A Whisker of Truth

by Patricia Fry

  Once the others were seated, Alison slipped into the backseat. “Okay, let’s go get the mangy thing.”

  Savannah’s hands trembled as she started the car. She wasn’t sure she could think clearly enough to maneuver through the unfamiliar streets and she willed herself to concentrate. I just have to find a way to stop Alison, to keep her from following through with this plan. Someone’s bound to get hurt. But how? What can Rob and I do against that darned gun she’s waving around? She’s crazed. I doubt that any effort to reason with her would work. As she pulled into the Whitcomb’s driveway and stopped the car, Savannah felt the hard steel of the pistol barrel against her temple.

  “Go get him and don’t say a word to anyone about anything,” Alison growled. “Do you hear me? Disobey me and your cute agent here gets it.”

  Savannah closed her eyes long enough to recite a brief prayer, then she nodded. She slid out of the car and entered the Whitcomb home, returning promptly with Rags in her arms.

  “Did you say anything to anyone?” Alison blurted

  Savannah assured her, “No. They don’t even know I came in. They’re in the boy’s bedroom. I heard them talking.”

  “What boy?” Alison snapped.

  “They’re taking care of him this week,” Savannah explained.

  Alison chortled. “Yeah,” she snarled, “sounds like Shelly—Ms. Goody-two-shoes.” She demanded, “Now drive back to the building, and no funny business, you hear?”

  “I don’t know what you have in mind,” Savannah said, “but I don’t have Rags’s harness and leash. I have no control over him without it.”

  “No worries,” Alison said, holding up her large leather purse. “I wasn’t going to take him without it. Thank you very much for leaving it in your booth where I could get my hands on it.” She then said, “Hey, toss him back here and I’ll put it on him.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Savannah warned. “He does bite and scratch.”

  Alison pulled back. “Oh. Well, then, no. Keep him up there. You can put it on him when we get there. ”

  Savannah shot a frantic look at Rob and realized, Gads, he’s as frightened as I am.

  Once they’d arrived at the Bamford Building, Alison said, “Now put that contraption on the cat. I want him to go where I say, not willy-nilly all over the place.” She watched as Savannah fastened the harness on Rags, then she said, “Okay now, get out. We’re going to walk together to the front door.”

  “You mean break in?” Savannah asked. “You’ll never get away with it.”

  “Yeah?” she challenged. “Who’s going to tell? They may never find you two after they blow up the building.” She laughed. “The two of you, along with many secrets, will become minutia.” She laughed again. “Yeah, minutia—insignificant indefinable pieces of dust, and I’ll be long gone using my latest alias and with plenty of money to take me far, far away.”

  Savannah cringed, hearing Alison’s wicked laughter. “You’re…” Savannah started. “You’re evil and not very bright,”

  Rob nudged Savannah to shush her.

  “I’m not very bright?” Alison challenged. “Hey, smart girl, looky here.” She held something in her hand. “Who’s got the key to the building? Yeah, I got it from that guy in charge. He just doesn’t know it.”

  Savannah glanced at Rob, who remained quiet. He looks like he’s going to faint, she thought. Opportunity. We have to be aware of any opportunity to overtake that nutcase. She watched Alison sling the large leather bag over one shoulder and wondered what she had in there.

  Once they reached the front door, Alison handed Rob the key. She waved the pistol at him. “Unlock it and no funny business.” She shined a flashlight at the keyhole. “Good job,” she said, motioning for the two of them to step inside ahead of her

  . She ordered them to walk across the hall to the opening they thought Rags had escaped into, and she handed Savannah a small camera. “Put it on the cat,” she demanded. She then instructed Savannah to force Rags into the duct. At the same time, she tapped on her phone screen, attempting to access the video the camera would record.

  “He doesn’t want to go in there,” Savannah said. “He won’t go.”

  Alison pointed the gun at her and threatened, “You’d better make sure he does.” She shined the light into the duct ahead of Rags. “Now put him in there.”

  Savannah glanced frantically at Rob and placed Rags inside the duct again. He seemed to be intrigued by the light and he moved forward. She held the end of the leash.

  “Wait!” Alison hissed minutes later. “I think I see it. By God, it is in there. That’s it. He’s right there now. How far do you think he’s in?” She walked what she estimated to be the length of the leash and announced, “Here. We’ll go in right here.” She motioned for Rob to join her.

  Standing back a little, with her gun pointed at him, she said, “Open that bag there and pull out the sledgehammer.” When he hesitated, she said, “Well, don’t stand there looking dumber than dumb; pick it up, idiot! You’re going to use it to break through the wall. And buddy, don’t get any ideas about turning it on me. You’re nothing to me. I have no problem shooting a hole in you the size of Florida. So just do as I say.”

  “Yeah, you’re gonna kill us anyway,” Rob said.

  “Maybe not,” she said sweetly. As if her mood had an on-and-off switch, she demanded, “Now start breaking through that wall. I don’t have all night.”

  Chapter Seven

  Meanwhile, back at the Whitcombs, Rochelle said, “I wonder where Savannah is. I thought she’d be back by now. Oh, maybe she went to her room.”

  Peter nodded and sat down with the newspaper.

  Rochelle returned almost immediately. “Peter, she’s not there and…”

  “And what?” he asked rather impatiently.

  “Rags is gone.”

  “Rags is gone?” he asked, laying the newspaper across his lap. “She must have come back and gotten him. But why?” he asked, not expecting a response. He studied Rochelle’s face for a few moments and said, “I’ll call her cell.” Seconds later, he announced, “Voicemail.” Just then his phone chimed. “I don’t know this number,” he complained. He started to dismiss it, but decided to answer. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Whitcomb?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Detective Martinez. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m trying to get in touch with Mrs. Ivey.”

  “We are too,” Peter said. “We’re starting to get a little worried because she and the cat are both gone and she isn’t answering her phone.”

  “So you don’t know where she is?” he asked.

  “Well, she drove Rob back to get his car at the Bamford Building. She should have been back at least twenty or thirty minutes ago, but we can’t figure out what happened to the cat.”

  “She didn’t take him with her?”

  “No.” Peter said, “unless she came back and got him without us knowing.”

  “Could he be hiding in the house someplace?” the detective suggested.

  “I doubt it. I closed him in his pen myself a short while after she left.”

  The detective paused. “Well, I’m not sure what to do now. I wanted to let her know that we had to release Alison Drummond. Mrs. Ivey was going to meet me out at the Bamford Building in the morning, but with Ms. Drummond on the loose, and not knowing what she might do, I thought we should act on my hunch this evening.”

  “Oh! Well, I can give her the message when she returns. Really, she should be back any time. I can’t imagine where she would have gone after she dropped Rob off, or why she may have come back here to get the cat.” Peter paused. “Something’s just not adding up. The more I think about it, the more concerned I am.”

  “Hmmm,” the detective muttered, finally saying, “I agree. Something’s not right. I’ll have someone retrace her steps to see if she’s gotten herself into some sort of predicament. If she is with the cat, that’s a possibility,
from what I hear of his reputation.” Before Peter could respond, Detective Martinez said, “Hey, Mr. Whitcomb, can you describe her car for me, as well as Rob’s?”

  “Uh, yeah, hers is a large white SUV and his, I believe, is a silver Toyota four-door, if I recall—or maybe a Honda. But silver. It could actually be a rental. He lives in Southern California, so if he flew up, he could be driving a rental.”

  “Okay, thanks. Let me know if you hear from them, okay?”

  After ending the call, Martinez called out, “Hey, Marsh, Levens, wanna humor me this evening?”

  “What do you need, Detective?” Adam Marsh asked. Officer Levens joined him.

  “I want to go out to the Bamford Building and check on something.” When the two officers looked puzzled, he said, “We may have a missing-person case brewing.”

  “Okay,” Levens said, “let’s roll.”

  “Those are their cars,” the detective said into his radio when they arrived at the old building. “Mrs. Ivey’s car and her agent’s. Do you see them anywhere?”

  “Do you want us to use our spotlights?” Levens asked from the cruiser he shared with Marsh.

  “Not yet,” Martinez said. “Let’s go in easy-like. We don’t know what we’re facing.”

  “Hey, Detective,” Levens responded, “isn’t that the Drummond woman’s vehicle off to the right? I can see her derogatory bumper sticker in the light there.”

  “Yeah, could be,” he said. He spoke more quietly. “Hey, there’s a cat. See if you can get that cat. He’s wearing a leash, so he probably isn’t supposed to be running loose.” He looked more closely. “Looks like Mrs. Ivey’s cat. I wonder what he’s doing out here all by himself like this.”

  “Oh no,” Levens said, when he caught a glimpse of Rags. “Look out!” he shouted.

  “What’s wrong?” the detective asked from inside his car.

  “An owl dive-bombed the cat.” He hesitated and said, “Well, I thought he was going to attack. It’s a damn big owl.”

  “Levens, go get the cat,” the detective said, shutting off the engine and easing out of his car. “I’ll watch out for the owl.”

  When the officer walked toward the cat, the owl buzzed his head, causing him to duck. “Holy mackerel,” Levens said, grabbing Rags and carrying him to his car. He deposited the cat in the backseat.

  The detective approached, looked through the window at Rags, and asked, “When’s the last time you had a cat in your patrol car?”

  “This is a first.” Levens looked up into the sky. “What’s up with that owl, do you know?”

  The detective nodded. “Yeah, evidently while the cat was locked up, he made friends with an owl. Could be the same one, I guess.”

  Marsh stared out into the night. “Incredible.” He looked around. “I wonder where Mrs. Ivey is and why the cat’s out here running loose. Shall we go snoop around the building?”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” the detective agreed.

  “What the…?” Marsh grumbled. He pointed. “Martinez, look!”

  “Good God,” the detective said. “That’s Mrs. Ivey coming out of the building. She looks terrified.”

  “Who’s that with her?” Marsh asked.

  “I’m not sure.” The detective put his hand on his gun and waited and watched. He whispered, “They dove into that bush. I think I’ll approach. Cover me.” Before he could make his move, Alison Drummond emerged from the building brandishing a pistol. She hugged a leather pouch to her with her other arm.

  “Where are you?” she snarled. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

  The crouching detective observed for a few seconds, then he stood to make his move. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a grey streak race past him, a blue leash trailing behind. When Alison saw Rags coming at her, she threw the pouch at him, then aimed her gun at him and prepared to fire. At the same time, something flew at her from above and landed on her head, digging its talons into her scalp. Alison screeched at the top of her lungs and fell to the ground in a heap.

  Rob ran from the shelter of the shrub and picked up the gun, holding it on the stricken woman. Savannah emerged just as the big owl flew away, leaving streams of blood trickling down the side of Alison’s head.

  “Rags,” Savannah cried, picking him up. When she saw the detective and two officers approaching, she said, “Oh my gosh, did you see that? That was awful.”

  “Yeah, that owl saved your cat. Unbelievable,” Detective Martinez said, still shaken.

  “There’s no explaining animal behavior,” Rob said quietly. “Animals are just awesome. That’s all. Awesome.”

  When they heard a soft hoot, they all looked up and saw the owl sitting at the top of a utility pole. He swooped down one more time, just grazing Rags’s head with one wing, then he flew off and out of sight.

  “Thank you,” Savannah called, her voice heavy with emotion.

  All they heard was a deep, soft hoot.

  “Well,” the detective sighed, “let’s get paramedics out here.” He turned to Savannah and Rob. “What’s the deal, anyway, do you know? Was she holding you hostage?”

  “Oh, yes,” Savannah said. “She ordered me to make Rags go into the wall and find that money. She knew about the money her grandfather had hidden in the building and she’s been trying to find it for months, maybe years.”

  Rob laughed, “Yeah, but when she saw how much of it was left, she about flipped.” The others looked at him. “Evidently rats have been making nests out of it. There didn’t look to be much money after all. Maybe a few hundred dollars.”

  “I wonder where it came from,” Savannah said. “Do you know of any unsolved burglaries occurring in the fifties or sixties?”

  The detective shook his head. “I’ll go through the database, and see what I can find. It could be that it was her grandfather’s legitimate savings and he thought it would be safer to keep it in the building than in a bank or under a mattress.”

  “Do you mean she was going to kill for money that might have legitimately been hers?” Savannah asked.

  Alison strained to speak. “What? Do you mean I went through all of this for nothing?” She moaned and held her head. “I’ve been planning my life around a mere few hundred dollars? Damn rats.”

  “No worries,” the detective said, “you’ll have room and board for a very long time.”

  “Huh?” She demanded, “What are you talking about?”

  “Kidnapping, holding hostages, attempted murder, threats, breaking and entering, endangering an animal…oh yeah, lady, you’ll be in a nice cell for many years if I have anything to say about it.”

  “It’s all that cat’s fault,” Alison growled. “That stupid, stupid cat.”

  Savannah chuckled. When Alison glared up at her, Savannah said, “He outsmarted you, didn’t he?”

  ◆◆◆

  “Martinez,” Officer Marsh called minutes later from the Bamford Building’s doorway, “I think you’ll want to see this.”

  When the detective joined him inside, the officer said, “She started the demolition process. I guess the cat showed her where the money was and she blasted through the wall with a sledgehammer.”

  “No kidding?” When the detective drew near, he muttered, “Holy mackerel. She really did some damage. Good thing the building’s coming down anyway.”

  “Maybe not,” the officer said.

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll bet it will get another stay of execution.”

  “Why?” the detective asked.

  “Because it appears there’s an open murder case that’ll have to be handled first.”

  “In this building?” Martinez asked.

  “Yeah, see that, there?” Marsh pointed. “Looks like we’ve got a body.”

  “The heck,” Martinez said, scrutinizing what appeared to be human remains. “Hey, there’s the sledgehammer. Let’s see if we can get closer. Maybe it’s just a damn mannequin or something.” After several minutes, however, he
confirmed, “Yeah, it’s human. Better call the coroner.”

  “Boss,” Marsh said, approaching the detective. “Do you need Mrs. Ivey and her agent to stay or can I cut them loose?”

  “Yeah,” Martinez said, “please ask them to come in here. I won’t keep them long. I know they’re tired.” He looked down at the corpse and shook his head. “It’s been a long and grueling day for them.” He asked, “How’s Ms. Drummond?”