by Patricia Fry
“I don’t know; why are you going over there?” Margaret asked.
“You’re not going to believe this, but Gail Allen, the gal who says she’s living there, had a neighbor call to tell me that Rags is visiting her.”
“What?” Margaret exclaimed. “How’d he get over there? Did he follow the horses this afternoon?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea. But I aim to find out. Michael doesn’t believe it’s Rags, but the thing is, we haven’t seen him in the house this evening.” She asked, “Want to go with me?” When Margaret hesitated, Savannah said, “Last chance; I’m out here in front of your house now.”
“Yes, I do. Hang on!” Margaret shouted. Savannah heard her say, “Come on, Bri, we have a mystery on our hands.”
A few minutes later, the three women climbed out of Savannah’s car and approached the Allen house. “Do you see him?” Brianna asked.
Margaret frowned. “She wouldn’t leave him out here with all these other cats, would she? How does she know it’s Rags, anyway?”
“She’s seen pictures of him,” Savannah explained. She grinned. “Gail’s a fan.”
When Savannah started to walk toward the front porch, Brianna said, “She doesn’t use that door. She always comes from the other side of the house.” She pointed. “Back there.”
“Wait,” Margaret hissed, staring into the distance.
“What?” Savannah asked. “Do you see Rags?”
“No,” she whispered, “someone just ran across the back of the yard there. Who was that?”
“Where?” Brianna asked, gazing in the same direction. “I don’t see anyone.”
Margaret cautiously stepped around the corner of the house and scoured the area. “I don’t see him now. I guess he scaled the fence or something.”
“Probably a neighborhood kid taking a shortcut,” Brianna reasoned.
Before Margaret could respond, Savannah pointed. “Look! Is that blood on that rock there?”
“Blood?” Margaret repeated. She took a closer look. “Oh my gosh, it could be…and it looks fresh.”
Brianna studied the red smear, then stood up and glanced around the yard. “Maybe another cat got hurt.”
“Rags,” Savannah moaned.
“There’s more on that stepping-stone over there,” Margaret noticed. “Uh-oh, it looks like it’s coming from that white cat.”
“Where?” Savannah asked, turning in the direction Margaret pointed. When she caught sight of the cat, she moved toward it. “Help me catch him. I want to check him over.”
It didn’t take the women long to get their hands on the white cat and they agreed that it was blood on his paws. “It doesn’t appear to be his blood,” Margaret said, relieved. “But whose?” she muttered, looking around. “Do you see an injured cat anywhere?”
“That’s actually a lot of blood,” Brianna said. “Someone somewhere must be in pretty bad shape.”
“I hope it’s not Rags,” Savannah said under her breath as she participated in the search for an injured cat.
Brianna stopped. “Maybe it’s prey. I’ll bet that cat caught a gopher for supper.”
Margaret scrunched up her face, saying, “I kinda doubt it. Unlike the jungle cats you see on those animal channels, domestic cats are generally more fastidious eaters.” Margaret suddenly pointed. “Look! Bloody paw prints. They’re coming from behind the house.”
“That’s odd,” Savannah said when they rounded the corner of the house. “They seem to have come from that trellis. What’s behind that big rosebush, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Brianna said, clutching her sister’s arm.
“There!” Margaret whispered loudly.
The others followed her gaze and Brianna said quietly, “More blood.”
Savannah walked forward slowly, calling, “Gail! Gail, it’s Savannah. Hello! Are you here? I came to get Rags.”
“There!” Margaret said, pointing.
Savannah turned to see Rags ambling toward her. She shook her head in disbelief. “Rags, how in the world…?” When he approached, she fastened his harness around him and carefully checked him over. “He looks okay.” She stood and stared out behind Rags. “Where’d you come from, boy?”
Suddenly Margaret grabbed Savannah’s arm. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” Brianna asked.
“Wait,” Savannah said. “I hear it. Sounds like a cat growling, or it could be someone moaning. Gail!” she shouted again. When Rags lurched forward, she jogged to catch up. “He wants to go back there.”
“I hear it,” Brianna said, following the other women. Quietly, she said, “It does sound like moaning. Oh my God, did Rags attack one of Gail’s cats?”
Savannah sighed deeply. “I sure hope not.”
“Give him his head, Vannie,” Margaret suggested. “I’ll bet he can help us find whoever’s in trouble.”
Savannah spoke to the cat, “Rags, show us who needs help. Go on, Rags,” she urged. When he darted ahead of her in the direction he’d come from, all three women followed. “Hello!” Savannah called.
That’s when they heard a muffled cry. The women stood in place, searching quietly for the source. Savannah and Margaret surveyed the dense overgrowth of shrubs and weeds while Brianna scoured the area out toward the trees.
At the same time, Rags led Savannah around the trellis, to the outside wall of the house. “Dang,” she complained. “I guess he’s not going to cooperate. Either that or he doesn’t know what’s going on.” She continued gazing across the property when she felt another tug on the leash. She looked down and saw that Rags had jumped into a window well and disappeared from view. “Darn it, Rags!”
“What’s he doing?” Brianna asked.
“He went down in there.” She pulled on the leash, but felt resistance.
Brianna joined Savannah at the window well. They looked down, expecting to see Rags, but all they saw was the leash protruding from a partially open window. “He went in there?” Brianna asked.
“Rags!” Savannah called, tugging firmly on the leash.
Rags appeared momentarily, let out a meow, and disappeared again.
“I think he wants you to go inside there, Vannie,” Margaret suggested.
“Break and enter?” Savannah carped. She called out, “Gail!” When she heard what sounded like a cry for help again, she stepped down into the window well and peered into the basement. “Oh no,” she cried. “Brianna, come quick. She’s hurt.” Savannah stepped down into the room through the window and kneeled next to Gail, who lay bleeding on the floor.
When Brianna joined her, she instructed, “Aunt Maggie, call 911. Vannie, get me some wet towels.” She asked, “Gail. Gail, can you hear me? It’s Dr. Brianna.”
Gail groaned and whimpered, “My head.”
“Just lie still,” Brianna crooned. She took a towel from Savannah and held it against the wound. When Gail tried to move, Brianna said, “Just relax. Help’s on the way. You’ll be fine.”
“What happened?” Savannah asked quietly, glancing around the room for evidence of what had caused the woman’s injury. When Gail didn’t answer, she asked, “Gail, did you fall or…”
“I don’t know!” she said, rolling her head to one side.
When she tried to raise up, Brianna gently eased her back down. “You lie still now. I don’t want you to lose any more blood.”
By then, Margaret had entered the basement room through a door. She motioned toward the steps. “She might have fallen down those rickety steps over there.”
Gail closed her eyes and became visibly agitated. “No. It was him. He won’t leave me alone. I keep telling him...”
“Who?” Savannah interrupted. “Who did this?”
Suddenly, Gail opened her eyes and looked into Savannah’s face. She glanced at Brianna. “No one,” she said. “I fell—you know, down those stairs.” She started to get up again, but Brianna prevented her from rising. “I’m okay. Truly, I am,” Gail struggled to
say. “Just let me clean myself up; I’ll be okay.”
Brianna spoke more sternly. “Gail, you have a gnarly gash there on your head. You’ve lost a lot of blood. An ambulance is on the way, so just relax, will you?” She grinned down at the woman. “This is your doctor talking.”
“Sorry, Dr. Brianna,” Gail murmured. She took a breath and winced. “It sure does hurt.”
“I know,” Brianna comforted.
Gail focused on Brianna, then looked at Margaret and Savannah. She pointed at Savannah. “Your cat’s here.”
“I know,” Savannah said. “We came to get him and he led us to you. Do you know how…?”
Brianna shook her head at her sister. “Not now. She needs to relax and be quiet.”
Savannah put her hand to her mouth. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
When Rags rubbed against Gail’s arm, she smiled weakly. “I enjoyed your visit, Rags.”
“If it wasn’t for him, you might be in worse trouble than you are,” Margaret asserted.
Gail tried to focus on her. “Who are you?”
“Oh…um…” Margaret stuttered, “I’m Maggie Sheridan. Brianna’s and Vannie’s aunt. I remember you from school, don’t I? You were younger. Your folks ran a furniture store in town.”
Gail squinted at Margaret and nodded. “I think I sorta remember you. I’m not sure.”
“Go out and direct the emergency crew, would you, Auntie?” Brianna suggested.
“No,” Gail said. “I can’t let anyone know I’m here.” She grabbed Brianna’s arm. “Just walk me out there, okay? I can’t have people coming in here.”
“What are you talking about?” Brianna questioned. “We can’t move you. We have to get an evaluation from the paramedics before we can move you. Just try to relax, will you?”
It wasn’t long before they heard Margaret talking to someone outside, “She’s down in the basement. The door’s over there behind the trellis. I hope that stretcher will fit through there.”
“We got ’er,” a male paramedic said as he and a second man started to manipulate the stretcher down into the basement.
At the same time, a sheriff rapped on the window and asked to come in. Savannah opened the window and explained to him how to find the door, then picked up Rags and carried him outside, holding the door open for the officer. She took a deep breath and said to her aunt, “It’s stuffy down there.” Speaking more softly, she added, “I wonder how she keeps from suffocating in that dank hole.”
Margaret gazed at the house. “Yeah, why doesn’t she live in the main part of the house? Is there something wrong with her?”
Savannah placed Rags on the ground and held tightly to his leash. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like it. She sure lives sparsely, like a rat living off scraps in a temporary space.” She looked at her aunt. “Anyway, you said the floor’s all caved in up there. It doesn’t sound livable.”
Margaret shook her head. “It wasn’t, the last time I was in there—maybe six or seven years ago. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. It’s a great house. She certainly could make it livable with a few repairs and some elbow grease.”
Savannah said more quietly, “Maybe she’s hiding out down there.”
“Well, it appears that someone found her,” Margaret muttered.
Savannah focused on her aunt. “So you think someone did this to her? At first she said she was attacked, then she said it was an accident.”
Margaret shook her head slowly. “Hard to tell. I guess the authorities will figure it out.” She frowned. “Why would she lie about something like that?”
“Fear,” Savannah said. “That’s my guess.”
When Brianna joined the other women, she said, “Poor thing. She sure needs a friend. I don’t think she has any friends, except for her cousin.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’d better call Adele. She’ll want to know about this.” Into the phone she said, “Adele, this is Dr. Jordan. I’m with Gail, here at her house. There’s been…well, an accident, I hope. She’s on her way to the hospital. I thought you’d want to know. She has a nasty bump on her head. Yes, I think she’ll be okay. You’re welcome.”
“So she’s going to the hospital?” Margaret asked.
Brianna nodded. “Yes. You don’t want to mess around with a head injury. Isn’t that right, Sis-Doc?”
Instead of responding, Savannah grinned at someone behind her sister. “Well, look who’s here.”
“Who?” the other women asked, turning.
“Detective Craig.” Savannah waved as he walked toward them. “Hi. What brings you out?”
“Business,” he said. “The question is, what are you gals doing here?”
“Well, I got a call that Rags…” Savannah started.
Craig began to laugh. “I should have known your cat would have something to do with this crazy case.”
“Crazy case?” Savannah repeated.
“Well, out of the ordinary. Gail Allen is probably the most mysterious person on our radar these days.” He chuckled. “And wouldn’t you know that your cat would have a connection here.”
“A connection? What do you mean? He escaped and showed up here.”
“Of course, he did,” Craig said sarcastically.
Margaret latched onto the detective’s arm. “So what’s going on, Craig? What’s so mysterious about Gail Allen?”
He thinned his lips before saying, “Well, she lives in that basement, for one thing.” He shook he head. “I get claustrophobic every time I go down in there.”
“You come here often?” Brianna asked.
Craig gazed at her for a moment, winked, and said, “I’d better get to work. You gals take care now, hear?”
****
“So what do you think happened?” Iris asked when Savannah called her later and told her about Gail’s injury.
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that if Rags hadn’t escaped and Gail hadn’t asked her cousin to call me to come get him, she might have laid there and died this evening.” Savannah continued, “Sure wish I knew what happened—whether she was attacked or maybe tripped over a cat or something and fell, which is entirely likely in that dark cave she lives in. Like my aunt said, why doesn’t she live in the big house or even just a room in the house? That basement doesn’t seem like the best option to me. It’s probably growing mold. It’s depressing.”
“Sounds awful. So how badly is she hurt?”
“I don’t know. There was quite a bit of blood, but that can happen from a head injury.” Savannah’s voice accelerated. “Craig was there.”
“Oh, so that’s where he went,” Iris blurted.
“Doesn’t he tell you anything?” Savannah complained.
“Not really. Like the rest of the community, I know only what I read in the paper or see on TV, when it comes to local crime”
“Then what’s the point of being married to a detective, if you aren’t privy to all of that juicy stuff he deals with?”
“I know, right?” Iris quipped. “After all, I share the nitty-gritty about my inn guests with him.”
Savannah laughed. “Yeah, whether he wants to hear about it or not.”
“Pretty much.”
“You can tell me their secrets,” Savannah offered. “I love secrets. I’d sure like to know Gail Allen’s secret.”
“You think she has one, do you? Maybe she’s just a little crazy,” Iris suggested. “There are people who have messed-up brains. They just don’t think like other people do.”
“Of course. Yeah, she could be a bit crazy, but I doubt it. I believe there may be something wrong with her thinking, but I get the impression there’s a reason for it. Iris, something has happened in her life to send her down this strange road—to make her the way she is.” Savannah took advantage of the silence to think for a moment, then she said, “I’d like to find out what that is—what happened to cause her to have this odd lifestyle. Who would sit on property with a fabulous house and let it deterior
ate like that?” She mused, “I guess a good place to start is with her so-called accident. Hey, ask Craig to call me when he gets home, will you? I might actually have something of interest to share with him.”
“Of interest?”
“Yeah, to the case.”
“What?” Iris asked.
“Now, I can’t divulge that until I speak with my partner,” Savannah said glibly.
“You mean your cat?”
“No!” Savannah insisted. “Craig. We’ve partnered on a few cases, you know. Yeah, I think he’ll be interested in this bit of information.”
“Come on, you can tell me. What is it?”
“Uh-oh, Teddy’s fussing. I’d better see what’s going on.”
“Chicken,” Iris said, pouting. “Hey, I’ll tell you something interesting if you’ll tell me. You know you can trust me,” she whimpered.
Savannah considered the bait enough to ask, “What do you have? Gossip?”
“Oooh, you’re interested, huh?” Iris teased
“Come on, Iris. I need to go. What is it?”
“Will you tell me your news if I tell you mine?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Savannah said.
“Only maybe? Then good-bye.”
“Wait. Okay, I’ll tell, you little briber, you,” Savannah griped. “What’s your news? This had better be good.”
“Oh, it’s good,” Iris said. “Did you know that Gail Allen used to date Ronnie Griffith?” When the line seemed to go dead, Iris asked, “Savannah, are you there?”
“Yes. Well, that is quite a news flash. So where did you get that,” Savannah asked, “or did you make it up?”
“Oh no. It was right in that research material we collected. We just didn’t notice it before—we didn’t know it was important.”
“Wow!” Savannah said, continuing to mull over the tidbit. She asked, “Hey, Iris what did Ronnie Griffith look like, do you know?”
“Isn’t it enough that I found that morsel?” Iris complained.
“Well, I’m not sure what difference it makes. I mean he’s gone, unless…”
“Unless what?” Iris asked impatiently.