Claws of Action

by Linda Reilly

  Lara thought about that. “Then I intend to find out more about her.”

  As soon as she had a chance, Lara was going to Google the name Evonda Fray and find out as much as she could about the woman. Luckily, it was an uncommon name. At least she hoped it was. It shouldn’t be all that hard to find the one she was looking for. What did Fray do before she was the health inspector? How was it they’d never heard of her before?

  “Gideon, do you know anything about Mrs. Fray?” Aunt Fran asked.

  Lara made a face. “You read my mind.”

  Gideon looked troubled by the question. “Not very much, but I do know that she replaced Trevor Johnson, who was fired about a month ago. He’d been the health inspector for almost six years. A buddy of mine, a fellow lawyer, was approached by Johnson in the hope that he could represent him in a suit against the town. My friend turned him down because of a conflict of interest.”

  “Trevor Johnson. That’s a familiar name,” Aunt Fran said.

  “You might have read about him in the paper,” Gideon said. “Apparently, a few complaints had come in about him. He wasn’t doing his job, he was letting things slide, vague accusations like that. Unfortunately, he was also caught accepting a substantial gift card to a certain establishment in lieu of, shall we say, a more thorough inspection of their kitchen.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Lara said. “What a dopey thing to do. Jeopardizing his job for a gift card.”

  “Yeah, but Johnson claimed the restaurant owner gave it to him as a birthday gift for his mother. He didn’t see it as a bribe at all, even though, technically, it violated the rules. As for Evonda Fray…” He paused.

  “What?” Lara prodded.

  “Supposedly, she was the one who put the final nail in his coffin—so to speak, that is. She took a photo of him chatting privately with the owner of a certain popular eatery—this is a different one, now—right here in town. Fray claimed she caught them near the dumpster behind the restaurant, and that she saw an envelope change hands.”

  “She spied on him,” Lara said, disgusted.

  “Maybe, Lara. But if he was accepting bribes, he was breaking the law.”

  “Did he tell you which restaurant it was?”

  Gideon looked grim. “He said to me, in so many words, ‘you don’t want to know.’ I left it at that.”

  Lara thought about that. It wasn’t as if Whisker Jog was chockablock with eating places. “But don’t you think it’s odd that after squealing on the guy, Evonda suddenly becomes the new health inspector?”

  Gideon shrugged. “Hard to say. I don’t know enough about it to make that call.” He rose from his chair and went over to Lara. He bent over and hugged her close. “Listen, honey, if she tries to close the shelter, and I doubt she will, we’ll fight it every step of the way. We’ll go to court and file a cause of action. The way I see it, the most she can do is to prevent you from serving refreshments, but we’ll fight that, too. She can’t interfere with the work you’re both doing here. You have a license for that.”

  Lara pressed her head against his chest, then breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, and I’m sorry if I sniped at you. I’m just superfrustrated with all this.”

  “You didn’t snipe.” He pushed back a strand of her copper-colored hair and tucked it behind her ear. “You’re understandably upset. I sure as heck don’t blame you for being angry.”

  Aunt Fran excused herself. Lara sensed she wanted to allow them a private moment, but then the doorbell rang.

  Lara jumped visibly, and Snowball squeaked. “Oh, no. Please tell me she didn’t come back to harass us.”

  “Would you like me to answer the door?” Gideon offered.

  Aunt Fran hesitated, but Lara nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Gideon squeezed Lara’s shoulder, then left to answer the front doorbell. Moments later, the sound of voices drifted into the kitchen—Gideon’s and another male voice. Lara perked her ears to listen, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  When she heard the front door close, she expected Gideon to return. He didn’t, so she set Snowball on her kitchen chair and went into the large parlor to peek out the front window.

  Gideon was in the driveway, standing next to a dark-green SUV. A man who looked to be in his thirties stood in front of the driver’s door, a pet carrier clasped in one hand. He wore Bermuda shorts and a navy tee, his high-topped sneakers rising to meet a pair of extremely hairy legs. A deep frown was etched on his full face.

  Lara bounded down the front steps to check out the visitor.

  The man nodded a greeting, and Gideon said, “Lara, this is Brian…Downing, is it?”

  “That’s right. I tried to call the shelter earlier, a couple of times, but I never got a return call.”

  “I’m sorry. I had visitors pretty much all morning. I never got a chance to play our messages. I’m Lara, one of the shelter’s owners.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lara. Could we maybe talk somewhere? Someplace where it’s cooler?” He glanced down at his pet carrier.

  Lara hesitated to invite him into the house. She was still feeling the burn from Evonda Fray’s dreadful visit, and she didn’t know this man at all. Gideon obviously hadn’t met him before either.

  “Maybe we can sit on the back porch?” Gideon suggested.

  Thank you, Gideon.

  “That would be perfect.” Lara peeked into the pet carrier. “I see you have a cat with you.”

  “Yeah,” Brian said. “That’s my Smuggles. I’ll tell you about him when we get inside. I don’t want the poor guy to overheat. It’s hotter than blazes out here.”

  They walked around to the other side of the house, where the official door to the shelter led into the meet-and-greet room. Brian set down the carrier and they sat at the table.

  “So, what’s this about, Mr. Downing?” Lara said.

  “It’s Brian, okay? If you call me Mr. Downing I won’t know who you’re talking to.”

  Lara chuckled. “Fair enough. Would you like to give Snuggles a break and take him out of the carrier?”

  “Thanks. That a good idea.” Brian unzipped his pet carrier—a fancy-looking affair with a padded pillow inside—and lifted out a chubby, gray tiger cat. The kitty settled down comfortably in his lap.

  “By the way, it’s Smuggles, with an ‘m.’ When I first got him, he wasn’t used to having regular meals. He’d smuggle bits of kibble from his bowl and hide them in his bed.” Brian swallowed, and Lara saw that he was getting emotional. “He doesn’t do it anymore. He knows I’d never let him go hungry.”

  Lara reached over and scratched the kitty under the chin. “Brian, what is it you called us about this morning?”

  “Two things. First off, I have a favor to ask. Secondly, the reason I called was to warn you about my landlady. I overheard her on her cell phone this morning after she showed up, unannounced, at my apartment. She was talking to someone about this place—I distinctly heard her say ‘High Cliff Shelter.’ I wanted to warn you, in case there was something you could do to head her off at the pass.”

  Gideon, who normally had the patience of St. Francis of Assisi, made a time-out sign with his hands. “Brian, go back to the beginning. Why don’t you start by telling us who your landlady is?”

  Lara had a sinking feeling she knew the answer.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m jumping all over the place.” He huffed out an exasperated sigh. “I live in Moultonborough, in a three-story apartment building. My landlady’s name is Evonda Fray. She lives here in Whisker Jog.”

  A feeling like an icy fist clamped Lara’s insides. She looked over at Gideon, who maintained a poker face. “Evonda Fray is your landlady?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately. She’s a real horror, meanest piece of work you ever met. My lease says I can have one cat. I even put down a pet deposit—two hundred bucks—even
though Smuggles doesn’t do anything but sleep all day. He’s an elderly kitty. My vet thinks he’s twelve or thirteen.”

  Lara could guess where this was going. “Is she trying to renege on her agreement?”

  He nodded. “Yup, you guessed it. See, she wasn’t the original landlord. She bought the apartment house a few months ago from the nice old guy who owned it. He didn’t want to deal with the upkeep anymore. She got herself a heckuva deal, too. He should have held out for more, but he just wanted to unload the place. He’s sick—on his way out, if you get my meaning.”

  “I can understand his reasoning,” Lara said. “He probably didn’t want to saddle his family with having to sell his property after he, you know…”

  “Yeah, I got that, too. But here’s the problem. Evonda is claiming that my cat is scratching the paint on the walls and wrecking the place. It’s not true. Smuggles doesn’t scratch much of anything anymore. He pretty much sleeps all the time.”

  “Brian,” Gideon prompted, using his most encouraging tone. “You said you heard her talking on the phone about the shelter.”

  He blinked. “Yeah, I did. I heard her say something like ‘I’m gonna give those cat hoarders a run for their money’ and ‘Wait till they get a load of Hurricane Evonda.’ And then she laughed—actually cackled, like a witch! It was like she couldn’t wait to inspect this place so she could give you guys a hard time.”

  Lara looked over at Gideon and felt her face drain of color. “But…why would she do that?”

  Brian shrugged. “She’s anticat, I guess. Some people don’t like cats, but they’re not so militant about it. But Evonda, well, she really doesn’t like cats. That’s why I called you before—to warn you.”

  Lara wished, now, that she’d played the messages. “Brian, did she actually call us hoarders?”

  “She did. That part I heard loud and clear.”

  “Did she say anything else?” Lara was afraid to hear the answer.

  Brian shrugged. “I couldn’t hear much else, and then she hung up so she could turn her fury on me.” He rubbed his fingers between his cat’s ears.

  “What did she do?” Gideon asked.

  Brian’s face pinched with anger. “First off, I asked her why she was there. My lease says that unless it’s an emergency, the landlord has to give twenty-four-hours’ notice of an inspection. But she thinks she has the right to inspect any time she feels like it. Lucky thing I’m on vacation this week. I hate to think what she might have done if I hadn’t been home.”

  “Brian,” Gideon said, “did you contact a lawyer about this? Or someone in the police department? She clearly overstepped her authority when she entered your apartment without cause.”

  “No, not yet. I’m trying to figure out my next move. One thing I know for sure, I’m getting out of there and finding another place to live. I’ve got three months left on my lease, but I don’t care. I’m bailing anyway. She’ll probably sue me for the rent, but I’ll go to court and fight it if she does. I just want out of there, as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Lara said. “But…if you don’t have a place to move to yet, why is Smuggles with you?” She had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.

  Brian’s face flushed. “Here’s the thing. I’m terrified to leave Smuggles alone in the apartment while I go hunting for some new digs. That woman scares me. I’ve made some calls, and I’ve got leads on two apartments. I just need a chance to nail something down. It should only take a few days. A week, at most.”

  “Brian, I want to help you, but I’m not sure what we can do.”

  His voice lowered. “All I want is a safe place for Smuggles to stay, just until I get an apartment. It’ll only be for a short time, I promise.”

  Lara felt torn. “I wish…look, we simply aren’t set up to be a boarding facility. Our vet, Amy Glindell, will be glad to board Smuggles for you. She has nice, clean facilities and a wonderful staff. I can give you her number and—”

  Brian shook his head, his eyes watering. “You don’t get it. This cat endured so much trauma before I rescued him. If I send him someplace where he’ll be put in another cage, he’ll think he’s reliving that nightmare, no matter how clean the place is. It’s still a cage.” He twisted one hand over the other. “I Googled you guys. I know all about this place. It’s a home for cats. No cages, no restrictions. It’ll only be for a few days, I promise. I’ll pay you double whatever the regular adoption fee is. I just don’t want him to be frightened.”

  Lara felt bad for Brian, she truly did, and she definitely wanted to help Smuggles. But if she agreed to board the kitty, would she be setting a precedent?

  She shook her head. Setting a precedent. She was picking up too much legalese from Gideon.

  “Brian, give me one good reason why Smuggles can’t stay with you while you look for a place.”

  Brian’s face darkened. “I’ll give you a reason. That witch Evonda said if I didn’t get rid of my cat immediately, she’d come over and do it for me. One way or the other.”

  A cream-colored cat suddenly leaped onto the table. Her sapphire-colored eyes fastened on Lara, she nestled up against Brian’s arm. Lara thought she saw Brian’s hand twitch.

  She stifled a smile.

  Decision made.

  Chapter Four

  After introducing Brian to Aunt Fran and giving him a tour of the shelter, during which he greeted each cat with a smile and a scratch behind the ears, Lara and Gideon showed him the new reading room.

  “I can’t believe what you guys have done here,” Brian said, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I’ll bet there’s not another shelter like this in the state…or anywhere, for that matter. No wonder I’ve heard such good things about it.”

  “Thanks,” Lara said. “Aunt Fran and I are proud of what we’ve accomplished.”

  Lara and Gideon walked him out to his car. Brian noticed the oversize box the new screen door had been packed in. As a small gesture for taking in Smuggles, he offered to dispose of it for them. “It’ll fit in the back of my SUV, no problem,” he said. “I was heading to the recycling station anyway to look for some boxes.” He rolled his eyes. “Like that’s how I want to waste my vacation—packing up my apartment.”

  Gideon helped Brian load the box into the back of his SUV, while Lara carried Smuggles upstairs to her bedroom. A puffy cushion, big enough for a Saint Bernard, rested in one corner on the floor. Most of the cats in the house ignored it, opting instead to hang out on Lara’s bed and wrestle her chenille bedspread into submission.

  Lara had to hand it to Brian—he’d come to the shelter prepared. Along with Smuggles’s special formula food, bowls, and favorite toys, he’d brought along a T-shirt that he’d worn but hadn’t laundered. Lara pulled the tee out of the brown paper bag in which everything had been packed. She spread it over one corner of the cushion, then gave Smuggles a tickle under the chin. The kitty closed his eyes and rested his head on the tee. His muted purr told her he was settling in for a long snooze.

  Gideon returned holding a large envelope. He glanced at his vintage Superman watch. “Shoot. I’ve got a closing in forty minutes.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect any of this drama today.”

  He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Not a problem. I’ll make it back in time. I’m glad I was here to help out.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I advised him to go to the courthouse this afternoon to file for a restraining order. Evonda Fray made unacceptable threats to him. He needs to be proactive.”

  “Is he going to do it?” Lara twisted her hands.

  “I think so. He gave me these—his cat’s health records.”

  Lara took the envelope. “Wow. He really did come prepared. Thanks. I tucked Smuggles into a cozy corner in my room, with a litter box close by. I’ll have to keep an eye on Orca
and Pearl, though. I’m sure they’ll try to plunder his food.”

  Gideon smiled with approval. “I can’t think of a better temporary home for Smuggles. I’m glad you took him in.”

  * * * *

  With her head spinning in a thousand directions, Lara didn’t know what to do first.

  She strolled outside onto the front porch, which was actually on the side of the house. A warm summer breeze, dry and fragrant, wafted over her. It was a welcome change from the stifling humidity they’d been enduring for the past several days. Tomorrow was going to be humid again, so she wanted to enjoy it while she could.

  Aunt Fran sat outside in the yard, under the big maple, in her favorite Adirondack chair. Propped in her lap was her latest library book—a popular historical novel that was getting rave reviews. With her straw hat pulled low over her face, she didn’t see Lara.

  Instead of joining her, Lara went back inside and into her art studio. The small parlor had once been her childhood hangout, back in the days when she stayed with her aunt every day after school. Her mom, who now lived in Vegas with her hubby, Rod, had been more than a tad jealous of Aunt Fran back then. Lara’s reunion with her mom last Christmas had set them both on a new path. It helped heal their fractured relationship so that they could both move forward.

  Lara had been working on a watercolor for the new reading room—a painting of a dark-haired boy reading to a small gold cat. The child’s expression needed work—she still hadn’t captured the joy on his face as he read aloud to the kitty.

  She set up her supplies—paints, brushes, tile for blending colors, water glass—and went to work. Or tried to anyway. Evonda invaded her thoughts like a storm trooper, waiting around every corner to taunt and annoy her. An hour later, having made little progress, she set everything aside.

  Lara went upstairs to her bedroom. On the plump cushion in the corner, Smuggles was stretched out with his eyes half-closed, his head resting on Brian’s T-shirt. At the sight of Lara, the cat swished his tail and issued a soft purr. Lara bent over and stroked his furry head. He looked comfy enough, so she left him to snooze in peace.