PAWtners in Crime (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 10)

by Patricia Fry

  PAWtners in Crime

  A Klepto Cat Mystery

  Volume 10

  by Patricia Fry

  PAWtners in Crime

  A Klepto Cat Mystery

  Volume 10

  Author: Patricia Fry

  ISBN: 978-0-9908313-5-8

  All rights reserved

  © 2015 Matilija Press

  Chapter 1

  Savannah stood in stark terror, watching the unimaginable unfold before her eyes. Who is he and what does he want? She saw the glint of something in his hand and felt her heart lurch.

  “It isn’t you I want,” he said, in an eerily distorted voice. “Where is he?” he demanded.

  “Who?” she asked, purposely stalling—her thoughts spinning out of control.

  The masked figure moved slowly toward her in the near darkness. “You know damn well who—that sniveling kid.” He motioned toward the staircase. “Is he up there…or down this hallway?”

  Savannah knew better than to react, but how would she keep the intruder at bay? If only Michael would wake up and come looking for me. As far as he and our guests know, they’re safe in our home, she thought.

  “Where is he? Tell me…or I’ll go room by room, killing everyone I find,” he threatened. He glanced around the living room, then focused again on Savannah. “Maybe I’ll start with the youngest—where’s your daughter? Up there?” He took a step toward the staircase, watching for Savannah’s reaction, when suddenly, something flew through the air from behind him and landed hard on his shoulders. He cried out in pain. “Get that thing off me!” he screeched as he spun around, trying to dislodge the creature. “Get it off me! Get it off me!” he shouted.

  Before Savannah could decide what to do, she heard something hit the area rug, bounce, and slide across the wood floor. Was that a knife? My gosh, he dropped his knife. I must grab it before he does, she thought. However, she wasn’t quick enough. She didn’t even know where it was. Her heart sunk when she saw him shake himself loose from his attacker and lunge for the weapon; but someone had beaten him to it. There, sprawled atop the object was Rags, who emitted the deepest throaty growl Savannah had ever heard come from him.

  The intruder, blood running from claw marks on his neck, stared down at the snarling beast. He moved closer and threatened, “I’ll kill that mangy thing!”

  Savannah could see that the large grey-and-white cat had the upper paw; however, she was concerned about the Siamese cat who had been tossed halfway across the room. She glanced in Koko’s direction. Miraculously, she had recovered and was heading for the man again. Just as he prepared to kick Rags, the spunky Siamese leaped, claws unsheathed, grabbing his leg, causing him to fall hard against a side table and sprawl out on the floor.

  While he clumsily scrambled to his feet, Savannah saw her chance. She rushed toward Rags, who along with Koko quickly scampered to the other side of the room, and she grabbed the weapon. But when she realized what she held in her hands, her jaw dropped. A gun…a small shiny pistol.

  “Michael! Michael!!” she screamed, holding the weapon toward the intruder menacingly and wondering how her husband could sleep through her nightmare. She hoped against hope that it was merely a nightmare.

  “Stay there, Savannah!” Michael shouted upon entering the living room carrying a baseball bat. To the masked intruder, he snarled, “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

  The stranger, spotting the bat, began to retreat. He backed toward the front door slowly, holding his hands out in front of himself in a defensive manner. “I’m at the wrong house, man,” the mechanical voice said. “Let me go; I won’t bother you again.” When the man turned and reached for the doorknob, Michael dropped the bat and grabbed him by one arm. “Stop it, you’re hurting me,” the smaller man said as Michael held him in a choke hold and twisted his arm behind his back.

  “Savannah, call the sheriff!” Michael shouted. He then demanded of the intruder, “Just settle down. You’re not going anywhere.”

  After she made the call, Savannah collapsed into the nearest chair. When she realized she still held the gun in her hand, she felt an emotional lump develop in her throat. She thought back to her life before she and her family became a target.

  ****

  It was more than three weeks earlier. Savannah was still reeling from excitement after helping to free Arthur Spence, the young burn victim who had been living as a virtual prisoner in the Peyton Mansion for the past seven years. Her memories of their weekend at the mansion, where Rags’s documentary had premiered, brought both smiles and fright to her mind—it was her unpredictable, adventurous cat, after all, who had discovered the dark secret hidden in the bowels of the mansion. She was still grateful that her husband had supported her decision to remain in San Francisco with their friend Detective Craig Sledge for a few days after the premiere. She loved a good mystery, and being involved in helping Arthur escape his real-life nightmare seemed to feed her soul. But she was home now, eager to resume her beautiful life.

  Michael looked up from his breakfast. “Your mom left early this morning, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. She wanted to miss the heavy traffic through the city.”

  “Sure was nice of her to stay in this crazy house while we were gone and to help me out with the baby until you got home.”

  “Crazy house?” Savannah questioned.

  “Yes, with all our crazy animals.”

  Just then they heard the rumble of paws on the staircase. Savannah winced as she and Michael waited to see what form the tornado would take this time. Moments later, Rags appeared in the doorway. The lanky grey-and-white cat tore into the room at full speed, missing a turn around the kitchen table and sliding into Lexie’s empty bed. Then Walter, who was close on Rags’s tail, lost his footing and body-slammed Rags. The black cat recovered quickly and did a little sideways dance, his fur standing on end, and the two cats sprinted off to parts unknown.

  “Where’s Buffy?” Michael asked. “Doesn’t she want in on the circus this morning? Oh, there she is,” he said, motioning toward the pert Himalayan-mix who peered wide-eyed from one of her pink canopy beds.

  Savannah rested her cheek against their baby’s soft blond curls. “I started to say how happy I am to be home, but,” she raised her eyebrows and shook her head, “now I’m not so sure.”

  “You were only gone for a week.”

  “Six days, ten hours, and twenty-two minutes,” she said, laughing. She became serious. “It seemed like an eternity.”

  “That’s because there was so much going on,” he said, standing and reaching for the coffee pot. He poured a little in his cup and offered some to his wife.

  “No thanks.” Savannah picked up Lily’s stuffed chenille kitty from the floor for the fourth or fifth time and handed it to the baby. “Yes, a lot did happen and the outcome was…gratifying.” She snuggled with their daughter, saying, “I hope all that drama is behind us. I just want to continue my dream life here at home with my family.”

  “Hey, what’s caused you to be so sentimental?” he asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

  “Not sentimental—introspective,” she corrected. “We should all re-examine our lives occasionally, don’t you think? And getting involved in someone else’s drama can cause you to do that.”

  Michael leaned over and kissed her. “Well, we’re sure glad you’re home, aren’t we, Lily?” he said, kissing the baby on the cheek. Our family’s just not the same when you’re gone.” He walked to the large kitchen window and peered out. “Speaking of family, what’s keeping Adam? Didn’t he just go out to feed your horse?”

  “Yes, with
Lexie. You know, the boy and the dog always find something interesting to explore out there.” She smiled. “I remember how much fun I used to have as a kid adventuring around this place with my sister and cousins.”

  “I imagine it was even more intriguing then—before the barn burned down.”

  She nodded and smiled. “Oh yes, there was a lot of fodder for a child’s imagination in that old barn. And the Nancy Drew stories I devoured certainly helped my imagination along.” She looked at Michael. “So what’s Adam doing out there?”

  He squinted through the glass. “I don’t know. Looks like he’s having a deep discussion with Lexie. They’re examining something.” He chuckled. “I think I’ll join them; looks interesting. Then I’d better get to work. I have a busy morning at the clinic.”

  “Okay. I’m going to bathe the baby, then I need to go out and see what’s ripening in the orchard. I’m behind on my canning and jam-making.” Savannah stood and joined her husband at the window. Holding the baby in one arm, she wrapped the other around his neck and kissed him.

  “Oh yes,” he said, returning the kiss, “I’m awfully glad you’re home.” When Lily reached out a hand to him, he pretended to gobble it up and chuckled when she laughed out loud. “See you ladies around lunchtime,” he said, placing his coffee mug on the counter and heading outside through the kitchen door.

  Several minutes later, Adam called out from the living room, “Savannah, where are you?”

  “In the baby’s room.”

  “Hi Buffy,” the ten-year-old said as he entered the nursery and saw the pretty little cat sitting at attention on the dresser, watching Savannah diaper the baby. “Buffy’s always where Lily is,” he observed.

  “Yup, she’s our babysitter,” Savannah quipped.

  “Really?” he asked, tilting his head inquisitively and petting the cat’s luxurious fur.

  “Yeah, at least she thinks she is.”

  “Aww, cats can’t babysit,” Adam said, grinning.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  Adam thought for a moment before saying, “She doesn’t have arms to hold a baby. She can’t change a diaper or feed Lily a bottle…or read her a story.” He shrugged. “What can she do, anyway?”

  “Keep the baby company.”

  “But what if she cries and needs something to eat?” he asked.

  “You’ve got a good point, there, Adam. I guess you’re right; we’ll have to come up with a new term for Buffy.” She raised the baby to a sitting position and slipped a red shirt over her head. Glancing up at the cat, she said, “Sorry Buffy, you can’t be Lily’s babysitter. You’re a…” She turned to Adam. “What should we call her?”

  “Uh, a watchcat? She just watches Lily.”

  “Okay, Buffy, you’re the official watchcat.”

  Adam scrunched up his face. “No, that won’t work. Cats can’t be watchcats. They can’t bark and bite bad people.”

  “Then how about sister-kitty. Buffy can be Lily’s sister-kitty and best kitty friend. Do you like that?”

  He frowned a little. “Yeah, I guess that’s okay.” His face brightened when he looked up at Savannah and asked, “Hey, are we going out to the orchard?”

  She nodded. “We sure are. I need to see what’s ready to pick. I don’t want fruit falling off the trees and rotting on the ground.”

  “Can we make jam?”

  “Maybe. Let’s see what’s ripe.”

  “Lily, you’re wearing jeans,” Adam observed, as Savannah strapped the baby into her stroller.

  “Yeah, overalls. She’s farmer Lily today.”

  Adam walked around to the front of the stroller and started talking to the baby. “You’re a farmer girl today, Lily. We’re going to the orchard.”

  The eight-month-old stared at her half-brother. She then smiled and began slapping her hands on the tray of the stroller.

  “Hey, she’s excited about going to the orchard.” Adam looked up at Savannah. “Do you think she understood what I said to her?”

  Savannah tilted her head. “It’s hard to say, but she does like it when you talk to her. That’s how she learns, you know. If she doesn’t understand it today, she will soon. That’s why we keep talking to her; to teach her things.”

  “So I’m teaching her when I talk to her?”

  “You sure are.” Savannah looked at Adam. “How does that make you feel? Do you like being a teacher?”

  “I guess. Hey, I teach Rags and Lexie things.”

  “Yes, you do,” Savannah agreed as she pushed the stroller down the ramp from the wraparound porch to the walkway. “You’ve taught those two a lot of things, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, like…” He jumped from the porch to the grass. He then skipped up to Savannah, scrunched up his face, and asked, “Like what?”

  “Well, like coming to you when you call, playing fetch, waiting for the command before darting outside or eating, walking nicely on a leash…”

  Adam thought for a moment, jumped over a stepping stone, and said, “But Rags doesn’t do any of those things.”

  She laughed. “Not because you haven’t tried to teach him.”

  Adam reached out and petted Lexie as she scampered past them toward the orchard. He wrinkled his nose and squinted up at Savannah. “Rags is not a very good student.” He became more animated. “I tell him to come and he goes. I say for him to bring back the toy I tossed and he runs away with it. I ask him to walk next to me on his leash and he pulls me across the yard.” He cocked his head and looked at her again. “Why is that? Is he stupid?”

  Savannah chuckled. “Oh no. He just has a mind of his own and…he’s a cat. Remember, your dad and I have told you that dogs are dogs and cats…”

  “…are cats,” he finished, as if weary of hearing the phrase. “I know.”

  Savannah explained, “Dogs like to please people and cats are more interested in…what pleases them.”

  “Rags has brought me his toys before,” Adam said, “and sometimes he goes where I want him to go on his leash; just not every time.”

  “He does it when it suits him. That’s simply the nature of a cat. You gotta love them.”

  “Why?” Adam asked.

  Savannah creased her brow. “You like cats.”

  “I love cats. They’re my favorite animal…except maybe for horses and some dogs,” he said, ruffling Lexie’s fur. “If only cats would be more…”

  “What? Cooperative?”

  Adam nodded. “Yeah, cooperative.”

  “Then they wouldn’t be cats. The same things that make a cat desirable can also make them…”

  “…a problem?” Adam suggested.

  Savannah tousled his straight brown hair. “Yeah, as good a word as any.” She watched Adam chase after Lexie as her mind drifted back to the young burn victim she’d helped to free from his basement prison earlier that week. Arthur was Adam’s age when he lost his freedom. I wonder how he’ll adjust to the world now that he’s out from under his mother’s misguided…custody. He missed out on so much. Such a shame. She sighed. At eighteen, now, I guess there’s no way for him to go back. His childhood is lost.

  “Hey, there’s some plums!” Adam shouted, once they’d entered the small orchard. “What are those over there?” he pointed.

  “That’s a peach tree.”

  “Yum! Peaches! Can I pick one to eat?” he asked.

  Savannah nodded. “Sure—do you see a ripe one?”

  He put his hand around a plump peach. “This one looks ripe.”

  “Yes, it does. Give it a slight tug. If it comes off, it’s probably ripe enough to eat.”

  “It did!” Adam exclaimed. “It came right off. Want me to pick one for you?”

  Savannah smiled. “Sure.”

  The boy looked at the baby. “I can pick a little one for Lily.”

  “That’s nice of you to think of her,” she said, biting off a tiny piece of fruit from the peach he’d handed her and giving it to Lily, “but
I think I’d better share mine with her.”

  Adam laughed when he saw Lily shiver and make a face. “It must be sour,” he said. “Mine’s real sweet.”

  “Yes, it’s a little tart for her taste. I’ll try to find a sweeter bite.”

  Once they had picked a basket of peaches and plums and a few apples and carried them into the house, Savannah showed Adam the process of preparing the fruit for making jam.

  After a while, he admitted, “This is kinda boring. Is there another job I might like better?”

  Savannah chuckled. “Yes, this is the tedious part, that’s for sure.” She washed her hands and picked up three toys Lily had tossed off the high-chair tray. She smiled at the baby and said, “I have an idea. How about if I put Lily on her big blanket in the dining room with her activity toys and you can play with her for a while?”

  “Okay,” Adam said, rushing into the living room, grabbing the edges of the large quilt, and pulling it, along with a selection of toys, into the dining room. “Come on Buffy,” he called to the fluffy cat who lay comfortably in her canopy bed in the kitchen. “Come play with us.”

  After Savannah placed the baby on the quilt, she said, “Buffy can see you two from here, so she’s probably fine right where she is.” She stood and watched the children for a moment. I wonder if Arthur was good with his little sister Karen. From what he says, he adored her. I can just picture him at four or five years old lying on a blanket with her when she was a baby and playing peek-a-boo or squeezing one of her squeaky toys to entertain her.

  Half an hour later, Adam strolled into the kitchen. “I think she’s tired, Savannah. She’s rubbing her eyes.” He laughed. “She’s probably tired of crawling. I had to put her back on the blanket a hundred times.”

  “A hundred, huh? You must be tired, too.” She washed her hands. “Let me get her a bottle. I’m almost to the fun part of making jam. Are you ready to help?”

  Adam hesitated, then grinned. “The fun part is eating it.”

  “You sound more like your dad every day,” she said, chuckling. She picked up the baby and turned to Adam. “Why don’t you go see what Rags is doing? He’s probably feeling left out since you spent all morning with Lexie.”