by Patricia Fry
Deputy Franco asked, “What about the other cats? You were photographing other cats, too, weren’t you?”
Savannah nodded. “Yes, but neither of them was up on the desk near the drawer. Jack was still in his carrier and my aunt was holding Layla. They didn’t go near Rags when all of this was going on. Anyway, neither of them is prone to eating foreign objects.”
“And your cat is?” Deputy Franco asked.
“No. He carries things around in his mouth, but he doesn’t eat them. He’s never done that, as far as I know.”
Ben stared at Savannah and gazed at Rags, then pushed his hands against his knees as he stood. “Okay, thanks a lot, Savannah. That’s helpful. We’re going to go talk to the photographer now.”
Before the deputies reached the door, however, something caught Franco’s eye. “What’s this?” he asked, a somber look on his face.
Michael gazed in the direction Franco stared. “What?”
The deputy lifted the edge of the evening newspaper to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. He stared questioningly at Savannah.
When she saw what he was looking at, she explained, “Oh, that’s the ring we told Deputy Jim about a few days ago—the one in the pouch with the money.”
“What pouch?” Ben asked.
She let out a sigh. “Well, I guess someone put it in my purse while I was at the library the other day.” She shook her head wearily. “I don’t know. All I know is that when I got home later in the afternoon, that pouch there,” she pointed, “was in my purse with a wad of cash and that ring in it.” When she saw the two deputies looking at her rather suspiciously, she added, “We reported it. Deputy Jim wrote a report.”
Franco picked up the ring and studied it, then looked at Savannah. He set the ring down, pulled out his cell phone, and took a couple of photos.
“I guess no one has called the sheriff’s office to claim the pouch,” Savannah said. “I haven’t heard anything.”
Ben shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
Franco stared at Savannah for a moment. “So why do you have the ring out, may I ask?”
“I don’t know,” Savannah said. “Earlier I was just looking at it—wondering where it came from; envisioning whose it might be. I’ve been trying to remember all the people I saw at the library that day.” She focused on Ben’s face, then Franco’s. “Well, you guys were there. Did you recognize anyone you know to be a thief or see anything unusual? I sort of thought maybe someone had stolen it and when they saw uniformed officers, they ditched it in the nearest purse.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Ben said.
Franco took another look at the ring, glanced at Savannah, then followed his partner out through the front door.
****
“Savannah, aren’t you going to eat your dinner?” Michael asked later that evening.
“I’m just not hungry,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong, hon?”
“What’s wrong? I’m being accused of theft—grand larceny, maybe. I have one woman trying to extort money from me for a free trip abroad and another woman trying to scam me out of money that isn’t mine.” Her voice became a mere squeak when she said, “Michael, I could go to jail for something I didn’t do.”
“Now, honey, that’s not going to happen. You haven’t done anything wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about? Michael, who’s going to help you raise our little girl? Am I going to have our baby boy in a prison hospital? I love my life.” She began to sob. “And it may be over. I may never see the light of day, or you, or our children again.”
Michael stood and approached his wife. He cradled her in his arms and whispered in her ear, “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
At that, Savannah broke away from him and rushed out of the room. Michael grimaced when he heard the bedroom door slam. At the same time, Savannah’s phone rang. Michael ran his hand through his hair and walked to where the phone was charging in the dining room. He picked it up. “Hello, Maggie. Savannah’s…um…I don’t think she’s taking calls this evening.”
“Is she sick?” Margaret asked.
“No, just really upset.”
“About what?”
“Well, for starters, that photographer gal has filed a police report against her. She’s accusing Savannah of stealing her ring.”
“Oh, my God,” Margaret said. “That’s just crazy. And Vannie thinks someone will believe that gal’s accusations?”
“I guess she does. She’s already worried about having the baby in prison.”
“Well, she is pregnant and pregnant women get kind of crazy sometimes.”
“Yeah, they do,” Michael agreed. “But this is a very real situation—I mean, Savannah was interrogated tonight by sheriff’s deputies. They looked Rags over to see if we’d done surgery on him. Ben said Rags is evidence.”
Margaret was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Did they question the street urchin?”
“What street urchin?” Michael asked.
“Maybe Vannie didn’t see her.”
“See who?”
“Well, while Vannie was getting Rags out of the car and talking to Rob, I saw someone come out of the photography studio. She was a very young-looking hippie-type gal. I figured, by the way she was dressed, she was a street person and I actually wondered at the time what business she had in a photography studio. Michael, you know how nosey I am.”
“So you’re saying this gal came out of the studio just before you went in with Rob and the cats?”
“Yes.”
“And when you went in,” Michael asked, “where was this Christie woman—the photographer?”
“I guess in another room. The studio was empty. She joined us in there like a minute or so after we’d arrived.” Margaret took a breath and stated more confidently, “And, Michael, that drawer was already open. I mean it was open when we got there—it had to be, because Christie didn’t go near the desk until Rags jumped up there and started nosing around in that open drawer.”
“Well, Maggie, that’s really helpful. I’m going to run that by Savannah right now…if she’ll talk to me. Or maybe I’ll call Deputy Ben. Oh wait,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “You know what? That’s Craig on my phone. I think I’ll talk to him about it. Okay if he calls you this evening if he needs more information?”
“Sure. Anytime. Bye, Michael.”
“Hello Detective. How are you getting along after your…um…ordeal?”
“Pretty good, Michael. You know, I don’t take that crap like I did in my younger days. It’s hard on an old guy.”
“I’ll bet,” Michael agreed in a sympathetic tone. He said more intently, “Nobody should have to take a beating like that.”
“Yeah. You got that right. Hey, Michael, I hear Savannah has gotten herself into some sort of a pickle.”
“She sure has.” Michael hesitated, then asked, “Which pickle are you referring to? She seems to have people coming at her from all directions.”
Craig cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about what happened today. As I understand it, someone pressed charges against her because they believe your cat ate a ring.”
“Yes, but Craig, I just talked to Maggie. She was with Savannah and the cats at the photo studio today. She said she saw someone leave the studio just before they went inside. She suspects that this gal—a street urchin, she called her—could have taken the ring. She said the drawer where the ring was evidently kept, was open a little when she and Savannah arrived. And no one—not Rob, Maggie, Savannah, or even the photographer—actually saw Rags with the ring.”
“Oh, that certainly does give the situation a new dimension. I wonder if the photographer knows this gal or knows she was there today.”
“Maggie said the photographer was nowhere to be seen when they entered the studio. She came in from the back a few minutes
after they’d arrived.”
“Hmmm. Thanks, Michael. I’m meeting with the photographer and the deputies at the station in a few minutes. I’ll see what I can find out about this mysterious other woman.” He cleared his throat and coughed. “So the x-ray you took showed no foreign objects in the cat, right?”
“That’s right. Ben has copies of the x-rays.”
“And it would be too soon for him to have passed it through his system before you took the x-ray.”
“Yes,” Michael said. “And there was, as I understand it, no opportunity.” When Craig didn’t respond, Michael said, “He had no potty breaks from the time he was alleged to have swallowed the ring until we took the x-rays.”
“Okay. I think I’ll call Maggie and ask her about the…um…street urchin. So Savannah didn’t notice this gal?”
“Maggie doesn’t think so. She said Savannah and Rob were getting the cats out of the back of the car when Maggie saw the girl leave the studio.”
“Where’d she go?” Craig asked. “Did Maggie say?”
“I don’t know. You’d better ask her.”
“Thanks Michael. Just tell Savannah we’re on it.”
“She’ll be comforted in knowing that, Craig. Thank you.”
“Certainly. Good night.”
Chapter 7
“Good morning,” Savannah said the next day when she saw her aunt approaching. “Out for a walk, are you?”
“Yeah, it’s such a nice day. Our thermometer registered fifty-nine just now. I thought I’d take advantage of the heat wave.” Margaret stepped closer to Savannah. “Playing farmer, I see…or is it cowgirl?”
“Just giving Rags a little Peaches time,” Savannah said, smiling as she watched the cat jump up onto the corral railing and rub his head against the mare’s muzzle. “They sure are buddies, these two.”
“Unlikely friends,” Margaret said, petting Rags. When Lily held her little arms out, she took the toddler from Savannah. “Hi, you sweet thing,” she murmured.
“Horsie,” Lily said.
“Do you like the horsie, too?”
The toddler nodded. “My horsie.”
Margaret pointed. “Oh, my gosh, look at that. Rags is kneading her mane. I’ve never seen a cat who was so interested in a horse before—and so brave. Aren’t you afraid he’ll get stepped on by those big clodhoppers of hers?”
“Rags is pretty careful around her. He stays up on the fence, mostly—doesn’t wander among her hooves. I’m fairly certain Peaches would never step on him…on purpose, anyway.”
“So the horse likes the cat, too?” Margaret asked.
Savannah smiled. “She sure does. Once, when I brought Rags out here to see her, Peaches was rubbing against the fence—scratching an itch, I guess—and Rags climbed on her back and just lay there for a while, sort of riding around on her.”
“Oops,” Margaret said, when Rags almost fell. “Peaches moved out from under him. Now what’s he doing?”
“Oh, he likes to get into her feed bin and watch her eat,” Savannah explained. “Isn’t that a kick?”
Margaret laughed. “He’s trying to play with the hay sticking out of her mouth. Yikes, he’s going to get his paw bitten by those big horse teeth. What cat does that?”
“And what horse lets them?” Savannah added. “You know, I sometimes bring Rags out here while I work Peaches in the exercise ring. That’s one time when I don’t have to worry about him running off.”
“You’re still exercising her?”
“Yes, as often as I can—mostly from the ground.” She chuckled. “And Rags usually sits on the railing, right there,” she pointed, “and watches her go around and around. Sometimes she stops and nuzzles him or knickers at him as she trots past.” She sighed and gazed at her mare. “I think I’ll board her at Bonnie’s stables for the rest of the winter, though. Rags will miss her. So will I, but we have so much going on and the weather will only get worse. I think Peaches will be happier and get more exercise at Bonnie’s.”
“Has Rob photographed Rags with the horse?” Margaret asked. “Now, that would make some interesting YouTube clips, don’t you think so?”
“Yeah, I’ll have to mention it to him. He’s always hungry for new ways to promote Rags. You’re right, he’d get a kick out of this.” She took Rags’s leash. “Well, we’d better go in.” She looked at her aunt. “Want a cup of coffee? Or you can join me in a cup of tea.”
“Yeah, coffee, if you have it.” She peered at her niece as they walked toward the house. “Are you feeling better after a good night’s sleep?”
“Yes, actually,” Savannah said. “I didn’t sleep much. But Michael told me this morning that Craig’s on the case—the one involving the photographer’s ring. That helps a lot.” She spoke more excitedly. “He said you saw someone leave the studio before we went inside.” Eying her aunt suspiciously, she asked, “You didn’t make that up, did you?”
Margaret insisted, “No! I absolutely did not. I can describe the gal to a T. In fact, I did describe her to Craig. I wonder what Christie said about her. I wonder if she knows her.” She leaned toward Savannah. “I’ll bet a thousand smackeroos that girl took Christie’s ring.”
“Let’s hope so and let’s hope they can catch her with it.”
“Oh, Vannie, she’s probably hocked it by now.”
Savannah’s eyes widened. “Pawn shops!”
“Huh?”
“They should look in local pawn shops.”
“Yeah, I imagine that’s part of their plan.” Margaret addressed her niece more seriously as they stepped into the kitchen, “They’ll find the ring and the thief. Don’t you worry.”
“I’ll try not to,” Savannah said. “It’s just that…”
“What?” Margaret questioned, sitting down with Lily.
Savannah poured a cup of coffee and placed it on the table out of the toddler’s reach, then she sat down across from her aunt. “Well, the possible outcome for me is so dreary. I’m really kind of scared.” When Margaret stared at her, she explained, “People are wrongfully arrested all the time. We don’t even know how many innocent people are in jail.”
Before Margaret could respond, her phone rang. She picked it up. “It’s Craig. Hi, Craig.”
“Hi, where are you? I’d like to show you something.”
“At Savannah’s. Where are you?”
“On my way to your house.”
“Well, just come on past our house to Savannah’s. She’ll probably fix you a cup of coffee.” She looked at her niece, who nodded.
Minutes later, Savannah was sobbing in Craig’s arms. “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, flashing Margaret a puzzled look.
Savannah pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m so emotional this morning. And last night…” She blotted at her eyes with a tissue. “…last night, I snapped at Michael and went to bed early.” She chuckled through her tears. “I even slammed the bedroom door.”
“That’s not like you,” Craig said. He grinned impishly at her. “Or is it?”
“Yeah, it’s not like me to be accused of being a thief, either.” She looked at Craig and grimaced. “And I’m not used to seeing you all beat up.” She clenched her teeth. “It just makes me so angry that someone could do that to you.”
He pulled her into a bear hug and patted her back a few times. “I’m okay.” He stepped back and smiled. “I look better, don’t you think so?”
Savannah nodded. “Yes, better.” She studied the bruises and abrasions still visible on his face. “But you still look awful.”
“Thanks a lot,” he said, glancing at the kitchen counter. “Now, where’s that coffee?” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Got any of your delicious cobbler or a pie, maybe?”
“Actually, yes,” Savannah said, wiping at her tears again as she headed for the refrigerator. “Auntie, want a piece of blueberry cobbler? I’ll heat it up for you.”
“Sounds
good.” When Lily began to wiggle in her lap, Margaret eased her down to the floor, then looked at Craig. “So, what do you want to see me about?”
He took a small envelope from his jacket pocket. “I have some pictures I want to show you.”
“Did you ask that photographer bitch about the street urchin?” Margaret asked.
He shook his head. “She doesn’t know what you’re talking about. She said there was no one in her studio—that she unlocked the door for you.”
“That’s just not true!” Margaret snapped. “Christie was nowhere to be seen when we walked into that studio.”
Craig took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s what Rob said, too. He’d already been inside talking to the photographer in the back room. He says the door was unlocked at least five—maybe ten—minutes before you arrived. He said he noticed you through the window when you pulled up and he came out to help with the cats. Now, Maggie, was it after he came out that the…um…street urchin came out?”
Her face brightened. “Yes. So she must have been inside when Rob was there. Didn’t he see her?”
“He claims he didn’t, but she could have crouched behind that desk when he walked past it toward the front door.”
“Or the props,” Savannah suggested.
“Props?” Craig asked.
“Yeah,” Margaret agreed. “There were these wooden props with trees and animals painted on them when we were there. She sure could have hidden in that jungle.”
Craig stared at Margaret for a moment, then he laid the photographs in front of her. “Do you recognize any of these women?”
Margaret studied each photograph. “Gosh, it’s hard to tell. If I saw her in that getup, I could ID her in a hot minute.”
“What getup?” Craig asked.
“Her hippie getup. Remember, I told you she was wearing a filmy, flowing dress with a little bolero thing on top.”