PAWtners in Crime (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 10)

by Patricia Fry

  Ruth looked at Savannah and then at Michael. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “For what?” Michael asked.

  “For caring,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears.

  “My phone,” Savannah said, heading for the buffet where it was charging. “Hi, Craig. What’s up?”

  “That’s what I want to know. What did that boy do this evening, anyway?”

  Savannah glanced at the others. “Why? What did you hear…and from whom?”

  “That he beat up some paparazzi and broke his camera over the poor guy’s head.”

  “Um, not exactly the story I heard,” she said. “Let me have you talk to Michael. He was there.”

  “So there was an incident? My God!”

  “Yeah. Did this guy make a report?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Craig said curtly.

  “Well, hey, that paparazzi was trespassing, wasn’t he?”

  There was silence. “That might make a difference, but still…”

  “I know, Craig. We all know—even Arthur knows—he was wrong. But he needs help understanding why and learning how to manage his anger.” She paused. “Rochelle might be able to help.”

  “Well, the facts are that those photo-hounds are not illegal. As long as they don’t harm anyone or cause an accident, there’s not much anyone can do about them.”

  “Seems like stalking to me,” she said, rather defiantly.

  “Nope, it comes under a different category, I guess. And it comes with the territory for celebrities. It’s a shame, though, when someone like Arthur is caught up in this sort of thing quite by accident and he has to put up with the likes of the paparazzi.” He was quiet for a moment, then he asked, “So how can your friend Rochelle help?”

  “She’s a hypnotist.”

  “I thought she was a psycho—I mean psychic,” Craig joked.

  “Yes, and a hypnotist. She does some counseling. Maybe she could help him relax a little, learn to ignore the paparazzi, and just go about his business. We both know there’s more than one way to handle something like this.”

  “Well, we’ve gotta do something,” Craig said. “Let me talk to Arthur. Is he there?”

  “Yes, studying. I’ll take the phone to him.”

  ****

  “Craig’s pretty upset with Arthur,” Savannah said later that evening as she and Michael relaxed on the sofa in the living room.

  “I imagine so. He’s gone out on a limb for the boy a couple of times. Did you call Rochelle?” he asked.

  Savannah nodded.

  “So what is it you believe she can help with?”

  “I hope she can change Arthur’s way of thinking about things that are going on around him. Maybe he can learn to relax some…see a little humor in life’s annoyances and not take them so seriously.”

  “Oh, so help him to tolerate frustrations rather than fight them?” he asked.

  “That’s the idea.”

  Michael sighed deeply and leaned his head back on the sofa. “Life’s a learning process, isn’t it?”

  Savannah ran her hand over Buffy’s fur. “Yup.” She then said, “Looks like Buffy has learned a new trick.”

  “What’s that?” Michael asked, looking down at the cat in Savannah’s lap.

  “Well, she’s been Lily’s bodyguard ever since the baby was born—she’s rarely left her side, even when the baby was sleeping. And here she is, seeking our attention tonight.”

  “I think she missed you while you were in San Francisco, and now we have people in the house,” Michael offered. “When things around a cat change, sometimes the cat changes her routine or behavior.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Savannah said, scratching Buffy under the chin. She laughed. “She looks like she’s smiling when I do this.”

  “Yeah, she likes that.”

  Just then Rags, who was lying in one of Buffy’s canopy beds, raised his head. “Hi Koko,” Michael said when he saw the Siamese cat trotting down the stairs toward Rags. Michael stood. “Let me take a look at your leg, girl.”

  “Is she okay?” Savannah asked.

  “I think so. She’s walking normally and there’s no redness around the scrape.” He looked at Savannah. “I think she’ll be more careful around the wheels of that office chair, though.” He ran his hand over Koko’s fur and watched her trot toward Rags. She licked the top of his head and he rolled over on his back and began pawing at her. Suddenly, she dove head first into Rags, wrapping her paws around him. Just as quickly, she darted up the stairs, Rags chasing after her.

  “Those two,” Savannah said. “I don’t think he’s ever had such a good friend—another cat that he took to as deeply as he has to her.”

  “They sure do get along,” Michael agreed. “Her energy level is more in sync with his than the other cats he knows.” He looked at Savannah. “Didn’t you say he has ragdoll in his ancestry?”

  “That’s what they told me when I adopted him—that his mother was a ragdoll cat. But he must favor whatever else was in the mix.”

  Michael chuckled. “Yeah, cheetah or ocelot.” He leaned back and looked at Savannah. “Do you think Rags and Koko are soul mates like we are?”

  When Savannah saw the silly grin on his handsome face, she slapped at him. “Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” she said, tickling him.

  Once he’d recovered from her playful attack, he became more serious and asked, “So is Rochelle going to see Arthur?”

  Savannah nodded. She was quiet for a moment before saying, “I think I’ll go with him and Ruth to Frisco for the trial.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Craig’s pretty sure he and I will get a summons, anyway.”

  “Why, to answer to charges that you two kidnapped the boy from the prison his mother created for him?” he asked.

  “Who knows?” she said, shrugging. She continued thinking out loud. “I’ll take Lily. Ruth seems to enjoy her company, and she can help me care for her. While we’re in Frisco, maybe we can make a professional appointment for Arthur with Rochelle. In the meantime, I think we can try to help him handle things better.”

  Michael nodded. “Yeah, he definitely seems to need a barrage of mentors.”

  ****

  “No breakfast today?” Michael asked when he entered the kitchen the following morning.

  “Not in here,” Savannah said, smiling.

  “Are we going out?”

  “Yes. Outside.” When he looked puzzled, she explained, “It’s such a pretty morning, I thought we’d eat on the porch. Ruth just took the fruit and biscuits out. Get yourself a cup of coffee. Eggs are almost ready.”

  “Cool,” he said, pouring coffee into a mug. He kissed her on the neck as she stood at the stove, and asked, “So what are you doing today while I toil at the clinic? Anything fun?”

  “We’re going riding,” Arthur said as he entered the room.

  “Oh, hi, Arthur,” Savannah greeted. “Get a good night’s sleep?”

  “Yes, except for all those times I woke up to see if it was morning yet.”

  “You’re excited about the ride, are you, son?” Michael asked, smiling.

  “Sure am,” he said. He addressed Savannah, “Want me to set the table?”

  She shook her head. “It’s set.” When she saw the confused look on his face, she pointed. “Outside. We’re eating on the porch this morning.”

  “All right!” he said.

  “Ruth and Lily are already out there.” He started to head for the door when Savannah stopped him. “Here, wanna carry out the jam selection?”

  “Sure,” he said, taking the tray of jams and jellies from her and walking out to join the others.

  “What time are you going?” Michael asked, holding a bowl for her to spoon in the scrambled eggs.

  “Bonnie’s bringing her horse for Arthur to ride around nine.”

  “So you fed your mare, or do you want me to do it?”
/>   “Yes, I fed her first thing.”

  “Guess you’re all set then.” He kissed her and said, “You two be careful, will ya?”

  She tapped the vinyl spoon against the bowl to shake off the last bit of scrambled egg. “Sure will.” Suddenly she noticed that he was staring at her, unsmiling. “What?” she asked, seemingly annoyed.

  “Just doing a little visualization,” he said.

  Savannah scrunched up her face. “What?”

  “You know, like you do when you want a certain outcome. I want you and Arthur to be safe and come home whole and unharmed.”

  She smiled. “Aww, how sweet. We will. I promise. I’m just going to take him out for an hour or two—we’ll have a nice, relaxing trail ride together.”

  ****

  Two hours later, Savannah and Arthur were riding tall in their saddles along a lovely stretch of trail between the Iveys’ house and the not-too-distant foothills.

  “What a pretty day,” she said as they rode side by side.

  “Sure is,” Arthur agreed. “It feels so good to be out in the country again—away from everything and everyone.” He raised his face toward the sky, his dark glasses reflecting the sun. “I’ve missed this so much. Thank you, Savannah, for bringing me out here and for getting me a horse to ride. He’s a great mount—reminds me of my gelding, Scooter. He was…”

  Suddenly, Arthur turned in his saddle and cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”

  “Well, I hear a motor of some kind off in the distance, is that what you mean?”

  “Yes. I’ve heard it off and on since we started riding, and it seems to be getting closer, don’t you think?”

  “Um, I hadn’t noticed.” She reined her mare in and strained to look behind them.

  “There he is.” Arthur pointed. “It’s someone on a motorbike coming up the hill behind us.”

  “Probably out for a ride like we are,” Savannah said. “Don’t worry; these horses are used to those putt-putt bikes, if the rider doesn’t get squirrely.”

  As the pair rode along the trail, Arthur continued to peer into the distance behind them, catching a glimpse of the motorbike now and then through the brush. “He’s carrying something. Savannah, I think it’s camera equipment.”

  “Oh Arthur, it’s probably his lunch. Here, I brought my little binoculars,” she said, pulling them out of her saddlebag and handing them to him. “Can you see what he’s carrying?”

  “Dammit, it’s a camera and a backpack. He’s a darn paparazzi, Savannah.”

  “Or he could be a nature photographer. It’s a great day for photography.” She eased her camera out of her jeans pocket. “See, I brought my camera, too.”

  “No, Savannah. He’s a paparazzi, I just know it.”

  Savannah stopped her horse and peered at Arthur. In a calm voice, she said, “Now, don’t panic, Arthur. Even if he is a paparazzi, it’s not the end of the world. He’s not going to hurt us—he’s only interested in taking your picture.”

  “Well, I don’t want my picture taken,” he said, sulking. “…and I don’t want him in my face.”

  Savannah was quiet for a moment. “So you’ve decided to ruin this beautiful day for us?”

  He turned to her, scowling. “Me? How would I ruin it—he’s the one who’s about to ruin it. In fact, he’s already ruining it.”

  “Only because you’ve allowed him to, Arthur.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, angrily.

  “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘you can’t control what happens to you, but you can control how it affects you?’”

  Arthur picked up the glasses again and looked out over the expanse of land at the person on the motorbike. He slowly lowered them and asked, “Are you saying I have some control in this situation?”

  “An enormous amount of control, Arthur. You can decide to be upset about this intrusion or you can shine this guy on—make light of it—joke about it. There are many ways to handle any challenge we face. Anger is not the only way. Getting upset is optional.”

  “Wow, I never considered anything like that before, but that’s definitely something I want to think more about.”

  Savannah smiled at the young man. “You do enjoy the thought process, don’t you,

  Arthur?” She looked beyond him and remarked, “Okay, he has almost caught up to us. What are we going to do—what is your decision?”

  Arthur’s expression suddenly changed. Savannah was sure she could see a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I want to outrun him—outsmart him…”

  “Oh?” Savannah said. She thought for a moment and then grinned broadly. “Okay, let’s go, cowboy.”

  And the race was on. The duo nudged Peaches and Zeke into an easy single-file lope along the narrowing trail, slowing at the curves as the trail ascended into the foothills.

  “Follow me,” Savannah said, when she heard the motorbike gaining on them. She promptly reined Peaches up a narrow game trail alongside a patch of thick brush and boulders. Arthur followed, expertly guiding Zeke around rocks and through brush up the side of the small hill. Soon Savannah stopped her horse. She turned in her saddle toward Arthur and said quietly, “He won’t see us up here.”

  The pair listened until they heard the putt-putt of the motor roar past their hiding place, then they slapped a high-five in the air; big grins on their faces.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Well, he’ll either keep going and connect with the main road or he’ll come back this way. What would you like to do?”

  Arthur thought about it for a moment. “Like you said, it’s such a nice day. Let’s finish our ride, shall we?”

  Savannah cocked her head, her ponytail swishing across one shoulder. “And if he comes back?”

  The boy adjusted his Western hat. “We’ll deal with that if and when it happens.” He then added, “Anyway, so what if he gets a picture or two? I won’t let it spoil my day.”

  “Hey, that’s the spirit, Arthur. I’m proud of you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, turning glum, “those guys still make me darn mad.” He perked up. “But that one didn’t ruin our ride, did he?”

  “Because you didn’t let him, Arthur.” She pointed at him. “It’s all you, buddy.”

  “Hmm. I guess so,” he said, smiling as wide as his scars would allow. “Let’s go, Zeke,” he said, nudging the gelding down the hillside and back to the narrow trail.

  ****

  “Hi, hon,” Savannah greeted when she saw Michael walking out to meet her and Arthur at the tack room a few hours later. “Home for lunch?”

  “Yes, I had a sandwich,” he reported. “How was the ride?”

  “Great!” Arthur said, climbing carefully from the saddle and holding onto the stirrup to steady himself for a moment. He patted the horse on the neck. “Zeke is a great ride.” He turned toward Michael, his eyes flashing with excitement. “He outran the paparazzi.”

  Michael glanced at Savannah. “The paparazzi?”

  “Yeah, we think he was. Arthur saw a camera over his shoulder with a long lens on it. Could have been a nature photographer, I guess.”

  “Dressed in street clothes?” Arthur challenged. “He didn’t look to me like a Sierra Club groupie.”

  “Was he on horseback?” Michael asked.

  “No, a motor scooter.”

  Michael narrowed his eyes. “And you outran him?”

  “More like outsmarted him,” Arthur explained.

  “And Arthur kept his cool,” Savannah reported.

  The boy nodded. “Yeah, it was kinda fun playing games with him—especially since we won.”

  “Uh-oh,” Michael said. “I think you’ve spoken too soon. Is that him?”

  Arthur turned in the direction Michael pointed. “Gosh darn it, I think it is.”

  “Yes, that’s him!” Savannah shouted.

  They watched as the motorbike stopped just inside the long driveway. The rider balanc
ed by putting both feet on the ground and stood staring toward the trio. After a few moments, he turned the motorbike around and sped out of the driveway and down the highway.

  Michael grimaced. “Looks like he found you.”

  “But he didn’t get any pictures,” Arthur bragged.

  Chapter 4

  “This has been a nice week,” Ruth said from the overstuffed chair in the Iveys’ living room. “It is hard to believe it’s already Saturday.”

  Arthur looked up at her from the floor, where he sat playing with Lily. “Yes, it sure has been fun.” He turned to Michael and Savannah. “I really had a great time.”

  Ruth lowered her head. “Now back to the reality we must face.”

  “We’ve enjoyed having you here,” Savannah said. She nodded toward Lily. “All of us have.”

  Just then Rags trotted into the room. He strolled toward Arthur and Lily, sniffed a couple of the baby’s toys, and walked away. What happened next surprised them all. Koko approached Arthur from behind, head-butted him, then grabbed Lily’s stuffed cat and ran like the dickens up the stairs.

  “What was that?” Michael asked, laughing. “Did I see what I thought I saw?”

  “I think it was a tornado whirling away with Lily’s toy kitty,” Savannah said, joining him and the others in hearty laughter.

  “I’m sorry,” Arthur said, standing and walking slowly in the direction the cat had run. “I’ll go get it.”

  “Thanks,” Savannah said, still chuckling. “Find Koko a cat toy while you’re up there.”

  “Yeah, like that will matter,” Michael said. “If Rags has taught her some of his tricks, she’ll prefer the baby’s toys to the cat toys.”

  “You’re probably right,” Savannah said.

  “I can’t find her,” Arthur called from the top of the staircase.

  “Check the closet in the room across from yours,” Savannah suggested.

  Shortly, Arthur appeared holding the toy over his head in a victory stance. When he joined the others in the living room, he said, “Yup, she was in the closet with Rags.” He handed the stuffed cat to Lily. “Rags has a lot of things in his toy box. Where does he get all that stuff?”