Frayed Edges

by Carol Dean Jones

  Sarah was surprised her son was comfortable with all the chaos. When he was growing up, they had opened one gift at a time in a more orderly manner, but Sarah was not one to interfere and decided to simply relax and enjoy the children’s excitement. It wasn’t long before Alaina and Jonathan had both settled down with their favorite gifts.

  Sophie and Sarah joined Jennifer in the kitchen and helped the young mother serve the magnificent dinner she had prepared. “How did you manage to do all this with the children and a houseful of guests?” Sarah asked.

  “You can do anything on Christmas,” Jennifer responded with a broad smile. “It’s a magical day! I love Christmas, with the decorations and the music and especially having the family all together.”

  Jennifer was her son’s second wife and, watching her today, Sarah knew Jason had made the right decision when he married her. Jason and his first wife, Joyce, had lost their son when he was eleven, and it was a tragedy their marriage couldn’t survive. He would be twenty now, Sarah thought, and Charles saw a shadow of sadness cross her face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I am,” she responded with a smile. “Let’s find our seats at the table. Jenny’s about to bring the turkey out.”

  “I’m so glad my son married your daughter,” Sophie whispered to Sarah during dinner. “It means we’ll all be together for holidays forever. I love this!”

  “I am too, Sophie. I’m sorry Charles couldn’t be with his sons and grandsons today, but we’re planning a trip to Colorado in the spring to see them.”

  “I know he misses his boys, but he’s with family right now, and he looks happy,” Sophie said.

  “He does, doesn’t he?” Sarah responded with love in her eyes as she watched her husband lifting little Jonathan into his booster chair.

  A light snow had been falling since the previous evening, and by midafternoon the children were eager to make a snowman. Charles and Timothy took the two kids outside while the rest of the family watched from the living room window. Tim lay down in the snow and taught Alaina how to make a snow angel while Charles taught Jonathan how to roll a snowball in the snow to make it grow bigger and bigger—a process that fascinated the young boy.

  Once there was the semblance of a snowman, Sarah slipped on her coat and took a carrot out for its nose and one of Jason’s baseball caps to finish it off.

  “Why can’t we bring it in the house?” Jonathan pleaded.

  Charles attempted to explain the concept of melting, but he stopped when the boy’s lip began to quiver. “Jason,” Charles called out. “Your son needs you.”

  “That’s the joy of grandparenting,” he whispered to Sarah on their way in. “You can give them back to their parents when the going gets tough.”

  * * * * *

  “It was a perfect day,” Charles commented as he pulled into their garage. They could hear Barney’s urgent bark as they approached the kitchen door. “Sounds like Barney has a problem,” he added as he unlocked the door between the garage and the kitchen.

  Once they were inside, Barney stopped only long enough to bump Sarah’s leg with his nose before running to the backyard door and scratching eagerly to get out.

  “Desperate, are you?” Sarah commented, but when she opened the door, she realized he wasn’t heading for his usual corner, but instead was slowly creeping toward a hissing black and white creature in the middle of the yard that resembled a Halloween ornament. The creature seemed to be standing on its tiptoes, with its back arched high in the air and its hair puffed out like a porcupine. The closer Barney got to it, the more ferociously it hissed.

  Sarah, concerned for Barney’s safety, started to call him back, but Charles laid his hand on her arm and said with a smile, “It’s okay. He knows what he’s doing.” Charles had already figured out what it was.

  Barney continued to move slowly toward the creature, but now his head was close to the ground as he sniffed for a clue. While hissing and growling at the approaching dog, the small creature stood its ground until Barney was actually nose to nose with it.

  It hissed and took a swipe at Barney’s nose. Barney yelped and backed up a couple of steps.

  “It’s a cat!” Sarah exclaimed. By this time, she and Charles were outside, but they stayed near the door, not wanting to upset the delicate balance and cause one or both of the animals to suffer an injury.

  “A very self-confident cat,” Charles remarked, “judging from the way it’s taking on Barney.”

  The two animals remained almost nose to nose, but slowly the cat’s back began to relax into a normal position, and Sarah could see now that it was a kitten and not nearly as big as it had attempted to make itself look.

  Barney finally broke the tension by straightening up, shaking the snow off his fur, and walking over to his private corner of the yard where he could do his business partially hidden by the shed.

  The cat watched him intently until Sarah moved and the cat’s head whipped around to check out Sarah and Charles.

  “Meow,” it called out in a soft, compelling voice.

  “Are you okay, little one?” Sarah asked as she approached the cat, hoping not to scare it off.

  “Oh, this is a young kitten,” she exclaimed as she got closer. “Probably only five or six months old.”

  “You’re a brave little one,” she cooed as she reached down to see if the kitten would allow her to pick it up. But instead of resisting, the kitten melted in her arms and began purring.

  “The cat is freezing,” she said, tucking it under the front of her coat. “Let’s take it inside and see if there’s any identification. We can call the owner.”

  Sarah sat at the kitchen table with the kitten on her lap as they searched for a collar.

  “It’s a boy,” Charles announced, “but I don’t think there’s a collar.” The kitten’s fur was so long and thick they couldn’t immediately tell whether or not there was a collar hidden under all the fluff.

  “Such a pretty little boy,” Sarah said as she sat him up on the table where Charles had spread a towel. “Look at that face!” He was primarily black with snow-white fur around his mouth, down his chest, and across his underbelly. “That’s called a tuxedo cat,” Sarah told her husband, who had never had pets before marrying her.

  “He has white feet like Boots,” Charles noted, “and will you look at those ears!” The kitten’s ears were large and pointed, with little wisps of black hair sticking straight up on the tips.

  “Such an endearing little fur ball,” Sarah cooed, and the kitten purred even louder.

  “Meow!” This cry was much louder and more demanding and didn’t come from the kitten. Charles and Sarah looked up simultaneously to see their Boots on top of the kitchen cabinets, looking down with both annoyance and disdain.

  “It’s okay, Bootsy,” Sarah said, reverting to the cat’s previous name when she was a baby. Barney had discovered Boots when the little kitten was a few weeks old and abandoned in the park during a snowstorm. She had become part of their family, although she chose to live on top of the kitchen cabinets. Sarah insisted that she come down for her meals; however, when Sarah wasn’t paying attention, Charles would sometimes slip her food bowl to her on top of the refrigerator. When he did, she would always purr loudly while she ate.

  Boots abruptly turned her back on the activity in the kitchen and curled up in the furry bed Sarah had placed on top of the cabinet in the far corner where she preferred to sleep. Clearly, she intended to ignore the intrusion.

  There was a scratching at the back door, and Sarah jumped. “Oh no! We left Barney outside.”

  Charles opened the door, and Barney burst into the room and immediately located the kitten. He stood next to Sarah’s chair and stretched up to see what was happening on the table. There was the kitten, looking totally at home sitting in the middle of the kitchen table eating Boots’ food. Barney looked questioningly at Sarah.

  “This is just temporary, Barney. We’ll find his family tom
orrow.”

  Chapter 29

  “Charles, is Barney on your side of the bed?” Sarah was just waking up and noticed that Barney’s bed was empty.

  “He’s not on this side, but he might have moved to his bed in the kitchen since he was irritated with us last night for bringing the kitten into the house.”

  “Oh, the kitten,” she exclaimed, still not awake enough to focus on their Christmas night experience. Charles had found a small box in the garage, and Sarah had filled it with fabric scraps to make a soft bed for the kitten.

  “Where did you end up putting his box?” Charles asked. Barney had objected to it being in the master bedroom or the kitchen.

  “I put it in the guest bathroom,” she replied as she slipped on her robe and slippers and went down the hallway. Moments later, she exclaimed, “He’s not here. The box is empty.”

  “I’m on my way,” Charles responded.

  Together they searched Charles’ den and Sarah’s sewing room, checking behind and under the furniture. From there, they went through the living room and dining room but without finding him.

  As they stepped into the kitchen, they both spotted the tender sight at the same moment. Sarah touched Charles’ arm to keep him from disturbing them. “Just look at that,” she said softly.

  Barney was asleep on his side. Sarah could hear his gentle snore. He had the kitten tucked up under his arm and against his warm chest. Sarah thought she could hear a soft purring sound. “He’s listening to Barney’s heartbeat,” she whispered to her husband.

  Once Barney was aware of their presence, he crawled out of bed and turned to look at the kitten, who was now lying on his back and stretching. Noticing Barney, he mewed softly.

  “Come on, Barney,” Charles said, leading the dog to the back door. The dog was reluctant to leave the kitten, but Charles assured him it would be okay. After he let Barney out, he went to the garage to find another box and filled it with Boots’ litter. The kitten knew exactly what it was for.

  After feeding all the animals, Charles and Sarah sat down to a simple breakfast of oatmeal with raisins. “We need to make a sign and post it on the telephone poles,” Sarah announced.

  “We don’t have telephone poles in the Village,” Charles reminded her.

  “True, but he didn’t necessarily live in the Village, and there are telephone poles on the streets around us.”

  “That’s true,” Charles responded thoughtfully. “And there are bulletin boards in the Community Center and the nursing home, and even out by the front gate.”

  “When I was young,” Sarah reminisced, “there were always signs posted on the telephone poles about lost pets or local activities. I used to love walking to school and reading all the signs. I would daydream about seeing one of the missing animals and returning it to its owner.”

  “You were a softy even then,” he commented affectionately. “But you’re right. We need to make a sign and post it around the neighborhood. I’ll take his picture and make a sign just as soon as I get home.”

  “You’re going out?”

  “Yes, I have a meeting with Hal and two of his officers to discuss the quilt case this morning, but it won’t take long.”

  “Before you leave, there’s one other thing. I don’t know what to call the kitten, and I think he needs a name. What do you think of …?”

  “Not yet, Sarah,” Charles interrupted his wife. “Once we name him, he’s got both feet, possibly all four feet, in the door. He belongs to someone.”

  “But he didn’t even have a collar,” she replied. “Certainly not someone who cared about him.”

  “We can’t assume that, Sarah. I’ll make the signs, and we’ll see what happens, okay?”

  Sarah sighed but nodded her agreement. “I’ll write something up and take the picture while you’re gone, and you can make a sign on the computer later.”

  “Thank you, hon,” he responded as he kissed her on the cheek and pulled his heavy coat on. “I think it’s going to snow more,” he commented as he opened the garage door.

  * * * * *

  “I’m having second thoughts about Lonnie, Hal. Maybe he was involved in some way.”

  “He’s been my number one suspect throughout the investigation. Why the change of heart?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe because we’re running out of other ideas, and it seems like it keeps coming back to Lonnie. He had access. He got rid of the locks, which could have been evidence of what happened. He’s been in trouble with the law. Granted, it was many years ago, and it appears that he’s been straight for a while, but maybe he hasn’t been so straight. Maybe he just hasn’t been caught.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Charlie. I mean Charles.”

  Charles chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Hal. But getting back to Lonnie Dunkin, I certainly don’t think he stole the quilts himself. What would he do with them? He couldn’t sell them because we’d be watching. It doesn’t make sense for him to be the one who actually took the quilts.”

  “I agree. I think he facilitated it for someone else,” Hal responded.

  “But who?”

  “Well, maybe the Hamilton gang,” the detective responded. “That’s what Hamilton PD thinks.”

  “They think it was Lonnie?” Charles asked with surprise.

  “No, they think the gang had a contact here who helped them with access. I’m the one who thinks it was Lonnie Dunkin.”

  “And now I’m beginning to think so, too,” Charles said sadly.

  “Glad you’re looking at this with an open mind,” Hal responded. “Last week, we talked to Jeff Holbrook, the administrator over there, just to get his take on this Dunkin guy.”

  “And?”

  “Holbrook is his boss. He said the guy’s okay. He seems to have money problems, and he frequently tries to borrow against his paycheck, but Holbrook says he does his job.”

  “Maybe Lonnie saw an opportunity for some quick cash,” Charles said thoughtfully. “On the other hand,” he added quickly, “how could he turn three dozen quilts into quick cash?”

  “Thus the connection with the Hamilton gang,” the detective said.

  “Hmm,” Charles groaned. “But it just doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “He’s the only person who could leave the door unlocked so someone could get in.”

  “Maybe Lonnie just accidentally left the auditorium unlocked when he took the mayor’s wife home, and someone walked in and took the quilts.”

  “A crime of convenience? Interesting thought, Charlie, but why would there just happen to be a thief standing by hoping to discover an unlocked door?”

  “Okay, that idea doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Charles replied. “Why would the thief have been there unless it was prearranged?”

  “And that brings us right back to Lonnie Dunkin, if he, in fact, left the door unlocked.”

  “But the door wasn’t necessarily left unlocked, Hal. The thief might have picked the lock or broken it somehow.”

  “And we’ll never know, will we, since Dunkin got rid of the locks,” Hal asked rhetorically.

  “I don’t want to think it was Lonnie,” Charles said sadly. “I like the man, but …”

  “We’ll take another look,” Hal responded. “You don’t need to follow up on this. I know he’s a friend.”

  “Thanks, Hal. I hope we’re wrong.”

  Chapter 30

  When Charles returned home, Sarah handed him a handwritten draft of a sign and her cell phone. “The pictures are there. I took several views. He’s so cute.”

  Charles scrolled to the pictures and laughed. “How did you get him to pose like this?” he asked. The kitten was sitting on the table facing the camera with his beautiful yellow eyes staring right into the lens. His wild silky fur stuck out all over his body. “What an adorable little fellow,” Charles murmured as a look of sadness crossed his face.

  “You want to keep him, don’t you?” Sarah teased.

  “I wouldn’t objec
t too strongly if it should come to that,” he responded.

  Two days later, there had still been no response to the posters, and Sarah was getting antsy about naming the kitten. “We can’t keep calling him ‘the kitten.’ ”

  “Tomorrow,” Charles responded, “if we haven’t heard from anyone, we’ll stop by Barney’s vet and make sure he doesn’t have a microchip. And if not, maybe we’ll think about at least giving him a name. Did you call Animal Rescue today to see if they’d had any calls?”

  “I did, and they haven’t heard from anyone about a missing cat.”

  The next day they confirmed that the kitten hadn’t been chipped, and the vet took a look at him and said he was in excellent shape. As they were leaving, Sarah said, “See, you wouldn’t name him, and now he has a number on his permanent record instead of a name.”

  “I don’t think that will hinder his chances for future success in the cat world,” Charles responded. “Anyway, if we end up naming him, we’ll ask them to change it on his record.”

  Sarah smiled, realizing that Charles was beginning to see that the cute little kitten would probably become part of their family.

  As they were getting ready for bed, the phone rang. Barney had moved back to his bed in their room and was in his bed with the kitten tucked up under his arm. Charles answered the phone in their bedroom, and Sarah realized he was talking to the owner of the cat. Her heart sank as she looked down at the two curled up in Barney’s bed. When Charles walked out of the room, still talking to the caller, she didn’t follow him, not wanting to hear the bad news yet.

  A few minutes later, he came into the room and put the phone in its cradle. “Well, my dear, it’s time to name the kitten.”

  “What?” she squealed. “Weren’t you talking to the owner?”

  “Not exactly. I was talking to the son of the owner. His mother had a stroke on Christmas Day, and they think the cat must have run out while the paramedics were there.”