by Patricia Fry
****
“Well?” Craig said when Savannah walked into their temporary home.
She grinned. “She can be a chatterbox. I learned all kinds of things about her.”
“Like what?”
“Mainly that she adores jewelry, has some old pieces, marries men for their money and stature, and she believes she’s the long-lost illegitimate great niece of the jeweler, Mr. Harmonson.”
“What?” Craig shouted.
“Yes, and she’s going after her inheritance.” She sat down and shook her head. “How ironic that her great uncle of record, you might say, presumably robbed Mr. Harmonson, and she might actually have at least some of the loot and now she’s going after an inheritance too.”
Craig smirked. “Now that’s the way to sweeten the pot. What a woman.”
Before Savannah could comment, she received a text. “Found my keys! Harriet. PS Enjoyed our visit.”
Savannah chuckled. “Good, she found her keys.”
“Well, most of them,” Craig said, holding up the single key he’d kept. “So do you know where she keeps her jewelry?”
“Yes, in little pouches away from the elements, hidden in several places. We were interrupted before I could find out where.”
Craig sat back against the sofa and said contemplatively, “It sounds as if she likes you and trusts you.”
“What are you thinking?” Savannah asked, not sure she was going to like the answer.
“Do you suppose she’d let you and Rags stay at her house overnight?”
“Oh, gosh, how would we manage that?”
“She’s not the only cunning creature in this town,” Craig said, grinning. “We’ll think of something. For one thing, you’ve decided to keep the stray cat. You kind of like him. And you might need shelter for the night because…well, because we had a fight or I went out and left you alone and you’re frightened or…jump in with your ideas any time, Savannah.”
“How about feeding me first,” she said. “I’m famished and rather drained. That woman has a lot of energy. It’s not easy spending time with her.”
Craig promptly stood up. “Let’s go.”
“Do you know people like Harriet?” Savannah asked as they walked to the car.
“Do you mean the Chatty-Cathy type?” he asked, buckling his seatbelt.
She thought about the question as she settled into the passenger seat. “Yeah, Chatty Cathy on steroids. She kind of shifts from subject to subject and throws in an off-the-wall comment once in a while. Once you fall in line with that topic, she’s off in another direction.” Savannah blew out a breath. “It’s exhausting.”
****
Once the pair had eaten a hearty lunch, they decided to take a drive. “Might as well tour the area while we’re here,” Craig suggested. “Have you ever been in this neck of the woods?”
Savannah shook her head. “You?”
Craig thought for a moment and said, “I think I was out here once, but it was dark and we were trying to chase down a drug dealer named Knuckles and his sidekick, Mama Blue.”
Savannah chuckled. “Great names. Did you catch them?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Oh, come on. You don’t score on all of your stakeouts and chases, do you?”
“No,” Craig admitted.
“Then why say ‘of course,’ with so much confidence?”
Craig shrugged. “I don’t know. But that was an easy case. The snitch was right on with his information and we happened to be at the right place at the right time.” He smiled. “I love it when everything falls together like that.”
“You do?” Savannah asked. When he glanced at her, she explained, “I thought you liked the thrill of the chase—the excitement of the potential danger and unknown elements.”
“Not so much these days,” Craig admitted. “I’ve been doing this kind of work for darn near forty years. I appreciate getting a break now and then—you know, a case that comes together without all the stress and physical effort.”
Savannah grinned at him. She then lurched forward. “Hey, there’s a toy store. How about let’s stop so I can get something to take home to Lily and Teddy.”
The pair had been walking in and out of the stores at the strip mall for an hour or so, when Savannah’s cell phone chimed. She looked at it, then at Craig. “It’s Harriet.”
“Answer it,” he said.
“Savannah, I’m so glad you picked up. Rascal’s been hurt. I need help.”
“What happened, Harriet?” Savannah asked.
“He might have ingested something. He’s so sick. The vet sent me home with him, but I’m scared, Savannah. I’ve never had a cat get sick before. Would you… could you…?”
Savannah looked at her watch. Four fifteen. She glanced at Craig, then said into the phone. “Sure, I’ll be right over.” After dropping the phone back into her purse, she told Craig, “Her cat’s sick.”
“Good,” he said, grinning. When he saw Savannah frown, he backtracked. “I mean,
I’m sorry that the cat’s sick, but…” He hesitated, then asked, “So she wants you to go over there?”
Savannah nodded.
“Take Rags with you.”
She looked suspiciously at him. “Why? Don’t you like spending time with him?”
“No, it’s not that,” he insisted. He leaned forward. “He has a way with sick cats, doesn’t he? He could help out, right?” Before Savannah could answer, he added, “And he just might lead us to the jewelry.”
Savannah raised her eyebrows, then took a deep breath. “Well, let’s go back to our place, shall we? Looks like Rags and I have work to do while you lounge around for the rest of the afternoon.”
Craig winked at her.
****
“Savannah,” Harriet gushed, “I’m so glad you’re here. Come in, please.” Suddenly she frowned. “You brought that stray cat?”
Savannah stammered, “Um…well…I…I’ve decided to keep him. He seems like such a nice cat. I thought…well, that maybe he would help to make Rascal feel more at ease—you know, like a therapy cat. I think this one would make a good therapy cat. His name’s Rags, by the way.” She added, “Rags, meet Harriet.”
Harriet stared at Rags, then said, “Well, okay, I guess…if you say so. Just keep an eye on him, will you?”
Savannah nodded as she followed Harriet into her bedroom, where her furry black-and-white cat lay like a meatloaf in a kitty bed. Savannah kneeled next to him and ran her hand over his fur, then looked up at Harriet. “What exactly are his symptoms? What happened?”
“Well, I came home after lunch and noticed a little blood on the kitchen floor. Of course, I panicked and checked both cats right away. I found blood on poor Rascal and also in the litter box. So I took him to the vet right away.”
“What did the vet say?” Savannah asked.
“He thinks the poor boy may have eaten something like rat poison. But Rascal doesn’t go outside and I sure don’t have anything like that in here, so I doubt that could be what’s wrong with him. He does chew on things like rattan and pieces of string and ribbon. So it’s possible he ate something like that.”
Savannah frowned. “Well, that’s not good. If he swallowed a long piece of string or ribbon or dental floss, for example, we could be in real trouble here.”
Harriet began to tear up and Savannah spoke in a gentler tone. “Did they take x-rays?”
“I think so. I don’t know; I was so upset.”
“But the fact that they sent him home with you, that’s a good sign.”
Harriet nodded. When she saw Rags walk up to Rascal and sniff him, she recoiled. “No-no,” she scolded.
“He’s okay, really,” Savannah soothed. “He’s just checking him over. He won’t hurt him.”
Both women watched as Rags lay down next to Rascal and placed a paw on him. Savannah petted Rags. She ran her hand over Rascal again and smiled. “He’s definitely more r
elaxed now. His breathing has slowed and he’s purring.”
Harriet let out a sigh of relief.
“Let’s let him rest, shall we?” Savannah said as she slowly moved away from the two cats.
Harriet nodded. “Hey, I was just having a glass of wine, would you like one? This could be a long night.”
“A long night?” Savannah questioned.
Harriet put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, I was hoping you could stay with me—or us. Do you have something else to do?”
“No, I’m fine. We’ll keep an eye on Rascal and see how it goes.” She smiled at Harriet. “Sure, I’ll have a glass of wine. Thank you.”
Once they each had a glass in their hands and were seated comfortably in Harriet’s bedroom, Harriet asked, “Savannah, do you have a boyfriend?” She giggled. “I mean a manfriend?”
“I have a husband. I’m married to a veterinarian.”
Harriet lowered her eyebrows. “That man you were with, is he your husband?”
“No,” Savannah said, taking a sip of the wine.
Harriet’s eyes twinkled when she asked, “Oh, a little something on the side?”
Savannah shook her head. “No. He’s a good friend of the family. Um…we came here on business.”
“Not monkey business, huh?” Harriet said, laughing.
“No,” Savannah assured her.
“So what sort of business, if I might ask?”
Savannah’s mind went wild with possible explanations. Finally, she blurted, “His wife is my best friend and her birthday’s coming up. He has something in mind that he’d like to buy for her, but he wanted me to see it first.”
“Smart man,” Harriet said. “Most men need a woman’s help if they want to surprise their wife in a good way. So many times the surprise he plans backfires because he picked out the wrong gift.” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to men like your friend.” She squinted at Savannah. “What’s his name?”
“Craig,” Savannah said.
“Craig,” Harriet repeated. “May more of them be like him,” she said, swallowing a gulp of the wine.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Savannah asked, “Did you have a nice lunch?”
Harriet grimaced, took another swig of wine, stared into her glass for a moment, then said, “In a word, no.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened? Wasn’t the food good?”
Harriet thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t remember the food. I guess it was okay. No,” she said, shaking her head, “it was the man.” She peered at Savannah and said as if confiding a secret, “I think he’s a gold digger.” When Savannah didn’t respond, she added, “I certainly don’t mind frat…um…fraternizing—you know, consorting and hob…um…hobnobbing, so to speak, with men who are well-heeled in the money department.” She scowled. “But I sure don’t like it when a man tries to put his hooks into me because of my wealth.”
Savannah noticed that Harriet was starting to slur her words, but that didn’t stop the woman from drinking the wine. In fact, Harriet downed her glass of wine and poured another.
“Have you known the man for long?” Savannah asked.
“Randall? Long enough to know that I think he’s probably trying to take advantage of me and my—you know, pending wealth.”
“Pending wealth?” Savannah questioned.
“Sure, if I find out I’m the great niece of that wealthy dead jeweler, I’ll have some money coming my way, don’t you know?” She looked off into space, took another sip, and said, “It’s really too bad. Randall has what most women want—you know, in the romance department.” She smiled. “If it wasn’t for poor Rascal getting sick, I’d be enjoying some of that this evening. That and the fact that I have the sneaking suspicion he’s a gold digger.” She began to slur her words even more. “Samantha…” she giggled, “I mean Savannah, there’s no room in a relationship for two gold diggers. Number one, it’s unbecoming of a man. Number two, men don’t know how to do it as well as women do. And number three, if he’s a gold digger, then that means he has nothing I want.” She grinned. “Except for maybe what I’m not getting this afternoon because of Rascal.”
Savannah rolled her eyes.
“And another thing that irritates the hell out of me about Randall is his know-it-all attitude.”
Savannah chuckled. “That can be annoying.”
Harriet became more dramatic. “Yes,” she asserted. “Especially when he tries to tell me how to take care of my cats. I don’t know who he thinks he is, telling me I’m not a good cat mother.” She gazed toward the cat bed. “Hey, where’s your cat?” She looked around the room. “Rags. Where did he go?”
“Oh!” Savannah exclaimed. “I didn’t notice he’d left. I’m sorry. I’ll go look for him. Cats like to explore new territory, you know.”
“Well, he’d better not be tearing things up,” Harriet grumped. When Savannah looked at her, she said, “You know, scratching on my furniture, peeing on things…I had a cat once that peed on everything. Of course, I banished him from the house.”
Savannah stood and glanced around the room. “Rags,” she called. “Here kitty-kitty.”
When Harriet saw Bridget saunter into the room, she said, “She’s not calling you, honey.” She stood up and lost her balance as she tried to walk toward the little black cat. “Oopsie. Mommy’s tipsy.” She laughed. “Savannah, this isn’t my first drink today, you know. I had a few with…um, what’s-his-name.” She burst out laughing. “Oh yes, Randall, the scoundrel.” She looked longingly into space. “Randall the romantic scoundrel. Yeah, I should be enjoying his moves about now.”
“Oh there you are,” Savannah said when she found Rags snooping in the bedroom closet. She turned to Harriet. “He may need to use the litter box. Can I show him where it is?”
“Sure, come with me,” Harriet invited. But first, she joined Savannah at the closet and peered in. “What’s he got there?”
When Savannah looked down at Rags again, she noticed he was pawing at a small piece of carpet and had managed to pull it up from the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, picking up the cat and reaching down to replace the carpet. Oh my gosh, she thought. That looks like a safe and it’s built into the floor.
She smoothed out the carpet with one hand, struggling to hold onto Rags in the other arm. Harriet said, “It’s okay. I’ll fix it.” Savannah stepped back and Harriet clumsily moved forward into the closet. She chortled. “Savannah, I’ll bet you’d like to see what I have in here.” She flashed a wide grin at her as she teetered a bit. “And I’d like to show you. It’s girls’ night, after all.” She looked at her watch. “Well, almost night. No men allowed.” She stared into Rags’s face. “Uh-oh, you’re a boy aren’t you?” She tapped the end of his nose lightly. “No boys allowed.” She gazed at Rascal. “…except for sick ones.” She laughed again, then got down on her hands and knees and crawled into the closet. After a few moments, she said, “Drats! I need my keys. Savannah, do you know where my keys are? I found them once. Can you believe I found them out in the front yard? How they got there, I’ll never ever, ever know. Savannah, can you find my keys so I can open this? I want to show you something.” She giggled. “I think you’re going to like it a whole lot.”
“Where are your keys, Harriet?” Savannah asked.
“Um…I wonder.”
“Well, tell me where your litter box is so I can get the cat settled, then we can look for the keys, okay?”
“Nope,” Harriet said. “It doesn’t matter where they are. I have a key hidden right here in this closet. You go to the kitchen. The poopie box is near the backdoor. I’ll open this while you’re gone and we’ll play dress up.” She giggled. “Oh, Savannah you are going to love this so much.”
When Savannah returned to the bedroom, she found Harriet sitting on the queen-size bed next to a pile of velvet pouches and holding an exquisite piece of fine jewelry. “Oh my,” Savannah said.
“I told you you’d be su
rprised.” She handed her the necklace. “Here, put this on. We’ll model it and take pictures of each other. Want to?”
“Sure,” Savannah said.
As Harriet removed piece after exquisite piece from the pouches and they took turns trying on the jewelry, Savannah asked, “Harriet, where did all of this amazing jewelry come from?”
Harriet looked at her and giggled. “I have acquired it over the years. Some of it was in the family, some of it I picked up from the men I met, and I bought some of it.” She confided, “I much prefer getting it as gifts. But I have a lot of say in what I get.”
“How’s that?” Savannah asked.
Harriet smiled at her. “You have a lot to learn, dear.” She smacked her lips together. “You have to ask for it. I mean ask for exactly, explic…explicitly what you want. Pick it out, show him, then act deliciously surprised when he hands it to you.” She smacked her lips again with a look of satisfaction. “That’s how you play the game.”
Savannah studied the jewelry before her and said, “You’ve sure played the game.”
Harriet nodded. “Yes. I’m an expert.”
“Tell me about the jewelry that was handed down in your family,” Savannah prompted.
Harriet moved her hand over the jewelry. “That’s these five pieces.” She leaned in confiding, “And there’s more.”
Savannah watched as Harriet slowly and methodically removed more jewelry from the pouches. She asked, “Do you think some of this was made by the jeweler that your great aunt was…you know...?”
“Oh yes,” Harriet said. “He must have given her quite a few pieces. It was rumored that she hid some of it in the house before she died and it was never found until…”
“She hid it in the house?”
Harriet nodded. She scowled. “Yeah, there’s another rumor—an ugly one—that her husband, Dino Verano, stole it from the jeweler—my illegitimate great uncle—and that’s the jewelry that was hidden in the house.”
“But you don’t believe that?”