“Well good!”
“Good?” She blinked her eyes; appeared confused. “What do you mean, good?”
“Isn’t a guy supposed to leave something unrevealed? Isn’t there supposed to be mystery and surprises in a relationship?”
“Oh, is that so?” An impish smile crossed her lips and she began wriggling her fingers in a tickling motion against his ribs.
“Stop that!” he said, attempting to twist away from her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to torture you until you reveal all of your secrets.”
“Oh no you don’t,” he said between chortles. His tone became more urgent. “Hey stop—someone’s coming.”
The couple quickly pulled away from each other just as Edie walked through the open door. They greeted her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was on a mission.
“Need more napkins,” she said almost breathlessly.
“Here they are.” Savannah reached across the counter for an unopened package and handed it to her.
Edie smiled, turned on her heels, and left.
“I’d better get this lemonade made,” Savannah said, turning toward the counter. “Michael, will you wash out that punch bowl, please?” As she assembled the ingredients for the lemonade, including a smidge of fresh lavender, she mulled over what Michael had said about secrets. I never tire of learning new things about my man, that’s for sure. But there probably isn’t much more to know. I mean, since I decided to move back to Hammond into Aunt Marg’s empty house and put my DVM degree to use as a vet at Michael’s clinic, we spend every waking moment together. She smiled to herself. And that’s just the way I like it. She glanced over at Michael and asked, “How’s the mare? Any sign that she’s ready to foal, yet?”
“No. Bud’s on duty this weekend, checking on her every few hours. It could be real-touch-and-go with her as weak as she is.” He pursed his lips and stared into space for a moment. “I hope we can stave off labor for another few weeks, at least…give her a chance to build up her strength.” He picked up a dishtowel from the countertop and began drying the bowl. “But Mother Nature’s the gal in charge.”
Michael placed the bowl near Savannah, then leaned his six-foot frame against the counter and watched his fiancée pour lemon juice and water into it.
“Oops, darn it,” Savannah said.
“What?”
“I splashed lemonade on my skirt.” Just glad I didn’t rent the suede cowgirl costume, she thought while dabbing at the spot with a clean cloth. She stood and adjusted the off-shoulder neckline on the white peasant blouse before walking into the pantry in search of sugar. “There are a lot of people pulling for that little mare and her foal—and the other, what is it, eight horses?” she asked.
“Yes, nine in all.”
“Nine beautiful horse souls,” Margaret’s husband Max said as he sauntered into the kitchen with another empty bowl. “Need more of the happy juice.” He chuckled. He then turned serious as he addressed Michael. “By the way, any word on the pregnant mare?”
Michael shook his head slowly. “Still pregnant. It could be any time, but we sure hope not.” He looked over at Max, who now stood next to Savannah. “There’s someone who may be interested in adopting her and the foal. I talked to her earlier out near the horseshoe pit. Bobbi, from animal control, will check her out.”
“Cool,” Max said with a broad smile. “Great turnout, isn’t it? And the publicity is bound to bring in more requests for some of the horses.”
Savannah knew that Max was right, which is why most members of the Hammond Cat Alliance voted in favor of using some of their resources toward the horses’ rehabilitation. The rescue that had taken place several months earlier at the Bray place was, after all, a dual operation involving both cats and horses. Most of the stolen cats and horses had been returned to their homes. But there were still nine horses that had not been spoken for because no one knew where they came from. The authorities believed they were on the property when Bray bought it three years earlier.
***
“Thank you for supporting the horses,” Savannah said to a family as they left later that afternoon. She turned to face Max, smiling. “Well, we almost have the place back to ourselves.”
He stretched to his six-foot-one height and twisted his back. Savannah heard a couple of pops coming from the area of his spine. “Ouch,” she said with a grimace.
He laughed, his friendly dark eyes twinkling under heavy brows. “Ahhh, feels good!” He straightened toward Savannah. “By the way, this was a great event. It was nice of you and Maggie to open your home to the community like this.”
Savannah glanced around at the few people who were still enjoying the ambiance and the sunset. “Where is Auntie?” she asked.
“She went to get something from her room.” He chuckled. “I wonder sometimes if she’ll ever get moved into my place. We’ve been married now for what, two and a half months, and she’s still coming over here for one thing or another.”
“And I love her visits. I miss having her here.”
Max ran his hand through his thick head of curly salt and pepper hair. “I love having her with me.” He smiled. “I’m one lucky guy.” Suddenly, he lost his smile. He looked over Savannah’s shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “Now, tell me about the trouble we had here earlier. Is it true that someone took the money we collected?”
“I’m afraid so,” Savannah said, crinkling her brow.
“From whom? Where was the money?”
“Come on, I’ll show you. I think Michael and Iris are up there with Deputy Jim now.”
Savannah and Max stepped quietly onto the landing at the top of the staircase. Suddenly, as they approached the room where the crime had taken place, the silence was shattered by a bone-chilling scream coming from the room across the hall. Savannah froze in place. “Auntie Marg,” she whispered.
“Oh my God,” Max murmured as he hurried toward the sound. He stepped through the master bedroom door, Savannah right behind him. They were immediately joined by a concerned Michael and then Iris and Deputy Jim.
“What is it, Maggie?” Max asked, rushing to where she stood with her hands cupped over her mouth.
“There!” She pointed toward the bed.
“What?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“A dead man!” Margaret shouted. “There’s a dead man in my room!”
“Where?” Jim asked.
“There. Behind the bed!” Margaret screeched. She turned, buried her face in Max’s chest and repeated, “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
Max wrapped his arms around her and looked toward where Jim and Michael stood, staring in disbelief at a body on the floor between the wall and the king-size bed.
“Well, I’ll be…” Jim muttered.
“Daddy? What’s wrong? I heard screaming.”
Everyone turned. There, peering into the room was a ten-year-old girl in overalls and a pink shirt. Jim rushed toward the child just as his wife appeared at the door. He said to her, “Eve, take Jilly downstairs, will you?”
Eve attempted to look beyond him into the room for a moment. She then bent down and whispered something to the child, her blond hair falling across her daughter’s face. When the mother ushered the child away from the door, Jim quickly closed it.
“Who is it?” Margaret asked, her voice an octave higher than normal.
“I don’t know,” Jim said. “Michael?”
“Doesn’t look familiar to me.”
“Is he…?” Margaret started.
“Dead?” Jim finished the question. “Oh yes.” He turned toward the small group and said apologetically, “I hate to do this, but can any of you identify the body?”
Max spoke quietly into his wife’s dark-brown bobbed hair, “Maggie, can you…?”
Margaret fired back, her brown eyes flashing with fear, “I saw it. I don’t know who it is.”
“Savannah, Ms. Clampton…er, Iris, would you ladies take a look?” Jim asked.
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The two women glanced at each other and then at Jim. “Okay, I guess. Come on Iris.” Savannah looped her arm through her friend’s. They edged over to the spot next to the bed where they could see the body; neither of them in any hurry to get there. Jim stepped back and Savannah and Iris took his place next to the victim’s feet.
“Ewwww!” Iris said as she removed her arm from Savannah’s and momentarily covered her eyes with her hands.
“Take your time, ladies. Do you know him? Did you see him here today? Maybe he delivered food or tables. Or he was a guest,” Jim suggested.
“Doesn’t look familiar to me,” Savannah said somberly. “What do you think happened to him?”
Jim rubbed his chin. “It’s hard to tell until they move the body. But it looks like he was struck on the head by some object.”
“Ewwww!” Iris continued to stare into the victim’s face. “He was murdered?”
Savannah sucked in a quick breath. “In my home?” She turned and walked slowly to the other side of the room and stood next to Michael.
All eyes were on Iris. “Do you recognize him?” Jim asked. He waited for a response. “Ms. Clampton?”
“Oh!” Iris turned as if startled. “No, I don’t know him.” She walked away, head down, silent.
Jim squinted in her direction. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number. “Deputy Green, we’re going to need a detective out here at…” he looked over at Margaret, who was sniffling into a tissue.
“33 Cranberry Way,” Savannah recited quickly.
“33 Cranberry Way,” Jim repeated. “And let the coroner know we have one for him.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket, and turned to the group. “Michael, tell the guests they’ll have to stay for questioning, would you? I know a lot of people have already left. We’ll need a list of everyone who was here. Can you provide that?” he asked, not knowing who to direct the question to.
“Oh noooo,” Iris moaned.
“What?” Savannah asked.
“Whoever took the money also took the list.”
“Why would they do that?”
“It was all together in an envelope,” she wailed.
The deputy grimaced. “Well, everyone put your thinking caps on and see if you can come up with a list. Unless the investigators find some excellent clues, which is highly unlikely, we’ll need to talk to everyone who was here today.”
Savannah walked over to where her aunt sat on the dressing-table stool. Max knelt next to her, his hand on her knee. “You’d better go take a look,” she said, touching his shoulder. “I’ll sit with her.”
Everyone but Margaret watched as Max looked down at the corpse.
“Anything?” Jim asked.
Max shook his head slowly.
Suddenly Savannah gasped. Her eyes darted around the room. “Rags! Where’s Rags?”
She rushed toward the closet and started to open the pocket door when Jim yelled, “Don’t touch anything!”
“But my cat…he was in this room.” Speaking now in a high-pitched voice, she insisted, “I have to find him.”
Michael moved toward Savannah. “Honey, we’ll find him. He’s okay. He couldn’t have left the room.” He addressed Margaret. “The door was closed when you came up here, wasn’t it Maggie?”
“Yes,” she said, her response barely audible.
Savannah put her hands on her hips and frowned over at Jim. “If I wear gloves, can I open the closet door?”
Jim shook his head. “I’d rather you wait for the investigator.”
“Hey, there he is!” Iris said.
Savannah looked in the direction Iris pointed and saw her cat crouched on a shelf peering out from behind a large basket. “Oh Rags. Thank heavens.” She headed toward him.
Michael followed close behind. “His eyes are as big as saucers. Something has really scared him.” Still keeping his eyes on Rags, he said, “Jim, I’d like to get the cat out of here.”
Jim frowned and thought for a moment, finally consenting. “Yeah, I guess it’s okay. Just don’t disturb anything.” He addressed everyone in the room with his next instruction, “Why don’t you all go downstairs. Try to keep anyone else from leaving. Stay out of the room across the hall and this room until and unless you’re called back up here.”
Savannah stood on one foot and then the other, wringing her hands while watching Michael reach for the large grey-and-white cat. “We’ll put him in my bedroom downstairs. Otherwise, too many open doors and windows.”
“Gosh, he’s frightened,” Michael remarked. “What did you see, buddy, huh?” He cradled Rags in his arms, allowing the cat to hide his eyes in the crook of his elbow.
Savannah picked up the litter box and followed Michael and Rags down the stairs and into her bedroom. She filled a small bowl with kibbles and another with water, placing them in the adjoining bathroom. She then walked over and knelt down next to the bed where Michael sat comforting the cat.
“Oh Rags, I’m so sorry, sweetie. You poor boy,” she murmured while scratching him behind one ear.
Michael smiled. “Do you hear that? He’s purring. I think he’ll be okay. We’d better get back out there.”
Savannah nodded and then kissed Rags on the top of the head. “See you later, boy,” she said as she and Michael left the room, closing the door behind them.
Michael put his arm around Savannah’s shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze as they walked toward the kitchen. “Now, let’s go tell our guests the party has become a crime scene and they’re all suspects.”
Savannah frowned. “Sheesh, that’s a bit harsh. We don’t want to freak anyone out.” Suddenly, she stopped and grabbed his hand. She felt a rush of panic. “Michael, what if the murderer is still here?”
Chapter Two
By five-thirty that evening, three sheriff’s cars, the coroner’s car, an unmarked official car and a van were parked in front of the old Forster house. A few of the remaining guests busily cleaned up around the property and in the kitchen. Others lounged on the spacious wraparound porch. The jovial mood was now subdued. Some of the guests were becoming impatient.
“Hey, ya can’t keep us here like this,” a barrel-chested man wearing jeans, a plaid long-sleeved shirt, Western boots and a white straw hat said. “I need ta get these horses back to the shelter and take down the portable corrals. This is crazy. I’ll be loadin’ and feedin’ in the dark.”
Max exhaled slowly. “We sure appreciate you bringing the horses here for the day, George. I understand where you’re coming from. Wish I could do something about it.” He reached over and patted Margaret’s hand. “George, we didn’t plan this tragedy, you know. It’s affecting all of us.”
“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “Sorry for bein’ cranky.”
Savannah jumped to her feet. “How about if I put on a pot of coffee?”
A few people responded, “Yes.”
“Yeah, sounds great.”
“Might as well.”
“In the meantime, is there anyone else who absolutely has to leave—on a time deadline or something?” Max asked as he glanced around the area.
“I don’t care if I never leave,” Edie said, squeezing the hand of her partner, a balding man with a friendly face. “I love it out here.” She became solemn. “…except for...” She took in a ragged breath. “I can’t believe this awful thing happened while we were all enjoying ourselves.”
“Yes. Such a dang shame,” Max said.
Suddenly, Edie lurched forward. “Oh, no, Sally. I can’t leave her for too long, you know. She’s not well.”
“I understand, Edie,” Max said. “Is there someone who can come in and check on your kitty—I’m sure she’s just fine—but for peace of mind?”
Her man-friend, Charles, suggested, “Let’s call your daughter. I’ll bet she’ll go over and feed her supper and make sure she gets her pill. Then we can relax until they allow us to leave. Okay, dear?”
Edie smiled up into his
face. “You think of everything.” She took her cell phone out of her pocket. Before dialing, she addressed Max. “Who takes care of all your cats when you’re gone?” She looked over at Charles and explained, “Max and Maggie have a great cat-rescue facility right next door, here. I’ll have to take you over to see it sometime; it’s really quite amazing.”
“Thank you. We do our best to socialize and find forever homes for the kitties that come to us.” He turned sullen. “Just wish there wasn’t such a need for rescue operations like ours.” He cleared his throat and smiled a little. “To answer your question, Edie, we have a great staff of mostly volunteers. They do a good job. Nice to have people you can count on when it really counts.”
“Hey, who is it up there, anyway?” a large dark-haired women asked, rather brusquely. “Was someone murdered?”
Max took in a deep breath. “We don’t know much about what happened, yet.”
A petite woman with spiked white hair piped up. “You’d better believe someone was murdered, otherwise, why all the commotion?”
“Do any of you ladies need to leave for any reason?” Max asked.
Three women responded, “No.”
“Not me.”
“Hey, I’m mesmerized by this sunset. I’m not ready to leave. Besides, if I go home, I’ll just have to feed a husband and three kids.”
A middle-aged blond with a ponytail spoke up. “Yeah, I’m curious about what happened. This is all rather exciting, if you ask me.” She laughed. “…better than the Kindle book I’m reading.”
Just then, Betty and Gil Gilbert walked up from the arcade area, where they’d been breaking down the makeshift booths. Iris’s two younger boys followed. “I think we got ‘er done,” Gil said, taking off his baseball cap and scratching the top of his balding head.
“These boys are amazing,” Betty said, smiling over at them. “Chris is a genius when it comes to mechanical things.” She patted his shoulder and then looked over at the other boy. “Brett is just a darn hard worker.”
Chris, in typical fourteen-year-old fashion, blushed and looked down at the ground. Brett, one year older, grinned and avoided making eye-contact.
Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) Page 2