by Patricia Fry
“The train track?” Lily asked.
When Savannah realized her mother was laughing, she said, “Mom, you’re not helping.”
“Sorry, Vannie, but it seems like this whole conversation is pulling into the wrong station.”
When Gladys began to chuckle uncontrollably, Michael glanced at her, then joked, “Savannah, what’s wrong with your mother?”
Savannah shook her head. She took a deep breath. “Okay, you two. If you’ll both settle down I’ll tell you the whole story.”
“Please do,” Michael insisted.
Gladys tried to conceal her amusement, finally saying, “Yes. Please do,” before beginning to titter again.
Savannah couldn’t help being tickled by her mother’s behavior, but she tried to ignore it. “The fact is, Michael, I did agree.” Before he could speak again, she jumped in, “I don’t have to rehearse with the others in San Francisco. I did a face-to-face interview with the director earlier—you know, online. He says he can work with me at a distance for the next few weeks. All I have to do is rehearse at home and arrive a few days ahead of the show, which is May fourth. That’s when I’ll rehearse with the others.”
Michael scratched his head. “Well, that sounds odd.”
“Yeah, but doable, and all proceeds go to helping those one hundred or so cats they rescued.” She leaned forward. “Michael, according to Buzz, the producer, some of the cats are in pretty bad shape. With the money from this project they’ll be able to save more of them and guarantee a better quality of life for them. Without intervention, you know exactly what will happen to the sickest of those cats. Shelters, especially this time of year, are working at capacity, space-wise and financially.”
He nodded sullenly. “And they think you’re the key to saving those cats?”
“Yes,” Gladys said, “why you, Vannie? Does Arthur think you have an acting background? The only acting I remember you doing, aside from those cute little plays you were in during grammar school, was that time in your high school drama class when you played a queen or something.” She smiled. “You did a pretty good job, actually, but you were a nervous wreck.”
“Yeah, and I feel like a nervous wreck about this role already,” Savannah said. “I haven’t had a chance to look at the script yet, but I understand that my character is quite significant to the show and the message they hope to share through this production.” She sat up straighter. “You ought to hear what they want Rags to do.”
“Rags?” Michael asked, almost choking again.
“Yes, I told you they want Rags to appear with me.”
“He’ll have an acting role?” Gladys asked.
Savannah nodded. “Yes. I’ll see about asking Sir Roscoe—you know, the circus-cat trainer—how to train him.”
Michael shook his head slowly. “Well, that’ll be a challenge in and of itself, let alone you trying to learn your own lines.” He grinned. “Say, will Rags have a speaking part or does he just have to jump through a flaming hoop or something?” When the others looked at him, he said, “You know, ‘meow, mew, meow-meow, purrrrrr.’”
Lily giggled. “Do that again, Daddy.”
“That’s quite enough,” Savannah said. “Eat your supper.”
“Me?” Lily asked.
“Both of you—you and Daddy.”
“Seriously, hon,” Michael said, “I want to support you in this.”
“But?” she prompted suspiciously.
“No buts,” he assured her. “It definitely sounds like something we will want to support. It appears there’s a well-thought-out plan of action in place. And it sounds like it could be kind of fun for you.” He took her hand. “If this is something you’d like to do, then by all means…” He squinted. “When did you say the play is?”
“May fourth?”
“That soon?”
Savannah winced. “I’m afraid so.”
“But you’re up for the challenge?” Michael asked.
“I hope so,” she said. After helping Teddy with a spill, serving Lily more mashed potatoes, and reprimanding Rags one more time, she said, “So Michael, do you have something on your mind? You seemed a little distracted earlier.”
“More so now,” he said. He placed his fork on his plate. “Yeah, we got a bit of bad news today.” He paused. “I saw Moose.”
“Oh, Sandy’s endurance horse?” Savannah asked. “How are they—Sandy and Moose?” She cringed at the expression on his face. “What happened?”
“Well, I’m afraid that old injury has resurfaced, and I had to join the consensus of other veterinarians who believe it would be reckless to enter that horse in any endurance rides, let alone the major ones planned for this year. Sandy pulled him, and she’s currently breaking the news to their supporters and fans.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Gosh, Sandy must be terribly upset,” Savannah said. “She loved endurance riding and she loves Moose.”
“Well, it’s not a death sentence,” Michael explained. “She can still ride him. She’s savvy, she’ll know how hard to push him and when to back off. In fact, Sandy’s the one who sensed something was wrong. It was subtle. It was more intuitive on her part than anything else. But the tests don’t lie. The truth is that Moose isn’t sound enough for the endurance circuit.”
“How’s Sandy?” Savannah asked quietly.
“She seems okay. You might give her a call and suggest a ride someday soon. Peaches and Moose would probably like to spend the day on the trail together. They hit it off pretty nicely while Moose was being boarded here, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but not as nicely as Rags and Moose. Maybe I’ll take him over there for a visit.” She slumped in her chair. “Well, I’m sure sorry to hear that, but thanks for telling me. I’ll follow up with Sandy for sure, and set up a trail ride.” Just then she caught something out of the corner of her eye and scolded, “Rags, what are you doing?”
“He’s eating, Mommy,” Lily said. “He likes my chicken and that green stuff.”
Savannah stood up, lifted the cat, and carried him to his kibbles bowl. “If you’re hungry, eat kibbles. You already had your gourmet canned food. No more people food. No! No!”
Everyone laughed when Rags ran past Savannah, jumped up into her chair, and put his paws on the table. She shook her head. “How will I ever train him to play his part? Rags, you’ll be the laughing stock of the city’s theater district.” She ruffled his fur. “The critics will ridicule you.” Egged on by her family’s laughter, she leaned closer to Rags and said quietly, “Do you know what they’ll say in their reviews? ‘The play was a hit, the actors superb, except for one very stubborn…’” when Rags meowed at her, she chuckled, “‘and sassy—very stubborn and sassy cat.’”
“I don’t think he gives a rat’s behind,” Michael said, standing up and carrying his plate to the counter.
Savannah laughed. “Yeah, if only I could adopt some of his cat-titude. That’s a good idea, Rags,” she said. “I’ll share some of my cooperative nature with you if you’ll show me how to be more nonchalant—you know, unruffled.”
“Self-centered, uncaring, obstinate…” Michael added. He sneered playfully. “Yeah, good luck teaching that old cat any new tricks, unless it’s to be naughtier.”
Chapter Two
Saturday morning after feeding Peaches and Gypsy and while waiting for the horses’ water trough to fill, Savannah placed a call. “Hi, Sandy. It’s Savannah.”
“Great to hear from you. How’re you doing?”
“Good.” Savannah’s tone softened. “Michael told me about your disappointing diagnosis. I’m so sorry. How are you...and Moose?”
“Oh, thank you,” Sandy said. “Yeah, I’m disappointed, but I’d rather have Moose relatively sound than for us to have a crack at any endurance ride win.”
“Sounds like you have a good attitude,” Savannah complimented.
“What are my choices?” Sandy quipped.
“True. So will you try to
find another endurance horse? I remember how much you and Moose enjoyed competing in those long-distance rides. In fact, the last time I saw the two of you was at that competition in Arizona, wasn’t it?”
Sandy chuckled. “Yes, when your amazing cat saved Moose’s life, and mine.” Her tone changed when she said, “Yeah, I do enjoy the competition, but there are other ways to compete. Heck, I might like having some time off. As you know, it can be a full-time job training for that sort of competition. I think Moose and I’ll just explore our local trails for a while. Maybe I’ll dig out my camera and do some photography.” Sandy seemed to gain energy when she said, “I might enter some of my photos in contests. That ought to satisfy my competitive nature.”
“I didn’t know you were into photography,” Savannah said, surprised.
“Yeah, used to be. I especially enjoyed shooting animals—wildlife and weird close-up shots of a horse’s eye, a pig’s smile...”
“Me too,” Savannah blurted. She chortled. “Well, I don’t know about a pig’s smile, but I am a camera buff. Hey, I’d love to go on a photo outing with you some day. We could take the horses out. What do you think?”
“Sounds great. So, do you do much shooting?” Sandy asked. “It doesn’t seem like you’d have time, with two small children.”
“You’re right. Life can get in the way. I haven’t been out with my camera in quite a while, but I’d love to get back into photography.”
“Wait,” Sandy said. “You used to shoot with Shelly, didn’t you?”
“Yes. You know Shelly Carson?” Savannah asked.
“Sure do. We were in a photography course together—one of those accelerated modules where you’re introduced to all sorts of photography, even forensics. That was one heavy-duty and interesting course.”
“I’ll bet it was,” Savannah said. “So you’ve had a variety of photo experiences and you still prefer animal and wildlife photography?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s make a date for a photo shoot soon,” Savannah suggested. “Is Moose in shape to go out on the trails?”
“Should be, as long as we don’t overdo it,” Sandy said. “He actually needs the exercise. I’d love to ride and shoot with you. How about if I pick up you and Peaches one day and we can ride from here? Have you ever taken the trails around my place?”
“I don’t think I’ve ridden in that area. Yes, let’s do that. What are you thinking—one day next week?” Savannah asked.
“Yes, why not? What day’s good for you?” Sandy asked.
“Thursday?” Savannah suggested, turning off the water and heading for the house.
“Okay, I’ll pick you and Peaches up at ten.”
“Sounds good.” Savannah laughed. “I can’t wait. Better go dust off my camera and charge up the batteries.”
“Me, too,” Sandy said.
“Going someplace?” Gladys asked after overhearing the last part of Savannah’s phone conversation. She poured herself a cup of hot tea and stirred a little sugar into it.
Savannah shook her head. “Not today.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Savannah repeated.
“Yes,” Gladys said. “I’d like to go visit with Karl.”
“Karl?” Savannah inquired. “In Arizona?”
“No,” Gladys said, chuckling. “He arrived yesterday afternoon to meet with realtors. He thinks his parents’ house is sold; however…”
“However?” Savannah asked when Gladys hesitated.
“He’s not sure he wants to sell it now. He’s thinking about keeping it so he’ll have a place to stay when he comes here.”
Savannah grinned at her mother. “So he plans to spend more time here in Hammond, does he? I wonder why?” She tilted her head. “Mom, are you blushing?”
“Oh, Vannie, stop it,” Gladys said, slapping at the air in front of her. She asked, “So you’ll be here to fix the kids lunch and put them down for their nap?”
“Sure,” Savannah said. “And Michael will be home in time for lunch. It’s half-day Saturday at the clinic, you know. Yeah, you go on and have a good time with Karl.” She picked up Teddy, who had crawled after Buffy into the kitchen. She smiled at the child and asked her mother, “How long have you been seeing Karl now? He came here—what—about a year ago to settle his parents’ estate?”
Gladys said, “Well, he came before that to help his dad out. It was about a year ago that his dad died, and Karl and I met not long after that.”
“Over a potter’s wheel as I recall,” Savannah said.
Gladys smiled coyly. “And my ginger cookies.”
“It seems like the two of you are enjoying each other’s company.” Her eyes widened. “Especially if he’s thinking about keeping that big house just because of you.”
“It’s not just because of me,” Gladys insisted. “It seems that house prices have dropped a little in this area and he thinks they’re bound to go back up. He’s looking at the place as an investment.”
Savannah grinned impishly. “And a love nest.”
“Oh Vannie, stop it. You sound like your Aunt Maggie.”
When her phone rang, Savannah picked it up and looked at the screen, saying, “Sure, Mom, we’ll be here today with the children. You go on and have fun.” Teddy squirmed to get down, so Savannah lowered him to the floor and watched him toddle back into the living room. Into the phone she said, “Hi, Bev, are you ready for the big field trip tonight?”
“I’m not sure. You’re going, huh?” Bev asked.
“Yes.” Savannah laughed. “I’m responsible for bringing the cat to the fake murder. Besides, I’m curious. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, I sure am,” Bev said, “but my husband isn’t all that happy about me participating. What do you think?”
“Yeah, my husband took some convincing when I first mentioned it last week, but in discussing it with him, I must say I scared myself just a little.”
“Why?” Bev asked. “I mean, I haven’t been able to justify why I should be nervous about this, can you?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” Savannah said. “It just seems kind of odd and creepy to be watching and even participating in planning a murder—someone’s murder. I guess that’s the brunt of it for me.”
“Yes, that’s probably it.” Bev spoke more softly, “So you think he’s safe? I mean, the way Rich writes…well, it’s just counter to the things most of us write.”
“It’s dark, but I guess there’s a place for dark stories, too. Bev, I think he’s harmless. His intentions are probably just as he says—he wants our opinion about whether his murder scenario works. It’s no different than if Marilyn wanted us to watch her hitch up horses to a wagon to make sure she’s describing it so it makes sense to the reader.”
Bev laughed. “Or if we sat in on one of Marvin’s eerie chiropractic sessions…”
Savannah interrupted saying, “Oh, I think I’d have to draw the line if Marvin wanted us to act out a scene from his story. Chiropractic science fiction? I still haven’t figured out what that is, but I’m pretty sure it could become really weird, and maybe even dangerous.”
“More dangerous than being involved in a murder?” Bev asked, laughing. She added, “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not like Rich could get away with hurting any of us while the others are watching.”
“Exactly,” Savannah said. “At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. So, do you want me to pick you up about eight?”
“Sure, if your car isn’t full.”
“Nope. We have room. Text me your address, will you?” Savannah instructed before ending the call.
****
Hi, hon,” Savannah said when Michael entered the kitchen a little after noon. “All finished at work?”
“Yup.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “I passed your mother in the driveway. She said she’ll be visiting Karl this afternoon.”
Savannah nodded. “They’re going to a new place for lunch.”
He wh
ispered huskily into her ear. “So what do you and the kids have planned for the rest of the day?”
She smiled. “We’re at your beck and call.”
“Oh really?” he said in a flirty manner. “When’s nap time?”
“Hmmm,” she purred. “After lunch.”
“Shall we eat, then?” he asked, kissing her again. He pulled back and grinned at her. “I’m suddenly very hungry.”
****
At seven forty-five that evening, while Savannah fastened Rags’s harness around him, Michael said, “I still don’t understand why you’re taking him to a staged murder scene. Do you know?”
Savannah shook her head. “Not really. Rich said something about wanting a cat involved in the story, so Rags might have a part in the performance tonight, I guess.”
“Well, I suppose you’ll know more about this guy’s intentions after tonight,” Michael said. “Do you know anything about the story? Has he read any of it to the group? Isn’t that the purpose of your meetings—to critique each other?”
Savannah nodded. “All we know so far is that his main character is a player. He juggles a lot of girlfriends. He seems to enjoy living on the edge—you know, taking risks and pursuing danger in many areas of his life. This character has a lot of dark thoughts, so Rich’s writing isn’t what you’d call uplifting. I don’t think there’s anyone in our group who can even relate to his story. Most of us are all about light reading, fun, happy thoughts…”
“A bunch of Pollyannas, huh?” he quipped.
She thought for a moment. “No. I wouldn’t say that. For the most part our writing and our conversations definitely have substance, but we keep it light, that’s all. To answer your question, I don’t have a clue regarding who his character plans to kill, and maybe he doesn’t know either. He might still be trying to figure it out and that’s why he wants our input.” She shuddered. “Yeah, I may regret participating tonight, but I’m definitely curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Gladys reminded her.
Savannah looked down at Rags and ran her hand over his fur. “Awww, Mom, did you have to say that?” She slipped into her jacket, took hold of the leash, and headed for the door. “Okay, we’re off. See you later. Say bye-bye, Rags.”