Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery)

by Fry, Patricia

  Betty nodded. “Not only that, some of them had terrible sores. But we’re getting them all squared around. They have proper treatment now and the right nourishment and they are healing. The horseshoer is coming around fairly often to work on their hooves. Some of them were darn near lame from problems with their hooves.”

  “How long were those horses kept at that ranch, anyway?” Dora asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose with one finger, “…I mean for them to be in such bad shape?”

  “It appears that old man Bray bought some of the horses with the ranch property. So he’d had some of them for three or four years, as I understand it.”

  “But wasn’t he selling horses to slaughterhouses?” Edie asked.

  “Yes, but I think he soon discovered that a healthy—fattened horse brought in more money than his gaunt horses. So he began stealing horses to sell.”

  Dora frowned. “Why didn’t he just fatten up his own horses?”

  “I don’t think he even understood or wanted to understand how to properly care for a horse.” Betty paused and said, “A few more months under his care and those horses would have been dead or so sick there would be no hope for recovery.”

  “Hey did you hear that? Listen up gals to what Maggie’s saying,” Ida shouted. “Maggie, start over, I know everyone will want to hear this.”

  “Well, I hope I’m not talking out of school,” Margaret said glancing around the room, an impish look on her face. “It’s just such a delicious story, I can’t resist.” She raised her arms, palms up, saying, “And who would be more interested in it than cat people?”

  “What?”

  “Huh?”

  “Tell us, tell us.”

  “Well, most of you met Rags. That’s Ragsdale, Savannah’s cat…” Margaret started.

  “Oh yes, the klepto. Remember when he stole the meeting cat?” Ida recalled. Everyone snickered and chuckled.

  “Wellll…” Margaret paused for effect. “It seems that he knows who the murderer is.”

  “What?” two of the women said in unison.

  “Rags has identified the person who killed Marvin Byrd,” Margaret said.

  “How’s that?” Betty asked, squinting her hazel eyes a little.

  “Well, Rags talked to a cat psychic yesterday and…”

  Edie spoke out, “Oh Caroline. I know her. She’s great.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Margaret said. Her demeanor became subdued as she explained, “The cat has been quite upset since…that awful thing happened. You know, he was in the room with them.”

  “Awwww.”

  “Poor guy.”

  “I can’t even imagine…”

  Margaret continued, “And Vannie decided to bring in Caroline to see if she could help. Sure enough, according to Caroline, he evidently witnessed the murder and may actually be able to finger or…er…paw the killer.”

  “Wow.”

  “No kidding?”

  “How’s he going to do that?”

  Margaret chuckled. “Well, I don’t know. Can’t you just imagine him as a witness in a police lineup?”

  Everyone laughed at the image.

  “Ms. Forster?”

  Margaret looked over just as a young woman with auburn hair framing her thin face approached the table.

  “Yes? Oh, it’s Mrs. Sheridan now.” She flashed her wedding ring. “Gotta get used to that,” she said, smiling.

  “Of course, Mrs. Sheridan. I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying about the cat.” She jumped a little, wiped her right hand on her faded jeans and extended it toward Margaret. “Oh, excuse me. I’m Shelli Farnsworth. I’m writing an article for The Daily about the awful thing that happened out at your place over the weekend.”

  “Yes, I remember meeting you at a dance a few months ago. We talked a little about the Cat Alliance.”

  “That’s right. Now, as I understand it, there have been no arrests made, but there is a suspect. The cat angle is fascinating; could I ask you a few questions about it?”

  “Uh, well, I guess so. I think we’re finished here.” She looked at her watch. “I have an appointment in half an hour. Want to talk now?”

  “Sure. I’m sitting over there, just finished breakfast and was going over my notes.” She motioned toward a booth with an iPad on the tabletop.

  “I’ll be right there,” Margaret said. She picked up her purse, pulled out $15 and handed it to Ida, saying, “For my breakfast.” She then nodded to those who were still looking in her direction. “See you gals later. I’m off to make my feline nephew famous,” she said laughing out loud.

  ***

  The next day, Savannah decided to walk home from work. About a block from her house, she felt her phone vibrate. She looked at it before putting it up to her ear. “Hi Auntie, how are you?”

  “Great! Have you seen the paper this afternoon?”

  “No, why?”

  “Your cat is the center of attention.”

  “He is? How?”

  “Well, I was telling the girls at the board meeting yesterday morning about Rags being an eye witness and a reporter overheard the story. She wanted to interview me and get more information for an article.”

  “So the story has gone viral?” Savannah asked tongue in cheek.

  “You might say so. I got to thinking later, I hope you’re okay with the story being told.”

  “Well, I guess so.” She shrugged. “What can I do about it now?”

  “Oh dear, did I speak out of turn?”

  “Naw, it’s okay. But now I’ll have to talk to the detective about it, won’t I?”

  “You didn’t do that yet, huh?” Margaret asked.

  “Nope. I’ll call him when I get home.”

  “Where are you?

  “Well,” she said, “a couple of seconds ago, I was right in front of your house.”

  “What?”

  “I’m walking home from work today.”

  “No wonder you stay so slender,” Margaret said with a laugh.

  “Or it’s in my genes.”

  “Yeah, your Wranglers or Levis or whatever skinny jeans you wear.”

  “Hey Auntie, I’m almost home and I want to take Rags out for some exercise. Talk to you later, okay?”

  “Sure. ’Bye.”

  Savannah unlocked the front door of the house and called out to Rags. “Come on, boy. It’s nice out. Wanna go exploring?” When he came bounding down the hallway, she walked toward the side kitchen door and propped it open to let him go out when and if he was ready. She settled down on the porch swing and dialed a number on her cell phone.

  “Detective Sledge here.”

  “Hello Detective, this is Savannah Jordan. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. I’m off work now, can we meet this afternoon?”

  “Sounds urgent.”

  “Not really…well, maybe. You’ll have to judge.”

  “I’m just returning from an appointment; how about I buy you a cup of coffee and a piece of pie?”

  “Sounds good. But not at the diner, okay?” she said. “Can we meet at the bakery on Main?”

  He hesitated: “Yes, forty-five minutes?”

  “That works.” She pushed the phone into her jeans pocket and told Rags, as he peered out through the open door, “Okay, you have half an hour. Go for it, buddy.”

  ***

  “Hello Ms. Jordan. Nice to see you again,” Craig Sledge said as he approached the table where she sat alone.

  She nodded. “Detective.”

  “So what is it you want to tell me?” He sat down in a chair opposite her.

  “I take it you haven’t read today’s newspaper.”

  “No, I’ve been out of town. Has something happened?”

  She glanced toward the dessert display counter and suggested, “Shall we get our food first? I have my eye on that chocolate cream pie and there are only two pieces left.”

  Once they were settled with their coffee and dessert, Savannah looked
across the table at Sledge and said, “Okay Detective, this may sound really strange to you, but I have to mention it just in case it might be helpful.”

  He grinned over at her and chuckled quietly. “Oh, I’ve heard some strange stories in my career. I don’t think you can surprise me.” He cut into his berry pie, glanced up at her, and asked, “What is it?”

  Savannah took a deep breath, set her fork down and said, “My cat may have witnessed the murder of Marvin Byrd.”

  “Yes, I understand he was in that room,” he said, before taking a bite of the pie.

  “I mean, he may know who the murderer is. And whoever did it may have also kicked him.”

  He finished chewing and swallowed. Looking a bit askance, he asked, “And you know this because…?”

  Savannah pressed her lips together. She leaned forward and said, “I hired a cat psychic to come and talk to him yesterday and he showed her a mind picture of the killer. He told her the guy kicked him.” Feeling the need to defend her actions, she said, “My cat has been upset ever since this happened and I wanted to try to get him some help.”

  Detective Sledge had stopped eating altogether. He sat with his elbows on the table, fingers teepeed in front of his face, his two index fingers pinching his upper lip. His eyes were fixed on Savannah. Eventually he said with a giant sigh, “Okay, you’ve done it.”

  “What have I done?” Savannah asked.

  “You surprised me.” After a few seconds, he dropped his hands and said, “You know, you may have something there.”

  “Really?” Savannah said, dipping her chin and raising her eyebrows. “I thought for sure you’d laugh at me.”

  He grimaced slightly, tapped the handle of the coffee cup so it slid back and forth in the saucer and said, “No. Actually, I had a sorta similar thing happen with a dog once.” He looked up at Savannah. “Abby was a great dog—real friendly. She was some sort of spaniel mix. One day she up and bit someone. I was a kid then. The guy she bit was older—more my brother’s age.” He looked beyond Savannah, and said, “It was a horrible time in my life. There was talk of getting rid of Abby. No one in our family could figure out why she bit this guy or even if she had done it. She’d never done anything like that before.

  “One day a neighbor told my mom she had seen that kid tease our dog many times. Mrs. Harmonson had gone out and told him to stop it, but he kept doing it every time he thought no one was watching. I guess he got some sort of thrill out of making the dog react.” He paused for a moment, then said, “You know, one of the keen things about animals is that they respond to us. Normally, we want positive responses. We want happy pets.” He stopped and looked at Savannah for a moment, smiling. “Look who I’m talking to.”

  “Yes, I do know what you’re saying. You said it beautifully, by the way.” She smiled. Then she frowned. “So what happened with Abby and this guy?”

  “Well, he went crying home to his parents about the dog being vicious and they were gonna launch a lawsuit. She had to be quarantined in a pen on our property. My parents were horrified. We didn’t have the money to fight a lawsuit.” He took a sip of coffee.

  “After the neighbor told us about this guy teasing Abby, I got the bright idea to have the animal control people over to see our nice friendly dog in her environment and with us and other people. My dad agreed to help me convince them that she wasn’t a mean dog and that she may have been provoked. Animal control actually did send someone out.”

  Sledge blotted his mouth with his napkin and continued, “As it turned out, a real nice woman came out and spent time watching Abby. We invited the neighbor witness over to share her story. And my dad and I got my older brother to make sure the kid who had been teasing her walked by the yard while the officer was there.”

  Detective Sledge became visibly excited. “I love this part of the story,” he said with a wide smile. “So there was Abby prancing and playing around the yard with the family, a few friends and neighbors, being the good dog that she was, when my brother shows up with this dude.

  “All of a sudden, she begins to growl. She runs toward where he stood outside the fence and began barking and lunging at the fence. The kid started yelling, ‘She’s vicious. That’s the dog that bit me.’ About then, a few other neighbors spoke up with stories of how this kid poked sticks at her, jumped and barked and growled at her, threw rocks at the fence and stuff like that.”

  Savannah’s eyes grew larger. “So what happened to her?”

  “The animal-control woman went out and had a little talk with the punk. She then came back and told us there would be no further investigation. She would definitely stand up on behalf of Abby and see about having the kid questioned. She said that he wouldn’t be arrested, but they might be able to put a scare into him and maybe educate him so he wouldn’t do this to any other dog. She also asked us to build a taller privacy fence or to move the dog area back from the sidewalk to protect Abby, which was a great idea. I mean, the owner must take some responsibility in situations like this.”

  “That’s a wonderful story,” Savannah said, smiling. “You must be a true animal lover.”

  “Well, not so much anymore. I mean, I like them, I just haven’t had any cats or dogs since…my wife left.” Sledge leaned back in his chair and stared over at Savannah. “As far as listening to your cat… Heck what do we have to lose? Let me think about it.”

  “Okay, sounds good,” Savannah said. She picked up her fork. “And Detective?”

  “Yes?”

  “Rags says the killer is a man.”

  He was about to take a large bite of his berry pie, but stopped—his mouth still open ready to accept the bite. He closed his mouth, laid the fork on his plate, wiped his hands and said, “Oh really?”

  Savannah was quite sure that she saw a hint of relief in his face. It was as if he had just received some good news. I wonder what that was all about? Maybe my imagination, she thought.

  The two ate their slices of pie in silence. Sledge was first to speak. “Ms. Jordan, we don’t actually have any suspects in the case, yet, so I can’t think of a way we can use your cat at this time. But I certainly want to make a note of what you told me. I think we’re close to nailing the…person.” Her comment about this being a man, however, has me confused. I was sure we’d be arresting Iris Clampton soon. So far, everything leads to her guilt. The psychic could be 100-percent wrong. “I may contact you at a later date and we can discuss if and when we should proceed using the cat—that is, if you don’t mind exploiting the cat in a way that might help us.” He waited for her response.

  She wiped a smear of whipped cream from her upper lip. “As you suggested, let’s wait and see what develops. I’d rather not upset him—he has calmed down quite a bit since Caroline—the psychic—was with him.” She looked directly at Sledge and said with conviction, “But if it means getting this guy, sure, Rags—and I—are in.” She took a sip of coffee and asked, “By the way, Detective, what did you learn from the photographs?”

  He finished his last bite of pie, took a swig of coffee and said, “Actually, they put an interesting twist on things. I can’t reveal what we’ve discovered until we’ve talked to a few more people.” He leaned forward. “I can tell you this, though, those photos were a big help.” He took another sip of coffee and looked over at Savannah. “Thank you, again.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Well, it is a problem for many citizens. If they were all as forthcoming as you are, it would sure make my job easier. You’re also very observant. I like that. If you ever decide to change professions, let me know I could use a good sidekick,” he said with a wink.

  ***

  “Ms. Clampton, Ms. Blair, please have a seat. Coffee?”

  “Not for me.”

  “No thanks.”

  “I appreciate you coming down this afternoon.”

  “What can we help you with, Detective?” Sondra Blair, Attorney-at-Law, asked.

  “Well, I’d like some answ
ers that I believe Ms. Clampton can provide and which she hasn’t offered to divulge as of yet.” He stood against the wall, his ankles crossed and his arms folded across his chest. He stared over at Iris. She looked away.

  “Do you know a Mr. Fred Garfield, Ms. Clampton?” He watched as the color drained from her face and her shoulders stiffened. She seemed to be holding her breath. “Ms. Clampton?”

  Sondra Blair leaned against Iris’s shoulder and whispered something. Iris sighed deeply and nodded. She continued staring down at the table in front of her. In a strained voice, she said, “Yes.”

  “How do you know him?” he asked, walking toward the table and taking a seat across from the two women.

  “Well, he’s a city council member. He comes into the diner. Sure,” she said, glancing up at him, “I know who he is.”

  “Do you know him socially—maybe even intimately?” He leaned forward, his eyes focused on hers.

  She squeaked out a weak, “No.”

  “You have never socialized with Fred Garfield?”

  “Not really, why?”

  “Oh, Ms. Clampton, I think you know why.” He continued to stare at her.

  She turned away—fidgeted with the hem of her skin-tight red-print polyester blouse. “I sometimes attend community events. He and his wife may have attended some of the same ones. I’m not really sure.”

  “Was he at the fundraiser at the Forster home Saturday?”

  Iris licked her lips. “Well, let’s see. I may have seen them there. I don’t recall.”

  “Oh, knock it off, Ms. Clampton. You know he was there. Someone saw you on your way to your little rendezvous.” He got up and walked around to the side of the table where Iris sat, slammed his palms down hard on the tabletop and yelled, “You and Garfield were in the room together where the murder took place!”

  Iris burst into tears. Sledge stood and walked to the other side of the room. He grabbed a box of tissues and scooted it across the table toward her.

  Sondra Blair sat still and silent.