“Iris, what’s going on?”
The distraught woman walked over to the nearest chair, plopped down into it and started crying. “Hell if I know. I’m some sort of target. The whole town’s against me. And what have I done? Nothing to deserve this.” She leaned forward in the chair and said, “Savannah I’m being accused of murder!”
Savannah walked over behind Iris and put her hands on her friend’s quaking shoulders as she continued to sob into a wad of tissues.
“Can I make you some coffee?”
Iris sniffled. “No. I’ve had too much already.”
Savannah went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. She walked back into the living room and handed it to Iris. “Here, drink some of this. You’re going to dehydrate.”
“Like I even care,” she muttered through sobs.
“Come on, you’ve gotta care. Drink!”
“Is there bourbon in it? Or better yet, poison? Arsenic?”
“No!”
“Then I don’t want it,” she said, pulling her knees up and curling herself into a tight ball within the lap of the chair.
“Iris, stop this,” Savannah said sternly. “Pull yourself together and tell me what happened, will you?” She set the glass on a nearby table, moved a chair up in front of Iris and sat down. “Come on, speak to me.”
Iris sat up, put her feet on the floor and dabbed at her eyes. “My life’s over, that’s all.”
Savannah stared at her for a few moments and then asked, “Iris, how many times have you been divorced?”
She cocked her head and looked up at Savannah. “Three.”
“How many times have you been called in the middle of the night about trouble with Damon?”
Iris waved her hand in the air. “Oh, I can’t count that high.”
“How many times have you felt that your world was caving in on you and there was no way out?”
“Lots! But,” she wailed, “I’ve never been accused of murder before.”
Savannah ignored her and continued, “My point is, you have had problems; you have had heartbreak; you have had people treating you badly and you have survived. Iris, you will survive this. Now just calm down and get to work taking care of yourself. You have support. You have friends. You have a family…a family who needs you, by the way.”
“I can’t. They’re going to put me in jail.”
“Iris, look at me.”
“What?” She dabbed at her eyes.
“Were you having an affair with Marvin Byrd?”
She sat straight up and said a strong, “NO!”
“Did you kill him?” Savannah asked.
Iris rolled her head from side to side, gulped in some air and said, “Savannah, you know I didn’t.”
“Then the truth is on your side. Don’t you think that’s important?”
“Sure, but…”
“No buts. You have work to do…something to prove. Sure, you’re getting a bad rap.” Savannah stared over at her friend for a moment before continuing. “Iris, you’ve made some mistakes.”
Iris harrumphed. “Yeah, you got that right. Why I ever bought into that bastard Fred’s line of baloney, I will never know. Look at the mess I’ve gotten myself into.” She slumped down in the chair, her wraparound robe coming open at the top revealing a silky midnight blue gown.
“I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Savannah said light-heartedly.
Iris smiled up at her. “Oh yeah.” She then shook her head in disgust saying, “But it turns out it wasn’t worth it.”
“Okay, where do you go from here, Iris? What’s next? Have you talked to your attorney?”
“Yes, she’s coming over this afternoon.” Suddenly, she sat up, looked over at a clock above the TV and said, “Oh, she’ll be here in half-hour.”
“Iris, drink this water. Go get in the shower. You’ll feel better.” Savannah frowned over at Iris before saying, “And do something with that hair.”
Iris laughed a little. “It’s pretty wild when I let it go curly, isn’t it?”
***
Savannah opened the newspaper that evening and spotted a picture of Iris on the front page. The headlines screamed, “Waitress Linked Romantically To Murdered Man.”
Ooohhh nooooo, Aunt Marg was right, that woman has power. Now look what she’s done. This is awful.
“Hi hon,” Michael greeted as he stepped inside the door. “Any good news there?” he asked.
She scowled, shook her head, and turned the headlines toward Michael.
“Good Lord,” he said, driving his hand through his hair. He sat down next to Savannah on the love seat and asked, “What has happened?”
“I saw Iris this afternoon. She’s a mess.” She looked at him, took in a deep breath and said, “Well, Michael, it seems that she was having an affair with Fred Garfield.”
“The city councilman?”
“Yes. His wife found out and she’s spreading rumors that Iris was having an affair with the dead man—Marvin Byrd. Now it looks even more suspicious for her—that she may have killed him.”
What?”
“She didn’t, of course. She had an appointment with her attorney this afternoon.” She stared over at Michael. “I’m so worried about her.”
“Well, if she didn’t do it, no worries, right?”
“You’ve never heard of someone being convicted of something they didn’t do?”
“Yes, it does happen—but the evidence has to be pretty strong, doesn’t it?”
The two of them sat quietly and read the rest of the article. “I’m going to call her,” Michael said, slipping his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. He stood and began pacing as he spoke. Upon ending the call, he glumly plopped down into Margaret’s favorite overstuffed chair and said, “She hasn’t seen the paper. She was pretty upset when I told her about it. She said Sondra Blair advised her to ‘just chill’ and the rumor would blow over. She told Iris that, when there’s no basis for a rumor, it eventually goes away. But she is going in to see Detective Sledge tomorrow with Sondra for more questioning.”
He reached out to run his hand over Rags as the cat walked past while adding, “Oh, and she said that the sheriff nabbed Damon a couple of days ago and hauled his you-know-what down to the station for questioning. From what Damon told his mother, he didn’t tell them ‘nothin’,’ because he doesn’t know ‘nothin’.’ Oh, he also told her that they found his fingerprints on the ladder. But he has a logical explanation for that. He used it that day to retrieve a balloon stuck in one of those junipers for a little boy. I guess the detective will see if he can corroborate that story.”
Savannah settled back in the love seat as if in contemplation. She said, “Gosh, there really is a lot to detective work, isn’t there? There are so many stories. How do you sort through them all and figure out which ones to believe?”
“Yes, it is a complicated profession and this is a complicated case. Poor Iris. Should we go check on her?”
“I’m kinda thinking no. I mean I was rather hard on her this afternoon, but I believe my tactic was fairly successful. I got her to get cleaned up, anyway. She has had a big day. She’s probably exhausted.” She blinked over at Michael and asked, “How did she sound to you just now?”
“Exhausted—as you said.”
“Then, I say we should leave her alone tonight. Iris isn’t too shy to call if she needs us.”
He chuckled. “You got that right.”
“Hey, I didn’t have lunch, how about we go out and get some Italian, or something? Are you game?”
“You mean you used your lunch hour to help Iris?”
She pressed her lips together, then said, “Something like that.”
“You know, you are really a wonderful woman.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going home to shower and feed my critters. Be back in half an hour.”
“You mean you came here straight from work?”
“Uh-huh, had a couple of calls out this way.” A smile brightened his face. “Did you know that one of your neighbors has a new set of twin calves? I stopped by to check them over. And one of the Zimmerman’s Four-H sheep has a fatty tumor that needs to be removed before the fair.”
Savannah yawned and stretched. “You had a busy day, Dr. Mike,”
He chuckled, “Are you going to be able to stay awake through dinner?”
“Yeah, if you hurry. Chop, chop…Go get yourself ready,” she said while pushing him toward the front door.
***
“Feel better, my love?” Michael asked as he pulled into the driveway at the Forster home.
“Yes. It’s a wonder what a little food will do.” Savannah stretched, reached over and began rubbing the back of Michael’s neck. Suddenly, she lurched forward in a panic. “What was that?” she whispered.
“What?”
“I saw something—someone—move in the shadows.”
“Probably an animal. Oh wait! I see him—there he goes!” Michael slammed the car into park, and quickly opened the door, jumping out and taking chase.
“No, Michael, No!” Savannah called after him.
He stopped when he reached the end of the driveway and began walking back toward the house. Savannah waited for him next to the car, her heart pounding hard in her chest. “Did you see who it was?” she asked almost breathlessly.
“No, he was dressed all in black.” Michael was breathing hard. He doubled over and rested his hands on his knees. After a few moments, he straightened up and continued, “I think he took off in a car. I heard a car door slam and saw a streak of orange as it sped away.” He thought for a moment and then said, “Sounded like a sports car.” Suddenly, he frowned and started toward the house. “Come on, we’d better go in and check on things.”
“The door’s still locked. I guess it wasn’t a breakin—unless…” Michael started. The couple rushed in and began turning on lights. “Well, nothing seems out of order, does it?” he asked.
“Not that I can tell,” Savannah said hesitantly. Suddenly, her body became rigid. She glanced frantically around the room. “Wait! Where’s Rags?” She dashed into the bedroom where he’d been hanging out lately. “Rags…Rags, where are you, boy?”
“Here he is!” Michael called to Savannah. And then she heard him shout, “Oh God! What’s this? No, Rags! No!!”
Chapter Eight
Savannah was sure she felt her heart stop. She rushed toward the sound of Michael’s voice and stopped short at the doorway to the kitchen. There on the floor in front of her was Rags sniffing a chunk of what looked like ground meat. Before she could react, Michael grabbed the meat and tossed it into the kitchen sink. He turned quickly to face Savannah, terror in his eyes. “It’s probably poisoned!” he said under his breath.
“Did he eat any?” she shouted; her voice shrill.
“I don’t think so, honey. It doesn’t look like it, what do you think?”
She walked over to the sink and looked down at the clump of meat. “No, it doesn’t look like it was touched.” She turned toward the cat who sat staring up at them. “He isn’t cleaning himself. No, I don’t think he ate any.” She glanced around the room, panic welling up inside her. “How did it get in here? Where did it come from?”
“There.” Savannah looked in the direction Michael pointed. “It came through the window on the kitchen door,” he said. “I’ll go get something to cover that.”
With shaking hands, Savannah reached for her cell phone. “I’m calling the detective.” Before punching in the numbers, she said, “Michael, wash your hands! Wash your hands, you touched that meat.”
“Oh yeah,” he muttered as he walked back over to the sink. He looked down at the meat glob in the left side of the double sink and moved the high-arch spigot to the right. He then poured dish soap on his hands and gave them a good scrubbing.
Savannah put her phone up to her ear. “Sledge here: Leave a message at the tone.”
“Detective, this is Savannah Jordan. I know it’s late.” She couldn’t keep her voice from quivering. “But we just got home and found that someone has given our cat poisoned meat—well, we assume it’s poisoned. They threw it through the window into the house.” She paused. “We saw someone running away. Please call.” She hung up and let her arm fall limp at her side. “This is frightening. Someone’s after Rags because they think he’s a witness.” She stomped her foot and shook her head. “Damn! Now I wish I’d never had that psychic come here.”
“You don’t mean that, honey. Look how much better Rags is doing since she…uh…talked to him,” he soothed. “I’m not sure I believe in that type of thing. But you have to admit, he has calmed down.”
“Yes, but now his life’s in danger…” she said, sobbing softly. Then she announced, “Oh, it’s my phone.” She picked it up, looked at the screen and said, “It’s the detective.” She took a deep breath. “Hello Detective.”
“Ms. Jordan. I’m sorry to hear about the assault on your cat.” He hesitated. “How is he…the cat?”
She glanced over at Rags, who was lapping from his water bowl. “He seems okay. We don’t think he ate any.”
“Where’s the meat now?”
“In my kitchen sink. Will you have it analyzed?”
“Yes, I’ll send someone over to get it right now.”
“Thank you. And Detective, Michael is pretty sure he saw the guy get into a small car—like a sports car—and speed off.”
“Hmmm. Interesting,” Sledge said. He asked, “Can I speak to Dr. Ivey?”
“Michael, he wants to talk to you,” Savannah said. She walked over to where he was nailing a piece of plywood across the broken window and handed him the phone. She then reached down and scooped Rags up in her arms, carrying him into the living room. After sitting down with him on her lap, she began petting him. He seemed to enjoy the attention, but he wasn’t ready to settle down. Rather than curling up on his favorite person’s lap, he stood on her legs and pushed his head into her hands as she petted him and scratched the sides of his neck. She cupped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. “Rags, you are a good boy. If anything happened to you, I…” She then wrapped her arms around his large body and buried her face into his fur.
Michael could hear her muted sobs when he walked into the room. He moved around to the front of the sofa and sat down beside her and Rags. Taking one of her hands in his, he said, “Savannah, I want you and Rags to come over and stay with me for a few days, at least. Will you do that? Or go over to your aunt’s. I just can’t stand the thought of you being here with all that’s going on.”
***
Less than an hour later: “Hey, there’s a burnt-orange Corvette. Let’s pull it over.”
One of the deputies walked up to the driver’s side window. He used his flashlight to scan the car’s interior. “Hello, sir. Driver’s license and registration, please.”
“What did I do? I didn’t do nothin’. What do you want?”
“Just your driver’s license and registration, sir.”
The driver—the only occupant in the car—pulled his license from his wallet and rummaged through the glove box until he came up with the registration.
The deputy looked it over and said, “Thank you, Mr. Salgado. Were you driving this car earlier this evening?”
“Uh…”
“Well, were you or weren’t you?”
Jesse Salgado glanced from one to the other of the deputies. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Did you pick someone up out near Cranberry Way?”
He squirmed in his seat—looked down at his lap. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“He was dressed all in black.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Come on, dude, it was only forty minutes ago. Are you too drugged up to remember that long? Do you want to step out of the car?”
“No man, I think I did pick someone up
. Just saw him walkin’—needed a ride. Didn’t know the guy, man.”
“What’s his name?”
“Um, like I said, I don’t really know the guy. Just gave him a ride into town.”
“Where did you drop him?”
“Don’t remember—somewhere in town.”
“Hey Jeff,” the officer said to his partner, “maybe we should have this guy drug-tested.”
“No. I ain’t doin’ no drugs.”
“We could search his car…”
“Okay, okay. What do you two dudes want?”
“What was his name and where did you drop him?”
“Damon something-or-other. I left him off down by Club Briar. That’s it, man. Can I go now?”
“Yeah. But if this information doesn’t pan out, we’re coming after you.”
“Got it, man.”
***
The next morning, Savannah drove home from Michael’s. She wanted to drop Rags at the house and pick up a few things for work. She had just set the cat’s breakfast on his placemat when her cell phone rang.
“Savannah, they’ve got Damon in jail.”
“What?”
“They picked him up last night. I guess they think he tried to poison your cat. Now why would he do that? I don’t understand. What’s going on, Savannah?”
“It was Damon? Oh, I’m so sorry, Iris.”
“Well, I’m sorry if he tried to hurt Rags. Is Rags okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. We got home just in time. So why do they think Damon did this?”
“I don’t know,” she said, dragging out each word. “That woman deputy and her sidekick were here with a warrant and took things out of his room. They wouldn’t tell me much.”
“So you haven’t talked to Damon?” Savannah asked.
“No. Not yet. I’m not ready to face his problems—I have so many of my own.” She groaned. “Gads, Savannah, what has happened to my tidy little life? Why is everyone suddenly against me? Everything is upside down. I can’t make it through a day without more bad news. What have I done to deserve this?”
“I don’t know, Iris. Not much makes sense these days, that’s for sure.”
“Oh listen to me go on like I’m the only one who has been affected by all of this. How are you, hon…really? Is everything okay?”
Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) Page 15