A Purrfectly Perilous Plot

by Patricia Fry

  “What?” he asked, following her at a fast clip.

  She stopped in front of a large pen, “Remember the little tiger girl who was so terrified? She’s coming out of her shell.”

  Arthur chuckled quietly. “Literally,” he said, when he saw the small cat peering from inside a kitty bed shaped like a clam. “Oh, doesn’t she look bright?” He turned to the others. “She was so far gone that her eyes looked…well,” he said, searching for words.

  “Dead,” Vivian interjected. “There was no life in her at all; she was dead, except for a heartbeat.”

  “You’ve done wonders with her,” Arthur said. “That’s just amazing.”

  “Oh she’s a darling, isn’t she?” Savannah said. “Look, here she comes.”

  “It’s as if she’s grateful for the second chance at life,” Vivian said, reaching in and picking up the cat, who had come out to get a closer look at the visitors. Vivian handed her to Arthur, who snuggled with her.

  “She’s purring up a storm,” he said.

  “Yup, she is a great candidate to be someone’s lap cat now.”

  Arthur handed her to Savannah, who held her gently and spoke softly to her. The cat batted Savannah’s lips and she kissed her paws. “She’s yummy,” Savannah said.

  “Want to take her home with you?” Arthur asked.

  Savannah looked endearingly at the cat. “I’d love to have this kitty, but no. She doesn’t need us. She will find her forever home without much trouble.”

  Vivian smiled. “You know cats, don’t you? How generous of you.”

  “Generous?” Arthur said. “Vivian, you’ve just been given a possible opportunity for this wonderful cat to have a home, and you don’t push it? Why?”

  Vivian ran her hand over the cat’s fur affectionately. “Like Savannah said, she’ll be easy to place. It’s the wounded and damaged cats we’re most concerned about.”

  “Who’s that?” Savannah asked, pointing into the next cage.

  “Oh,” Michael groaned, “he’s in bad shape. What happened? Looks like a serious infection has deformed his head. His eye’s gone.”

  “Right,” Vivian said. “This is the poster cat for the worst-case scenario we’re dealing with.” She smiled. “At least we have the funds to give them all the best chance possible.” She looked down at the black cat with the deformed face. “He’s better already, but his veterinarian is working to give him an even greater chance of living a good rest of his life. It’ll just take time.”

  “Poor boy,” Savannah crooned, scratching the cat’s fur with one finger through the pen. “Sounds like you’re in good hands.” She suggested, “Arthur, let’s meet your cats.”

  He nodded to the right and asked Vivian, “Are they still over there?”

  “Yes,” Vivian said. “Still in isolation.” She explained to the Iveys, “They’re doing quite well, but their immune systems are compromised and the little boy is still fighting an infection. She’s in renal failure, but we have her stabilized. She could come out of ICU; however, he seems to do better when she’s with him, so we haven’t separated them.”

  Vivian opened the door to an enclosed room and led her visitors to a large pen with two pointed cats.

  “Siamese,” Savannah said, smiling. “I should have known.”

  “Actually, Himalayan,” Arthur said, “like your Buffy.” When Savannah looked puzzled, he explained, “They’d been shaved, and, because of malnutrition, their fur hasn’t been growing in very nicely.”

  “Not yet,” Vivian said, “but their veterinarians have high hopes that these two will recover to their natural beauty.”

  “What happened to his leg?” Michael asked quietly.

  “We don’t know,” Vivian said. “When he came to us, it was useless. It had been broken at one time and didn’t heal right. There was nerve damage, so they amputated. He seems happy to have it gone.”

  “Well, they’re just so much more lively and alert than they were the first time I saw them,” Arthur said.

  “Yes, they’re two more of our success stories—at least so far,” Vivian said.

  “Arthur, they’re delightful cats,” Savannah said. “Himalayan, huh?”

  “Yes. I love the cats with points and the disposition of those with Persian genes. Plus, these two need to stay together, and they’ll need special care probably for the rest of their lives.”

  Vivian nodded. “They are special-needs cats.”

  As Vivian walked through the shelter with the Iveys and Arthur, she shared stories of the various cats. “In this group of pens are the cats that are ready for homes. We’ve done everything we can here to prepare them, and we’re shipping them out to other shelters that have room and possibly a plethora of good homes for them in their communities.”

  “Oh, there’s the little mother cat,” Arthur remarked.

  “Don’t they have names?” Michael asked.

  “No,” Vivian said. “We decided not to name them so they’ll each have a fresh start with the name their new family chooses. That idea came from one of our board members, and we decided to go with it. It’s a little cumbersome at times, but we’ve managed to keep everyone separate without much trouble.” She turned to Savannah and Michael. “We have fifty of the cats here. The other sixty-three went to six different shelters in the area. We took the worst of the group because we have the most access to veterinary care—my husband’s a veterinarian. So we have one on the premises, which is nice.”

  “Does he specialize in cats?” Michael asked.

  “He’s a small-animal veterinarian, but yes, he’s most well-known in the area for his work with cats.”

  When Michael noticed that Savannah had walked away from the group, he joined her. “Who did you find?” he asked, slipping his arm around her waist.

  She pointed. “Isn’t she a dear?”

  “A deer?” he said. “Looks more like a cat to me.”

  She elbowed him gently. “Vivian, what’s this kitty’s story?”

  “Oh,” Arthur said, when he saw which cat Savannah was referring to, “Glori. That’s her name, right, Vivian?”

  The shelter director nodded.

  “Why does she have a name?” Savannah asked.

  “I don’t know,” Vivian said. “There’s just something about that little girl that prompted me to let her have that name.” She turned to Arthur. “You were the first one to call her Glori, right?”

  He nodded. “I think so. One day I was helping to give meds, and when it came time for hers—you know, a concoction of vitamins and Bach remedies and whatever…”

  “A power cocktail we give them during their recovery,” Vivian said.

  “Well, she’d been so sick—like the little tiger girl down the way. She seemed to have no will to live…”

  “Many of these guys didn’t,” Vivian added.

  “I’d been sort of helping out with her for a week or so, when one morning, instead of stiffening her little body and trembling in fear at my touch, she rolled over in my hands, relaxed, and began to purr. I guess I blurted, ‘Glory-be!’ And that became her name. Of course, we shortened it to Glori. Isn’t she a nice cat?” he said, smiling as the long-haired calico rubbed against the pen to enjoy Savannah’s and Michael’s finger-rubs through the mesh.

  “She is.” Savannah turned to Michael. “She reminds me of Buffy—I mean, her sweet disposition and all.”

  Michael nodded, leaned over, and began talking quietly to the cat.

  “She’s deaf,” Arthur said. “Or pretty close to it.”

  “Oh,” Savannah moaned. “Poor kitty. So that’s why she’s still here, huh?”

  Vivian nodded. When she sensed their interest, she said, “Open the door; you can bring her out if you want.”

  Savannah looked at Michael and he nodded.

  The couple had been petting, holding, and playing with the three-year-old calico for a while, then Michael stepped back and took a picture of her with Savannah.

  “What’s
that for?” she asked.

  He winked. “Her baby book.” When Savannah looked puzzled, he said, “We are taking her home, aren’t we?”

  Savannah couldn’t help it, she choked up and buried her face in Glori’s fur.

  He joined her. “What’s wrong, hon? Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Michael.”

  “For what?” he asked, feigning confusion.

  “For letting us give her a home.”

  “Okay,” Michael said, “Vivian, where do we sign up? Is there a waiting period?”

  “Generally, a very stringent adoption process, actually,” Vivian said. “We want our kitties to stay in their forever homes happily and forever. But Arthur has vouched for you and I can tell that you have a heart for cats. I just have a few questions. Will Glori be an only cat?” She grinned. “Actually, I know she’ll have a big brother—Rags, right?”

  “Yes, who adores other cats,” Savannah said. “And we have a sweet Himalayan mix, that has a gracious nature like Glori does. We had Walter, a big black cat, but he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge some months ago. Oh, and a dog that mixes well with the cats. I also have horses, but she probably won’t have occasion to meet them.”

  Vivian chuckled.

  “However, Rags rides,” Arthur said, “so maybe you can make a cowgirl cat out of Glori.”

  “Your cat rides a horse?” Vivian asked.

  “Yeah, we took Koko and Rags out on the horses this afternoon,” Arthur told her.

  “There are still things I don’t know about you, Mr. Spence,” Vivian joked. She walked away to get the paperwork, shaking her head and muttering, “Cats on horseback. What’s next?”

  ****

  Savannah, Michael, and Arthur arrived back at the Spence home just in time for dinner. They were eager to introduce Glori to Rags and the children, but decided to hide her away in Rags’s pen while they ate and let Glori became oriented to her new temporary surroundings.

  “We have a surprise for you,” Savannah said in a singsong voice as they all sat around the table eating a pasta dish Suzette and Pearl had concocted.

  “For me?” Lily asked.

  “For you,” Savannah said, poking her with one finger, “for Teddy, and for Grammy.”

  “And for Rags and Buffy and Lexi,” Michael said.

  Lily looked at him, then at Savannah. “And Peaches and Gypsy?”

  Michael nodded.

  “What is it?” Lily asked.

  “We’ll show you when we finish eating,” Savannah said. “We’ll have an unveiling.”

  Lily scrunched up her face. “A what?”

  “Unveiling. We’ll show you after dinner.”

  Just then Savannah’s phone chimed. “Oh dear,” she said, removing it from her pocket. “I forgot the rule…”

  Everyone recited it with her. “No phones in the kitchen at mealtime.”

  Cringing with shame, she pushed a button on her phone and took it into the living room, where she left it. Once dinner was over, however, she recovered her phone and stared at the screen for a few moments.

  “What is it?” Michael asked. “Hey, let’s do the reveal, shall we?”

  “Um…” she said, “I think I’d better return Sarah’s call.”

  “Who’s Sarah?”

  “A mutual friend of Gwen’s and mine. She left a message that sounds kind of ominous.” She looked at Michael. “I’d better take it. I’m afraid it could be an emergency.”

  “Good lord,” he said. “You might as well be a doctor on call, or a firefighter, or…”

  “Never mind, Michael,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll be finished in a minute. I just feel like I need to… Oh, hi, Sarah. You called? Hey, I’m sorry…what?” she shrieked.

  “What is it?” Michael asked concerned.

  She held up her hand and turned away from him, saying into the phone, “She what?”

  Moments later, she ended the call and faced Michael.

  “What happened?” he asked. “You look awful.”

  “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say,” Gladys scolded, entering the room.

  Ignoring her, Savannah said, “It’s Gwen. Sarah just got a call from her, and she’s really worried about what she might do. Sarah said she seems to have gone off the deep end ever since her fiancé was killed.” She shuddered. “I didn’t even know about this. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Gwen in ages. Sarah said Gwen’s angry and not thinking straight.” She took a breath. “I guess Gwen told Sarah that she ran into you and the kids, and she said that really triggered something in her. Gwen said her life’s over and she might as well get some satisfaction before she dies.”

  Michael frowned. “What did she mean by that?”

  “I guess she has a vendetta against someone here in the city. Oh, Michael, Sarah thinks that if anyone can get through to her it’s me. We were close at one time, and she helped me through some crazy stuff. I feel like I should go to her.”

  “Do you know where she is?” he asked.

  “Yes. A place on…” she looked at what she’d written down and showed it to him.

  When Arthur came into the room, Michael asked, “Hey, Arthur, do you know where this is?”

  Arthur took the piece of paper, frowned, and said, “Yes, why? You sure don’t want to be caught down there at night.”

  “Savannah thinks she needs to rescue a friend down there,” Michael said quietly.

  Arthur looked at her. “Oh no. See if you can get your friend out of there. Do you have a number for her?”

  “Yes, but she generally doesn’t pick up when I call. I’ll try though.” Minutes later, Savannah said, “She’s not answering.” She studied Michael’s expression, then Arthur’s, saying, “I know where she is. If you guys don’t take me, I’ll get a cab.”

  “Savannah,” Michael scolded.

  Exasperated, she blurted, “Michael, what if it was Peter who needed help?” She didn’t give him the opportunity to respond. She said, “Sarah is concerned that Gwen’s going to hurt someone and herself. She thinks I’m the only one who can help her right now.” She hesitated. “Me and Rags.”

  “Rags?”

  “Evidently Gwen was talking to Sarah, interrupted herself, and started whimpering about Rags. I knew she liked him, but I didn’t know she was that fond of him. You know, she ran that cat shelter in LA, the last I knew. Now you tell me she’s a biologist. Hey, I mentioned that to Sarah and she said she’d never heard that before.”

  “Well, she sure didn’t seem like someone you would be friends with. She was kind of…”

  “Yes,” Gladys said, “very different from what I remember. Something is definitely wrong there. So Sarah said she’s in danger?”

  Savannah nodded. “And maybe a danger to others.” She shook her head. “I just can’t imagine what happened. Sarah said Gwen’s fiancé died and she’s never been the same since.” When she saw Rags walking into the room, she picked up his harness and said, “Rags, let’s go.”

  “Savannah,” Michael called.

  She continued putting Rags’s harness and leash on him and slipped into her lightweight jacket. “Give me the address, Michael. I’ll put it into the GPS.”

  Michael looked at Arthur, and both of them picked up their jackets. Arthur kissed Suzette and said, “Be back soon.” He rolled his eyes. “I hope.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Ohhh, this is scary at night. I think I’ve been through here in the daytime, and it was even creepy then.” Savannah pointed. “There’s the street.”

  Arthur nodded. “A lot of homeless hang out along here.”

  “Yeah, look at that bag lady. Do they still call them that?” Michael asked.

  “Poor souls,” Arthur said.

  “What? Do you want to adopt one of them, too?” Michael teased.

  “He already did,” Savannah said. “He took Ruth’s sister in and helped her go through culinary school.”

  Michael nodded. “And now she�
��s a chef at Iris’s bed and breakfast.”

  “Right,” Savannah said. “Okay, the number should be right around here someplace.”

  After driving up and down the block a couple of times, Arthur asked, “Are you sure you wrote it down correctly?”

  “I thought so.” She studied the paper again, then looked out the window, trying to decide what to do.

  Just then, Michael leaned forward in his seat. “Wait!” He craned to see something behind them. “I think that’s her. Savannah, isn’t that your friend, the biologist? Good lord, what’s she doing?”

  “Where?” Savannah asked, looking around.

  “On the bench back there,” he said. “Arthur, can you turn this thing around?” As they drew near, Michael said, “Pull up next to that bus bench. Savannah, is that her?”

  Savannah stared out the window for a moment, then shook her head. “Gads, I wouldn’t have known her.” She grasped the door handle, saying, “Wait here. I’m going to go talk to her.”

  “Savannah!” Michael called.

  It was too late. Savannah stepped out of the car with Rags in her arms, and the men watched as she slowly approached the woman. “Gwen?” she said.

  “Who’s there?” the woman asked, barely able to raise her head. “Sybil, is that you? I told you to stay away from me. Now go on. Get out of here,” she said stomping one foot.

  Savannah squatted in front of the woman. “Gwen, it’s Savannah.”

  She opened her eyes enough that she could squint at Savannah. She started to turn away when she saw Rags. “Is that…?” she said more brightly. “Ragsdale,” she said, reaching out for the cat.

  Not knowing what to do, Savannah let him go and the woman took him in her arms and began rocking back and forth saying, “Ragsdale. Ragsdale.”

  Savannah sat down next to her and asked, “Gwen, what’s going on? What are you doing out here like this?” When she didn’t speak, Savannah looked around. “Gwen, I’d like to talk to you. Come on, let’s get into the car here with my husband and our friend. We’ll go get something to eat, and you can tell me what you’re doing out here like this.” Savannah stood up and invited, “Come on, Gwen. Will you come with me?”