Revenge at its Felinest

by Patricia Fry

  ****

  “Got your shovel?” Iris asked later that morning as she approached Savannah’s car.

  “Yup,” she said, “and my treasure finder.”

  “Huh?” Iris asked.

  Savannah studied her friend for a moment, “Aren’t you cute in your blue jeans and t-shirt? Why didn’t you wear some of your ripped jeans?” she joked.

  “Because I don’t want to ruin them,” Iris insisted. “Those things cost a fortune.”

  Savannah shook her head. “I still can’t figure out why holey, faded jeans cost so much and why women wear them in public. I have jeans like that, but I reserve them for camping, horseback riding, gardening…” She grinned at Iris. “And the holes and fading in my jeans are natural—created from hard work and fun times.”

  Iris smirked playfully at her friend, then asked, “What sort of treasure finder did you bring?” Her face lit up. “Oh, a metal detector? Hey that’s a great idea.”

  “No, I brought Rags,” Savannah said, leading the cat out on his leash.

  “Oh,” Iris said without much interest.

  “But you’re right, a metal detector would be a good idea.”

  “They don’t pick up on some metals, though,” Iris said. “And we don’t know what this trinket’s made of.” She put her hand on Savannah’s arm to get her attention. “But I do know that it’s some sort of religious object. Did I tell you that?”

  “No. What makes you think that?”

  “It came out in something Florence and I were reading. Somewhere along the line we learned that—at least probably—it was taken from a church in Scotland by a Silver family member maybe more than a hundred years ago.” Her eyes flashing, she said, “And, I found an expert in ancient religious items and their connotations.” She looked enticingly at Savannah. “Before we start digging, want to go see what she has to say?”

  “Oh,” Savannah yelped, “dressed like this?”

  “You look fine. Girl, with that body, you can’t look bad. Come on. I spoke with Reba a little while ago and she said she has time to see us this morning, if you want to. Florence really wanted to go, but she has an important doctor’s appointment. I told her if we go I’d record the session. What do you say?”

  Savannah looked down at Rags. “Oh, well, yeah, only I have the cat.”

  “He gets along with Tommy. Let’s just leave him in the house with Tommy-cat. We won’t be gone long. Okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess that would be okay.”

  Fifteen minutes later, as Savannah and Iris approached a cottage tucked among a jungle of flowering trees, vines, and shrubs, Iris whispered, “Yeah, if I was an expert in something kind of mysterious, this is how I’d live.”

  “Mysterious?” Savannah questioned. “It’s not like she’s a psychic or anything.” She frowned. “Although I couldn’t see Rochelle living here.”

  “Pshaw,” Iris said, “Rochelle’s not one of those woo-woo kind of psychics. She’s mostly normal, except for her…gift.” When Savannah started to respond, Iris shushed her. “We’re here. Where’s the doorbell?”

  “Knock,” Savannah suggested. When Iris hesitated, Savannah rapped lightly on the door.

  Iris glanced around at the front of the cottage. “Love the bright colors.” She grinned. “I wouldn’t mind having a bright-orange door and teal shutters.”

  Before Savannah could respond, the door opened and a woman of about seventy greeted them, saying, “One of you must be Iris Sledge.”

  “I’m Iris; this is Savannah Ivey.”

  The woman stared at Savannah. “Of Ivey Veterinary Clinic?”

  “Yes. Michael Ivey is my husband.”

  “Welcome,” the woman said with a wide smile. She stepped aside. “Come in. By the way, I’m Reba Macklin.” She chortled and motioned widely with one arm. “And Savannah, you may appreciate this.”

  As the two women took in the charmingly decorated room, they both smiled. Savannah said, “Oh my. Aren’t they beauties?”

  “How many do you have?” Iris asked.

  “Eight.”

  “All black?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes.” Reba became serious for a moment. “Black cats are the last ones to be adopted, you know, and they’re the first to be euthanized.”

  “Well, bless you for caring,” Iris said.

  “Yes, they’re all beautiful,” Savannah added.

  “Thanks partly to your wonderful husband,” Reba said. “Please come in and sit down.” She chuckled. “Any place where there isn’t a cat.” Once they were seated, she asked, “So what is it I might be able to help you with? You say you found something in your yard?”

  Iris shook her head. “No, a man named Oliver Silver came to our house and said that his family left something on our property many years ago and he wants it back.”

  “And it seems that others are also after whatever it is,” Savannah added. When Reba looked at her, she said, “Well, I overheard a man talking on the phone when we went to see Mr. Silver at the hospital, and it sounded as if he and maybe an accomplice are trying to get this item from Mr. Silver.”

  “So is Oliver Silver the actual custodian of the item? Or is it the man who is trying to take it from him?”

  Savannah looked bewildered. She waited for Iris to respond. When her friend remained quiet, she said, “I don’t have a clue.”

  “I believe Oliver is,” Iris insisted. She added, “Oliver Silver, that is.” She took an envelope from her purse and handed it to Reba. “Here’s some information we found in our research. It’s taken some time to pare down all of the material, but we believe the Silver family may have lifted this thing from a church.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if they want it back because it’s valuable, for sentimental reasons, or if they want to return it.”

  “Oliver might have actually sold it or is in the process of selling it,” Savannah said. “The man on the phone talked about buying a map showing where it is.”

  “And yet no one has found it?” Reba asked.

  Iris shook her head. “No. Savannah and I plan to do some digging today. We think we know where it is.”

  Reba looked at Iris for a moment, then asked, “So why hasn’t he taken it?”

  Iris and Savannah looked at each other, then Iris said, “Good question. He’s been to our place. As far as I know he hasn’t done any digging, though.”

  “Hmmm,” Reba said. “I have to wonder if he’s trying to pass on the curse.”

  “Curse?” Iris questioned. “Pass it on?”

  “Yes, if it is cursed, as I suspect he may believe it is,” Reba said, “he may be trying to pass it on to someone else.” She picked up the pages Iris had given her and began to read through them. After a minute or so, Reba leaned toward her guests and said, “The item they’re seeking, if it’s what I think it is, was, indeed, sought after by parishioners of the church in earlier times. And many families ended up with it.”

  “Huh?” Iris asked. “Do you mean at different times? One family would keep it for a while, then another would take their turn? Is that what you mean?”

  “No,” Reba said sternly. “People wanted what it promised and they stole it.”

  Savannah creased her brow and asked, “How many of these things were there?”

  Reba waved her hand in the air. “Oh, hundreds, I’d guess.” When her guests seemed confused, she explained, “But worshippers didn’t know that. Most of them left the flock once they had it in their grasp. They figured that with this token all of their worries were over. They expected to live the happily, healthily ever after dream we all want, right?”

  Iris nodded. “So the thing was blessed and parishioners would take it, then the minister would bring out another one to replace the stolen one?”

  “And no one was the wiser?” Savannah asked.

  “I guess not,” Reba said. “And this scenario was evidently played out over and over and over again. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people took one of these, and many of them
returned them, which is probably what your Mr. Silver intends to do.” She furrowed her brow. “How this other gentleman fits in—the one you overheard on the phone, Savannah—I don’t know. I mean, maybe he knows that the Silver family has one and he wants it for himself. I’ve heard of people exchanging them for money, but most seem to know—or believe—that they won’t be free until they return it.”

  “Why?” Iris asked. “Do they get tired of their many blessings?”

  Reba frowned. “Oh no, that isn’t what they get—not at all. Most families whose ancestors have taken one of these eventually come to believe it’s cursed. The belief is that it’s blessed until it’s stolen, then it becomes cursed, and the family that has it is cursed.”

  Iris covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, that’s awful.”

  “Not really,” Reba said. When the others remained quiet, she asked, “Tell me, have you ladies experienced any sadness in your lifetime?”

  “Well yeah,” Iris said.

  Savannah nodded.

  “Have you suffered loss, been disappointed, lost money, lost a friend or a pet?”

  “Sure,” Savannah said. “Why do you ask? I sense that you’re making a point.”

  “I am. The thing that these families don’t seem to understand is that everyone experiences joy and they also experience grief. The amulet or lucky charm they believed in had nothing to do with any of that. It was not responsible for their good fortune and it did not cause any of their grief or failure.” She paused, then said, “Some people learned this lesson, but others, like your Oliver Silver and his family, evidently did not.”

  Iris sighed. “Poor Oliver. So he’s looking in the wrong place for the wrong thing if he wants a better life? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Reba nodded. “Absolutely. Every family suffers what they might view as tragedy and it has nothing to do with this or any other tangible object, but rather, with their faith and the way they choose to perceive and handle what comes their way.”

  “But you say a lot of people took one of these? The church leaders had a lot of these made?” Savannah asked.

  She laughed. “Yes. Members of the church council weren’t stupid. They knew that something purported to be blessed and that was out where their followers could see it would be tempting for anyone. So they hid away the original and had duplicates made. Lots of them. As I said, many families followed the path of the Silvers.”

  “So it was all in their head?” Iris asked. “Family members spent lifetimes worrying about the curse and trying to figure out how to relieve it without shaming their ancestors, and it was all in their head?”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t word about that get around?” Savannah asked.

  “No one actually knows that. It was not made public. What I’m telling you is known only to very few in the world. It’s a secret among church leaders. And those families that learned their lesson probably aren’t going to talk about what they did—it’s a seriously sacrilegious thing to do. Plus, they were duped. Who’s going to admit to that?”

  ****

  The drive back to the Sledge’s home was quiet as both women sat with their thoughts. Finally, Iris said, “Well, that was quite a jolt, wasn’t it? A reality jolt.”

  Savannah nodded. “Sure was.” She glanced at Iris as she drove. “I wonder what Oliver knows?”

  “Hard to tell,” Iris muttered. She sat up straighter. “Hey, do you still want to see if we can find that thing? I’d really like to get it back to Oliver.” She cringed. “And out of my life.”

  “Yeah, so he won’t send thugs over to your place with bulldozers.”

  Iris chuckled. “Yes, there’s that. But I also want to see what that thing looks like and maybe help Oliver return it.”

  “To Scotland?”

  “Or take it to the post office for him. I imagine we could mail it back in a flat-rate box.”

  Savannah smirked at her friend. Once they’d arrived at Iris’s, their first order of business was to check on Rags. “How’d it go?” Savannah asked Tommy when she saw the cat lounging on a kitchen chair. “Where’s Rags?”

  “There,” Iris said, pointing. “Uh-oh, what’s he got?”

  “Oh no. What is it?” Savannah asked. She walked toward the cat and took a closer look. “Iris, does Craig have a shaving brush—you know, the old-timey kind?”

  “Yes!” Iris remarked. “He collects shaving mugs and brushes. We finally have a place where he can display them. Why?” she asked, joining her in the dining room.

  She cringed. “I think Rags found his display.”

  “What?” When Iris saw Rags looking down at an antique shaving brush that was now missing some of its bristles, she said, “Oh no. Uncle Craig’s not going to be happy, Rags.”

  “I’m sorry, Iris,” Savannah said, picking up the brush and scooping up the scattered bristles.

  Iris looked at her, then at the cat. and waved her hand in the air. “Hey, as much as Craig loves that cat, I’m sure he won’t be upset in the least. Don’t even think about it.” She leaned toward Rags and said, “Next time, we’ll lock you in the bathroom.” She then remembered something. “No, that won’t work. Then you’ll tear up my eye-liner brush and makeup brush and…” She bit her lower lip. “Where is a safe place to leave him?”

  Savannah shrugged, strapped his harness onto him, and walked toward the door. “Outside,” she said. “Come on, let’s see if we can find that thing, shall we? Got the map?” she called.

  “Got it,” Iris said, leading the way around to a particular spot in the backyard.

  “Your gardens are lovely,” Savannah said, admiring the rose bushes and other flowering plants, bushes, and stalks. She giggled when she saw Rags dive after a lizard, then sniff a large pink rose. “He’s enjoying it too.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe we ought to plant more flowers around our place. Rags is probably bored with nothing much to investigate at our house except for the orchard and vegetable garden.” She smiled. “Your gardens are inspirational—makes me want to visit the nursery and create a lovely wonderland like this.”

  Iris chuckled. “Yeah, isn’t it great? I’ve always loved plush gardens, but never really had the money or time to have one of my own.” Her eyes wide, she said, “Now I have two—one here at our new home, and beautiful gardens at the bed-and-breakfast inn.”

  “Where are your outside cats?” Savannah asked, looking around. “Don’t the two new ones stay out here?”

  “Yes,” Iris said. She pointed. “That’s their cat house over there.”

  “Oh my. It’s like a playhouse for children. Lily would love it.”

  “Yeah, I think it actually was designed to be a child’s playhouse, but Craig and Damon went in and added cubbies where the cats can have personal space, cozy beds, little stairs. It’s rather charming. Come take a look inside,” she invited.

  “This is really cool,” Savannah said, upon peering inside the cat house.” She addressed her cat. “Rags, would you like a house like this?”

  “Heck, he has access to your whole house and the whole world. He’d probably feel stifled in one of these tiny houses,” Iris said, laughing.

  “There’s one,” Savannah said excitedly when she saw a pair of green eyes peeking from under a shrub near the cat house. “Now who’s that?” she asked.

  “Let’s see,” Iris said, hesitating. She leaned over and took a closer look. “Oh, that’s Ruby.”

  “Raaags,” Savannah complained, when the wily cat pulled against the leash and disappeared into a clump of ornamental grass. “What are you doing?” She then shouted, “No, you can’t dig up Aunt Iris’s yard. No, Rags,” she said picking him up. However, he continued to wriggle and struggle in her arms.

  “Wow, is he ever fixated on something.” Iris ran her hand over Rags’s fur while Savannah held him. “What is it, Rags? What has your interest?” She leaned over and examined the area. Suddenly, she shouted, “Savannah, look! I think he found something.”
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  “What?” she asked, chuckling. “A spider or a lizard?” She shuddered. “It’s not a gopher, is it?”

  “No. Hold this bush back out of the way so I can see,” Iris said, jabbing her shovel around the piece of metal showing above ground. “Find a digging tool. There’s something stuck in the dirt right there.”

  “What?”

  “Savannah, it could be what we’ve been looking for. I think Rags might have found it.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Savannah said, staring down at it.

  “I need a smaller digging tool,” Iris said, looking around the yard. “Something I can pry it out of there with.”

  “Here, give me that shovel and hold Rags back. I think I can get it.” When Iris hesitated, Savannah said, “Move out of the way. You don’t even know how to dig.”

  “Yes, I do,” Iris insisted.

  “Give me that thing,” Savannah said, gently pushing Iris to the side. She handed Rags’s leash to Iris. “Hold onto him.”

  Within seconds, Savannah stood up and examined what she held in her hand. “It’s dirty.” She looked around. “Where’s a faucet?”

  “Um…” Iris said, glancing around the yard. She pointed, “Over there. Let me see it,” she said excitedly. “Let me see it!”

  Savannah moved swiftly toward the outdoor faucet, turned it on, and began washing the dirt off the item. When she began to see the outline of the design on the small gold-colored metal piece, she showed it to Iris. “Do you think this is what you’ve been looking for?”

  Iris studied it for a moment, then picked at the dirt that remained in the grooves of the motif. “It sure could be,” she said. “Let’s take it inside and clean it with a brush so we can see it more clearly. Come on,” she called, rushing toward the house.

  “It must have been beautiful in its day,” Savannah said. “Is that real gold?”

  Iris continued to wipe the last particles from the item. “I doubt it. Reba said it’s probably a replica of the original medal or medallion or whatever you’d call it.” She looked at Savannah. “I wonder if the ancient holy men of that church had any idea how much strife these fake amulets would cause their parishioners?”