by Patricia Fry
Savannah laughed. “Well, Colbi would have used her research skills to check. But probably not Leta.”
“She wouldn’t?” Michael asked.
“Heck no,” Savannah said. “She wanted to believe the story. She fell in love.”
Craig thought about Savannah’s observations and then he said, as if thinking out loud, “So the partner can move freely without drawing attention to himself or to Chandler. At least he has been able to so far.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward Savannah. He spoke quietly this time. “I drove over and paid Leta Barnes a visit this afternoon.”
“So she’s okay, then?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, but she said she was concerned about you and your group. She thinks you could be in danger out there at the Fischer place.”
“What? Why?” Savannah asked.
“Well, Leta believes that since she’s laid up and the authorities are possibly closing in on the whereabouts of the gems, these guys will be out there pursuing their own search. They really want to recover those gems.”
Savannah rested her elbows on the table. “You know, she told me that Mark Chandler (the fake Mark Chandler) wanted to turn the gems over to authorities. That’s why he was searching for them, to return them and make a new life with her.”
Craig grimaced and shook his head. “I think the boyfriend has now convinced her otherwise. She told me that, when he was there today, he drilled her mercilessly to learn what she had found out. When she convinced him that she had failed in her attempt to find the gems, he pretty much let her know that their relationship was over.”
“Oh, is that what she told you? She must be so upset,” Savannah said.
“Savannah, it was a fake relationship,” Michael reminded her.
“Well, it was real for her,” she said, raising her voice a little. She looked at Craig. “So with her out of the picture, and the authorities searching for the gems, you think the crooks may take more chances, is that it?”
Craig smiled over at Savannah. “As I said, you and your cat make quite a pair.”
“Craig,” Savannah said, her brow furrowed, “did you find Jeffrey Fischer?”
He looked down and shook his head. “No, not yet,” he said. “But it doesn’t look good for him. Poor guy. He probably knew nothing about the gems. He was just living in his little fantasy world and got caught in the crossfire.”
“You talk about him as if he’s dead,” Michael said.
“Under the circumstances, that’s how I expect to find him.” He looked up at Michael and Savannah and said, “We have a lot of people out there beating the bushes for him. So maybe we’ll get to him before…”
“Chicken pot pie,” Iris said with a smile as she set the plate down in front of Savannah. She then served Michael’s and Craig’s meals.
“In the meantime, Savannah,” Craig said after Iris had walked away, “I strongly suggest that you and your group curtail any activity out at the Fischer place until this mess is cleared up.”
Savannah cringed a little.
Michael looked over at her and said, “Savannah, listen to Craig will you? You three could be in danger. I don’t want you going out there until Craig says it’s safe.”
“You’re right, of course,” she said rubbing her tummy. “But…”
“But what?” he asked.
“But Auntie and Colbi planned to go over there this evening. What time is it?” She looked at her watch. “It’s close to seven thirty.” With fear in her eyes, she glanced up at Craig and said quietly, “They’re probably out there right now.”
Chapter Eleven
A couple of hours earlier, Margaret had picked up Colbi in her Jeep SUV. “Do you have enough layers on?” Margaret asked. “It’s chilly out tonight.”
“I think so,” Colbi said as she stepped into the car. She glanced over at Margaret. “You look toasty. Love your beanie.”
“Thanks. Also got on my long johns, Max’s Alaska jacket and fur-lined boots.”
“All we need are some marshmallows to roast,” Colbi quipped.
“And chocolate wine.”
“Chocolate wine?”
Margaret glanced over at her momentarily as she drove the remaining five miles to the Fischer building. “Yeah, or brandy. That would keep us warm.”
Colbi laughed. “Well, let’s just keep thinking warm thoughts and maybe we won’t freeze to death.”
“Maybe we’ll catch a cat before we even have a chance to get cold,” Margaret suggested.
“Yeah, Maggie. I like your way of thinking. I wouldn’t mind being back home in my cozy bed by eight.”
Margaret gave her an impish look. “Will you be cozy in bed with someone?”
“Yeah,” Colbi said, laughing, “as a matter of fact I will—Dolly.”
“No sleepover with Damon tonight, huh?”
“Noooo,” she said.
The two women were still chatting it up when they arrived at the building. “Just one trap tonight?” Colbi asked.
“Yeah, I figured that’s going to be enough for us to handle, don’t you think?” Margaret said as she and Colbi lifted the trap from the back of the car and carried it through the gate.
“Got tuna?” Colbi asked.
“Hungry again, huh?” Margaret said, grinning.
“No—for the traps, Maggie.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said. As they walked toward the crawl space with the trap, she said, “Hey, looks like our babies are hungry.”
“They’re getting used to regular meals, aren’t they?” Colbi said.
Margaret shook her head. “Sorry guys, we can’t feed you until the right kitty gets into the trap.”
“Which one are we after tonight, Maggie?”
“One that hasn’t been to see Dr. Mike yet.” She then said more quietly, “I’d sure like to catch that one with the abscess. He needs medical attention. But he’s a shy one.”
Colbi thought about it for a second and then suggested, “Let’s use mind-talk and see if we can get him to go in.”
“What?” Margaret asked, frowning.
“I’ve read that cats can read our minds. In fact, I’ve tried it with my own cats a time or two.”
“That’s absurd,” Margaret said as she placed the can of tuna in the trap and set it. She knelt down and pushed the trap under the building using the cane, and then walked back to her car to retrieve two lawn chairs.
Once the two were seated a distance from the opening, Colbi said, “Now truly, Maggie, haven’t you ever noticed your cats responding to something unspoken?”
“Huh?” she said, looking confused.
“Okay,” Colbi said, “how many times have you wanted to take one of your cats to the vet and when you casually walk over to pick her up, she looks at you with fear in her eyes and runs under the bed?”
Margaret thought for a minute, tilted her head and said, “Well, sure. Cats don’t want to get in the carrier and go in the car. They run as soon as they see the carrier. It’s a matter of conditioning.”
“Yes, but, haven’t you ever hidden the carrier—not brought it in until you’ve caught the cat?”
“Sure, we’ve done that.”
“And the cat still runs, right?”
“I guess so. Yeah, they still seem to be suspicious—you’re right.”
Colbi continued, “And what about when you’re ready to feed. Don’t your cats just show up? I mean sometimes you don’t even have to be in the kitchen or headed that way, they just know when you’re thinking about feeding them.”
Margaret thought for a moment. “Yeah, but I figure they know what time of day it is. They have an internal clock.”
“Maybe and maybe not. It could be that they’re reading your mind.” She took a swig from a water bottle. “They read pictures, you know. If you think in pictures, cats will understand.”
Both women were quiet for a moment and then Colbi suggested, “Let’s test it out tonight. Now you want to catch the yellow tabby, right? T
he one with the Groucho Marx mustache?”
Margaret nodded.
“So let’s both imagine that cat walking into the trap. Imagine us taking him to Dr. Mike or Dr. Bud and him being treated and coming back here healed and feeling much better.”
Margaret smirked. “Well, I guess we have nothing better to do tonight than send mind pictures to cats. Sure, I’m game,” she said with a shrug.
“Okay, let’s both do it at the same time,” Colbi said. Two minutes passed and then she asked quietly, “Did you do it? Could you create mind pictures?”
“I guess so,” Margaret said. “It would be nice if it worked; would sure like to get that guy treated. He’s had that gaping hole on his face for way too long and it just isn’t healing up. Could actually be a cancer.”
“Gads, I hope not,” Colbi said. And then she jumped a little, her posture rigid. “What was that?”
“What?” Margaret asked, looking around.
“I thought I heard a car door close.”
“Oh, I hear a car driving off.” She peeked through a slice in the green mesh and crinkled her brow. “That’s strange. It’s a taxi.”
Just then two men appeared through the gate. They stopped when they saw the women sitting in the near darkness. Colbi grabbed her flashlight and shined it in their direction. “Can we help you?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.
One man shaded his eyes. “Shut that thing off, will ya? You’re blinding me.”
Colbi leaned into Maggie and whispered, “Do you know them?”
“Uh-uh,” Margaret said quietly. And then she asked out loud, “What do you want?”
The men drew closer until they were standing a scant few feet from the women. Margaret noticed that one man looked Hispanic and had a bushy mustache. He carried a small duffle bag. The other was slightly taller, stocky built with sandy, graying hair. They wore overcoats. The Mexican man asked, “What are you doing out here?”
“Trapping cats,” Margaret said.
The men looked confused and then the Mexican asked, “Do you have a key to this place?”
Margaret looked from one to the other, “Uh, no.”
The Caucasian man said, “Look, we’re gonna find it if you have it, so you’d better just give it up or…”
“Or what?” Colbi asked bluntly.
He took out a knife, switched open the blade, pointed it at her, and said with a grin, “Or this, sweetheart. Now give me the key.”
Colbi and Margaret looked at one another and then Margaret said, “It’s in my car. I’ll get it,”
The man with the knife motioned for her to stand and move toward the car. She complied. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and shined it in front of them. She reached into the car for her purse, dug around, and pulled out a ring of keys. Before she could remove the key, the man snatched the ring from her. He then grabbed her arm and began pulling her along through the gate to the building’s entrance. “Okay, which key is it?” he asked.
The second man ushered Colbi over to where the other two stood. He held a flashlight on the ring of keys and Margaret identified the correct one. Once the first man opened the door, he slipped the ring into his pocket.
“What are we gonna do with them?” the Hispanic man asked.
The other man thought for a minute. He looked over at the women and then back at his partner. “You got that twine?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll tie ’em up.”
With that, the two men ushered the women inside the building and proceeded to tie them up and gag them, leaving them lying against the south wall on the ground floor of the abandoned building.
***
It had been nearly sixteen hours since anyone had seen the two women.
“Where the hell are they?” Max said resting his head in his hands.
“We have an APB out for Maggie’s car,” Craig reported to the group that had congregated at the Ivey home that morning around ten. “It appears that Mark Chandler and his partner Tim Sneed may have them. Chandler’s tail lost him sometime last night. He wasn’t aware of it until this morning. They probably went out to the Fischer building to search for the gems and found Maggie and Colbi out there.”
Damon stood and paced, running his hand through his curly red hair. “I can’t believe this is happening to Colbi again. It just isn’t fair.”
Craig walked over, put his hand on Damon’s shoulder, and squeezed. “We’ll find them, kid. You can bet on it.”
“Yeah, but will you find them in time?” he said, choking up.
Michael sat on the sofa with his arm around Savannah. She held onto his other hand and intermittently wept. Michael spoke into the silence, “They’ll be pleased to know that they got the cat they were after.”
Savannah and Max both looked at Michael. She said, “They did? The one with the abscess?”
Michael nodded. “I asked Bud to check the traps this morning and he was in there.”
“I thought it was probably a boy—they’re more likely to go out and fight…and get hurt,” Savannah said, attempting to stay calm.
Suddenly, Craig reached for his cell phone. “Yes?” he said. “Where? Okay, thanks.” He dropped the phone into his jacket pocket. All eyes were on Craig as he reported the news: “They found Maggie’s car.”
Max stood up. “Where?”
“In a parking lot in Straley, near where Chandler has been living. No sign of the women, though…or either of the men.” He dropped his head and then said, “But they did find Jeffrey Fischer.” Craig explained, “They busted into Chandler’s apartment and found him tied up and bleeding from what appear to be knife wounds. They figure he’s been there in a closet for a couple of days. Chandler and Sneed must have smuggled him in and tortured him, thinking he knew where the gems were. Poor guy; he probably didn’t know anything about them.”
“So you’re putting him in jail for that assault?” Michael asked.
“The hospital first and then, yeah, maybe jail,” Craig said, nodding. “That will have to be determined.”
Suddenly, Savannah put her hand low on her stomach. She squeezed Michael’s hand with the other.
“What is it?” he asked.
She sat up straight and said, “Ohhh, just a twinge, I guess.”
He stared at her for several seconds.
“I’m okay,” she said.
Craig, too, looked at Savannah. And then he took in a ragged breath and said, “Well, I’d better get on the move. Can’t catch those guys here.”
“But you don’t even have any leads,” Damon said, his voice reflecting the stress he felt.
“Yeah, I do,” Craig said. “I wonder how they arrived at the Fischer building and why they took Maggie’s car. I want to check with the local cab company. Should be easy enough to find out if a cab took someone out to that area. Maybe they caught another one after dumping Maggie’s car. I’ll check with Chandler’s tail and find out something about his habits—maybe get a clue.”
“I’ll be right back,” Savannah said standing and excusing herself. She walked swiftly toward the nearest bathroom. When she returned, she stopped at the hallway entrance to the living room and spoke softly. “Michael.”
He looked up. When he saw the look on her face, he rushed to her and asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Michael, I think my water just broke.”
***
A half-hour later, Craig called his partner, Sergeant Ramon Gonzalez. “Where are you?”
“At the office. What’s up, Sledge?” the Nordic man with a Hispanic name asked.
“I just spoke with Engleson, Anson Fischer’s attorney, and learned a little something that might shed some light on our dilemma,” he said. “I’m on my way to the office now. I’d like you to go with me to meet someone who may be able to help us.”
Fifteen minutes later, the two men drove up to a small, well-kept home in a modest neighborhood just outside Hammond. They walked along a manicured pathway to the
front door. After ringing the bell, they were casually greeted by a twenty-something young woman wearing leggings and a long t-shirt. “Hello,” Craig said, “is Janice Tuttle home?”
“No, she’s at one of her meetings. She should be back around two.”
Craig handed her his business card and introduced himself. “We’d like to speak with her as soon as possible. Will you tell her we’ll be back this afternoon?”
The woman studied both Craig and Ramon Gonzalez and then said, “Sure, I guess.”
***
It was nearly noon at the Straley Community Hospital, and Michael was making a very important call. “Hello Gladys, this is Michael,” he said into his cell phone. As he always did when he was nervous or stressed, he paced and ran one hand through his straight hair.
“Well, hello Michael. How are you? Is everything okay?”’
“Yes, great. I wanted you to know that Savannah just went into labor. We’re here at the hospital in Straley.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Already? Wow!” She paused and then said, “Michael, I’m visiting my friend in Visalia. I can be on the road in half an hour.”
“That’s great!” Michael said with a smile. “So you’ll be here in, say, four or five hours?”
“Yes, I think so. Oh, Michael, I’m so excited to meet our baby.”
“Me, too.” Michael said. “This is a big day for all of us. Oh, and Gladys, would you call Brianna?”
“Sure will,” Gladys said. “I’ll see you soon. Hug my daughter for me, would you?”
“Yeah. Drive carefully, Gladys.”
***
It was two thirty when the detective and the sergeant returned to Janice Tuttle’s home. This time, a handsome woman of sixty-six answered the door wearing fashion sweats and a tunic top. “Janice Tuttle?” Craig asked.
“Yes. You must be Detective Sledge.”
“Yes, ma’am, and this is Sergeant Gonzalez. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
She looked from one to the other and then said, “Okay, come in.”
As the investigators stepped inside, a pure white cat darted across their path and headed down a hallway. Craig noticed another one lounging on the back of a sofa in the living room.