held in her hands.

  "No, his old one. The one that went missing last night."

  Charles laughed. "Well, that would be rather impossible, don't you think? I mean, even if Rags came in contact with a cat on the property—which is doubtful, since he was inside—how would two cats get the thing off one and onto another?"

  Max shook his head. "Heck if I know. Alls I'm saying is, it sure looked like Rags's harness racing past us this afternoon—on a large black cat."

  Before Charles could respond, he noticed Henrietta being ushered into the room. "Here's my wife," he said, reaching his hand out to her. "Hello dear. How are you feeling?"

  "Just fine." She looked around. "What a lovely party."

  "Well, your staff prepared all the goodies for us. That was sure nice of them," Savannah said.

  Henrietta waved a hand in the air. "Oh, they adore preparing for parties."

  She looks different somehow, Savannah thought. She's wearing a new hairstyle. Is it a wig? she wondered. Now that's quite a change. But her face looks... puffy. Gads, she really did hurt herself this afternoon. I wonder what happened. That eye must be black and blue, she's sure wearing a lot of make-up to cover up something. Savannah thought about asking what had happened, but decided that if Henrietta went to that much trouble to hide it, she probably didn't want to talk about it.

  After several minutes of lively chatter among friends and acquaintances, Charles announced, "We'd better mosey over to the theater."

  "Sure," Savannah said. "Just need to get Rags ready."

  Michael overheard her comment. "I'll take care of him, hon. You don't want to get fur on that dress. Where is he?"

  "He was right here on the stool," Savannah said, her eyes darting around the room. "Oh, there he is," she pointed, "begging for some of Rob's shrimp."Sure hope he didn't give him any, she said to herself. She handed Michael the new harness before disappearing into the bedroom to freshen her lipstick.

  A few more minutes had passed by the time the small group arrived at the mansion. "Cool," Margaret said, "we're going in the front door this time."

  "Doors," Max corrected. "I don't believe I've ever seen doors this big."

  "They are massive," Craig agreed. "... like at the White House, maybe, or the Parliament building, or... "

  Once they were in the great room, Rupert approached Michael and reached for Rags. "I won't let him out of my sight," he said to Savannah and Michael, loud enough for his boss to hear.

  "You'd better not let anything happen to that cat," Charles threatened under his breath before ushering the party through the house and into the theater gallery. He led Savannah and Rob to the open theater doors and pointed. "You and your party will sit down there in the reserved section. You might want to mingle before being seated—greet some of the guests as they arrive." He shrugged. "Or not. It's up to you." He turned his attention toward the gallery entrance. "There's an associate of mine; I need to speak with him. Would you please excuse me?"

  "Certainly," Savannah said.

  A moment later, Margaret caught up with her niece. "This is so exciting. I love being up where I can see everything. You know," she said more seriously, "I think I'll have lifts put in all my shoes. This is fun, except... "

  "Except what?" Savannah asked.

  "Except these are not easy to walk in."

  "Practice," Iris said, upon joining the other two women. "It takes practice."

  Suddenly Margaret grabbed Iris's arm. "There's Kevin Costner."

  "Where?"

  "Over there in the dark suit."

  Iris shook her head. "That's not Kevin Costner."

  "Sure looks like him," Margaret insisted. "Who's that he's with—holy cow, it's Jennifer Aniston. I'd recognize her pretty hair anywhere." She glanced at Savannah. "It reminds me of Vannie's hair."

  Savannah made brief eye contact with Max. "I told you we'd need blinders for her."

  "That is not Kevin Costner and that is not Jennifer Aniston, Maggie." Iris raised her eyebrows. "But I do see a movie star."

  "Where? Who?" Margaret asked, looking in the direction Iris indicated.

  "Oooh, I can't remember her name. You know who that is." She looked to Peter and Rochelle. "What's her name? Isn't she the one who played in that movie set in Australia a few years ago?"

  "By golly, it is her." Margaret grabbed Iris's arm. "I want her autograph; will you come with me?"

  "No I won't," Iris said, stubbornly. "We're here with the stars of this film; it would be tacky for us to go out asking other people for autographs."

  Her enthusiasm quashed, Margaret said, "I guess you're right." She then perked up. "Hey we're in the film, too. Well, I am and Craig is." She lifted her chin a little, saying, "After
the show, all of those people will want our autographs."

  "Sure are a lot of people here," Savannah said. "I wouldn't think there'd be so much interest in a little documentary about a cat."

  "There are millions of animal lovers in the United States," a woman standing near Savannah said. "Don't you know that? I'm sure they had to turn people away. Hey, it's about to start. Now you watch this and you'll see why there's so much interest in such films. I understand this cat is quite amazing."

  Savannah and Michael smiled at one another and then walked with the rest of their group to their reserved seats. As Savannah started to slip into her seat, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was the same woman. She said, "Those seats are reserved for the artists and stars of the film, dearie."

  Rob overheard this and grinned. He then leaned toward the woman and politely said, "Thank you, we are the artists and the cat belongs to this young lady." Once everyone in the party was seated, Rob winked at Savannah and mouthed, "I hope you enjoy the show."

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  "Closer to the stage. I have to say a few words when the film's over."

  "Break a leg," Craig said as Rob walked away.

  Margaret turned in her seat and glared at Craig. "What an awful thing to say."

  When she noticed Iris, Cheryl, and Rochelle all laughing, she asked, "What?"

  "It's okay," Iris said. "It's good luck."

  When Margaret still looked puzzled, Rochelle explained, "In theater, it's considered bad

  luck to wish someone good luck."

  "Or in horse racing," Craig added.

  "Oh," Margaret said, continuing to appear confused.

  ****

  "So what did you think?" Rob asked when he was reunited with the others ninety minutes later.

  "Well done," Michael said, reaching out to shake his hand.

  "Thanks."

  "Unbelievable," Savannah said.

  "Unbelievable good or unbelievable bad?" Rob asked, appearing a little worried.

  "Good! Very good," she said. "I hardly recognized Rags, you did such a good job of telling his story."

  "It was like a real documentary you'd see on TV with music and narration in that soothing voice," Margaret said. "It was so professional. I felt like I was at the actual movies."