Catnapped (A Klepto Cat Mystery)

by Fry, Patricia

  Forster used both hands to pick Margaret up to a standing position. He then reached with his right hand, grabbed Savannah’s arm and jerked her to her feet. Holding both women by the arms, he pushed and pulled them along with him. Margaret, who was trying to walk on her cast, was awkward and slow and Joe yanked her forward every few steps.

  Margaret’s body was wracked with pain. It didn’t help that she fell a half-dozen times as the trio made its way toward a small shed. I’m going to die, Margaret thought. This is it! My life on earth is over. And Vannie. Look what I’ve done. I’ve managed to get that beautiful girl killed and why? I’m a foolish, self-centered, stubborn woman.

  She struggled to her feet one more time with Joe Forster pulling hard on her arm and she had a new thought. We will get out of this alive. He’s not going to get away with this. I won’t let it happen.

  With her renewed sense of confidence, Margaret, once she was on her feet, turned to face Joe and, standing on her good foot, she kneed him hard in the crotch. She looked over at her niece whose eyes grew as big as saucers. Savannah saw this as an opportunity. He loosened his grip on the women and Savannah began kicking him with all her might.

  It didn’t take him long to recover and he came up with the knife in his hand. “Do you want to die sooner or later?” he asked, his eyes expressing the maliciousness of his very soul. “Now, both of you walk over to that shed!” he yelled.

  The women did as they were told. He opened the door of the small shed and motioned for Margaret to get inside. That’s when Savannah saw something scurry past her—a cat! One of the missing cats. She prayed that help would arrive in time to save her and Margaret from whatever evil plan Joe Forster had in his warped mind and to rescue the frightened cats.

  Savannah started to dutifully follow Margaret inside the shed, when Joe pulled her back and shut the door—locking it from the outside with a bolt latch. This made Savannah lose her footing and she toppled over. Damn, it’s hard to balance without your arms. Especially when some jerk-off is pushing you around, she thought, shooting a disgusted look toward him.

  “Git up!” he said to Savannah while yanking her arm. She scrambled to her feet and he began leading her off away from the shed. She looked back and pulled back, hesitating—Why is he taking me away from Aunt Margaret? Why did he leave Auntie in that shed by herself? Where is he taking me? God I’m scared. I’ve got to think of a way to escape—to save us. I’m not ready to die and I won’t let it happen to Aunt Margaret!

  They approached a larger shed. He walked up a few steps, dragging Savannah along with him. He kicked the unlatched door open, and pushed her inside. A bunkhouse, she thought while looking around. He shoved her down on one of the cots and stood over her, leering. “I’m gonna git somethin’ outta this,” he said. He slipped off his boots, wrapped a wad of chaw from his mouth in a filthy bandana, and, before she could get out of the way, he laid down, partially on top of her. She became nauseated from his body odor and tobacco breath. His hands were all over her. Her arms hurt like hell—as she laid on them with his weight on her. He nuzzled his face in her neck. She held her breath; turned her head; wanted to scream.

  Suddenly, he raised up on his hands and looked at Savannah. “This aint’ gonna be as much fun if I cain’t kiss you,” he said. He stood and pulled her up to a sitting position. He stared at her for a moment, revealing yellowed teeth through a grin. Then he reached over and ripped the tape off her face. “There now.” He bent down to put his lips over hers. She shook her head. It felt like the skin around her mouth was on fire. He grabbed her hair and held her head still, while forcing a slobbery kiss on her lips.

  She screamed as loud as she could and fought with every inch of her body to resist him.

  “T’wont do you no good to scream—nobody who cares will hear ya,” he said with a sinister laugh. Then his face twisted into something grotesque and he came at her again, forcing her against the bed his lips on hers. He breathed heavily into her neck and lay there moving himself up against her in a vulgar pulsating motion.

  “Get off me, you scumbag!” Savannah gulped for air under the weight of his body.

  He raised up on one elbow and put his free hand on her breast. “Mmmmm, nice,” he said. I wanna see. I’ve been wantin’ to see ever since I first touched you back at your aunt’s—I mean my—house.” He raised up and straddled her while attempting to unbutton her blouse. She lay still, feeling sick to her stomach, her head turned to one side and her eyes closed tight—a grimace on her face as he touched her over and over. This isn’t happening, it just can’t be. It’s a nightmare. She tried to console herself.

  “Hey, lookie at this girlie,” he said. When she didn’t respond, he slapped her across the face and shouted, “Look!”

  She peered out through one eye and saw that he had unzipped his pants. She groaned in disgust. He climbed off her and reached for the button on her jeans waistband. Savannah flipped out. She began flailing her legs about, kicking at him, trying to plant one right in the crotch. But he had the advantage. She screamed and kicked and thrashed around until she landed on the floor on the opposite side of the bed from where he stood. I can fit under that bed over there, she thought and she rolled and scooted until she was deep underneath, up against the wall.

  “You’re not goin’ to git away from me, girlie. Come back here, you wildcat.” He quickly pulled himself together and fastened his jeans. He raced around the bed, leaned down and reached under the cot toward her. He felt around—nothing. He stood up and pulled the bed out. She rolled and scooted with the bed, staying under it. He became more and more irate. “Git outta there you blasted bitch. I’m gonna git what I want one way or tother, so you might as well settle down.”

  “COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”

  Chapter 9

  It was the authorities. The raid had begun. Savannah felt a new surge of hope—hope that they would find her and her aunt before the shooting commenced. If there would be shooting. According to any raid or showdown she’d watched on TV, there was always shooting. And she knew that, while she felt a sense of relief, the worst might not be over.

  Joe Forster panicked for a moment. He didn’t know what to do. I sure don’t care if my boss gits time for horse stealin’. I just work for him. I can git off by pleadin’ ignorant. What can they do to me? he thought. He then remembered his personal mission. I don’t care about Bray’s problems. I have business of my own—a woman to kill. He located his boots and quickly put them on. He then ran out the door. He could see a blinding light shining on the front of the main house, so he moved into the shadows and ran around to the back of the house. He rushed inside, his heart racing in his chest. He found Russell Bray pulling guns off the wall and loading them as fast as he could. “Git rid of the evidence!” he shouted at Joe.

  “What evidence?” he asked.

  “The damned horses!” Bray yelled. “Use the tractor—bury them in the canyon.”

  Bury her in the canyon, Joe repeated to himself. As Bray headed for the front door with two rifles in his hands, Joe raced out the back door toward the tractor Bray had purchased just for this purpose—to hide evidence—evidence of abuse and crime.

  “I REPEAT: SHERIFF—COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”

  Joe ran toward the tractor. I’ll drive this thing around to where the shed is and push it with that old bitch into the canyon. No one will be the wiser. Then I’ll circle back and slash that young girl. Such a shame I won’t have time to… he thought.

  “Help! Help! I’m in here. Don’t shoot!” Savannah screamed. It seemed like forever before she finally heard steps on the shallow wooden porch. She held her breath. What if Joe Forster has come back? She backed into the shadows inside the old bunkhouse and willed her heart to calm down, lest the intruder hear it beating hard in her chest.

  “Michael!” she said, feeling deep relief as he entered the bunkhouse. “Oh, Michael!”

  He rushed to her and embraced her while she sobbed into his shoulder.
“My darling Savannah. What has he done to you?” His voice cracked.

  “I’m okay—but my aunt’s in danger. She’s locked in a small shed on the other side of the house.”

  Michael let her go, saying, “I’ll be right back.”

  She heard him shouting, “Savannah is here! Maggie’s in a small shed around the side of the house!”

  In just seconds, he walked back into the bunkhouse and over to where Savannah was waiting. He turned her around and, with the pocketknife he always carried, he cut the tape from her wrists. She rubbed them and then carefully and slowly began moving her shoulders around. The pain—oh my gosh, the pain. She tried, but could not make her fingers work to button her blouse. “Here, I’ll do it,” Michael said. He then took off his windbreaker and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders and pulled her into him again. “I love you, Savannah. The thought of losing you…” He choked up. “I want you, Savannah.”

  Savannah burst into tears, wrapped her arms around his waist as far as the excruciating pain would let her, and said, “I think I love you, too, Michael. It’s as if I’ve known you always.”

  Michael held Savannah away from him so he could look at her. “You have a dirty face,” he said with a rather nervous chuckle. “And you’re still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.” She blushed through the dirt and smiled. She reached up and began to rub one of her shoulders. “Here, let me,” he said. And he began to massage both of her shoulders and moving them around, trying to get the circulation going and the muscles working again.

  “Better?” he asked with a look of concern.

  “Oh yes, I think much better. Thank you.” Suddenly, her expression changed.

  “What is it?” he asked as he looked into her eyes.

  “Auntie. I am so scared to think about what he did to Auntie.”

  “Bang! Bang! Bang!” The two stood silent, wondering what was going on outside, but knowing it was too dangerous to step out.

  “Got him,” they heard someone outside say.

  “I have to go see if she’s okay,” Savannah said moving toward the door. “Sounds like it’s safe.”

  ***

  Joe had one thing on his mind: get rid of the woman who was the only obstacle keeping him from living his dream on his family land. He roared around the side of the house on the tractor. Yes, he knew he was supposed to be burying horses—especially those that came from BLM land and from those boarding stables and backyard stalls—easy pickins, he thought. Free horses for the selling. Great idea. Only when he runs his own ranch, he won’t be as greedy as ole Bray and he won’t get caught.

  But now he had one focus—one last task he had to do for his own future. He had to get rid of the only thing that stood in his way. The shed was within sight. He ran the tractor at full throttle up behind it and began pushing it—closer and closer to the edge of the canyon—the canyon that had hidden so many things Bray didn’t want anyone to see. That’s the only thing my property over in Hammond don’t have—a canyon. Maybe I’ll dig a deep hole—make a pond or I’ll have to find another way to git rid of problems, he thought.

  “Roar.” He pushed the tractor hard against the shed to get it in position.

  Just as they rounded the bend to where she thought Joe Forster had left her aunt imprisoned, Savannah gasped with fright. The shed was teetering on the edge of the deep canyon. “Oh nooooo,” Savannah said as she watched the shed disappear over the edge.

  And then the tractor began to shift in the dirt. It looked as if it were sinking. Joe tried desperately to drive it back up onto solid ground, but it was too late. He’d gone too far. He would jump free. But he’d have to hurry—the tractor was toppling over on the open side. He made a leap for it—but too late—the tractor rolled over crushing Joe Forster, and then continued rolling and tumbling down the deep ravine landing on top of the shed, demolishing it.

  “My God! My God! Auntie!” Savannah cried.

  Chapter 10

  “Oh don’t be so dang dramatic, Vannie.”

  “What?” Savannah spun around and saw, there on the ground in the shadows, leaning up against a large rock, her aunt, in the arms of Max.

  “Oh, Auntie Marg!” she shouted. She ran to her, bent down and the three of them had a group hug to beat all group hugs. Margaret and Savannah were crying and laughing all at once. “How did you…? What…?” Savannah stuttered.

  “My hero,” Margaret said, as she smiled at Max through tears, patting him on the chest.

  “My fiancée,” Max said, a wide grin on his face.

  “What?” Savannah asked. “You finally said ‘yes’?”

  “How could I turn down a man who risked everything for me?” Margaret winked. And then she looked more closely at her niece. “Savannah, are you okay? You look awful,” she said with obvious concern.

  “Yeah, it was rough for a while—but, yes…” She looked over at Michael who was squatting down near them. “I’m okay.”

  By then a team of men and women were standing at the edge of the canyon looking down. Someone called out, “It’s an all-clear!”

  “That means you folks can get on with your work,” a deputy said.

  Michael stood up. “Come on, gang. We have cats to round up.” He looked over at Max and suggested, “Let’s make a human chair for Maggie and get her over to the work area.”

  “Oh yeah, a seat carry,” Max said.

  “By the way, Max,” Margaret asked, “how did you know we were out here? Or did you even know we were missing? I guess I want to know, who tipped you off?”

  “Rags,” he said as he helped her to stand. “When we arrived and you two weren’t there, we looked everywhere. I even checked for holes in your backyard,” he said, obviously fighting back a rush of tears. He paused for a moment and then continued, “When we’d just about given up, we saw Rags in the spare room upstairs walking around with something in his mouth.” He nodded toward the ravine. “It was this joker’s hat.”

  “Yes, I remember knocking it off his head,” Savannah said, while wiping her eyes again. “How’d you know it was his hat?” she asked.

  “It had his name in it.” Michael explained, “When you spend time in institutions—mental or prison—your name is in every stitch of clothing you own.”

  As Max held Margaret steady, he said, “We called Deputy Jim right away and he said they had traced Joe Forster to the Bray place. When he heard what we had to tell him, the sheriff bumped up the time they’d set for the raid. Otherwise,” he choked up, “I’m not sure we would have gotten here in time.”

  “How about that?” Margaret chimed. “The cat and his klepto habits saved the day.” Both she and Savannah wiped fresh tears from their eyes.

  “Hop aboard, Maggie,” Michael said as he and Max crossed arms and created a human chair for her.

  Savannah tried to steady Margaret in an attempt to help her ease onto their arms.

  “Ooooo,” she moaned in pain.

  Savannah winced. “So sorry. I know how you feel—sore all over.”

  “Just sit down,” Max said gently. “We’ll get you over to where the car is and you can watch the show—ever try to herd cats?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Max, you know darn good and well some of the escapades we’ve been involved in together trying to round up cats. I want to do more than just watch,” she said with a defiant pout. “I’m not an invalid. I can help.”

  Once they reached the car, the men lowered their arms so Margaret could stand on her good foot.

  “Auntie, how’s your foot? All of that walking he made you do…you could have a setback.”

  “That’s for sure. Damn jerk,” Margaret said, tearing up again.

  “It’s okay, Maggie. You’re safe now,” Max soothed.

  From their location near the large barn, the foursome could see a lot of activity: Jeeps driving around the premises, men and women in camouflage talking on phones and handheld radios, people in jeans and jackets over near the horse pens. The b
ody of Russell Bray lay on the porch covered by a yellow tarp. An officer was wrapping yellow tape around the porch pillars just above the steps. The commotion was a distance from the large barn where it was thought the cats were living.

  Michael took charge: “Maggie, you sit here in the back of the car and get the carriers ready for the cats we bring. Max, you take the far side of the barn and the sheds over there—do you have a flashlight?”

  “Yup.”

  “Savannah, put these gloves on and come with me. We’ll see what we can find inside the barn.”

  It was just a few minutes before Margaret saw Savannah emerge holding a white-and-orange van cat. She had a carrier door open and held it steady while Savannah slid the frightened cat inside. “Good job, Vannie,” she said, lifting another carrier into position.

  Michael walked up and pushed a large black cat into that carrier.

  “Hey, one of the pictures we have of the missing cats shows a black one like that. Cool—somebody might be getting their pet back,” Margaret said.

  “Two tabbies,” Max announced, as he rushed toward the car with the cats in his arms. “Small ones. They were huddled together; let’s keep them together.”