Catnapped (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (15 page)

“They do love to be on stage,” the veterinarian said as his two pets ran off to play chase. He sat down in front of Margaret and peered at her wound. After dabbing at it with an antiseptic pad, he asked, “Well, Maggie, do you know what hit you?”

“No—maybe a rock falling from the bank as we drove by,” Margaret suggested.

“Where were you when this happened, for heaven sakes?”

“Um, I was just showing Vannie around.”

The doctor remained silent waiting to hear the rest of the story; however, Margaret wasn’t sure how much to tell him. They had, after all, probably been trespassing. Finally, he said, “This is kind of nasty for a random rock to have fallen into your window. It looks to me like it hit you with some force behind it.”

“Like from a slingshot?” Savannah asked, opening her hand to reveal a small sharp-edged rock. “I found this on the floor mat in the car.”

The veterinarian looked more closely at the rock and then asked, “Did you see any children with slingshots while you were driving out in the boonies?”

“No,” Savannah responded. “But I did see something.” She wondered why she felt safe talking about it with this man. “I saw a figure running from the spot where Aunt Marg was hit.”

“You did, Vannie? You didn’t tell me that,” Margaret said, her voice raised a few octaves.

“There was a lot going on. I just wanted to get us out of there and get you some help,” she explained.

“I think that person—probably a man—wearing a red plaid lumberjack shirt may have shot at the car with a slingshot and just happened to get one through the open window.” Savannah shook her head when considering how much worse it could have been. “He could have put your eye out, Auntie.”

“Good sleuthing, Savannah,” Michael said, looking at her with obvious interest.

She began to fidget and felt her face get hot again.

The veterinarian reached into a small first-aid kit, chose a round bandage and placed it on Margaret’s wound, saying, “Now stay out of the line of fire.” He then looked at her and asked, “You
are
going to report this to the police, aren’t you?”

Savannah spoke up, “Absolutely.”

But Margaret cancelled her out with, “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“What? Auntie, someone may have done this on purpose.”

“Or it was a random act by some nincompoop.”

“Either way, it should be reported,” Savannah insisted.

“Oh, let’s discuss it later, Vannie. I have my reasons for not wanting to involve the sheriff at this point,” Margaret said as she heaved herself up onto her crutches and headed for the door.

“Thank you for the treatment, Michael,” she said over her shoulder.

“What treatment?” he asked. “You know I only treat animals.”

“Meow,” Margaret joked.

“Auntie, look!” Savannah’s posture had become rigid, her voice shrill. She pointed toward the opposite side of the street as they slowed down for a stop sign.

“What? What?”

“It’s a man wearing a red plaid shirt!” she exclaimed.

Margaret took a quick look and sat back in her seat. “So it is,” she said without emotion.

Savannah looked directly at her aunt, saying with some fervor, “Remember, I told you I saw someone in the bushes wearing one of those?”

“I remember,” she said. “If you’ll pay attention, you’ll see plenty of shirts like that. It’s what men wear here. In fact, the man you just pointed out—well, he’s our undertaker, probably just returning from a little fishing trip up the river.”

“Oh,” Savannah said as she relaxed into her seat. “Do you know if he owns a slingshot?” she asked in jest. “By the way, how does that bump feel? Still hurt?”

“Yeah a little,” she said, reaching up and touching the bandage. “I think there’s some swelling. I hope this doesn’t blacken my eye.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Savannah said with a frown. “Now, don’t mess with it. Do you have something at home for pain?”

“Sure, Motrin, Advil, Excedrin—take your pick.”

“Well, let’s get you home. You really ought to rest, what with a new fracture and a near concussion…” Savannah said.

“Now who’s exaggerating?” Margaret harrumphed.

***

“So, can you get everything together by tomorrow night?” Savannah heard her aunt asking someone on the phone as she walked into the living room with two tall glasses of iced tea.

Margaret motioned for Savannah to set a glass on the table next to her and to sit down on the embossed-satin settee across from her. “Yes, it is risky,” she said into the phone. “If you’re seen moving around the place, you’ll have to climb out of there quickly, back to the road for your get-away.”

Savannah smiled a little at her aunt’s terminology and the obvious thrill she was getting from planning the undercover escapade—a downright illegal escapade. But if the effort saves some of the stolen cats from harm or death, maybe it will be worth it. They certainly didn’t have the blessings of the authorities, but there was nothing the sheriff could do without evidence. Someone had to get evidence, and that’s what this vigilante group hoped to accomplish.

“You have descriptions and photos of some of the missing cats. This could help. It would be even better if you saw someone bringing a load of cats to the Bray place tomorrow night.” Savannah watched as Margaret gave a little shiver of excitement at the thought. “I guess that would be too much to expect, though. Just do what you can do—see what you can see. We’ll look forward to your report. Good bye, Betty; and thanks.”

“You really are sending people out there—even women?” Savannah asked. “Did you tell Betty what happened to you today?”

Margaret reached up and touched the bandage on the side of her head. “I’m sure it’s swelling. Doesn’t hurt too much, though.” She looked over at Savannah, hesitated and then responded to her question, “No, I didn’t tell them about the accident. They’re not going to be driving their car up that hill—makes too much noise and they may be seen if they use their headlights. There’s no way they can make that drive at night without headlights. So they’ll park below and walk in using night goggles to see. We borrowed some from this guy who photographs birds in their burrows at night. I guess a rock could fall off the hill and hit someone like it did me,” Margaret continued. “But it’s doubtful.”

“Fall off the hill?” Savannah nearly shouted. “That rock did
not
fall off the hill. It was hurled or shot. As Michael said, there was too much force behind it to have simply fallen,” she stated with emphasis, hoping her aunt would take the accident (or assault) more seriously.

“What’s he got now?” Margaret asked, straining to get a better look at the large grey-and-white cat, who had just walked into the room.

Savannah glanced over in time to see him pick something up in his mouth and head for the stairs. “Rags, wait,” she called after him. “What do you have there?”

Rags stopped and turned toward her briefly before rushing up the stairway and disappearing.

“Well, I’ll be. This is a first,” Savannah said as she descended the staircase.

“What was it, Vannie? What did he steal this time?”

“A cookie,” she said scrunching up her face in a frown.

“A cookie?”

“Yeah, one of those oatmeal cookies Helena left for us. There was only one left and I put it in a plastic bag earlier.”

“He doesn’t eat stuff like that, does he?”

“Nope. I guess maybe he’s working on his earthquake survival kit,” she said with a laugh. Suddenly, she jumped a little, reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She looked at it and then said, “It’s Travis. I’d better take it. I’ll be in my room.”

***

“Vannie,” the old intercom crackled with static.

Savannah jumped to her feet and walked briskly over to the receiver on the wall. Rags was already there stretching toward the speaker as if he were looking for Aunt Margaret in there. “Yes?” she responded.

“Can you come down?”

“Sure. Be right there.” And then she thought to ask, “Where are you?” There were intercoms in six or seven of the eleven rooms, including two of the bathrooms.

“Living room,” Margaret replied.

“What’s up, Auntie?” Savannah asked, as she bounded down the last step and entered the room. She noticed that her aunt was standing using her crutches, windbreaker in hand. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” she said as if she were slightly distracted by her thoughts. “A woman called about her missing cat and I’d like to go talk to her. She sounds so distraught; poor thing.”

“Sure,” Savannah said without hesitation. “Your chair’s still in the car. Let me get my purse.”

“So what did Travis want? Are you at liberty to talk?” Margaret asked after they’d traveled a mile or so in silence.

“Oh yes. No problem,” Savannah said. “He just wanted to make sure we’re good, whatever that means.”

Margaret waved her hand in the air. “I know what that means. He wants you to tell him it’s okay for him to screw around—that he no longer has a reason to feel guilty.”

Savannah responded quickly. “How do you know so much about relationships?” And then she grinned and glanced over at her aunt. “It sounds like your silky undies get quite a workout, huh?”

“Watch that fresh mouth of yours, Vannie,” Margaret teased. “Well, isn’t that what he wanted? Permission to do what he’s been doing (or he’s been wanting to do) without having to worry about you freaking out or getting all possessive?”

“Pretty much,” Savannah said softly while pursing her lips.

“So how do you feel about it?”

Savannah thought for a few minutes and then said, “Relieved. Sad, but actually relieved. It’s over. It’s been over for a while. It just took me stepping back to be able to see the truth.”

“Good for you, Vannie. I’m glad you’re ready to move on. Oh, here we are, turn right. It’s 230 Oriole. She couldn’t even give me directions, she was so upset. I looked it up on my computer. I think we turn right on Robin—oh yes, there it is, Oriole. That must be her sitting on the porch over there.”

As Savannah and Margaret approached the porch, a striking petite woman with black hair highlighted with natural silver streaks stood to greet them.

“Hello Mrs. Minsky. I’m Margaret and this is my niece, Savannah. I’m so sorry to hear about your kitty,” she said expressing genuine concern.

“Call me Edie. So nice of you to come over,” she said, dabbing at her red swollen eyes with a tissue she had pulled from the pocket of her green denim slacks. “I’m sorry,” she said as she blew her nose into the crumpled tissue, “I just can’t stop blubbering. I love Sally so much and I’m so worried about her. She’s never been away from me and she needs me more than ever now, you know. As I told you on the phone, she’s ill. Dr. Ivey and I have been working hard to keep her comfortable and happy.” She took a breath while twirling the tissue around in her hands. “I’m not one of those who will keep a cat who’s suffering alive for my sake. I know I will lose her someday, but…” She began choking up.

Savannah walked up the steps, put her arms around the woman, and held her for a few moments while she collected herself. When Savannah stepped back, Edie took a ragged breath, opened the front screen door and invited her guests inside.

“Can you make it up these two steps, Auntie? Here, let me help steady the crutches.”

Edie held the door open. Once they had entered the spacious living room, she motioned for the two women to be seated. Margaret plopped down on a plush rose-colored loveseat, her loose-fitting cotton blouse momentarily ballooning in the updraft. Savannah took the crutches and leaned them against the wall next to the front door and then settled on a satin-print chair.

“Can I get you some tea?” Edie offered.

“No thank you,” Margaret said. “Just tell us what happened, Edie. How did they get their hands on Sally? She doesn’t go outside, does she?”

“Oh no. Never.” She hesitated. “I made a horrible mistake. It was all my fault,” she said between sobs. “I feel just horrible.”

Savannah walked over to the distraught woman. She stood behind Edie with her hands on her shoulders in an attempt to sooth her. When Edie began to relax, Savannah knelt in front of her. She reached up and pushed a strand of her salt and pepper hair away from her face and said in a soft voice, “I know this is just awful for you. Maybe we can help. Just tell us what happened.”

Edie sat up straight, took a few deep breaths, looked at Savannah through striking grey eyes, and began telling her story. “I was taking her to see Dr. Ivey. We’d started a new treatment a few weeks ago and he wanted to see her today and do a blood count.” She swallowed hard and straightened the collar on her green-and-white striped blouse. “I put her in the carrier and took her out to the car, talking to her all the way, as I always do.” Her face lit up in denial of her sixty-three years as she said, “I believe she understands what I say—maybe she tunes into my thoughts. But, I’m telling you, she responds to my words in ways that you cannot believe.”

Savannah smiled and nodded as she moved over to an ottoman off to Edie’s left and perched on the edge of it.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I put her carrier in the front seat of the car when I remembered I’d forgotten my notes. I’d promised Dr. Ivey I would write down a sort of diary of Sally’s days and her routine to help us determine if the new treatment was helping.” She paused for a few seconds, as if struggling to collect her thoughts. “The phone rang while I was in the house and I picked it up to see who it was. I was also waiting to hear from my own doctor on some tests. It was one of those dang telemarketers. Well, when I came back out no more than two minutes later,” she said in a strained voice, “the car door was still open and Sally and the carrier were gone. Just gone.”

Margaret leaned forward and asked, “Did you see anyone?”

“No.” She lowered her head and shook it slowly. “No one. I didn’t see anyone.” She then raised up and looked at Margaret thoughtfully. “Oh, someone drove by in an old truck—looked like teenage boys. I think I’ve seen them in the neighborhood before. They just happened to be driving by, I’m sure. I didn’t pay any attention to them, really.”