Catnapped (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (14 page)

“Savannah, no dawdling now.”

“Okay, Auntie.”

***

“Have you talked to anyone about what Dora told you yesterday?” Savannah asked as she drove out toward the foothills under her aunt’s direction.

“Nope. Want to see what I can see, first.”

“Don’t you think we should call Rudy?”

Margaret frowned. “Who?”

“Rudy Silva…the man in the beret who was…”

“Ohhhhh, him,” she said pressing her lips together and gazing out the side window. She looked over at Savannah. “I thought we should check it out first and then we can give him a call.”

Savannah glanced over at her aunt.
She doesn’t have any intentions of calling him,
she thought. After a few minutes, she broke the silence, “You said you know this place. What do you know about Mr. Bray?”

Margaret thought for a few seconds. “Not much…that he bought the property a few years ago and he runs horses. He’s a widower with a couple of boys who aren’t interested in ranch life. He hires people to help him out there. Helena’s sister used to work for him. She said he was a bear to work for—expected a lot and didn’t treat people very well. She said he is just an unhappy, angry man. His main ranch hand is like his clone, only this guy also leans toward being a bit of a psycho. I haven’t met either one of them. But Helena’s sister, Martha, didn’t stay long—couldn’t handle the
energy
on the ranch, whatever that means. Too much testosterone, maybe?” She thought for a moment and then said, “Or maybe she meant negativity. Some people can feel it like it’s real.”

“Well, I can. Can’t you, Auntie? Aren’t there just some people you find hard to be around and you can’t quite put your finger on why? It’s just that being near them sort of makes you feel uncomfortable, somehow.”

It didn’t take Margaret long to respond. “Actually, yes. There was this one relative of Tom’s who gave me the creeps. He was a kid when I first met him. He had a way of looking at you that made your skin crawl. I wondered why they let him socialize with the other family members. I always thought he should be locked up or something. I felt evil vibes coming from him. In fact, he did wind up in an institution after having some sort of breakdown. He has spent time in jail, too. I haven’t thought about young Joe Forster in a long time.”

“That sounds like an extreme case. But yes, that’s what I’m talking about. You do know what it feels like, then.”

“Here,” Margaret said quickly, “turn right here.”

Savannah took a look ahead. “Yikes! Are you sure your car can make it? The road looks pretty rutted and steep.”

“Sure it can. Why do you ask?” Margaret frowned.

“Well, it is a Jeep, but not the four-wheel type. Isn’t the Liberty kind of a foo-foo step-sister to the real Jeep?”

“Heck no, this isn’t a foo-foo step-sister to any car. I love my car and she can do everything I ask her to.” She motioned toward the dirt road. “Just drive.”

“Okay, but I’m not carrying you back if we get stuck.”

“We won’t get stuck. I’ve done this before.”

“You’ve been up here before?” Savannah asked.

“Sure—years ago. Didn’t you ever come up here to neck?”

“Neck?” Savannah said with a giggle. “Do you mean make out?”

Margaret waved her hand in the air. “Whatever.” She then asked, “Well, didn’t you?”

“Not in the cars my boyfriends drove.”

Margaret was right. The car climbed the rutted road just fine. Once they reached the crest, she said in a hushed tone, “Stop here.”

The women sat in silence for a few minutes while Margaret assessed the situation at the ranch house below. “Well, I’ll be…things are starting to make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my dear niece, if this guy is paying kids to bring in cats, he’s probably using them as mousers for that big barn over there where he keeps hay and grain for the horses.” Margaret explained with a bit of flourish.

“But so many cats…why does he need so many?”

Margaret hissed, “Coyotes, owls—you name it—live off of those cats. They must not be able to keep them long enough to get a good handle on the rodent problem out here. This joker doesn’t know what he’s doing and I’m not sure he cares.”

“So what are we going to do?” Savannah asked, fearing the response.

“We’ll investigate to find out if he has some of the missing cats.”

Savannah looked over at her aunt. “How do we get close enough to look for the cats without being seen?”

“I’ll suggest that we set up a reconnaissance mission out here. We already have our force—just wish I could get more involved—damn it, anyway!” Margaret scowled as she looked down at her cast.

This woman certainly doesn’t lack passion,
Savannah thought.

“We’ll get night goggles, camouflage clothing—the whole shebang,” Margaret announced with glee. “We’ll send two or four people in at a time to survey the situation—get videos of any suspicious activity. And we’re going to take the evidence we collect to the sheriff’s department and animal regulations. Hand me those binoculars under your seat,” Margaret directed.

“I can’t find them. I think they’re under
your
seat, Auntie.”

Margaret reached down. “Oh, here they are.” She lifted them up and then handed them to her niece. “You have better eyes. I want you to look. See if you can spot any cats.”

Savannah put the binoculars up to her eyes, adjusted them, and started searching as quickly as she could.
I’m not sure I want to see evidence,
she thought.
I’d just like to hang out at a safer location.
“Wait, there’s a cat—two cats. Awww, poor things. They look scared. One has a bloody ear. Damn him!! Shit!” she yelled forcing a hushed tone. “He’s out there beating on a horse. A very skinny horse. What’s wrong with that idiot?”

“Yes, that’s another story. I’ve heard that he doesn’t handle his horses very well. Helena’s sister thinks there’s something shady going on with them, but she doesn’t know what it is. We’re not too far from a range of government-managed mustangs. He might be plucking some from there—to do what with, I don’t know. Do any of the cats look like these in the pictures we got from Clarice yesterday?” Margaret asked.

Savannah studied the snapshots again. “Well, there’s a white one—I think. It’s pretty dirty. Could be this one,” she said, pointing at one of the pictures her aunt had dug out of her purse. “I see a tortie or calico off in the distance. She’s frightened by the commotion with that poor horse. She just went under the porch. I don’t know if it’s the tortie in the photo or not. Maybe if we get some pictures or video of these cats and examine them…”

“Yes. Good idea,” Margaret said. “I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do up here today. We know where it is. We know he has cats here and he is our number-one suspect since he’s our only suspect. Let’s go back to town and talk to some of the Alliance members about this.”

“Egads,” Savannah said as she slowly turned the car around and began to head down the rutted road, “going down may be worse than coming up—if that’s possible.”

K-Whack! Whomp!

“OW! Oh my God!!” Margaret howled, slapping her hand against her right temple.

“What was that?” Savannah gasped. She looked over at her aunt, who was staring at a bloody hand.

“Something hit me—my God, have I been shot?”

Savannah stopped the car and hit the door lock, which she found had automatically been engaged. “Roll up your window! Roll up your window!” she yelled before noticing that her aunt was bent forward as if trying to duck out of sight.

Remembering that the window controls were in the console between the seats, she began pushing buttons until the passenger-side window was securely closed. As she watched the window slide up, she thought she saw something move. She turned just in time to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a person clambering up the steep bank. The figure disappeared over the peak into a stand of trees.
Red plaid. It looks like he’s wearing red plaid, like a lumberjack shirt,
she thought.

“Let’s get out of here. Hurry!” Margaret whispered as she fumbled around in the console compartment. She finally removed a wad of napkins and held them to her head as Savannah put the car in gear and continued as fast as she dared down the rutted dirt road.

“Are you okay?” Savannah asked, her voice shrill and shaky.

“I think so,” her aunt replied. She pulled down the sun visor, lifted the mirror cover and began to examine her wound. “Gads, it’s kinda messy, Vannie. And it hurts like heck.”

“Do you think you need stitches?”

“I don’t know. Hard to tell.”

“I’m taking you to the emergency room,” Savannah insisted.

Margaret produced a strained laugh and said, “We don’t have an emergency room, remember?”

“Where can we go to get you looked at? To your doctor’s office?”

“Naw, just drive me to Dr. Ivey’s. He can evaluate whether I need treatment or not.”

Savannah hesitated and then she said, “But Auntie, he’s your vet!”

“Yes,” Margaret confessed looking sheepishly at her niece. “Dr. Ivey is the first responder for some of us who don’t want to drive to the nearest urgent-care facility in Straley, which, as you know, is thirty miles away.”

What was that—did my heart skip a beat?
Savannah wondered.
I felt a bit giddy there for a second at the thought of seeing Michael again.

***

“Ms. Forster. Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding. What happened?” the petite receptionist asked as she came from behind the counter to help Margaret to a chair in the waiting room.

“I’m not sure, actually. I think I’m okay. Something came through the window of the car and hit me in the head.”

“You were in the car?” Scarlett asked. “Did it break a window?”

“No,” Savannah offered. “We had rolled our windows down to let in some air. I think my aunt had her window all the way down. If she hadn’t, she may not have been hit.”

“Or the window might have been broken by whatever hit her and you’d have glass all over,” Scarlett responded. She then turned to Margaret and asked, “What did hit you, Ms. Forster? A bullet?”

“I don’t know,” Margaret said rather breathlessly. She looked up at the receptionist. “Anyway, Scarlett, I’d like to see Dr. Ivey.”

“Sure, right away.” She pivoted quickly, her pert ponytail swinging behind her.

Savannah suddenly thought of something. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she headed toward the door.

When she returned, Michael Ivey was leaning over her aunt, examining her head wound. “Hmm. Now, you know I can’t treat you,” he said in all seriousness. He stood and continued looking down at Margaret, saying, “But it’s almost lunch time and the last morning patient just left. I sent Scarlett to lunch and told her to close the office for an hour. Come on back to my house and we’ll have some iced tea.”

He helped Margaret to her feet, reached down to retrieve the crutches, and waited until she was stable. “Well, hello,” he said, having just noticed Savannah standing there. “Nice to see you again.”
How trite,
he thought, but he felt compelled to say something to her, lest he look awkward just staring into her beautiful face.

Savannah felt her cheeks warming up.

“
I’m ready,” Margaret said. “You can turn loose of my crutches any time.”

“Oh. Uh… sure. Um,” he stuttered. “Follow me, ladies.”

As the trio walked through the spacious veterinary clinic, Michael slipped off his lab coat stopping to hang it on a hook just inside one of the rooms. He winked at Savannah. “Now I’m not officially in veterinary mode.” And then he led his guests out the back door, down a ramp and toward a charming log house tucked behind the clinic.

“How convenient that you live on the premises,” Savannah observed.

Michael slowed his pace and then matched her stride saying, “Yes, it is convenient—sometimes almost too much so, if you know what I mean.”

Savannah remained silent, hoping he wasn’t implying that she and her aunt were taking advantage of his availability.

When Michael pushed open the unlocked door to his home, the trio was enthusiastically greeted by an inquisitive nose.

“Hi Lexie,” Margaret crooned as she hobbled through the door.

“What a cutie.” Savannah couldn’t help but succumb to the charms of the dog. “An afghan mix?”

“That’s my best guess,” Michael said. “Someone brought her to me in pretty bad shape a year or so ago. No one claimed her. She took to Walter right away, so I’ve kept her with me ever since.”

“There’s Walter,” Margaret said as the veterinarian led his guests into the kitchen. He pulled a chair out from the small table and Margaret sat at his invitation. “How’s the big guy?” she murmured, while holding her crutches in one hand and wriggling the fingers of her other hand in hopes of encouraging the black fur ball to play. She turned to Savannah. “This is one of the smartest cats you’ll ever meet.”

“Oh, he’ll do anything for a treat,” Michael said with a laugh.

“So how did you acquire this handsome fellow?” Savannah asked—knowing full well the temptation and opportunity for anyone who works with animals to bring them home—and knowing that most of those who were brought home had a story behind them.

Michael looked over at the cat and said, “He and his siblings were living under the porch of a house that was scheduled for demolition. Thankfully, one caring worker on that crew spotted the kittens and a local cat-rescue group ended up with them. They brought them in for their routine round of vaccines, spay/neuter and this one had some health issues. I kept him so I could treat him and ended up—as you can see—keeping him. He’s doing quite well, under the circumstances. He’s going on five years old.”

Savannah knelt down next to the cat and he began chirping and rubbing against her hand.

“Lexie,” Michael said in a warning tone as the dog walked toward Savannah. “Don’t you bother Walter.” But it was too late. The dog had intercepted the petting session by pushing her head between Savannah’s hand and the cat. Walter didn’t give up a good thing that easily, however. He jumped at the dog, wrapping his paws around her face. She pushed him down with one of her paws and began licking him. He grabbed her muzzle with all fours and kicked his back legs against her chin. This caused Lexie to jump back and the dance was on. As if they were performing for the attentive group, all of whom were now laughing at the animals’ antics, they stepped up their activity and added a little hide-and-seek, peek-a-boo, and missile attack.