Paws for Trouble

by Patricia Fry

  "Nothing," the woman was quick to say. She picked up Rags and handed him to Savannah. "Here, take the cat and leave, will you? I'm not supposed to…please, you have to go."

  Savannah pretended to struggle with Rags again and allowed him to drop to the floor. As she expected, he ran back to the door. "What are you after, cat?" she said. "Did you see a mouse go in there? Are you after that mouse?" She took a deep breath and boldly pushed the door open, then stopped at the threshold and stared into the room. "Hello," she said to a woman who was propped up in a twin bed. The woman simply stared at her through dull eyes. Savannah could see someone else covered up and possibly sleeping in another small bed.

  "Please leave," the younger woman begged. "You're not supposed to be in here. My grandparents…um…they aren't feeling well. They could be contagious." She picked up Rags and handed him to Savannah.

  Savannah backed out of the room with the cat, continuing to stare at the couple, saying, I'm so sorry. Apologize to your grandparents, will you? I'll try that house I saw back there a ways to see if the cat belongs to those people." All the while she continued swiftly toward the front door. She walked out and hastened her pace back down the road to where Craig waited, and almost collapsed into his arms.

  "What happened in there?" he asked.

  She took Rags's harness from Craig and strapped it onto the cat, then said, "I saw a woman who could have been Mrs. Randolph. She looked in a bad way—probably drugged. Someone else was in the room with her, apparently asleep in another bed. The woman who answered the door said they were her grandparents and that they are ill with something contagious."

  His interest level accelerated, he asked, "Where are they in the house, Savannah?"

  "The back of the house in a room on the right side—I guess that would be east."

  "And no one else is around?" Craig asked.

  She shook her head. "Not that I saw."

  They returned to the car, then shared Savannah's story with the officers. Officer Wallace asked, "Do you mean the cat led you to the couple you've been looking for? How long have they been missing?"

  "At least a few weeks," Craig said, "maybe more. It appears that an investment—scamming team dragged them out of their home, got rid of all their livestock, and, now we know—or we're pretty sure—that they're being kept alive in that house." He scratched his head. "Why, I wonder."

  "Why are they being kept alive?" Wallace asked. "If the mailbox is involved, it could be they're waiting for a big check—maybe an escrow check—and they want the property owner to sign it off to them before they do away with the couple."

  Craig nodded. "That's what I'm thinking." He petted Rags. "Cat, you did it again, didn't you?"

  Parrish shook his head. "Well, I'm impressed. I sure never thought a cat would…:

  "What?" Craig said. "Do you think your dog's smarter than our cat?"

  "Yeah, I'm beginning to wonder," Parrish said.

  Wallace grinned at his partner, then asked, "What's the plan? Want to go in and get those people while the coast seems to be clear?"

  "Let me think about it for a minute," Craig said. "You know, I can't believe that girl is the only one involved at this point. What's your gut feeling, Savannah?"

  She shrugged. "Maybe she doesn't know her buddies are in jail. Maybe she's waiting for them to get back, or to call her and tell her what to do next."

  "Could be," Craig said. "But it would be unusual for a scheme of this size to be perpetrated by only two guys and that woman."

  "It's sizable, huh?" Parrish asked.

  "Yeah, the ranch is about thirty acres and they're talking about building a shopping mall," Craig said. "So a lot of money could be involved."

  "Hey," Savannah said, "maybe you should find out what escrow company they're using and stop the sale. Can you do that?"

  "Interesting question," Craig said, rubbing his chin. "But the bigger question now is do we leave the couple where they are and use them as bait to catch the rest of the gang, or…?"

  "I'd say no," Savannah said. When the officers looked at her, she explained, "I realize I have no authority, but I saw the couple, and I don't know how much longer they can live like that—you know, drugged or whatever has been done to them. I'd like to see them rescued as soon as possible. Oops!" she said. Rags circled her, then pulled her off balance, and she lost her grip on the leash. "Oh nooo," she wailed. "Rags! Rags!"

  "Well, I guess he has called our hand," Craig said. "Dang cat."

  Parrish chuckled. "Now if that were my dog, all I would have to do is call him and he'd come right back."

  Craig sneered facetiously and said, "Come on guys, it looks like we're going to rescue those people today."

  "I can't believe I'm following the lead of a cat on a kidnapping and extortion case," Parrish said. "Wait until I tell Blue."

  "Blue?" Craig asked, slightly out of breath from running.

  "That's my canine partner," he said.

  Once they were close to the house, Craig motioned for everyone to stand back behind a trellis of morning glory.

  "But Rags," Savannah whined, watching the cat approach the front door of the house.

  "Let him go," Craig said. "That's all we can do."

  She heaved a sigh. "Well, at least she doesn't appear to be a thug with a gun. Please, please, be safe, Ragsie." She asked Craig, "So what are you going to do? I hope you do it fast. I want my cat back."

  When Craig heard a chuckle from behind him, he hissed, "See what I have to put up with—not only is the cat unruly and unpredictable, but I have his handler whining in my ear all the time." He winked at Savannah. "How about you go after him. If she opens the door, try to get her to come out. We'll take it from there." When she hesitated, he said, "Go on. We're right here watching your back."

  Savannah took a deep breath and walked toward the house. "Here, kitty—kitty," she called. "Come here, kitty. That isn't where you live, you know. Come on. Let's find your mom, shall we?"

  The front door opened and the younger woman stepped out, demanding, "What are you doing?"

  Savannah pointed. "It's that cat. I found a harness for him and he got away from me when I was trying to take him around the neighborhood." She tilted her head. "He ran right back here. I don't know why he would do that. Are you sure he isn't your cat?"

  "Yes, I'm sure," the woman said firmly. "He's not my cat. I don't have a cat or a dog." She took another step out onto the porch and looked at Rags, saying, "Just go."

  Before Savannah could grab the leash, Rags slipped past the woman and into the house.

  "Not again," Savannah complained. "Hey, kitty—cat. Come out of there, will you? Come on, now. Let's go find out where you live."

  "I'll get him," the woman said, walking back into the house.

  "Yes, would you please? I'd appreciate it. Thank you." Once the woman was out of sight, Savannah looked back at the men and saw them rushing toward her. She stepped out of the way and held her breath.

  Just as the men reached the door, the woman appeared with Rags in her arms. She started to close the door when Wallace pushed his way inside, shouting, "Where are the Randolphs?"

  "Who?" the woman asked, losing her hold on Rags. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

  Craig responded, "We're looking for Bryce Randy Randolph and his wife. Now step aside, ma'am so we can do our job."

  "No!" she screeched, attempting to block their path into the hallway. "You can't come barging in here like this." When they walked on past her, she shouted, "They're sick! Leave them alone!"

  Craig saw Rags pawing at one of the doors. "So they're in there?" he muttered. "Good job, Rags." Taking a breath, he opened the door, and stepped inside. "Mr. Randolph?" he asked.

  At the same time, Rags leaped up onto the man's bed. Startled, he opened his eyes and pushed himself up a little on one elbow. "Rags," he said with effort. "Rags, is that you? Look, Loretta, it's Rags, Michael Ivey's cat."

  "How?" the woman asked, sounding bewildere
d. "Randy, are we back home?" she asked, her words slurred. She squinted and looked around the room. "This doesn't look like home."

  "Mr. Randolph?" Craig asked more quietly. "Are you Bryce Randolph?"

  The man looked at him and blinked a couple of times. "Who are you? What do you want? Why have you barged into our home?" He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

  Craig continued, "I'm Detective Craig Sledge. We've come to take you home—back to your ranch."

  "My ranch?" he repeated, tears welling up in his eyes. "Loretta," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "we're going home."

  When Mrs. Randolph started to get out of the bed, Craig said, "No, no, Mrs. Randolph. Just stay where you are. We have people coming to help you." He turned toward the door where Wallace and Savannah stood. "You called for an ambulance, didn't you?"

  Wallace nodded.

  "Can you tell us your name, sir?" Craig asked again.

  "Bryce W. Randolph," he said with effort. He rolled over toward the other bed and said slowly, "This is my wife, Loretta."

  Craig looked at her and she began to cry. "Do you know why we're here?" She gasped when she saw the younger woman being led into the room by Officer Parrish. "No!" she shouted. "No more drugs. I can't think with those things on my brain."

  "There will be no more drugs," Craig said tenderly. He asked, "Mrs. Randolph, is this woman your granddaughter?"

  "Heavens no," Loretta said. "Zoey's nice enough, but she does what those men tell her to do and that's wrong." She glared at the woman. "You know it's wrong, Zoey, and you do it anyway. I hope you get help." She let out a breath and fell back against her pillow.

  "They don't know what they're saying," Zoey said. "They are my grandparents, and they have dementia." She forced a laugh. "They actually believe they own a large cattle ranch in Hammond. Can you imagine these two running a ranch?"

  "Sure I can," Craig said. "They've been doing it for forty years, and once the drugs you've been giving them wear off, I'm sure they can resume their work, while you and your partners rot in jail, by the way."

  "Sounds like the paramedics are here," Officer Parrish said. "Let's make way." He said to the Randolphs, "Just take it easy now. We've arranged for a police escort on your way to the hospital and while you're there."

  Craig moved closer to Loretta and she said, "Thank you, young man."

  Craig chuckled. "Lost your glasses did you?"

  She nodded and whispered, "How do you know that?"

  "Because you referred to me as a young man." He squeezed her hand. "But thank you, anyway."

  "Tell me, Detective," Mr. Randolph said, obviously experiencing a moment of clarity, "how did you find us? I thought we were goners. Once those escrow papers come in and we sign them…" he snarled, "that is, if they could torture us into doing it, we were to be assassinated. I'm sure of it."

  "How did we find you?" Craig repeated. He grinned. "You can thank the cat."

  "Rags?" Mr. Randolph asked. "Rags found us?"

  "He's been working on the case for several days now, and yes, he found you today."

  "Well, thank you, Rags," the man said, petting the cat and snuggling with him.

  "Randy," Loretta said, "your allergies."

  Mr. Randolph spoke slowly, in a near whisper. "I'll never be allergic to Rags." He started to say something else, but had to stop and sneeze. Two more sneezes followed.

  ****

  Three hours later Craig pulled his unmarked car into the Iveys' driveway, delivering Savannah and Rags home. "Thanks," he said. "You two are rock stars."

  "Wow, that's quite a compliment coming from you, you old grouch," she quipped.

  "You think I'm an old grouch?" he asked, grinning.

  "You have to admit, you can be grouchy."

  "No, I don't have to admit it." He winked at her as she got out of the car with Rags. "Hey, I'd love to make it up to you—you know, what you did today. How about dinner out with Iris and me? Can you and Michael make it? My treat. We can go to that new bistro. I hear the food's great. They have soft music and a wonderful outdoor area all decorated up with flowers, just as you gals like it."

  "It sounds wonderful," Savannah said. "Let me check with Michael. Want to wait? Or how about this—I'll say yes, and if he can't make it for some reason, I'll text you. Want us to meet you there at what, six?"

  "Sounds good. See you then."

  ****

  "Craig, I'm still amazed that you found Randy and Loretta," Michael said at dinner that night. "Good job."

  "It wasn't me," Craig said, "it was your cat."

  "Good team effort," Iris said. She asked, "Do you know the Randolphs, Michael?"

  He nodded. "Yes, and I'm sure glad to know they'll be able to return to their home." He winced. "Although I wonder if Randy will ever go back into the cattle business. Do you know, Craig?"

  He shook his head. "Hard to tell. I did hear that he'll get his horse back, and some of his chickens and rabbits. The girl, Zoey, actually knew more than I thought she would, and she spilled some of the beans."

  "Really?" Savannah said. "About what?"

  "Well, she knew where the animals were, for one thing, and…"

  "Did you find out about the others who were involved in that corrupt mess?" Savannah asked.

  "Yes, Zoey was helpful there, too. Evidently it wasn't the big corporate takeover that I had thought. It was a more homegrown outfit. The brains is one of those we took to jail. He's no stranger to the incarcerated life, as it turns out. In fact, that's where he got the brainy idea to prey on some rancher's success. He really did have someone believing that there would be need of a large shopping center, and that person was evidently eager to purchase the land. Only they wanted the extra seven or so acres you and your aunt have. Did they ever come to you with an offer?" Craig asked.

  Michael shook his head. "No. They never did approach us. My thinking is that they spent all of their energy tormenting and terrorizing us so that when they came to us with some skimpy offer we'd be ready to sell out—you know, cheap."

  "Yeah, it was a loose—strung, misfit kind of a plan, wasn't it?" Craig said. He smiled and raised his wine glass, saying, "Well, here's to closed cases and good friends."

  "Amen," Iris said. "Now can we stop talking shop and have a friendly conversation?" "I'll drink to that," Michael said.

  Craig winked at his wife. "So what do you want to talk about, my dear?"

  "Oh," she stalled, "how about the latest fashions or this year's trends in summer gardening?"

  Savannah smiled at Iris, then said, "One more question, Craig. What did you find out about the cats?"

  "Cats?" he asked. He nodded. "Oh, you're referring to the cats that seem to be taking over the Randolphs' place. Nothing."

  "Nothing?" she said. "Are the Randolphs aware of them?"

  He shrugged. "I'm not sure." He chuckled. "I suppose they'll be attending the cat alliance meetings asking for your expert help, once they get settled back into their place. They're going to need it. Savannah," he said, facing her. "You should have seen the platoon of cats running helter—skelter all over their property when I was there checking something early this morning."

  "A platoon of cats?" Michael repeated. "That's thirty or fifty, isn't it?"

  "Sure looks like that many," Craig said.

  "And they don't know where these rows of marching cats are coming from?" Michael asked, chuckling.

  "Maybe that's the wrong terminology," Craig said. "The cats are definitely not marching around in neat rows. No, they're skitter—scattering in every direction."

  "The cat alliance should be able to help the Randolphs with the problem," Savannah said, "if it is a problem for them. Other than the fact that Mr. Randolph has a cat allergy, maybe they aren't—a problem, that is."

  "Speaking of problems," Michael said, "what's the status for Jake, now that the crazy conspiracy has been thwarted and his story has panned out? How will he be charged?"

  Craig cleared his throat.
"Well, he did break the law, and the charges will stand. The level of his punishment will depend on the psych evaluation." Craig pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Savannah. "I almost forgot this. It's from your cousin."

  She frowned, "Which cousin?"

  "The incarcerated one, of course," he blurted.

  "Jake sent me a letter?" she asked. "Why?"

  "Open it and see," Michael urged. "Well?" he questioned, after she'd finished reading it.

  She stared down at the letter for a moment and said, "Maybe he really is turning over a new leaf. He apologizes for everything that happened at our house that weekend. He knows he did wrong and he wants us—" she put her hand on Michael's arm, "—you and me, to forgive him. He said that his goal is to become a father who is at least half as good as you are, Michael."

  "How nice," Iris said. She frowned. "Do you think he's sincere, or is he just giving this situation lip service?"

  Savannah folded the letter and returned it to the envelope, saying, "Time will tell, Iris. I sure hope he can get it together, especially since there's a child involved."

  Craig raised his glass again, saying, "Here's to Jake and his recovery—may it be the success he dreams of, and to you gals and your new project."

  Savannah tilted her head. "New project?"

  "The platoon of cats," Michael said, laughing.

  "Oh, that's right," Savannah said. "Yes, it sounds like that could be a really worthwhile project. Poor cats. I wonder where they're coming from."

  "Isn't that what you'll find out when you start rounding them up or whatever it is that you do with them?" Craig asked.

  "Hopefully," Savannah said. "Hopefully."

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