The Cats that Stole a Million (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 7)

by Karen Anne Golden

  “Then forget US 41, and let’s take the interstate, instead. Can you Google us a map on how to get there from here?”

  “I’m working on it now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Stevie stormed out the doorway of the pink mansion and yelled, “Git away from my truck.”

  “Kiss off,” Madison said. She dashed to her rented car, jumped in, fired up the engine, and stepped on the accelerator. The car peeled out, doing a donut skid in front of the mansion. Madison moved the steering wheel like a professional driver, and took off toward US 41.

  “Oh, my god. What just happened here?” Katherine shouted after Stevie, terrified. Her first instinct was to run upstairs to check on the cats. They were surprisingly quiet. She panicked. What if a stray bullet hit one of them, sitting in the window?

  Katherine’s mind shifted into auto pilot. She had to check the injured man to see if she could help him. She ran outside, slid on the bottom step, and nearly fell on top of him. When she saw the gaping wound in the man’s forehead, she screamed.

  Stevie said in a strained voice, “Ma’am, he’s dead. Go back in the house!”

  In shock, Katherine ignored Stevie’s warning. She frantically removed her cell from her jean’s pocket. She didn’t waste time calling 911; she called Chief London instead. “We’ve had a drive-by shooting in front of my house. A man is dead — I don’t know who he is — he’s lying in my front drainage ditch.”

  “Katz, find a safe place to hide and stay there until we get there,” the chief answered.

  She turned to run back inside the house, but stopped to look up at the second story window at the room where the cats were. Five very agitated felines sat on the windowsill staring at her; she could hear them wailing. Finally, they found their voice, she thought. But where are Iris and Abby? I’ve got to look for them.

  Stevie tried to get into his truck but the door was locked. “Salina, open the door.” His voice had changed to alarm.

  Hurriedly, he fished the truck keys out of his tattered jeans pocket and opened it. “Salina, are you okay?” Stevie’s daughter was hunkered down on the floorboard. He reached in and pulled her up.

  “Daddy, my backpack.”

  Still holding Salina against him with one arm, Stevie leaned in so she could pick up her backpack. Salina clasped it against her. She became very upset and started crying. “Wolfy’s not moving. I think they shot him.”

  “It’s okay, baby cake,” Stevie tried to console. “We’ll check on ol’ Wolfy when we get inside.”

  Katherine had returned to the house, and stood at the opened door. Pointing at the living room, she said in a scared voice. “Go in there and lay her down on the sofa.”

  Stevie walked by. “Lock the door. Cut the lights. Whoever did this is bound to come back.”

  Katherine turned out the front porch light, then walked through the first floor, turning off more lights. When she returned to the living room, Stevie had placed his daughter on the sofa. Katherine switched on a small cloisonné lamp, then grabbed a fleece throw from the sofa’s back and covered her.

  “Wolfy’s dead,” Salina shrieked. “They shot him. I know it, ‘cause I can’t feel him. He’s not moving.”

  Stevie opened the flap of the backpack. The cat inside howled loudly, then hissed. A long-haired, skinny gray cat with brilliant green eyes spilled out, looked about frantically, then darted behind the marble-top Rococo cabinet.

  “Calm down, Salina. Wolfy’s okay, but are you? Did you get shot?”

  “No, I ducked down when I saw them pull up.”

  “Who was it? Was it anyone you’ve seen before in town?”

  “Yes!” she shrieked again, then cried even more hysterically.

  Stevie held her close and asked with growing concern. “Did the driver see you?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Tell me about the vehicle. Was it a truck or car?”

  “A car . . . a big shiny, black one.”

  “Could you see who was in it? Two people or one?”

  “Two. When you went into the house,” she sobbed. “I got bored so I scooched over to your side of the truck and was looking out the side mirror. That’s when I saw them. They were coming up fast. I thought they were going to slide into the truck, so I ducked down and braced myself for the crash. When I heard the gunshots, I got down on the floor, and stayed there until you came and got me.”

  “Salina, did you recognize anyone in the vehicle? Tell me.”

  Salina sobbed more. “I can’t tell you. You’ll get mad.”

  “I won’t get mad at anything you tell me. You’re my baby girl. Stop crying, and just tell me. When the police get here, they’ll need to know.”

  She mumbled a name.

  “I didn’t hear that. What did you say?”

  “He looked like Grandad.”

  In a split second, Stevie face changed from shock to anger. He turned to Katherine and asked, “Can I leave Salina with you for a while?”

  “Why?” Katherine asked with growing concern. She didn’t like the expression on Stevie’s face. He was angry. Too angry.

  “I need to take care of somethin’ right now.”

  “Stevie, the police will be here any second. You’re a witness.”

  “I didn’t see a damn thing.”

  “Daddy, will you come back?” Salina asked warily.

  Stevie leaned down and kissed Salina on the top of her head. “Of course. You’re my favorite gal. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Katz is a good friend of mine. She’ll take good care of you.”

  Stevie yanked his jacket off the Eastlake chair and stormed out of the house. “Lock the door,” he yelled, without looking back. He got in his truck, put it in gear, drove down the long driveway beside the mansion, then turned into the back alley.

  Salina sat up and cautiously looked at Katherine. “Are you my Dad’s girlfriend?”

  Katherine startled. “Ah, no, I know your father because a few months ago he saved my cat and my life.”

  “Yes, my mama told me about it. That’s when he got shot,” the girl said, then started to cry again. “My mama died.”

  “I’m so sorry, Salina.”

  Stevie’s daughter looked skeptical. Katherine caught the emotion and changed the subject. “Your cat is behind that cabinet over there. Can you try and coax her out, so we can put her in a cat carrier?”

  “Okay,” Salina said, more confident that she wouldn’t be harmed by this adult she’d never met before. She’d learned at an early age to stay clear of grown-ups, especially those that came to her house, bringing her mother drugs. “But, Ma’am, Wolfy is a boy.”

  Katherine smiled. “Okay, I’ll remember that. Now, I have two cats I need to find. I’m going upstairs for just a minute. Can you stay here?”

  “Yep.”

  Katherine rushed out of the living room, closed the pocket door, and bounded into the parlor. She was relieved to find Abby safe and sound on top of the window valance. “Come down, Abigail,” she asked in a soft voice.

  In one fluid swoop, Abby leaped to the fireplace mantel to the back of a chair, then sprang to Katherine. “Chirp,” she cried.

  Katherine picked her up, cradled the cat against her, and then hurried upstairs to the playroom. Iris was collapsed against the door, with her tail brushed out three times its normal size. “Yowl,” she cried, terrified.

  “It’s okay, Miss Siam.”

  As Katherine opened the door, Iris flew inside. The other cats made a beeline for the door and struggled to get out, but Katherine put her foot up to stop them. “Back! Back!” she said. She studied the windows and was relieved there were no bullet holes in them, then carefully placed Abby inside, closed the door, and locked it. She dashed into her room and removed her Glock from the gun safe. Not wearing her waistband holster, she tucked the gun in the back of her jeans. Hurrying down the stairs, she moved to the atrium closet and pulled out a cat carrier. Walking into the room, she was surprised to see
Salina holding her cat and singing to him in a sweet voice. Katherine recognized the tune as an old folk song, “Cotton Eyed Joe,” but the teen sang it with different lyrics.

  “I’m holdin’ a cat named Wolfy Joe. He looks like a werewolf, don’t you know.” Salina looked up and giggled.

  For the first time, Katherine noticed how emaciated the cat was. “Salina,” she began gently. “Let’s put him in the carrier. He might be happier there,” then, “Are you hungry? Is Wolfy hungry?”

  Salina nodded. “I’m hungry, but at my grandma’s, Wolfy has been living off of bologna. Big Mama doesn’t like cats and didn’t have any cat food.”

  “Change of plans, my dear. Straight through that door, make a right. You’ll end up in the kitchen. Make yourself a sandwich. The cat food is in a can in the cabinet next to the fridge.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, but can I hold him and not put him in the cage?”

  “Sure, but once you’re done in the kitchen come back here. Wait here until I get done talking to the police.”

  The teen moved to the kitchen, holding a very scared, skinny cat.

  The sirens of the police and emergency vehicles echoed through the still night air and appeared louder because the falling snow muffled all other sounds. “It’s about time,” Katherine said gratefully.

  Leaving the living room, Katherine slid the pocket door closed. She answered the front door to a very agitated chief.

  “What the hell? I leave your house for a couple of hours and all hell breaks loose.”

  “I could say the same. What took you so long?” Katherine said, exasperated.

  “For you, Ma’am, I’ll explain.” The chief assumed an official Chief of Erie voice. “We were ten miles out, north of here. There was an abandoned vehicle peppered with bullets stuck in a snow drift. It had rental car plates.”

  Katherine brought her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, no. Madison.”

  “You know the driver?”

  Katherine didn’t answer right away. She looked past the chief at the EMT personnel tending the dead man.

  “Well?” the chief asked impatiently. “Tell me fast. Leave out the part about what you had for breakfast.”

  “Drive-by shooting. Black four-door sedan. Maybe a Cadillac. I couldn’t see the driver, but I caught a glimpse of the man in the passenger seat. He wore a black sock hat, and had a close cropped beard.”

  “What color was his beard?”

  “Black, I believe.”

  “Which one did the shooting?”

  “The one in the passenger seat shot an automatic pistol. After he began firing, I couldn’t see him because the gun’s burst was blinding. Everything happened so fast. He shot the man who had just left my house.”

  “Okay, stop there.” The chief yelled at Officer Troy, who was standing next to the EMTs. “Black four-door sedan, possibly a Cadillac.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard to spot in this weather,” Officer Troy answered.

  “Notify the county and state boys.”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  A second Erie cruiser pulled in front and parked across the street. Two officers trudged over.

  “Listen up, boys,” the chief said in a loud voice. “This is a crime scene. I want the area taped off. Get Officer Mallory here to photograph the area.”

  An officer in his twenties, who had recently graduated from the police academy, asked, “Chief, what about the snow? It’s covering the crime scene.”

  The chief glared at him. “I know that, Officer Daniels. I want you to canvas the area, talk to everyone on this block, and find out if anyone saw anything.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Officer Daniels said, tramping in the direction of the yellow Foursquare.

  “Not that house. No one lives there. I meant the house next to it, on the corner. Start there.”

  The officer nodded, and was clearly embarrassed by his fellow officers looking at him like he’d just said something stupid.

  “Geez,” the chief said in a low voice. “Dang rookie.” Turning back to Katherine, he said, irritably. “Go on.”

  “A childhood friend showed up an hour ago. Her name is Madison Orson. She came inside, we talked for a bit, then Stevie Sanders showed up.”

  “What did Stevie want?”

  “To ask me something.”

  “Ask you what?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t want to ask me in front of Madison, so we went into the living room. We were in there for a few seconds, when this man barged in.”

  “The deceased guy?”

  “I guess. I didn’t see him. We were behind the closed pocket door, but I heard him. He was angry. He began yelling at Madison and wanted to know if she’d asked me something.”

  “Seems to be the M.O. with you. What does everyone want to ask you?”

  Katherine shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.”

  Officer Troy joined the chief on the porch. “When the investigators are finished, the coroner wants the body taken to the hospital across the river.”

  “Excellent plan. Tell the coroner to call me when he gets there. I’ll want to be in on this.”

  Officer Troy nodded, and walked back to the EMTs.

  The chief noticed Katherine was standing in the doorway, shivering. “Go inside. We’ll talk in there.”

  Standing in the atrium, Katherine resumed. “My friend drove a rental car from Indianapolis; a blue Toyota Corolla.”

  “Yep, a Corolla. The car was reserved by a man named Vinny Bellini. Do you know him?”

  “No.”

  The chief pulled a small note book he kept in his back pocket, and flipped several pages. “He’s from New York.” He read an address in Brooklyn.

  Katherine flinched. “That’s close to where Madison lived when we were growing up.”

  “Finish the part about the shooting.”

  “The deceased, I mean Vinny Bellini — I assume it was Vinny Bellini because he rented the car,” she digressed.

  “Yes, yes. We’ve established that point. Then what happened?”

  “Madison left after he did, but when she saw the sedan pull up, she stayed on the porch and hid behind a wicker chair. The shooter first fired on the rental car, then opened fire on the man. When the car sped off, Madison ran to Stevie’s truck. I think she meant to steal it. I can’t be sure.”

  “She probably figured the rental car wouldn’t operate with all the bullet holes.”

  “Stevie’s truck door was locked, so she got in the rental and left.”

  “Back up. Where was Stevie during this?”

  “He chased after Madison and was livid that she was trying to get into his truck because his daughter was in there.”

  “Daughter? What was she doing there? Where is she now? She could be a viable witness.”

  “In my kitchen.”

  “Okay, enough for now. I want to talk to Stevie. I didn’t see his truck. Where is he?”

  “He left.”

  The chief threw his hands up, frustrated. “What the hell? Why?”

  Katherine thought, but didn’t say out loud, He said he had something to take care of.

  Salina, who had been eavesdropping on the other side of the pocket door, slid it open and poked her head out. “My dad was looking for a place for us to sleep.”

  The chief recognized Salina from the many times he had to come to her trailer to arrest her mother. “I’m very sorry about your mom. I heard you’re moving back to Erie.”

  “Yes, Sir. Dad bought the house next door and we came to see if this lady here,” she said, looking shyly at Katherine, “would let us stay there tonight — before the bank did something.”

  Katherine added, “Salina, before the house closes. I’ll talk to your father about this when he gets back.”

  The chief asked, “Salina, the man outside, did you see who shot him?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I was hunkered down on my dad’s floorboard. I saw a big black car, then I ducked.”

  Katherine looked at the
teen, and wondered why she’d told her father who she thought it was, but not the chief. She’d ask her later. Instead she said, “Salina, can you slide the door closed and wait for me in the kitchen?”

  Salina nodded and closed the door, but didn’t leave the spot. She wanted to hear more about what the lady in the pink house was saying about her father.

  “Finish your story,” the chief encouraged.

  “Stevie asked if he could leave Salina here for a while, and I said yes. That’s all I know, but what about Madison? Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. Safe, I hope.”

  “Where did you say you found her car?”

  “I didn’t, but right about now it’s being towed out of a ditch close to Chester’s Snow Angel farm.”

  “That’s off the highway, way out in the sticks. Why would she drive there?”

  “I’m bankin’ the two in the Cadillac were following her, and she slid off the road trying to get away from them.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Tire tracks beside Madison’s car indicate someone stopped by to help her.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Snow is like a blank canvas, and tire tracks in the snow are like fingerprints. They indicate whether the vehicle is a car or a truck.” The chief tugged at his short beard. “We could see that only one person got out of the vehicle, and he had the biggest shoe size I’ve ever seen. It looked almost like a giant snatched her out of the car.”

  “I pray it was Chester. He’s a big man.”

  The chief shook his head. “No, Katz, Chester is the one who called it in. Your friend exited her car and got into the other vehicle.”

  “Was there any sign of struggle?”

  “None, so I’m hopin’ a good Samaritan picked her up and took her to safety. I’m thinkin’ a family, because Madison’s footprints led to the left side of the other vehicle. She sat behind the driver. It was most likely a married couple, the wife riding shotgun. I expect to get a call from these folks soon. They’ll want to know what to do with her.”

  “Chief, what if it wasn’t a good Samaritan?” she worried.

  “I hope, for your friend’s sake, that whoever helped her wasn’t the shooter.”