A Christmas to Purr About (A Klepto Cat Mystery Book 22)

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A Christmas to Purr About (A Klepto Cat Mystery Book 22) Page 8

by Patricia Fry


  Gaylan Stevens glanced around inside the shallow cavern. “And you’ve been in here all that time?”

  “Yeah, so the light’s going to hurt my eyes like heck.”

  “You got that right,” the medic agreed. “Well, let’s get those bindings off you.”

  “We were afraid to mess with them and cause him more pain,” Savannah explained. “He must be awfully uncomfortable.”

  Gaylan looked at her, then asked Craig, “Which one’s broken?”

  “Left,” he croaked.

  “Can you sit up a little?” the paramedic asked. “What about if I help you?” He then suggested, “Maybe we should roll you over onto your good arm.”

  Craig chuckled. “What good arm?”

  “When’s the last time you ate?” Gaylan asked after he’d cut the restraints from Craig’s wrists and ankles and helped him move them into a more comfortable position. He put a temporary splint on Craig’s arm, then began to check his vitals.

  “They gave me a slab of bread with peanut butter yesterday,” Craig said, scowling. He asked, “Can I have more water?”

  “Sure,” Susan, the second medic, said, kneeling next to Gaylan and holding a bottle of water to Craig’s lips.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Gaylan suggested.

  “The sooner the better,” Craig agreed.

  Susan looked at Ben, then Savannah, while Gaylan prepared the body board. “Anyone got a pair of shades he can wear?”

  “Sure,” Ben said, handing her his regulation sunglasses.

  When they started to lift Craig onto the board, he said, “I think I can walk.”

  “Probably,” Susan said, after putting the sunglasses on him, “but we’d prefer taking you out the safe and sure way. Come on, Detective, let us do our job, will ya?”

  Craig sighed and seemed to relax as the paramedics lifted him onto the board and secured him with a couple of straps.

  “Going to Straley?” Ben asked.

  Susan nodded. “Yup. Want to contact his family?”

  “Already did,” Ben assured her. Suddenly he said more loudly, “Uh-oh, no-no, cat.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Savannah said when she saw Rags hop up onto the stretcher with Craig.

  The detective waved his good arm a little. “It’s okay. He’s my buddy…my hero.” He glanced up at Savannah. “He led you here, right?”

  She smiled. “He sure did. Rags and Rochelle.”

  He squinted up at her for a few moments, then awkwardly petted Rags. “He’s not hurting anything. If he wants to ride out with me, let him ride.” Craig craned his neck in the direction of the house. “What do you suppose is happening over there?”

  Before anyone could respond, they heard a rustling sound in the brush.

  Ben motioned for Savannah to duck to one side and he crouched, putting his hand on his sidearm.

  “Hello,” came a voice. “Deputy Franco here.”

  “Oh, Franco,” Ben said, relaxing.

  “What went down over there?” Craig asked in his weakened voice.

  “Sledge,” the deputy said when he saw the detective lying on the body board, “you don’t look too good.”

  Craig clenched his jaw. “I’ve been better.”

  Franco laughed. “The cat looks okay, though. Where’d he come from?” He then squinted at Savannah. “That’s your cat.” He scratched his head and looked around at everyone. “Now, don’t tell me he’s the one who found you?”

  “Sure did,” Craig said, his hand still gently petting Rags’s fur. “So did you flush out those knuckleheads? The Johnson kids are the ones you should be arresting.”

  “Sahara and Rodman Johnson? Those good-lookin’ kids—they did this?”

  “Yeah. Pretty on the outside,” Craig said, coughing as carefully as he could, “but pretty darn twisted on the inside. You oughtta see that little girl swing a baseball bat.”

  The deputy frowned, bit his lip, and said, “Well, I’m afraid she’s dead. They took her brother in for questioning. I guess you’ll want to press charges.”

  “Damn right,” Craig cranked.

  “We’re also holding another couple and five single guys. We’ll send their mug shots to you for identification.”

  “I never saw anyone or heard the voices of anyone other than the Johnson kids.” He glanced around. “And the cats. They came every day. Rudy and Max slept with me at night. We kept each other warm.” He tried to raise himself up and look around. “Where are they?”

  “We saw some cats run into the brush when we first got here,” Savannah said.

  Craig looked at her. “Do you think your group of cat ladies would take care of these mangy cats? They deserve better than what they’re getting out here.”

  She nodded. She didn’t mention it to the others, but she was sure she heard a crack in Craig’s voice and saw a glint of a tear in his eye.

  ****

  “Mrs. Ivey?” a man said when Savannah answered the house phone just after they’d finished dinner that evening.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Blaine Walker, attorney for Lenore Kittredge.”

  “Yes,” she said again.

  “Um, Mrs. Ivey, we received your response to our proposal.” He lowered his voice. “Your husband’s rude statement about highway robbery was uncalled for.” When Savannah didn’t respond, he continued, “We feel that Mrs. Kittredge’s request is reasonable under the circumstances and we will prepare a case against you and present it in court if necessary.”

  “Look,” Savannah said, “we’ve offered to have the sweater cleaned. If that fails, we’re more than willing to replace it with a fine-grade cashmere from a high-end department store—that is, if the garment in question is actually worth the price. We haven’t been able to see the sweater…”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Ivey, but Mrs. Kittredge told me that you did see the sweater right after the incident occurred.”

  “Well, yes, but I didn’t actually…um…examine it at that time. As a matter of fact, I didn’t see my cat go near her sweater.”

  “Oh, I can assure you your cat is the culprit, Mrs. Ivey. And the stain will not come out of the sweater, which I promise you is of the most excellent quality—a one of a kind. You’ll find nothing of the sort in any department store in the states. Now, if you wish to have your attorney contact me, we’ll arrange for him to examine the sweater. In the meantime, you’d better prepare to defend a lawsuit—although I can’t imagine what sort of defense you could possibly come up with. Good day, Mrs. Ivey.”

  “Well…Hello? Hello?” Savannah said into the phone. “Darn it!” she shouted just as Michael stepped into the room.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, grinning. “The phone giving you trouble?”

  “No, it’s that danged attorney. What a jerk!”

  Michael set his jaw. “Oh, Lenore Kittredge’s attorney? What did he say?”

  Savannah slumped into a chair. “He’s just so darned intimidating.” She looked up at Michael. “And he’s so wrong. I can’t imagine how he could win a case like that. What judge is going to award someone that much money for a sweater, for heaven’s sake?” Standing up, she added, “Michael, I’m going to hire an attorney and fight that delusional woman.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Go for it, hon.”

  When the landline phone rang again, Savannah let out a sigh. “What now?” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  After a pause, a woman’s voice asked, “Is this Savannah Ivey…the one with the cat?”

  “Well, I have three cats,” Savannah said rather impatiently. “Who’s this?”

  “Oh, you don’t know me, but I saw you with your cat at the library and I know about the pouch you found in your purse.” The woman paused again before asking, “You did find it, didn’t you?”

  Savannah frowned in Michael’s direction. “Who is this?” she demanded. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I�
��m talking about. You have the pouch, don’t you? Do you plan on keeping it?” Before Savannah could respond, the caller continued, “Well, I happen to know something about that pouch that you don’t know and for a cut of the contents, I’ll tell you.”

  After hesitating, Savannah said, “I’m not making a deal with anyone except the person it belongs to. Can you prove it’s yours? Tell me what’s in the pouch.” When Savannah heard a click, she said, “Hello? Hello?”

  “Who was that?” Michael asked as he helped Lily put her coloring crayons away.

  “Has the whole world gone mad?” Savannah asked, looking at the phone. “Or is there a dark cloud hanging over my head?” She turned away from her husband. “Michael, do you see a sign on my back that says sitting duck or sucker? Where are all these weirdoes coming from?”

  “What happened?” Michael asked, standing and putting his arms around her.

  “Well, that gal wants to give me a share of what’s in the pouch.”

  “Does it belong to her?”

  “I don’t think so.” She thought for a minute, then said, “She must have seen someone put it in my purse. I don’t believe she knows what’s in it, though. I think she’s just assuming it’s money.” When her cell phone rang, she cringed, then relaxed a little when she looked at the screen. “It’s Iris. I hope she has some uplifting news; I’m just about ready to crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head for the rest of the winter.”

  Michael hugged her and kissed her temple before he joined Lily again.

  “Hi, Iris,” Savannah said into the phone. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s cranky as all get out.” She laughed, adding, “Isn’t it wonderful? It means he’s alive. I think they’ll send him home from the hospital sooner rather than later. I’m pretty sure they’ll want to get rid of him. They’d probably much rather have a quiet, calm, old gent in that bed than crabby Craig.” Her tone softened when she said, “Savannah, how can I ever thank you and Rags?”

  “Oh, Iris…”

  “No, really. If you hadn’t taken the cat out there, Craig may have…” Savannah heard Iris sniffling. “He would have died, Savannah.” She took an uneven breath. “How many more days could he have survived the abuse, not to mention the cold.” Her tone changed abruptly when she said, “Oh, get this—he wants to adopt the cats.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, Rudy and Max. They kept him warm at night and gave him company during the day. He has decided he wants to bring them to our house.”

  “Awww, how nice of him. How do you feel about that, Iris?”

  “You know what? Anything the man wants he’s going to get.” Iris chuckled. “…well, at least for a while. Yeah, I’m willing, but I told him he’ll have to take more responsibility with the animals. He doesn’t lift a finger except to pet them, and guess who Tommy loves most—yup, Craig. Go figure. He doesn’t feed him or the dog unless I leave detailed instructions. He doesn’t clean the litter box…”

  “But he gives Tommy what he craves most,” Savannah explained, “…attention.” She paused, then asked quietly, “Will Craig testify?”

  “Oh yes. He won’t shirk that duty. They held the trial over when they heard Craig had been found. He’s due in court Wednesday in San Francisco. He said it will give him great pleasure to put that creep away for a very long time.”

  “He’s one dedicated detective, isn’t he?”

  “Sure is. That’s my man.”

  “Hey, Iris, when will he be home? I want to talk to him about a couple of things.”

  “Probably tomorrow or the next day. But you can call him. I took his phone charger to the hospital, so he’s up and running—electronically, anyway.”

  “Good idea. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Thanks again, Savannah.” Iris’s voice cracked when she added, “Pour your wonderful cat a big bowl of cream and maybe throw in some caviar. Give him whatever he wants and tell him it’s from his biggest fan. Will you do that?”

  “Sure. I’m just awfully glad Craig’s okay, Iris.”

  After ending the call, Savannah glanced up and noticed that Lily and Michael were playing with one of Lily’s toys, so she made a call. “Hi, Craig,” she said into the phone. “How are you this evening?”

  “Better, thanks to you and that cat of yours.”

  “Good. I hear you’re going home maybe tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Boy, am I looking forward to that. Food here’s awful. And my nurse is an old bat.”

  “Sounds like you’re getting back to your old self,” she said chuckling. “Hey, Craig, I want to start trapping the ferals out at the Lander place. I wondered if you have any idea how many cats there are.”

  “Oh, let’s see. Hey, I’m taking Rudy and Max home.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Would you like me to trap them for you?”

  “Trap them?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Uh-huh, in a humane trap. You don’t think they’d let me catch them, do you?”

  “They might. Hey, you don’t want to go traipsing around out there in your condition, do you? Aren’t you going to have a baby in a few months?”

  “Not until May.” She laughed. “Besides, I traipsed around out there this morning.”

  “Yeah, you did. But shouldn’t you be taking it easy or something?”

  “Being pregnant doesn’t make me a cripple. My obstetrician says I’m in great shape and she’s a believer in her patients maintaining their normal lifestyle, within reason, anyway.”

  “Okay, do what you need to do. But yeah, they might let you pick them up. If not, I guess you could bring in the traps—as long as it won’t hurt them any.”

  “So how many other cats do you think there are?”

  “I should be able to tell you pretty closely. I had occasion to meet most of them, I think.”

  “Are they getting fed regularly?” she asked.

  “Not as far as I could tell, they’re not. Most of them look pretty scrawny, except for a few, which I suspect are going to give birth.”

  “In the winter?” she exclaimed. After thinking about it, she said, “Well, I suppose it’s possible. Feral cats seem to produce any time of year.”

  “Yeah, those two cats are too lumpy to be fat,” Craig said. “I’m sure they’re full of kittens. To answer your question, I believe there are somewhere between maybe six and eight. I’m taking two of them so you only have to deal with five or six, I’d say. Better catch those pregnant ones before they pop out a bunch of kittens where no one can find them.”

  “Of course; I plan to get on it right away.”

  When she paused, Craig said, “Savannah?”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked, point-blank.

  “What makes you think there’s something wrong?”

  “Well, I know you, and whether you’ve noticed it or not, after being in the detective business for as long as I have, I’m pretty good at sizing up people and situations. Now spill it.” When he didn’t hear her say anything, he asked more gently, “Savannah, are you crying?”

  “Hormones,” she finally said, trying hard to choke back her emotions. She laughed nervously. “You know how we women get when we’re pregnant. Hormones just take over sometimes and make us kinda crazy.”

  “Yeah, and what is it that’s making you crazy, may I ask?”

  “Oh, it’s just that you were missing. We were all so worried.”

  “And…” he prompted.

  “Well…” she hesitated, “this woman is taking me to court because Rags coughed up a fur ball on her cashmere sweater. She wants three thousand dollars so she can go back to Scotland and get the sweater duplicated.”

  “What?” he said. “I’ve never heard of such a ridiculous scam.”

  “And I found a bunch of money in my purse in a pouch with a huge diamond ring and I don’t have the slightest idea who it belongs to or what to do about it.”
r />   Now it was Craig’s turn to be speechless.

  “Tonight I got a call from some woman who says she’ll split whatever’s in the pouch with me if I don’t pursue the owner. She says she knows who put the money in my purse, but she’ll keep quiet if I give her part it.”

  “That’s ludicrous!” he bellowed. “Where have you been to run into people like these, Savannah?”

  “The library,” she responded innocently. “Do I need an attorney, Craig? Can you recommend one?”

  After taking a deep breath and coughing a couple of times, he said, “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Go get a hug from your husband. Sing a lullaby to your little girl. And don’t answer your phone at least until morning. Don’t think about this stuff. Forget about it. Get yourself a good night’s sleep and I’ll talk to you when I get home. Can you do that? There’s nothing that needs your immediate attention. If any of those people or their attorneys call you, just don’t take their calls. Let Michael answer the phone. I want you to relax. It’s important for that little boy you’re carrying, right?”

  Savannah smiled. “Absolutely right, Craig. Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Good. When I get home, we’ll meet and figure out a strategy, okay?”

  “Sure. Thank you, Craig.” She then asked, “How are you, really? Is your nose broken and your arm?”

  “Yup,” he said, letting out a sigh. “And I have a minor concussion and a few cracked ribs. Every inch of me is sore, but there are no damaged organs.” He paused, then said, “Savannah, if you and your cat hadn’t found me, we might not be having this conversation. I got the feeling that today would have been my last day on earth. Thank you, honey. Take care, will you?”

  “I will if you will,” she quipped.

  “Was that Craig?” Michael asked, glancing up from where he was playing with Lily.

  She nodded. “I’m so glad he’s okay—well, mostly okay.” She started to weep. “They almost killed him.”

  Michael reached for her hand and pulled her down onto the floor with him. Putting his arm around her, he said, “I know, hon. But he’s safe now.” He looked her in the eyes. “How are you?”

 

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