Catnapped (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (10 page)

He looked around the room and then said in a serious I-mean-business tone, “Leave the surveillance work to me or the sheriff. Don’t approach anyone on your own. Your job is to keep your animals safe and report anything suspicious.” He reached into his shirt pocket. “Here, I’ll pass around my card.”

Savannah glanced over at her aunt who looked a tad sheepish. After all, what the two of them had done the day before could be considered spying and trespassing, no doubt—not to mention giving false information in order to locate someone while having ulterior motives, and badgering private citizens. She heaved a sigh when imagining what escapades were ahead.

“Why would someone take cats?” Kitty asked. “Some of them are beautiful, but others that have gone missing are—well—rather ordinary-looking. No offense, ladies.”

“Oh no, I agree,” Clarice said. “Our Samantha, while we love her to pieces, is just a run-of-the-mill shorthaired tortie. No show cat, by any means with that crooked tail. In fact, here are some pictures of Sam and some of the other missing cats.” She fumbled around in her purse and pulled out an envelope, saying, “I’ll pass them around.”

Once the photos reached Margaret, she looked at each of them and then asked, “Can we keep these?”

“Um…” Clarice glanced over at the other ladies from Ravenwood before saying, “We want them back at some point.”

“Do you have a scanner? Can you make copies?” Betty asked.

Savannah stood up. “I can do it, Auntie.” She took the envelope from her aunt and started toward the hallway.

“I’ll help.”

Savannah looked over just as Michael Ivey stood up and began walking toward her. She felt her heart flutter and she began to stutter, “Um…well sure…I guess. The office is in here.” As she walked through the door of the study, her sweater caught on the lever handle and stopped her forward motion. Michael promptly walked right into her and then quickly apologized.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said as she untangled herself.
When did I become such a klutz?
she wondered.

Gosh she smells good,
he noticed.

“I think this is the copy machine,” she said as she switched it on.

“Looks kind of like the one I have in my office.”

“So do you make copies? You know how to do all of this office stuff?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Then why did you volunteer to help?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously, a playful smile dancing at her lips.

“Truth?” he teased.

“Yes, I guess so. Unless you think I’d rather hear a lie.”

Quick-witted,
he thought.
I like that. I hope she doesn’t think I’m being too forward.
“To get a chance to talk to you.”

Savannah tore herself away from his alluring smile and faced the copy machine in hopes that he wouldn’t see her turning crimson.

“You have to wait for it to warm up, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, I suppose. She turned toward him and asked, “So what do you want to talk about?” Savannah was certain she saw
him
blushing now. She smiled.

He put his hands in his front jeans pockets and looked down. Savannah noticed several straight strands of his hair falling oh-so-attractively over his right eyebrow. He pushed them back with one hand, cleared his throat, and said, “How would you like to help me with a case? One of my techs came down sick last night and the other is out of town on a family emergency. I have a cat with what appears to be a foreign object in her stomach and I want to get to it before it goes any farther.”

“Oh, poor cat.”

“And she’s a stray, so there’s no one to ask all the vital questions of. I can do the surgery anytime you’re available, if you are able to…uh…or would like to…assist me with it.”

“Um, sure, I guess I could. I’ll check with my aunt.”

Michael looked over at the copy machine, pointed and said, “The green light’s on. I think it’s ready to go.”

“Oh, uh…copies,” Savannah stammered. “Yes. It looks like it’s ready.”

After only a few minutes, Savannah and Michael returned, and this didn’t go unnoticed by everyone.
Well, well.
Margaret thought.
It looks like those two are taking things to the next level all by themselves. Am I a matchmaker or what? And I wasn’t even trying.
She wondered if the smugness she felt on the inside was showing on the outside.

Ida was aware of the couple’s return, as well. She said, “Oh great, Georgia. Thanks.”

“It’s Savannah,” she corrected with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. A little memory-association glitch.”

A few guests chuckled.

“It happens more than you might think,” Savannah said quietly. “I’m sometimes called Atlanta or Sequoia.”

She glanced up and her eyes met Michael’s once again.
Am I staring at him or is he staring at me?
she wondered.
Is it a coincidence that every time I look in his direction, he’s looking back?

“Here are your originals.” Savannah returned the envelope to Clarice. “And here are three copies of the best shots of each cat,” she said while handing them to her aunt.

“Good. I would like to have a set of these,” Margaret said. “And Betty and Gil, you should have a set, and how about you, Rudy? Will you be involved in the recovery effort to the point where you’ll need these?”

The man shifted in his chair, seemingly not sure how to respond. Just what did these people expect him to do? It seemed to him that the options were pretty limited when it came to locating missing cats.
But then, it depends on what’s happening to them,
he reasoned. “Sure, I’ll take those pictures. Why not?”

Max cleared his throat. “Madam President, may I respond to Ms. Wilson’s question?”

“Certainly, Max. Please go ahead.”

He straightened his posture, ran his hand through his curly salt and pepper hair and looked over at Kitty. “I’d like to address your question about why people might take cats. I’ve been doing some research.” He frowned and looked around the room. “This isn’t easy to hear. It isn’t a pretty picture. But these are some of the reasons why people might steal cats.” He hesitated for a moment when he noticed a grimace on some of the women’s faces. “As unpleasant as the subject might be, I think it’s important for you all to know what you might be up against. You can’t fight something you don’t understand. And you won’t find your cats or be able to stop the catnapping if you’re barking up the wrong tree.” He chuckled and offered a quick apology for his choice of clichés.

He cleared his throat and continued, “You mentioned people taking pretty cats.” He nodded toward Kitty. “Yes, that’s one reason why someone would take a cat—because they like its looks. Some cats go missing because someone thinks they’re stray. I once kept a mother cat and her litter and raised them even though I knew where they lived. I didn’t go on the property and take the cats, of course. But when the mother cat brought her kittens to me one day, I figured she needed a safe haven from the chaos I’d witnessed on the property down the street. This was her third or fourth litter and, in my book, when someone doesn’t have their cats spayed and neutered and lets them breed indiscriminately, it’s an issue of neglect. No one ever came looking for her and her kittens, so I just played dumb. I got her spayed, found good homes for her and two of the kittens and I still have Big Boy at my place.”

Several people nodded and smiled.

Olivia gave a thumbs up.

“In bad economic times, people will take cats rather than pay the adoption fees at the shelters. Heck, someone walked out of the animal shelter over in Haley with a kitten in their pocket just last week. They want pets, but they don’t want to pay for them. Or maybe they don’t qualify—the landlord won’t authorize a pet, for example.

“Children have been known to pick up cats they find in their neighborhoods—in particular kittens. How many of you have kids who have brought home kittens?”

There were a few knowing looks and nodding heads along with hushed conversation.

“Did you do a full search for its owner?” Max asked, as he scanned the room with his dark-brown eyes under heavy brows. “Yes, typically a parent will believe their child when he or she tells them, ‘someone gave me the kitten,’ or ‘it’s lost,’ and they agree to adopt the poor kitty. Or you might do minimal checking—depending on how cute the kitten is.” He smiled over at the ladies from Ravenwood.

Then, in a more serious tone, he said, “Sometimes kids can get rowdy and they’ll grab a nice cat they see in the neighborhood and harm it. The cat might get frightened, and run so far he can’t find his way back home. I know of cats who have run away from home when the owners brought in a dog or another cat. And sometimes a good Samaritan will feed a cat that appears to be a stray and the cat decides to stay.”

Again, there was quiet conversation among the group and Max noticed a few women nodding.

“We’ve talked a little about predators—coyotes, owls, and, in some areas, wolves. But there are also dogs that chase or kill cats. We don’t have strict leash laws here, as most of you know.”

A loud rumble of voices reverberated throughout the room.

“The subject of today’s meeting, however, is people stealing cats. So that’s where we’re going to focus. By the way, Ms. Waxton is right when she says a cat is safer kept inside, and healthier, too. They live longer.”

“Just seems unnatural,” Anna said under her breath.

“There are compromises,” Max reminded her. “As Ms. Wilson mentioned, you can create wonderful safe areas for your cats who absolutely must be outdoors. I realize there are some cats that you just can’t litter train—especially when you’re dealing with ferals. That’s why I removed all the carpeting in my house and replaced it with tile flooring. But I also have outdoor enclosures for my rescue cats and my own cats. Come over to my place sometime and see the overhead runs and wire enclosures I had built for them. Mine is fairly elaborate, but you can do something similar for quite a bit less money.”

Max swept the room with his gaze and said, “The invitation to come see my outdoor cat run is open to all of you. My place is right next door.” He then leaned forward in his straight-back chair and crossed one arm over his lap. “Now to the bad stuff. People use cats to train fighting dogs,” he said trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

“What?” Clarice gasped. “How’s that?”

Max hesitated and then looked down and quietly said, “Just use your imagination.”

Kitty gasped and whispered something in Clarice’s ear.

“Oh God,” Clarice said shaking her head in disbelief.

Max continued. He was speaking more quickly now. “Cats are used in science labs. Professors and students have been known to pick up what they believe are strays for experimentation. I think most of you know that cats are used to test makeup, skin products and the like. While, of course, there are more legal ways to obtain cats for this sort of testing, there’s evidently a black-market element in the works, as well. There are always people who will do any slimy thing for a few dollars.”

He paused, shifted in his chair and then continued, “In some cultures, they eat cats. I don’t think we have that faction here in our community. But when I was in the restaurant business in Chicago, health-department reps used to come in with all sorts of stories about finding cat carcasses inside the freezers in Asian restaurants.”

Max took a deep breath and continued, “People take cats to use as mousers. There are misguided cat hoarders who are so against cats being given outdoor privileges that they’ll pick up those they find wandering around in neighborhoods. Then they raise them in horrendously filthy and unhealthy conditions.”

He hesitated and Betty spoke: “I just read the other day that there are people using cat pelts for clothing and other items. Can you imagine? Just makes me ill.”

The women from Ravenwood sat silent. Kitty dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and Clarice patted Kitty’s knee.

“Not a pretty picture, indeed,” Ida said quietly. And then she asked, “So Max, what is your opinion—why do you think so many cats are disappearing from this one neighborhood?”

He shook his head slowly back and forth before saying, “I’ve never heard of so many cats going missing at one time like this. Outdoor cats get hit by cars, they get poisoned or accidently locked in neighbors’ sheds—there are all kinds of dangers for cats. But why so many are going missing from one area all at once, that’s a puzzle. I have to say, it indicates to me that it’s more than coincidental. I’m inclined to go along with the general consensus—that someone, for whatever reason, is picking them up and hauling them off somewhere.” He swallowed hard, looked down at his hands and said, “Let’s hope we can find out who very soon.”

Silence loomed large in the room. “After a few moments, Anna pointed toward the hallway. “Oh look at that. Isn’t she gorgeous?!”

As if on cue, Layla strolled cautiously into the room.

“What a treat,” Betty said. “We needed to see this lovely creature after hearing all of that dismal rhetoric.”

“Beautiful baby.”

“Such a cutie.”

“Look at those eyes…”

There were smiles all around.

“This is Layla,” Margaret said with pride in her voice. “She is the sweetest thing ever and she was a throw-away. She was in pretty bad shape when we found her at around four-weeks old.” Margaret reached down and ran her hand over Layla’s back and along her tail as the cat rubbed against her leg. Layla then jumped up on the ottoman, head-butted Margaret’s purple cast and curled up with a plop next to her foot.

“Ahhh, thank you, Layla, for making that grand entrance. Breathtaking and what timing,” Ida said.

Margaret stroked Layla’s pale tangerine fur. “I have to tell you, this is more of a gift than you know. This girl is just about as shy as they come. She isn’t around people all that much, other than me, Max, and now Savannah. She does not like noise or commotion and she stays clear of strangers. For her to come into a room full of people like she just did is an absolute first. So call it what you will—I think she knew we needed her presence,” Margaret said—her voice cracking a little.