Cats in the Belfry

by Patricia Fry

  “I don’t know, what?”

  “She thinks someone is doing some sort of séance-type things out at the seminary.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and we’re attending one next Friday night with Rochelle.”

  “What?” Margaret shouted. “A séance? Me? I don’t think so. No, Vannie, count me out. I’m not going there at night to spend time with that weird ghost thing you saw—or didn’t see. No way, José.”

  By then Savannah was laughing hysterically. When she caught her breath, she said, “Really? You don’t want to see close up and personal what’s going on out there—if, indeed, that’s where this thing is happening?”

  “Hellooo,” Margaret said dramatically, “someone was killed out there just the other day.”

  “Unrelated,” Savannah said.

  “Maybe. But no. I don’t do woo-woo stuff. Uh-uh. Get someone else for that duty. Maybe Iris. She likes that sort of thing.”

  Still laughing, Savannah said, “Oh, good idea. But Auntie, you seem so curious about what’s going on out at the seminary. You’re the one who wants to go up into the bell tower and all.”

  “Well, that’s different.”

  “How?”

  “It just is, that’s all.” Changing the subject quickly, Margaret said, “Hey, good luck with your writing class tonight.”

  “Thanks. I may need it.”

  When Savannah noticed that the house was still quiet once she’d ended the call with her aunt, she decided to make another call. “Hi, Iris. Where are you today?”

  Iris laughed. “Hey, are you old enough to remember when you never had to ask that question? If you called someone’s home phone number, you knew they were at home. If you called their work number, you knew they were at work. In fact, you usually knew right where they were sitting or standing as they answered the phone. Do you remember when we were tethered by a phone?”

  “Well, yes. We still have a landline phone,” Savannah said. “So where are you?”

  “At the inn. Just finished interviewing a new housekeeper. We’re getting so busy we need extra help. So what are you doing? Where are you?”

  “I’m home. Lily’s napping. Just wanted to offer you an opportunity.”

  “Uh-oh. What sort of opportunity?”

  Savannah hesitated, then said, “You know what, I hear Lily. I’d better go rescue her. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Sure. Kiss the princess for me.”

  “Will do.”

  Chapter 4

  By six thirty that evening the dinner dishes had been washed and Michael was stacking blocks with Lily when Savannah entered the room carrying her purse, a notebook, and a jacket.

  “Are you excited about your first class?” Michael asked.

  “A little nervous, actually. It’s been a while since I was a student.”

  “Oh, you’ll do fine.” He chuckled. “I don’t imagine there’ll be anyone else in the class who’s writing their cat’s memoirs.”

  “No. Probably not. I’ll be interested in what the others are writing about, though. Could be a fascinating group of people.”

  “Could be,” Michael agreed.

  Savannah glanced at her watch, then leaned over and kissed Michael and Lily before stepping out into the night to attend her first writing class.

  ****

  “So how did it go last night?” Michael asked the following morning over breakfast.

  “Fine, I guess. The teacher’s kind of odd. She shared some of her writings, which all seem to focus on fantasy. Quite different from what I’ll be writing.” She placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Michael and began cutting up some fruit to add to Lily’s high-chair tray. She faced Michael. “She singled me out.”

  “You mean she liked your writing?”

  “No. She hasn’t seen my writing yet. No. She singled me out after the class to ask me if I was interested in the spirit world. I didn’t know how to respond.”

  “How did you respond?”

  “Well, I said something like, ‘Not really.’ And she proceeded to tell me that she has psychic powers and she senses that I’m about to move into dangerous territory.”

  “Really? What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to get into my car and come home.”

  “Will you go back?”

  “I’m not sure. She seems to have a knack for teaching and I have a lot to learn. I want to tap into some of her writing wisdom. But I must say I felt pretty uncomfortable when she forced her supposed psychic powers on me.” She tilted her head. “You know, I rather enjoy talking about that sort of thing with Rochelle and even Iris, but I sure didn’t like a stranger approaching me with an off-the-wall warning.”

  “I don’t blame you. So what do you think she was referring to?”

  Savannah shrugged. “I don’t have the slightest idea.”

  ****

  The next afternoon around four, Savannah and Margaret headed out to check on the cat colony.

  “So Michael’s with Lily?” Margaret asked.

  “Yeah, he’s home from work early today.”

  Margaret nodded toward Rags, who was hanging out in the backseat. “Why didn’t you leave the troublemaker at home?”

  “I thought we could use him. Didn’t you say Luke’s meeting us out there and he’s going into the crawl hole? I think Rags could help him.”

  “Or hinder him,” Margaret said under her breath.

  Ignoring her, Savannah asked, “Did you set the traps again yesterday?”

  Margaret nodded.

  “It’s been a few days since we’ve fed; those cats that are left are probably pretty hungry by now.”

  “That’s what we’re counting on.” As Margaret pulled onto the property and looked around, she noticed, “Luke’s not here yet.” The two women and the cat climbed out of the car and approached the traps. “Goodie,” Margaret said, “it looks like we caught us a few kitties.” Just then she heard her phone chime and she pulled it from her pocket. “It’s Luke.” After finishing the call, she reported, “He’s running late. He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” She looked impishly at her niece. “I’ve been thinking about that spiral staircase Iris told us about—you know, the one up to the bell tower. I have an idea about where it might be. Want to go check it out while we wait for Luke?”

  Savannah hesitated.

  “Come on. It could be kind of cool.” She looked down at the cat. “Rags will like going on an adventure.”

  “Okay.” She motioned toward the traps. “I see that a few of the traps are in the sun. Let’s move them into the shade, shall we?”

  “Yes. By all means. Looks like we have four more cats. There shouldn’t be many left, do you think?”

  “Shouldn’t be.” Savannah chuckled. “I wonder how many of the neighborhood pets we’ve captured.”

  Margaret cringed. “Michael is checking for chips.”

  “Good, I’m glad he’s doing that. Has he found any?”

  “One. We’re trying to locate the family. Evidently they’ve moved. Let’s hope they still want their sweet little tuxedo cat.” She let out a sigh. “Well, let’s go exploring. I have the light.” A few minutes later she warned, “Be careful, Vannie,” as the two of them made their way slowly up the old staircase to the second floor. “Now, that spiral staircase should be at the end of the hall to the left. Iris said the door had a lock on it. But since then, someone may have created a less obvious way to enter the bell tower. For whatever reason, they may have camouflaged the entrance. If I’m right, all we have to do is feel around on that back wall. There’s probably a hidden mechanism that will open a door and give us access.”

  Once they’d approached the end of the hall, Margaret handed Savannah the flashlight and began running her hands over the wall—rubbing, pushing, rapping, when suddenly she said. “I think I found it. Vannie, shine that light over here.” Once Margaret got a better look at the area, she added, “Someone took the
hardware off and it’s almost impossible to see in the dark since the walls are all painted black.” She looked at her niece. “Do you suppose it was all black in here when it was a seminary? Seems like it would have been dismal. We’ll have to ask Iris.”

  “So, now that you’ve found it, how are we going to open it?” Savannah asked, holding the light steady for her aunt.

  “I’m not sure,” Margaret said, pushing and tapping on the door. She then said, “Oh, there it is—I think it’s held closed by a magnet—like a kitchen cabinet.” She curled her fingers around the edge of the door and pulled it open, revealing a very old, very narrow spiral staircase. “Wow!” she murmured, taking the flashlight from Savannah. “Let’s go up and see what we find.”

  “Okay, I guess,” Savannah said. She laughed nervously. “It’s ironic, Auntie; you’re afraid of séances and things like that, but you’re all gung ho to climb those stairs into the unknown—the spooky unknown.”

  “And you’re willing to attend meetings where dead spirits might be returning, but you’re hesitant to go exploring.” Margaret nodded toward the cat. “Rags isn’t afraid. Look at him. He’s sure eager to get to the top.” The women and the cat had climbed about a third of the way up when Margaret noticed that Rags was tugging against his leash. Before taking another step, she asked, “Hey, want me to take him?”

  Savannah hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Maybe you should. I’m a little off balance already with this baby bulge and Rags isn’t helping.”

  “Okay. Here, you hold the light; hand me the leash.” But as the women attempted to make the exchange, somehow they lost their grip on the flashlight and it tumbled down the spiral staircase with a clang and a clatter. “Damn!”

  “Oh no.”

  “I thought you had it,” Margaret complained.

  Savannah let out a sigh. “Now what?”

  “I guess I’d better go back down and get it. Or,” she hesitated before saying, “we could scrap this witch hunt.”

  “So it’s become a witch hunt, has it?” Savannah snarked.

  “What would you call it?”

  More quietly, Savannah said, “I guess that’s what we were going to find out today. Yeah, it’s getting late. Let’s go back down and regroup.”

  “Okay,” Margaret agreed. “Hold onto that railing and step carefully. It’s pretty dark up here.”

  “I will. You hold onto Rags.”

  “Huh?”

  Savannah stopped in mid-step. “Rags,” she hissed. “Auntie, you have him, don’t you?”

  “No. You didn’t hand him over.”

  “Yes, I did,” Savannah insisted. “You took the leash before you dropped the flashlight.”

  “No, I didn’t. And I didn’t drop the flashlight, either. I handed it to you. You dropped it.”

  “Are you delusional?” Savannah spat.

  Margaret tried to focus on Savannah in the near-darkness. “Are you saying you don’t have hold of the leash?”

  “No, I don’t!”

  “Good God,” Margaret murmured. “What just happened?”

  Savannah suddenly felt a familiar knot in the pit of her stomach. “Rags!” she called. “Here kitty-kitty. Where are you, Rags? Come on boy.”

  Margaret tried her hand at enticing the cat. “Here kitty-kitty-kitty,” she trilled. “Rags! Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  Still holding tightly to the railing, Savannah leaned over and felt around for the cat on the steps. “Where is he, Auntie? Which way do you suppose he went?”

  “I don’t know. I’d better go get that light and see if we can figure it out. Maybe he went back down the stairs. At least, let’s hope he did. Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise what?” Savannah asked, not wanting to hear the response.

  “Otherwise he went up and we don’t know what in the heck is up there.”

  “Rags!” Savannah called more loudly. “Rags! Kitty-kitty-kitty.”

  Margaret sighed. “Come on, let’s go back down. Now step carefully, Vannie. In fact, let me go first in case you stumble.”

  Before they could make any headway, they heard an ear-piercing screech. Margaret grabbed for Savannah. “What in the hell was that?”

  Too shaky to stand, Savannah lowered herself and perched on one of the narrow steps, muttering, “Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Rags…”

  “Didn’t sound like a cat to me,” Margaret said. “Where’d that weird noise come from, anyway?”

  Savannah pointed toward the bell tower. “Up there, I think.” She pulled herself to her feet using the railing. “Let’s go.” More quietly, she said, “Please be downstairs, Rags. Please, please, please.”

  Just then Margaret screamed. She slapped frantically around her head.

  “What’s wrong?” Savannah shouted.

  “Something just attacked me—a damn bird or a bat, maybe.”

  “Are you okay?” Savannah shrieked.

  “Yes. Let’s just get out of here.” As Margaret began taking the stairs more quickly, she turned and instructed, “Now, you take it slow.” When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she picked up the flashlight and directed it at the few steps Savannah had left to descend.

  “Do you see Rags?” Savannah asked.

  Once her niece was on solid flooring, Margaret shined the light around the spiral staircase, then into the hallway. “Oh, my God!”

  “What?” Savannah could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest.

  “Your cat! The black bird’s got him!” She shuddered. “It looks like he attacked Rags.” Savannah gasped. “A bird? Is Rags okay?” she asked, her view obstructed by her aunt, who was running toward where the cat lay.

  “Shoo!” Margaret shouted. “Get off him! Get off him!”

  Meanwhile the large black bird unfolded its wings and flew over her head up toward the bell tower, emitting a piercing call as it disappeared into the darkness.

  “Rags,” Savannah said, kneeling next to him. She ran her hand over his body. When he didn’t move, she quickly checked his vitals. “He’s breathing. His heart rate seems slow.” She shook him and called his name. “Rags. Rags.”

  Just then the cat opened his eyes and lifted his head. When he saw Savannah and Margaret, he stood, stretched, and yawned.

  “Oh, Rags, you’re okay,” Savannah said, hugging him to her.

  Margaret looked around cautiously. “That bird must have knocked him out or something.”

  Savannah ran her hands over the cat to check for injuries. She gazed toward the spiral staircase and said, as if thinking out loud, “Or he was hypnotized or drugged, maybe.” She enveloped him in her hands and kissed him on top of his head. Then lifting him into her arms, she said, “Auntie, I’d like to take him outside.”

  “Yes,” Margaret whispered. “Let’s get the heck out of here.”

  As the two women and the cat slowly descended the wide staircase, they heard a voice echo up into the second-story hallway. “Ms. Savannah. Ms. Maggie. Hey, are you up there?”

  “It’s Luke,” Margaret said. She grabbed Savannah’s arm. “Come on, let’s go down and get to work, shall we?” She then called out, “Here we are.”

  “What were you doing up there?” Luke asked. “Did you find the stairway to the tower?”

  Margaret nodded. “We sure did.” As they made their way down the main staircase and out through the small door, she told him what had happened. “But we didn’t make it to the top. Um…a dang bird about broke our eardrums with his screeching, then he attacked Rags and knocked him out or something.”

  “Attacked the cat?” he asked. “What was it, an eagle?”

  “A raven, we think,” Savannah said.

  Luke stopped and stared at the women, then at Rags. He adjusted his baseball cap. “Well, let me take the cat and we’ll see what we can find under the building, okay?”

  “Keep hold on the leash,” Savannah instructed. “I don’t want to lose him under there or in the walls of that place.”

  “Yeah,
I will,” Luke agreed. He looked at Rags. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you, guy? We have work to do under there and you’re gonna help me, right, fella?”

  After Luke and Rags disappeared under the building, Savannah and Margaret entertained themselves by dropping treats into the traps for the cats. “Poor babies,” Savannah said, “they’re hungry.”

  “They shouldn’t be,” Margaret complained. “I left a whole can of tuna in each of those traps.”

  “Well, they act hungry,” Savannah said. She faced her aunt. “Hey, let’s take those black kittens, shall we? Do we have room?”

  Margaret faced her niece. “Thanks for reminding me. Yes, I want to grab them before they start wandering off.” She winced. “I hope we can get the momma cat too. Did you see her this afternoon?”

  “No. Do you have a carrier?”

  “Yes, I think so. I’ll get it. Put on your gloves.”

  They’d just placed two of the black kittens in a carrier and set it in the shade near the car when they saw Luke crawl out from under the building. He stood up and brushed off his knees, then removed his jumpsuit and shook it.

  “Well?” Margaret said, eager to hear what he had found.

  “Yeah, there are still some cats under there, but not many—at least I don’t think so. It appears that you have maybe five or six left.”

  “That’s all?” Margaret asked. “What kind of shape are they in?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Pretty good, actually. No kittens and no pregnant females. Those I saw were either older cats or young ones—you know, teenagers.”

  Suddenly Savannah lurched forward. “Rags! Luke, where’s Rags?”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, about your cat—I think he crawled up into the building.”

  “Did you see any black cats down there?” Margaret asked.

  “No black ones.”

  Savannah heaved a sigh. “So you think he went inside from down there? We’d better go find him. Luke, I thought you were going to hold onto him.”

  He noticed an edge to her voice. “I did, actually,” he said in his defense. “…that is, until…”