by Patricia Fry
Mary looked back and forth among the photos, then picked up the one Colbi had brought. “That sure looks like him,” she said. She looked up, adding, “He wears a cloak, you know—sort of like Dracula.” She looked down again and started tapping her finger on the photo. “Yeah, that’s him.” She looked up at Craig. “Did he kill Beverly?” she asked,
“Well, we need more information to be sure,” he said, “but he could be the one who hurt your friend. He just could be.”
Mary stared down at the picture again and then she stabbed at it with her finger and said, “There’s that stick he carries. I saw him raise that stick toward Beverly. See the shiny part? That’s his stick!” she said loudly.
“How many times did you see this guy, Mary?” Craig asked.
“Um, let’s see,” she said, “only the once when he followed Beverly from the orchard. He raised the stick over his head. I could see the top of it there shining in the moonlight.” She smiled. “Beverly was getting older, but she could sure run. She ran as fast as she could back to her hut and we hid inside all night.”
“Can you tell me when exactly that was, Mary?” Craig looked over and saw their orders being placed at the window; the waiter was headed in that direction. He knew that once the woman started eating, she’d probably lose her ability to concentrate. He hoped he could get her to answer before her meal arrived.
“Well, I don’t pay much attention to dates and days and stuff like that. Don’t even have a calendar. It’s hard to say just what day it was. But…wait, I know,” she said rather loudly. “Beverly and I are birthday twins.” She grinned a little and shook her head. “Well, almost. Her birthday is four days before mine and I went there on her birthday. Took her a chocolate bar.”
“And what day was that, Mary?”
The waiter showed up and began placing plates around the table. Mary’s eyes lit up and she began digging into her food.
Colbi reminded her, “Your birthday is the twenty-eighth, isn’t it, Mary? That’s the day you went to have dinner with your family.”
“Yes, my aunt and uncle.” She looked down. “My parents are dead.”
“So Beverly’s birthday is the twenty-fourth. Is that right?”
Mary took a bite of the tortilla she’d filled with fajita mix and answered while chewing, “Yes, the twenty-fourth.”
Craig made a note to check the phase and position of the moon, as well as the weather that night.
***
Friday morning Colbi was making breakfast when Savannah came into the kitchen. “My, aren’t you looking chipper, Colbi,” Savannah said. “Even up and fixing breakfast.” She walked over to her, rubbed her shoulder, and asked, “Are you feeling better, hon?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m breathing better. I can make it all the way up the stairs without stopping. My voice sounds better, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes, lots,” Savannah said.
“And we think we have a lead on those hoarders and that creep who’s been coming around here.”
“Well, no wonder you’re feeling better. That’s good news.”
Colbi poured Savannah and herself each a glass of pomegranate juice and they sat down at the kitchen table. “Craig said Jason and his team have pinpointed where the hoarders are working from now. The police in that area have been alerted. They’re somewhere in South Carolina.”
“Gosh, I hope they put those people away forever,” Savannah said. “How did you find them?”
“Well, their own cats helped with that. They are using some of the same cat photos in their scam and I recognized them from those living over at the shelter. We have photos and were able to ID them.”
Savannah smiled. “Don’t you love it when the cats have a paw in solving a crime?” She looked around the room. “Speaking of cats, have you seen Rags this morning?”
“Oh no, is he missing again?” she laughed.
“Did he come down to eat?”
“No. I fed all the others and Lexie,” Colbi said, “but I haven’t seen Rags.”
Lexie lifted her head when she heard her name and then lay back down again.
“Well, he’ll show up—always does,” Savannah said. “I think he wears himself out playing with Dolly at night and then sleeps in.”
Both women laughed.
Suddenly they were startled by the phone. “Gosh, that phone doesn’t ring much unless it’s a telemarketer,” Savannah said as she stood and walked to the kitchen counter to answer it. “Hello.”
“Hi Savannah, this is Damon.”
“Hi Damon.”
“I couldn’t get through on your cell phone.”
“Oh yeah, I guess I left it in my room,” she said.
“Is Colbi there?”
“Yeah, let me get her for you. It’s Damon,” she said as she handed the phone to her.
“Hi Damon.”
“Hi. Um Colbi, something has happened,” he said in a low voice.
“What?” she asked creasing her brow.
“Well, I just came out to get in my car to go interview someone for the paper and found a…ransom note.”
“A ransom note? What are you talking about?”
“It’s Rags,” he said. He then asked, “Have you seen him this morning? Is he there?”
Colbi looked over at Savannah and frowned. “Uh no, we were just talking about that.”
“Well, it appears that he’s been taken.” He took a breath. “But before we jump to conclusions, why don’t you two see if you can find him.”
“What does the note say, Damon?” Colbi asked
“That they have Rags and they want the investigation to stop or…”
“Oh my gosh!” she shouted. “Have you told Craig?”
“Yes, he was the first one I called.”
Colbi looked over at Savannah. “We’ll go look for him now and I’ll call you back.” She hung up the phone and stood there with her hand on the receiver, staring down at it for a few moments.
“What’s wrong, Colbi?” Savannah asked hesitantly.
She turned to look at Savannah. “It’s Rags. Damon said someone has him.”
“That’s impossible!” she said. “He’s just hiding. Come on, let’s go find him.”
Ten minutes later, Colbi made a call to Damon. At the same time, Savannah called Michael. They had looked everywhere. Rags was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Fifteen
An hour later, Craig walked into a pet store close to where the kidnappers had lived. He showed several register and stock clerks the photo of the possible killer and Colbi’s stalker. “Yeah,” one clerk said, “I’ve seen him in here before—not for a while, though. He’d come and get litter mostly. We have a great price on litter and a lot of people with multiple cats get theirs here. I don’t know his name.” The young Hispanic woman looked at the photo again and said, “He was kind of creepy. I wondered what his story was—what kind of cats he had and what kind of pet owner he was.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?” Craig asked.
“About two months, I’d say. He only came in every few months. He’s due.”
After thanking the clerk, Craig walked over to the grocery store in the same strip mall. He showed the photo around to several employees and customers. Some of them didn’t seem to recognize the man in the photo; others thought they might have seen him, but didn’t have any information about him. Craig had left the store and was headed for his car when he spotted a young box boy walking back toward the store pushing a couple of grocery carts. “Excuse me,” he said, looking at his name tag, “Matt, have you seen this guy here before?”
Matt looked closely at the photo and then looked up at Craig. “Yeah, that’s Barnaby…at least that’s what he likes to be called. I think his name is actually Dick or Jim or something like that.”
“Does he come in here often?”
“Naw, I haven’t seen him here in a while. He used to buy big bags of cat food. I’d always help him carry them out. He parked
in the handicap spot. He had one of those cards that you hang in the window. He drove this big brand-new SUV, you know. I think it was his parents’ car.”
“What makes you think that, Matt?”
“Well, sometimes they came in with him.” He shook his head. “Those two were something else. Well, the whole family is weird, if you ask me.” He smiled and said, “You’d expect to see them on some dorky TV reality show, if you know what I mean.”
“Can you describe his parents?”
The young man scratched his head. “Well, his mother is a huge woman.” He leaned in toward Craig. “…And ugly,” he said scrunching up his face. “The old man’s skinny…wore overalls every time I ever saw him.”
“Oh really?” Craig said. “So they had a son, did they?” He then asked, “Did this…Barnaby ever drive another car?”
“No. He takes taxis.”
Craig cocked his head. “To the grocery store?”
“No, but I see him sometimes at the Improv downtown and he arrives in a taxi all dressed in his cloak. I’m sure he dyes his hair. No one can have hair that black.”
“The Improv?” Craig asked.
“Yeah, over on Harley and Main. He comes in there and performs sometimes. I like acting, too.” He laughed. “But I like to play a variety of parts—you know, stretch and grow. This guy is always the Scotland Yard detective or a character from a rendition of Dracula or something…always wearing that silly cape of his and carrying that fancy cane. He’s a joke.”
He then looked up at Craig apprehensively. “Oh, is he a friend of yours? I’m sorry.”
Craig shook his head. “No friend of mine,” he said. “Do you know his last name?”
“No, I don’t think I ever heard it. He’s one of those guys who wants to use just one name, like Cher or Madonna.”
“Have you seen him at the Improv lately? Is there anything he might attend there soon?”
“Oh yeah, they have something there every week. Tonight’s the big annual event. I’m sure if he’s in town, he’ll be there. Yup, that’s where you’ll find him if you want to see him.” He looked toward the automatic doors of the grocery store and said, “Look man, I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“Sure,” Craig said. “Thank you Matt. You’ve been most helpful.”
When Craig returned to the office later that day, he said to his partner, “Hey Gonzalez, we’re going to the theater tonight.”
Ramon Gonzalez glanced up from his desk, looked at his watch. “We are? What for?”
“We’re going to nab a vampire.”
Several hours later, after they’d stopped for dinner, the investigators sat in an unmarked car in a parking lot across from the theater. Craig said, “There’s a taxi pulling up. Now let’s see who gets out.”
“Looks like Dracula himself,” Ramon said.
“Yes!” Craig said as in celebration. “That looks like him.”
“Oh wait,” Gonzalez said. “There’s another guy dressed in a cape coming down the street.”
“Well shit,” Craig said as he craned his neck to look around. “And another one getting out of a car over there. Damn!” he said, gritting his teeth. And then he straightened his posture. “Do you see any of them carrying a fancy cane?”
“Yeah,” Gonzalez said. “The one who got out of the cab has one. See, he’s talking to someone at the door.”
“Yes. That’s gotta be him.”
Gonzalez looked over at Craig. “Aren’t we going to go get him?” he asked.
“Not quite yet.”
“Why not? If he’s our guy, what are you waiting for?”
“The bewitching hour.”
“Oh come on, Sledge. You’re not making any sense.”
“Well, he’s got something that belongs to a friend of mine and I want to get it back. We don’t know where he’s keeping it. So we’re going to let him have his fun in there and when he comes out, we’ll follow him home and hope he lets the cat out of the bag.”
Ramon Gonzalez shook his head back and forth slowly.
At eleven thirty, Craig said, “Looks like it’s over. Here comes a cab. Appears to be the only cab here and there’s our Dracula with the shiny stick getting into it. Let’s go!”
“Gosh, this is a nice neighborhood,” Gonzalez said as they entered a wooded area dotted with large, well-kept homes. “Don’t think I’ve ever been up here.”
“Yeah, the elite,” Craig said. “Sure didn’t expect our perp to live like this.”
“The cab’s stopping,” Gonzalez said.
Craig turned off the headlights and slowed to a crawl. They watched from a distance as the cloaked figure climbed out of the cab and dashed off along the side of a large two-story house. “He does kind of look like he’s flying when the wind catches that cloak,” Craig said.
Gonzalez stared ahead at the figure. “Huh?”
“Let’s go,” Craig said, pulling the car over and climbing out of the driver’s side.
The two men, also dressed in mostly black, crouched a little as they made their way along the side of the house. All of a sudden they were blocked by an eight-foot fence that had so much ivy growing on it, it was close to ten feet high. They looked around. “Where’d he go?” Gonzalez whispered. “There’s no way to get through this fence…or over it. He must have gone in the house.”
“But there’s no light on in there. Wouldn’t you turn a light on if you went inside in the dark?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Does Dracula vanish?”
Craig scratched his head, turning around and around, trying to figure out where the cloaked figure disappeared to. “Let’s go find out if he’s in there.”
“This late at night?”
“If he’s our man,” Craig said, “it don’t matter what time it is. He could be a killer.”
The two men stood on the front porch of the big house and rang the bell several times. Finally they heard the lock on the front door turn and the porch light went on. “Who is it?” A man’s voice asked through the slightly ajar door. He left the chain lock connected.
“Detective Sledge from the Sheriff’s office,” Craig said, showing his badge. “This is Sergeant Gonzalez.”
“Who is it, Henry?” a woman asked.
“Sheriff,” he said as he closed the door, released the chain lock, and opened it somewhat wider. Henry looked at the two men and asked, “What’s the trouble, officers?”
“Who lives here in your home with you?” Craig asked.
Henry looked from one to the other of the officers, a puzzled look on his face. “It’s just me and my wife. The kids are all on their own. Only the two of us.”
Just then two small poodles entered the room, both of them barking.
“And our dogs,” the woman said. “Now you two be quiet,” she croaked.
“We saw someone dressed in all black run down the side of your house just now.”
“Oh dear,” the woman exclaimed, grabbing hold of her husband’s arm.
“Do you have someone living in the back of your house; for example, a boarder?”
“No!” Henry said emphatically. “We don’t take in strangers.”
“And you don’t have any relatives living here with you?”
“No, as I said, it’s just me, Clara, and the dogs.”
Craig stood staring past the elderly man for a few moments, pursed his lips. “Well, keep things locked up. If you see or hear anything would you call us right away?” he said handing Henry his card.
“Yes, sure will.” The elderly man started to close the door and then said, “Thank you for patrolling the area.”
Craig and Ramon heard the chain lock and two bolt locks engage as they walked down the steps to the front walkway.
***
Saturday morning Michael woke up early. He was coming out of the bathroom when he noticed Savannah sitting up in bed sobbing.
“Oh honey,” he said as he walked over and sat down next to her. He held her to him as she cried.
>
“I miss him so much. Where is he?” she wailed. “How could someone have gotten their hands on him? It’s so bizarre.” She sniffled. “What are they going to do to him?”
“It is bizarre,” Michael agreed. “It just seems impossible that someone could have taken him.”
Savannah drew in a ragged breath. “Michael, Colbi told me that the homeless woman—Beverly’s friend—said there was a cat visiting her out at that shed. The way she described it, it could have been Rags.” She looked at him. “Do you think there is any possible way…?”
“We’ve been all over this house,” Michael said sounding a little exasperated. “I just can’t for the life of me figure out how…but he may have found a way.” He took her hand in his. “Savannah, I went out late yesterday to look around and…I found something.”
She gasped. “What?”
“Out behind the tack room, off in the bushes, was a half-full can of tuna. It’s as if someone was feeding a cat out there.”
“Yeah, the old gal was feeding cats and other critters. We know that.”
“But I think this was more recent. Rags may have somehow gotten out and the creep lured him with the tuna.”
“You don’t have to lure Rags with food.” She put her head in her hands. “Oh, I don’t know what to think. I just want Rags back,” she said.
“Mew!”
“Well, hello there, Dolly. Savannah, look who came to see you,” Michael said, lifting the kitten and setting her next to Savannah.
“Oh Dolly, you precious thing,” she said, scooping her up and holding her to her face.
Just then, the house phone rang. Michael picked it up in the bedroom. “Hello. Oh hi, Damon. Yes, I’ll check and see if she’s up.” He set the phone down and walked over to the intercom on the wall. “Colbi are you up? Damon’s on the house phone.”
He waited a few seconds and then heard her say into the intercom, “Yes. I’ll go down to the kitchen and get it. Thanks.”
“Hi. Whatcha doing?” Damon asked when he heard Colbi’s voice.
“Oh hi Damon. Just outlining a story.”
“About what?” he asked.
“Uh, well, the homeless situation, if you must know, Mr. Nosey.”
“Good topic,” he said.