by Patricia Fry
The Secret in the Whiskers
A Klepto Cat Mystery
Book 42
by Patricia Fry
The Secret in the Whiskers: A Klepto Cat Mystery
Book 42
Author: Patricia Fry
ISBN: 978-1-7348751-1-9
All rights reserved
© 2020 Matilija Press
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter One
Savannah wrapped her arms around her husband. “Thanks for helping with the dishes.” She buried her face in his neck.
After a few seconds Michael pulled away. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you crying?” He lifted her chin and asked tenderly, “What’s wrong, hon?”
“I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed,” Savannah admitted.
He grinned. “You, the original multitasking powerhouse?”
“Ha,” she mocked. “Powerhouse? Not me. Not this week. I just feel like…well, like I have too much coming at me.”
Michael frowned. “Like what? What can I help you with?” He glanced out the kitchen window. “Want me to feed the horses?”
She shook her head. “I did it earlier.” She dropped into a chair and took a ragged breath. “It’s just that Mom’s so worried about Karl and that’s upsetting. Then we have this trip coming up. I feel like I’m behind on my writing, and there just doesn’t seem to be enough time to enjoy the children these days. Oh, and Craig’s coming over in a few minutes.”
She cringed. “I’m almost afraid to find out what he wants. I’m pretty sure it has to do with Karl’s situation.” She glanced up at him. “He called when you took Lexie out a while ago. Mom’s on her way back from Auntie’s with the kids. She wants to hear what he has to say.”
“Do you expect bad news? Why, hon? What did the detective say?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what he’s going to tell us. I’m just concerned for Mom and for Karl. The way things are going, Karl may be convicted of something he didn’t do, all because he chose to overprotect his delinquent son. Mom will be heartbroken. She really does care for Karl.” Savannah took a deep breath. “On top of all that, this afternoon I received a frantic call from Jeannie.”
“Jeannie?”
“You know, the gal who has Rags’s mother. I visited her in that prison facility a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yeah, taking the rap for something her husband did,” Michael groused. “How any man could do that and still call himself a man…” He shook his head and eased into a chair across from Savannah, asking in a calmer voice, “What did she say to upset you? We’re still going up to Oregon for the grand opening of their antique store, aren’t we, or have those plans changed?”
She shook her head, then nodded. “Maybe slightly. We’re still going, but Jeannie wanted to warn us that things might be a little chaotic. She and her sister, Pam, finally took over their mother’s home. I guess they had to have a marshal escort one of the tenants out, and now they think they’ve been robbed. There are things she and Pam remember being in the house that are gone. They’re most upset about a painting that meant a lot to their mother. They’d planned to make it sort of the trademark or centerpiece for their business.”
“Do they think the tenant did something with it—you know, maybe put it in a closet or something?” Michael suggested.
Savannah thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know. According to Jeannie, the tenant admitted that someone might have taken some things. She claims she came home one evening and found the front door open.”
“Did the tenant call the police?” Michael asked. “Did they fill out a report? Hopefully the painting was insured.”
Savannah shook her head. “I didn’t get many details because we didn’t talk long. Jeannie seemed kind of distracted.” She looked at him. “Anyway, how do you put a price on an heirloom?” She let out a sigh. “Michael, I don’t know what sort of mess we’ll be walking into up there.”
“So we’re still going?” he asked. “They haven’t cancelled their event?”
“Yes. We’re still going. I’d like to leave Monday or Tuesday, if that’s okay with you. The grand opening is Friday, and it sounds like they’re going to need some help and maybe a little support.”
“Sure,” he agreed. “I’ve taken the week off anyway, and I was looking forward to a little trip with the kids. So you want to leave Monday? That’s cutting it a little close. Can you be ready by then?”
“Well, that’s part of my anxiety—this rush to get things done.” She blew out a long breath. “I just hope things aren’t too…” she started. “Oh, I don’t know, Michael. I guess I want it all. I want to go places and do things, but right now—in this moment—I just want my slow-paced, sweet life back. I’m tired of all the chaos and trouble.”
When the doorbell rang, she stood up and walked swiftly toward the living room, mumbling, “Chaos and trouble. Chaos and trouble. That should be my middle name.”
Michael grinned at his wife and followed her into the living room.
Savannah opened the door to find Craig helping Gladys lift the stroller onto the porch. She smiled and called out to the children, “Hi, guys. Did you have a nice walk?”
“Auntie jiggle!” Two-year-old Teddy chirped.
“What?” Michael asked. “Auntie jiggles?” He looked at Gladys. “What does that mean? Was Maggie dancing or something?”
“Auntie made us Jigglers,” Lily explained. “You know, Daddy, that squishy Jell-O you hold in your hand and eat.”
Teddy looked wide-eyed and giggled. “I eat jiggle.”
Michael picked up the toddler. “Was it good?”
Teddy rubbed his tummy and smiled. “Mmmm.”
Michael laughed and kissed the boy. “Yup. I taste the jiggle. Cherry?” he asked.
“Red,” Teddy responded. “Red jiggle.”
Gladys shivered as they walked into the house. “Oooh, we left Maggie’s just in time. It’s starting to get chilly out there.”
“Yes, it’s that time of day,” Savannah confirmed. She hugged the detective. “Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea, water, coffee?”
“Coffee,” he said. “And you might want to join me.”
She frowned. “What?”
He winked and motioned for her to scurry on into the kitchen.
****
“Please, Vannie,” Gladys begged twenty minutes later as the foursome discussed Karl Sanders’s fate. “This may be his only chance. Like Craig said, time could be running out for the hit-and-run victim. If he dies, there’s no one who can clear Karl of that awful crime.” She fought back tears. “Karl could die in prison for something he didn’t do.”
Savannah sighed deeply. “So, Craig, you believe that man’s still alive? What makes you think so?”
“And what do you see as Rags’s role in this?” Michael asked, running his hand over the cat when he walked up to him.
“Well…” Craig stalled, “it’s a hunch.” Before anyone could respond, he added, “And I have a pretty good nose for these things.” He cleared his throat and coughed. “It’s not public yet, but we found a few things yesterday, when we arrested those fools, that support my gut feeling.” With a grin of satisfaction, he said, “Dang, it felt good to catch up with those hoodlums. What an arrogant misfit that Daryl Sanders is. He’s still screaming that he didn’t do nothin’ and it was probably his father who hit that guy.”
Mimicking the kid, Craig said, “It was his father’s car,
after all.” He glanced around the room and continued, “The jerk said, ‘You check and you’ll see it’s in his name, not mine. He must have hit that guy, not me.’” Craig shook his head. “What a….” He looked at the others and changed his tone. “Anyway, I want real bad to believe the victim is still alive and, Savannah, I’d sure like to find him before he dies of starvation or exposure or something.”
“And you think Rags can help?” she asked. “He doesn’t even know the man. Why would he care?” When Craig hesitated, she added, “We know he’ll search to find someone he’s fond of, but…”
“And someone he doesn’t know who’s in trouble,” Craig said. He stared down at his hands before adding, “We’ve all seen him lead us to a random victim. Look at the risk he took to save that little baby who was wandering around on the balcony of that apartment building last year. He didn’t know her. Nor did he know that retired teacher who went missing, or some of the others he has managed to save.” He looked at Savannah. “I’m convinced that if we take the cat to the general area where I believe the guy was left, he will find him. Rags will find him.”
Michael leaned forward and asked, “You say you have an idea where to look; why aren’t the police out there saturating that area? If he’s there, they should be able to find him.”
“Been there, done that,” Craig grumbled. “They’re convinced he isn’t there.” He winced. “There may have been a lottery ticket involved, you know.”
“A lottery ticket?” Michael questioned.
Craig nodded. “Yeah, if the victim is who we think it is, he had left home to buy some scratch-offs. The police captain speculates that the victim hit it big and skipped town to enjoy his wealth. They’re off in a different direction checking into that possibility.”
Craig shook his head. “I don’t buy it. When they called off the search, that’s when I shifted into high gear.” He looked at Rags. “I’d really like to bring out my secret weapon and blow a huge hole in their theory.”
“Where do you think he is?” Savannah asked.
Craig glanced around at the others. “We found Sanders and his two friends in an abandoned industrial area. They’d set up housekeeping, if you’d call it that, in a corner of the most secluded building. There was evidence that they had a fourth person in there—someone who was bedridden or maybe restrained, but he or she wasn’t there when we made our hit.”
When the others looked confused, he said, “You know, we raided the place. They may have been tipped off, which is a possibility, since their belongings were at a minimum. It was like they’d started to move out. If they were spooked, they may have moved the victim.” He tightened his lips and said, “Or he could have died, in which case we’ll be looking for a body.”
“Do you know who you’re looking for?” Michael asked.
Craig nodded. “Aaron Baker. That’s the most-probable-case scenario. Mrs. Baker said her husband left the house that evening shortly before the accident. He walked to a local mini-mart to buy a few scratch-offs. That, we have confirmed. He does that fairly often, and the clerk knows him. He was evidently hit on his way back home. Or, like the captain says, he hit it big with his lottery ticket and took the first flight to Cancun.”
“If that were the case,” Savannah asked, “do you have another possible victim?”
Craig shrugged. “A random vagrant, perhaps. Or it could be another man, who disappeared a few days earlier in that same area, named Efrain Acosta. But my money’s on it being Baker. His wife says he had this dream that he’d win enough in the lottery to move his family out of the slums. I guess one of his kids has some sort of respiratory problem, and he’d like to get her away from the pollution and out into the fresh air.”
He smiled. “Seems like a nice young family. They also take care of an elderly grandfather. Hers, I think.” He took a breath and made eye contact with Michael, then Savannah. “I’d really like to find that man and deliver him home to his family. The sooner, the better.”
“Are you sure it isn’t wishful thinking that he’s still alive, Craig?” Savannah suggested.
Craig was silent for a moment, then said, “Hey, why don’t you call your psycho—I mean psychic friend, Rochelle? Let’s see what she has to say.”
Savannah grinned. “So, not only do you want Rags help, you’re also willing to call on a psychic? Craig, I’m surprised at you.”
“Don’t judge, Savannah,” he scolded playfully. He glanced at his watch. “Let’s call her and just ask. She can either tell us something or she can’t. I don’t want to leave any stone unturned.”
“Okay,” Savannah agreed, picking up her phone. “Hi, Rochelle, it’s Savannah. How are you?”
“Great!” Rochelle said. “How nice to hear from you. Is everything okay up there?”
“Sure is. We just miss you.”
“We’ll see you this weekend,” Rochelle said in a sing-song voice. She asked, “Your plans haven’t changed, have they?”
“No,” Savannah assured her. “We’re really looking forward to it.” When she saw Craig motioning for her to get to the point, she said, “Rochelle, I’m actually on a mission tonight.”
“Oh? Are you selling Girl Scout cookies?”
Savannah laughed. “No cookies.”
The detective frowned impatiently.
“Listen Rochelle, Craig’s working on a case in the city there and he wonders if you have a sense about an aspect of it.”
“Not that awful hit-and-run that occurred a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes,” Savannah said, wide-eyed. “You know about it?”
“It’s been haunting me,” Rochelle said quietly.
“Haunting you? How?” Savannah asked.
Craig leaned forward in his chair and focused on Savannah.
“Well, we know the Baker family,” Rochelle explained, “and I feel so awful for them. They’re the nicest people.”
“How do you know them?” Savannah asked.
“They attend our church. One of their daughters is Simon’s age. He also knows her from school.”
“Interesting,” Savannah mumbled. “Well, Rochelle, what Craig wants to know is your thoughts or insight about Mr. Baker. Do you get a sense as to where he is or how he is?”
Rochelle was quiet for a moment, then said, “Yes, actually. I talked about this to a police officer I know earlier this afternoon, but he wasn’t very receptive. Is Craig looking for Aaron?”
“Yes, rather desperately, actually. He wants to use Rags. They’ve picked up the creepy kids who are thought to have hit and then kidnapped Mr. Baker, but I’m sure they can’t hold them for long without Mr. Baker’s testimony. What do you see, Rochelle—anything?”
“Yes,” she said excitedly. “As I told that policeman just yesterday, he’s in a small dark space. There are cats around…”
“Cats?” Savannah questioned. She said to Craig, “Rochelle sees cats.”
Craig nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, there are definitely cats in and among those abandoned buildings. I saw them scattering right and left.”
At the same time, Rochelle said, “There are a lot of cats. I was seeing the cats with him, but now I don’t quite so much. He’s been moved and the cats can’t get to him as easily.” She spoke more quietly. “His fate has been sealed. I believe he’s been entombed.” Rochelle paused, then said, “Savannah, he’s running out of time.”
Savannah reported to the others, “She says he’s running out of time.”
Gladys gasped.
Craig leaped from his chair and reached for Savannah’s phone. “Let me talk to her. Hi, Rochelle, it’s Craig Sledge. Listen, can you see anything—anything at all that gives a clue as to where he is?”
“Hi, Craig. I’m glad you’re on the case. As I told Savannah, Aaron has been moved. The cats know where he is, but they probably won’t tell you.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “They might tell Rags. Take Rags out to that place where they were holding him. Like I said, they’ve mov
ed him, but he’s still on that property.”
“Yes, we’re talking about taking Rags,” Craig said. “So what can you tell me about where he is now?”
“It’s isolated…um…hidden…camouflaged. He’s inside…it’s like a vault.”
“Underground?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. Craig, you have to find him, and quickly. This has been very difficult for him.”
“Rochelle, can you give me a better clue? We don’t have any time to waste. What exactly do you see?”
“As you may know, Craig, I’m not a robot or a computer. The visions that come to me are often vague, but let me concentrate for a moment.” Minutes later, she said, “Blue. I see a splash of sky-blue paint. He’s in a locker of some sort—like you’d find in a meat market or a grocery store, but it’s not obvious. You’ll have to dig to find it.”
“So he is underground,” Craig said impatiently.
“No. No he’s not. The…um…chamber is above ground, but covered up.” She took a couple of quick breaths. “Look for the cats. They might be staying close to him.” Rochelle spoke more deliberately. “Follow the cats and look beneath the debris.” More urgently, she said, “Hurry, Craig. Please hurry.”
“Thanks, Rochelle. I will.” Craig ended the call and handed Savannah her phone. “Can you pack his bag? I have a chartered plane waiting for us.”
Savannah looked to Michael for his reaction. He simply stared back at her.
“You don’t have plans do you?” Craig asked.
“Nothing concrete,” Savannah said, “until the weekend. The Whitcombs are coming up with Adam, then we have a road trip planned to Oregon on Monday.” She looked at her mother.
“We’ll be okay,” Gladys said. “I’ll take care of the children. Just go, will you? I want you to find that poor man. As far as we know he’s the only one who can exonerate Karl.”
“Okay,” Savannah said, walking toward her bedroom.
“I’ll get the cat’s things together,” Michael offered.
