A Whisker of Truth

by Patricia Fry

  “Sure, I do. Good to see you again. You’re practicing here in the city?”

  He winced. “Oh, I don’t like to call it that. I’m beyond practicing; now I actually know what I’m doing.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Well, let’s see what your chip says, Rags,” he crooned, moving closer. He winked at Savannah. “So tell me you’re not married with kids and that you’d love to go out with me.”

  “Well,” Savannah stalled, “I am very happily married with kids. In fact, my husband is also a veterinarian.”

  Without another word, Dr. Stillman read the chip and announced, “Well, it looks like the cat here belongs to a Barbara Heightsman in Milwaukee…”

  “What?” Savannah shrieked. When she saw the veterinarian’s eyes dancing with mischief she carped. “Not funny.”

  He laughed. “Okay, yes, I can confirm this mangy cat belongs to this beautiful woman, Savannah Jordan Ivey. Oh, you live in Hammond now, do you?”

  She nodded and muttered, “Thank you.”

  “Let’s see your driver’s license,” the clerk said.

  When she looked at the detective, he said, “Protocol.” He then thanked the veterinarian for coming and laid a document in front of Savannah. “Now, let’s have you sign a complaint. You want to do that, don’t you?”

  Savannah nodded. “I certainly do. Will it take long?” She whined, “I’m hungry and I’m sure Rags is too.”

  “I thought you said you had food for him. Didn’t I see him eating?”

  “Yes, kibbles. He needs his meat and potatoes,” she joked.

  “I’ll go get him something,” Peter offered. “What kind does he like?”

  “How about if we also pick up some food for us. Is pizza okay?” Rochelle asked.

  “Sure,” Savannah agreed. “I haven’t had pizza in ages. Make it meaty and cheesy.”

  “Will do,” Peter said, winking. He looked at Rob. “You’ll join us, won’t you? We can go back to the house and eat it.”

  “Sure,” Rob said. He took money out of his wallet and handed it to Peter. “Let me help pay for it.”

  “As for Rags’s dinner,” Savannah said, “I still have a can or two of cat food at your house.”

  Rochelle patted Savannah’s arm. “Okay, you go sign those papers. We’ll be back shortly to get you.”

  “Hey, this won’t take long,” the detective said, “if you’d like to wait. Why don’t you call the order in? You’ll be free to go pick it up in, say, ten minutes.”

  “Okay,” Peter agreed, taking his phone out of his pocket and walking out into the lobby.

  Meanwhile, Rochelle started to turn and follow Peter, but something caught her attention. She pointed at a document on the desktop. “That looks like…”

  The detective glanced up at her from his desk.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be reading over your shoulder.”

  “No, really,” he said, “I’ve been trying to figure out what it is—what it means. I found it in what appeared to be the room Alison Drummond was using back at the Browns’ place.”

  Rochelle cleared her throat. “Well, it looks like part of the architectural plans for the Bamford Building.”

  The detective studied it again. “Then what is this, do you suppose?”

  Rochelle moved closer. She turned the diagram around, then, remembering something, she pulled a sheet of paper from her purse and laid it next to the diagram on the desk.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “That’s the plans for the building after the fire—the most recent set of plans. It’s the same except for…” she started.

  “This area over here,” the detective said. “I wonder what it means and why Ms. Drummond had it.”

  “Wait,” Savannah said. “That’s in the area where we thought Rags went into the wall. We’re actually pretty sure he did, because we heard him in there.” She looked up at him, adding, “And that’s where we saw the heart and cross symbol.”

  Rochelle pointed at the document on the desktop. “There are dollar signs on that copy.” She thought of something. “You know, that’s also the area where we saw that…that witch looking at the building from the outside, right?”

  Savannah nodded. “Yes, she was digging. And it’s where I found her shoe buckle.”

  The detective looked at the two women with interest.

  “Money, money,” Savannah muttered. “Someone found money straps in that area.”

  Rochelle let out a sigh. “Do you suppose there’s money stashed in the wall and Rags found it?”

  Savannah gasped. “I think that’s a possibility, Rochelle.”

  “But how would Ms. Drummond know about it? That doesn’t make sense, does it?” the detective asked.

  “Perfect sense,” Rochelle said. “Her father and her grandfather were both members of the men’s club that operated there in the forties, fifties, sixties, and they were both criminals and died in prison. Maybe they hid money in there and told Alison about it.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Savannah said. When the others looked at her with interest, she explained, “She read about it in her grandfather’s journal.”

  “What?” Rochelle exclaimed. “A journal?

  “Yes, Rags found it. We happened to read one entry and it hinted at hidden money in the same place as they stashed a body—at least that’s what I got from the entry.” She looked into space and spoke more slowly. “No wonder she kept having the demolition stopped. She was trying to buy time in order to find the money.”

  “And that’s why she’s been snooping around the building,” Rochelle said.

  “She stopped the demolition?” the detective asked. He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve wondered why that has been halted so many times. This has been going on for years. It’s that woman? She must have quite a lawyer.”

  “I can’t believe one voice is so powerful here in the city,” Rob said.

  “That’s not part of the city,” the detective said. “That building’s in a hamlet of the city.”

  “Oh, that makes more sense,” Savannah said.

  Rob agreed.

  “Yeah, the council isn’t very well organized and their attorney isn’t a match for her attorney,” Detective Martinez said. “Actually, I didn’t know that this was all coming from one woman—I thought the attorney was representing several voices. It was speculated that he had a reason for wanting the building to stay.”

  “He does,” Rob said. When the others looked at him, he said, “Someone’s paying him to fight the demolition.”

  “So you think she’s just stalling the inevitable until she can get into that place and find the money, then she won’t care what happens to the building after that?” Peter asked.

  “I suppose,” the detective agreed. “But she can’t just barge in and start searching. How would she do that legitimately? And how would she do it physically?”

  “Her friend Chad looks pretty agile,” Peter said. “He told me he’s into wall-climbing, surfing, and he lifts weights.”

  “And then there’s Rags,” Rob said. “I’ll bet she took the cat because she thought he could help her find the money. When she heard you talking about him getting lost in the wall, that might have triggered her idea to use him.”

  “But how did she get her hands on him? I sure couldn’t find him,” Savannah complained.

  “It appears as though she’s been studying that old building for a while. She may know something about it that no one else does,” Rochelle suggested.

  Savannah hugged Rags to her. “Poor Rags. She was just going to use him and discard him—maybe leave him in the building when the demolition people came.” She buried her face in his fur. “That would have been awful.” She glanced at the detective, then slumped in her chair. “Oh no.”

  “What, Mrs. Ivey?” the detective asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ve seen that look before.”

  “What lo
ok?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “You think Rags can help you with this case, don’t you? You’re going to ask me if you can use Rags. Oh yes, I’ve seen that look many times on Detective Craig Sledge’s face.”

  The detective began to laugh. “Yes, that’s exactly what I had in mind. Can you think of any way we might use the cat to find out what that woman’s up to?”

  When Savannah didn’t respond, he said, “Well, be thinking about it. I’ll call Sledge and get his feedback, as well.” He stood up and suggested, “Hey, you all go eat your dinner and get a good night’s sleep. Let’s regroup in the morning. I’ll be busy stopping the demolition.” He looked at Savannah. “And I guess I’d better go back to the Browns’ home and confiscate that old journal.”

  ◆◆◆

  “What’s wrong, Peter?” Rochelle asked when she saw him frowning down at his phone later that evening. “Aren’t you hungry? You’ve only eaten two slices of pizza.”

  “Yeah, I’ll have one more. I just noticed a missed call. I think it’s from the social worker.” He put the phone up to his ear and listened to the voicemail. Once he’d finished, he continued to stare at his phone, then he looked across the table at Rochelle and said quietly, “Well, are you ready to become a mother?”

  “What? Am I pregnant?” she quipped.

  Savannah giggled. “Maybe it’s him. Hey Peter, are you going to have a baby?”

  “No.” he said using a serious tone. “They want us to take Simon. It’s rather irregular, but these are irregular times. We checked out and they wondered if we can give Simon at least a temporary home.”

  Rochelle became solemn. “Are you serious? Just like that? No red tape or anything?”

  “I guess not, but it isn’t a commitment—not yet. It’s a sort of trial run to see if we’re a match. I’m not even sure we can tame the boy. He’s been on the streets for a while. Does he really want a home and the responsibility of belonging to a family? What if he runs away from us?”

  Rochelle murmured, “He wants a home. Don’t you see how happy he is to be with us?”

  “Oh yes,” Savannah agreed. “That little boy needs and seems to want a family who loves him.”

  Everyone was quiet for a while, then Peter asked Rochelle, “Aren’t you going to finish your pizza?”

  She looked down at her plate and said, “Oh, I guess I lost my appetite.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want Simon?”

  “No,” she said, “I’m just too excited to eat. When can we tell him?”

  Peter wrapped his arms around her. With a huge smile on his face, he said, “Right now. Marsha, the social worker, says she’ll bring the paperwork over tomorrow.” He looked around. “Where is Simon, anyway?”

  Savannah laughed. “Last time I saw him he was in Rags’s pen with him. He’s quite the animal lover, isn’t he?”

  “Uh-oh,” Rochelle said. “I guess we’ll be adopting pets sooner rather than later.”

  Peter said, “Darn, I should have picked up some new duds for the boy. I guess I just didn’t believe he’d be staying with us so soon. We’ll have to go shopping tomorrow and get him outfitted. Let’s see, he’ll need…”

  Rochelle smiled. “No need.”

  “Huh?”

  “I picked up a few things for him today.”

  “You did?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yes, just in case he needed us. I guess he does. Yeah, I bought him some jeans, shirts, underwear, shoes, socks, toothbrush, and a pair of pajamas.”

  “You’re the best, Mrs. Whitcomb,” Peter said.

  She smiled. “I know.” She put her hand on his arm. “Let’s go tell Simon, shall we?”

  “Is there room in that pen for us?” Peter quipped, when he and Rochelle entered Savannah’s room and saw Simon and the cat lounging together inside the large pen.

  Meanwhile, Savannah offered to drive Rob to where his car was parked. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she called out to the Whitcombs.

  ◆◆◆

  When Savannah and Rob arrived at the parking lot of the Bamford Building, Rob pointed out his car and Savannah pulled up next to it. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just looking the old building over. So you think there could be something valuable hidden in there?”

  “Could be,” she said.

  “I wonder if Rags saw a stash of money when he was inside the walls.”

  “If he even was inside the walls,” she corrected. “As far as I know, no one actually saw him go into that vent or duct or whatever it is, or come out of it.”

  “Knowing your cat,” Rob said, “he probably did.” He opened the door and stepped out of the car. She climbed out and joined him.

  “Thanks for everything,” she said, giving him a quick hug.

  “Yeah, good job selling books this weekend. Would you like to do that again?”

  “All I want to do is go home,” she said. She patted his arm. “Talk to you later.”

  Before he could respond, they heard another voice. “I don’t think so.”

  Savannah turned so quickly that she momentarily lost her balance. “Alison! I thought you…”

  “Yeah, you thought they’d hold me, didn’t you? Wrong. Here I am. This is my last chance to get what’s mine, and I intend doing it tonight.” She narrowed her eyes and snarled. “Guess what, Miss Priss, your mangy cat’s going to help me do it.” She spewed an evil laugh. “Yeah, what a lucky break. I heard you tell someone about the cat, so I took one of your books and read about him. He is rather remarkable for a dumb animal.”

  Savannah could feel herself seething. She spat, “Cat’s are not dumb. You stole a book from me?” Angrier now, she continued, “You stole my cat, too, and almost killed him—he would have starved if I hadn’t found him.”

  “No matter,” Alison sneered. “He came along just in time to show me where that fortune is—my grandfather’s fortune. It’s mine now, you know. I’ve been trying to find it ever since I learned of it in my grandfather’s journal.”

  She chuckled. “You might actually get a kick out of how I found the journal.” She shook her head. “Oh, he was a clever man. Like me,” she bragged. “Yeah, I discovered it when I was cleaning out my mother’s things after she died several years ago. I don’t think she knew about it. Even the cops didn’t find it, and they went through the stuff at the family home a couple of times. I think it was Papa who hid away Grandpa’s journal so no one would find it.”

  She grinned maliciously. “Lucky for me, I did—I mean, who would have thought to look in a stack of gardening magazines to find a page here and a page there tucked into magazines on growing cymbidiums and azaleas.”

  She laughed. “The cops didn’t have the patience or the smarts that I have for finding hidden treasures. It’s my gift. Why, I once found where Uncle Charlie hid the key to his safe. Neither my uncle nor my father knew where those gold coins had gone to. For years they blamed each other, until the day Papa killed Uncle Charlie.”

  Matter-of-factly, she said, “Actually, it was self-defense, but the cops didn’t see it that way.” She laughed. “Especially when I decided to testify to what I witnessed.”

  As if she’d suddenly entered another dimension, Alison said, “Papa should never have chased off Walton. We were in love. Papa didn’t understand the age difference. I didn’t care if he was my teacher and ten years older than me. We were in love. I never forgave Papa for that. I was only fourteen at the time, but I remembered. Then when he and Uncle Charlie got into that fight…yeah, Papa was just defending himself, but I made sure he went to prison and would never interfere in my love life again.”

  She laughed. “Talk about a lucky break. I’d planned to poison the old guy—you know, my father. I’d already bought the stuff and set my plan in motion. Then I didn’t even have to use it because of that fight. Lucky, lucky break.”

  “I’d better get back,” Savannah said, moving toward her car.

  Alison
revealed a handgun. “Not so fast, girlie. You and the cat are going to help me out with a little project tonight. It’s our last chance, you know—demolition starts tomorrow; I couldn’t stay it this time. I have to find what’s mine tonight. And you’re going to help me—you and that fleabag of a cat.” She nodded toward Savannah’s car and demanded, “Get him.”

  “I don’t have Rags with me,” Savannah said.

  “Yeah, right,” Alison snarked. She pushed Savannah aside, opened the car door, and scoured the inside. “Where is he? Go get him. Now. Go get him or I’ll kill your friend here,” she said, pointing the gun at Rob. “Better yet, I’ll go with you. Get in and drive,” she said. “Rob, you sit in the front.”