Catnapped (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (19 page)

“Agreed,” Michael said. “I feel exactly the same way.” He then laughed and added, “Well, a part of me feels that way.”

“And that’s the part we need to listen to now, Michael.”

He stepped back and took Savannah’s hands. After staring at her for a few moments, he asked, “Hey are you going to the dance tomorrow night?”

“Sure am,” she said. “You?”

“Absolutely. Do you have a date?”

“Um, no. I guess I’ll play the field.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Michael bent over in a deep bow and said, “Mademoiselle, will you do me the honor of…”
“Oh yes!” Savannah said exaggerating her enthusiasm.

He stood up and looked over at her. “But I didn’t finish. Don’t you want to know what I was going to say?” He took on a sullen look.

“Yes, I guess so,” she said with guarded anticipation.

He bowed again while saying, “Will you do me the honor of washing my cow?”

“What?” Savannah scrunched up her face in total confusion.

Michael burst out laughing, grabbed her shoulders in a big bear hug and whispered into her hair, “Of course, I want to be with you at the dance, you silly girl.” He then kissed her on her hungry lips twice—three times—before reluctantly turning toward his truck. Savannah watched as he drove away, until he was out of sight.

“You are gorgeous!” Michael said when he got his first look at Savannah as she and Margaret arrived at the dancehall. But he didn’t have to utter a word. His face said it all. “I thought you were at the pinnacle of your beauty when I picked you up last night for dinner. But tonight…” he paused, stared at her and shook his head slightly from side to side, “you are breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” She felt her face warming up and hoped the makeup would cover the encroaching pink on her cheeks. “I had such a nice time last night.”

“Me, too.” He then took her hands in his and held her at arm’s length. “So did you girls go shopping today?”
I’ve never noticed just how lovely her skin is and that off-shoulder peasant blouse really shows it off,
he thought.

“No shopping. Between Aunt Margaret’s closet and my suitcase, this is what we came up with.”

“Stunning,” he said, forgetting that he was supposed to be taking tickets for the first half-hour of the event.

“Excuse me, young man, is this where we sign up for the dance?”

Savannah looked up and her smile widened. “Hello, Dora.” She walked toward the woman.

“Well, Savannah, I almost didn’t recognize you without your blue jeans and ponytail.” She reached out and put her hand on Savannah’s arm, saying, “You clean up mighty nice, as my husband used to say. You’ll have heads turning tonight, dear.”

“She already has,” Michael admitted as he watched Savannah hug Charlotte.

Smiling, and only slightly embarrassed, Savannah said, “Michael, this is Dora Lipton and Charlotte, Dr. Michael Ivey.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you,” Dora said enthusiastically. “You’re a veterinarian, right?”

Michael nodded.

“I have a cat that’s losing weight and no one can figure out why. I hear you are especially good with tough cases like Powder’s.”

“Well, there’s got to be a reason—sure I’d be happy to take a look and see if he’ll reveal the problem to me.”

“Powderth getting thkinny,” Charlotte said, worry taking over her round face. “He won’t eat from my hand.”

“Powder’s one of Charlotte’s favorites,” Dora offered.

“And Thcooter and Bethany and….”

Savannah laughed out loud. “You love them all, don’t you sweetie? You know what,” she bent over and whispered in the girl’s ear, “me too.”

“Dora! Charlotte!” Margaret shouted just loud enough to be heard over the chatter in the large room. “How nice to see you. So glad you could make it. Come with me,” she said as she wheeled her chair around. “I’ll introduce you to some members of our group.”

Savannah watched them walk away. Then, looking back at Michael, she said, “I have to go check coats. I’ll catch up with you later.”

***

After fulfilling her volunteer obligations, Savannah looked around the large room and spotted Margaret. She walked over and sat down next to her. “Well, it looks like you have a full house, Auntie! What a festive evening. The Alliance should make quite a haul on this one,” she said while watching the crowd. She noticed that Margaret was fanning herself with a program. “Would you like some punch?”

“Absolutely, yes. I’m parched. Thank you, Vannie.”

Just then, Betty Gilbert walked up. She nodded to Savannah, who was headed toward the refreshment table, and then sidled over next to Margaret. “Great turnout,” she said. “The publicity really seemed to work this year.”

“Yes, and the news about the missing cats. We’ve had more exposure in recent weeks and that helped, don’t you think?”

“Most likely.” Betty glanced around the room and then whispered, “Say Maggie, it looks like we’ve got a go for tomorrow night.” She took another look around while speaking in a low voice. “Animal control and, I think, the authorities are showing up at Bray’s with a search warrant.”

“Wow! That’s good news!” Margaret made her own assessment of who might or might not be listening in. “I made some inquiries today at local feed stores and discovered that there are some horses missing from some of the ranches and boarding stables in the communities around here. And one was even taken from a backyard.”

Betty grimaced and shook her head.

“Who knows where they are now. I couldn’t track the route with the horses you saw leaving the place the other night. But it looks as though they might be hauling them up to that horse slaughter house in British Columbia.” Margaret sat silent for a few minutes—both women watching the dancers. She then turned to Betty and asked, “Do you know what the procedures will be and who will be involved?”

“Sure don’t. They’re taking it from here. But I’m pretty sure they’ll report to us once it’s all over.”

Margaret sat with her thoughts for a few moments before saying, “I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall—or a mosquito on the pond—while this operation goes down, wouldn’t you, Betty?”

“Oh, you betcha. It got personal when someone shot at you and when we observed the crooks in action.”

While Margaret and Betty talked, Savannah approached the refreshment table. “Doesn’t this punch look yummy?” she commented to whomever was in hearing distance, while ladling some of the liquid into two punch cups.

“Absolutely,” Ida Stone responded. “How are you Savannah? And that wonderful cat of yours? I plum forgot to get Meowster from him when I left the other day.”

“Oh hi, Ms. Stone…” Savannah said, replacing the ladle and turning toward her.

“Ida…”

“Ida,” she repeated. “How are you? Great turnout, don’t you think?” she said glancing around the room. “And such a pretty evening for a barn dance.”

“Scuse me…” Savannah heard a man’s gruff voice as someone bumped hard against her shoulder.

“Oh. That’s okay,” she said with a slight frown as she attempted to catch her balance. She turned in time to see someone wearing a red plaid flannel shirt disappear into the whirl of dancers. She was just glad that she wasn’t holding the peach-colored drinks, lest they spill over her white blouse and Margaret’s skinny skirt.

“Punch, my dear?” an older gentleman inquired as he reached for the two glass cups Savannah had poured.

“Yes,” she heard his companion respond. Savannah looked over, intending to claim the punch. Instead, she just smiled at the couple.

Ida spoke up. “Savannah, this is one of our local city councilmen, Claude Pembroke and his wife, Phyllis.” She paused. “This is Savannah, Margaret Forster’s niece.”

“Claude Pembroke nodded.

“Nice to meet you. Your aunt is a wonderful woman,” Phyllis Pembroke said before she excused herself.

Savannah nodded as the couple turned and walked away and then she poured two more cups of punch. She made her way back to where Margaret was sitting in her wheelchair. Only she wasn’t there.

Oh, she is such a gad-about. This sort of shindig is right up her alley. On the other hand, I’ve never been much for parties and lots of commotion, but I am enjoying myself here tonight.

“Want to dance?”

Savannah turned and saw Michael standing next to her. “Oh, are you finished with your ticket-taking stint?”

“Yes, and you have no more coats to check?”

“It’s such a balmy evening few people are coming in with coats, so I was—well, fired. I’m free for the evening and,” she looked up at Michael, saying rather breathlessly, “I would love to dance.” She then looked down at the two cups of punch she held and asked, “Are you thirsty? This one’s for Aunt Margaret, but I lost her. How about we drink these and I’ll get her another one after we dance?”

***

Margaret, in the meantime, had made her way to the restroom. She was pretty proud of how self-sufficient she had become when visiting restrooms away from home. As long as she had a wall, railing or bar to hold onto or lean against, she could manage on one foot for a limited time. Some public restrooms were tricky, though. There was the awkward process of opening the usually heavy door and getting through it on her own, either in the wheelchair or on crutches. Some restrooms didn’t have enough room to accommodate a wheelchair. Since this experience with her broken foot, she had a greater awareness and admiration for folks who spend their lives in wheelchairs and even young mothers with children in strollers.
There’s nothing like living in someone else’s shoes for a while to give you a new perspective,
she thought.

She was quite pleased with herself that all went well during this bathroom visit, and it was mostly because she met people going in and coming out and they held the door for her. Such a relief. She pushed her wheels down the hallway toward the dancehall, eager for a glass of punch, when, suddenly, her chair stopped dead. She felt someone behind her and craned her neck to see who it was.

“Don’t look back here.”

“Who is it?” She tried to keep her voice steady.
Surely it’s someone I know playing a little joke, but that gruff voice…it sounds so sinister.

Before she turned away, she caught a glimpse of a rough, weathered hand on the push handles of her chair.

She looked straight ahead. She could see people in the large room at the end of the hallway dancing, talking, and laughing. All of a sudden, she felt hot breath on her neck. She smelled stale cigarette smoke. “I want what’s mine. That’s why you will die tonight, Mrs. Forster,” the man whispered loudly into her ear, speaking her name with an edge of bitterness and hate.

Just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. Margaret turned in time to see a man dressed in jeans, a red plaid flannel shirt, and dark-blue baseball cap hurry out the side door.

“Maggie, there you are,” Max said. “I haven’t seen much of you all evening…Maggie what’s wrong? You look frightened out of your wits.”

“I was just threatened, Max,” she said taking his hand in hers. “A man told me he’s going to kill me. She stopped and took a few breaths. “He said he’s going to kill me tonight,” she said in a strained voice, obviously near tears.

“What man, where?” Max demanded.

“He just went out that door.” Margaret pointed, as Max ran to the door. She watched him disappear into the night. “Max, no. Come back in here. Please, Max…” she said as she rolled toward the open door.

Max stepped back inside. “He’s gone. That must have been him driving off in an old pickup truck.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked sternly at Margaret. “Darn it, Maggie, this has gone too far. We must involve the sheriff. I’m going to look for Sheriff Jim now. I saw him earlier on the dance floor.”

***

Margaret held tight to Max’s hand as she told the deputy the whole story. When she’d finished and she’d responded to Jim’s questions as best she could, she looked earnestly at the deputy and said, “Gosh, I’m sorry for taking you away from the party, Jim. I know how much you and your wife enjoy dancing.”

“Hey, like you guys with your cats, I’m pretty much always on call,” he said. And then his tone grew more solemn, “And Maggie, from what you just told me about the threats and warnings you’ve been getting, we need to take this death threat seriously. I’m assigning a deputy to watch your house tonight while we check more deeply into what might be happening.”

“Hello Deputy; Max,” Savannah said enthusiastically as she and Michael walked up to Margaret carrying two cups full of punch. Her demeanor changed suddenly when she saw her aunt’s face. “What’s wrong, Auntie?”

Margaret looked down and wept into one hand—still holding Max’s hand in the other. Savannah glanced from Margaret to Max and then to Deputy Jim, who was just walking away. “What’s going on?”

Max was first to speak. “Your aunt got a threat.”

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” she asked as she sat in an empty chair next to Margaret. “What happened?”

“Can’t we talk about it later?” Margaret asked, wiping her eyes with a napkin someone had handed her. “We’re creating a spectacle here—let’s just enjoy the evening, shall we? Now go out and dance, you two,” she said looking over at Savannah and Michael.

Savannah hesitated. She then handed her aunt a cup of punch. “Well, here. Drink this. It’s really good.” She handed the other one to Max.

“Okay, thanks,” Margaret said. When Savannah didn’t move toward the dance floor, she urged, “Now go on, I’m okay. The danger’s over…for now. Have fun. I don’t want to disrupt the party. Please… go…,” she said motioning with her hand.

Max watched as the couple joined dozens of other dancers on the floor. He noticed that Savannah was torn. She had trouble focusing on the music and Michael at first. She kept glancing in her aunt’s direction with a worried look on her face. Finally, Michael twirled her around and they disappeared into the crowd. Max looked over at Margaret. “Are you doing okay, Maggie?”

“Yes. Just stay near me, will you?”

“Always. Don’t you worry about that.” He squeezed her hand.

The two sat without speaking for a while and then Margaret said, “Wish I was out there dancing. Everyone’s having such a good time. Look, even Charlotte’s dancing with Savannah and Michael. How cute is that? Oh, I guess they had enough. They must be exhausted. Looks like they’ve headed over across the room for another punch refill. By the way, what time is it?” she asked.