Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery)

by Fry, Patricia

  “I already told my story to the sheriff. Go ask him about it,” he said, turning to face the far wall.

  Sledge glanced up and down Damon’s body as he lay in the hospital bed. “Looks like you have a few broken bones, bud.” He then bent over until his face was inches from Damon’s and said, “How would you like a few more, punk?”

  “Okay, okay. This guy came out of nowhere and hit me. That’s it. Then he drove off.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “It was dark out, man.”

  “Dark car, light car, large, small? Come on, you can do better than that.”

  “How am I supposed to know? I didn’t see it when it hit me and then it drove off. That’s all I know, man.” Damon looked nervously toward the hallway. “Where’s my mom? She’s supposed to come and take me outta here.”

  “They’re releasing you tonight?”

  “Yeah. I signed myself out, okay? Alls I have are a couple of broken bones. I can take pain pills at home.”

  ***

  “Gonzales, would you check in with Deputy Mullins and find out if there were any witnesses to the hit-and-run?” Sledge asked as they exited Damon’s hospital room. “I’m going to stop in at the restroom.”

  “Sure,” the sergeant said, walking on toward the second-floor elevator of the small community hospital.

  Minutes later, Sledge stepped out of the same elevator on the ground floor. “Iris…er, Ms. Clampton!”

  “Oh, hello, Detective,” Iris said flatly as she prepared to enter the elevator he was vacating.

  “Wait,” he said, putting his hand around her upper arm and moving her away from the elevator door.

  Iris scowled down at his hand, which he promptly removed. “Oh, sorry about that. I just want to speak with you for a moment…if you don’t mind.”

  “What if I do mind?” she asked glaring at him.

  “I just saw your son. I don’t think he’ll be laid up for long. He’s a feisty one, isn’t he?”

  Iris looked over into the detectives eyes. She was surprised to see them soften. They appeared almost friendly. She relaxed a little, dropping her shoulders and her defensive attitude. “Yes, he is a feisty one.” She stiffened again and said, “But he isn’t a murderer.”

  “Did anyone tell you what we found when we searched through Damon’s belongings?”

  Iris took a deep breath as if she were pumping herself up with courage. “No?” she said questioningly.

  “Do you want to know?”

  “Well, I’m not sure—do I?”

  “Ms. Clampton, we found the list of names you collected at the fundraiser.”

  She slumped as if the wind had been knocked out of her. “Where?” she asked weakly.

  “Actually, in that house trailer on your property. It looks like he stays in there sometimes.”

  “Yes.”

  “I take it you don’t clean up after him.”

  “Hell no!” she shouted. Then she relaxed her demeanor and asked, “So you think he took the money?”

  “Well don’t you?”

  “Could have been one of his friends—the trailer is kind of a crashing pad for him and some of his friends.”

  Sledge stood back studying Iris through eye slits. “Do you really expect me to believe

  that, Ms. Clampton?” He then said, “We also have a black bandana belonging to your son with the victim’s blood on it.”

  “What? How do you know it’s Damon’s?”

  “As you may recall, he was wearing it at the fundraiser. I have pictures of him with it around his head. Oh yes, it’s his, all right. There was no one else at the event with one of these.”

  Iris clenched her jaw. She glared over at Sledge. “How do you know that, Mr. Detective?

  Do your pictures show ex-ray images of what everyone had in their pockets and purses?” She smirked and shook her head before saying, “Now, I have to go get my son.”

  Craig Sledge watched her disappear into the elevator. He then caught up with his partner in the hospital lobby. “Well, what did you find out, Gonzales?”

  “There were two eye witnesses. Both say it was a large dark vehicle—a newer model.

  Maybe an Escalade or a Tahoe.”

  Sledge studied his shoes and then looked up at his partner. “No license number?”

  “Nothing more. You gotta admit this is a lot coming from that area. Eye witnesses usually go blind real fast in that neighborhood.”

  “Where did it happen?” Sledge asked.

  “Where we had the deputies pick up the Jackson kid in the first place, down there near the tattoo joint on Main Street.”

  “What I want to know is where was his tail?”

  “Good question. Must have lost the guy.”

  “Damn!” Sledge said as he reached for his cell phone. He looked at it and noticed a missed call. Savannah Jordan. I hope it’s not too late to call.

  “Hello,” he said when she answered. “I’m sorry to call you so late…”

  “Oh no problem. Michael and I are just hanging out this evening. It’s okay. You must have had a busy evening.”

  “Yes, it was. Lots going on. Now, what can I do for you, Savannah?”

  “I found the tan glove, Detective. I thought you’d want to know. It looks to me like blood stains on it.”

  “Do you have it with you?

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Michael’s—his house is behind the clinic.”

  “How long will you be there?”

  Savannah looked at Michael and then at Rags, who was sound asleep in Buffy’s pink canopy cat bed. She couldn’t help but smile. She then said into the phone, “Not too long. Maybe thirty minutes…”

  “I’ll send someone over right away.”

  ***

  “Hi, Mom. How are you this morning?”

  “Oh hello, Vannie. Good to hear from you—even if it is…rather early.”

  “Oops, did I wake you? I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I’m headed out the door soon and wanted to tell you something.”

  “Oh? What?”

  “December fifteenth.”

  “Yeeeessss? What about it?” Gladys asked. She paused, then practically screamed into the phone, “OH! Your wedding! Is that your wedding date? December fifteenth?” Suddenly, her enthusiasm waned as she said, “Well, Vannie, that doesn’t give us much time—you’re supposed to send out invitations a couple of months in advance…”

  “Hold on, Mom. It’s not going to be like that. Michael and I don’t want a huge affair. We just want to celebrate with family and special friends. It’ll be small and intimate and lovely.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Mom? Are you there?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes.”

  Savannah heard sniffling. “Are you crying? Is that because you’re upset that we don’t want a big wedding?”

  Sniff. “No. It’s because I am so happy, Vannie. My daughter is getting married. It just touches my heart. Your father…oh dear…your father would be so pleased.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, Mom, ’cause so am I—so very happy.” Savannah looked at her watch and said, “Mom, I really have to go. Just wanted you to know. We’ll talk about the details soon, okay? I want your ideas—your input. But now I have to go see if I can make a young boy and a young dog happy.”

  “What?” Gladys asked.

  “I’m matchmaking, Mom. Just matchmaking. I’ll let you know how it turns out next time we talk. ’Bye for now. Love you.” Click.

  ***

  Michael poked his head into the kennel area in time to see Savannah close the latch on the Aussie’s pen. “Ready to go?” he asked.

  She stood, grabbed her coat from the rack and said, “Yup. The diner for lunch?”

  Michael hesitated. “Why don’t we go to the deli today? I feel like a pastrami sandwich.”

  “Okay.”

  Once the couple placed their orders, they c
arried their drinks to a table in the corner and sat down. “You came in a little late today, didn’t you?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Michael, I went out and asked around about the little Aussie this morning.”

  “Oh yeah, what did you find out, Sherlock?” he asked, a smile dancing on his lips.

  “Welllll, I think I actually found where she lived.” She looked Michael square in the face, her eyes flashing defiance. “And I am not taking her back there, I don’t care what you or the authorities say. It’s a pigsty.” Her voice raised an octave. “The fence around the house is a joke. They have several dogs in small runs with feces several inches thick and, when I was there, I didn’t see one bowl of clean water for any of the dogs. It was so bad, Michael, that I signed a complaint at animal regulations. Most of the dogs were pit bulls, so I suspect they’re breeding them. Our little girl must have run away and there’s no way I’m taking her back there!” she exclaimed.

  “Well, I don’t blame you, hon. Only…”

  “Only what?” She narrowed her eyes, her arms folded across her chest.

  “Only, we’re veterinarians, not the animal police.”

  “And we’re animal activists—we do what we believe is best for the animal. Michael, who would even know if we keep the dog? It’s not like she was someone’s pet—she was just one of many neglected and maybe abused dogs.”

  “Keep her?”

  “Yes, well, no. I want to give her to someone who would love and care for her and I’d like to give Steven that opportunity. What do you say, Michael, huh?”

  He took a deep breath, let it out and finally said, “Okay, I see no harm in it. Let’s give Mrs. Byrd a call.”

  “I have her number right here.”

  “Well, you little rascal—you knew I would see things your way, didn’t you?”

  Savannah gave Michael a sly smile and said in her sweetest voice, “I was pretty sure.”

  Michael made the phone call. “They’ll meet us at the clinic this afternoon at closing. Mrs. Byrd sounds pleased at the prospect of having another family dog and said Steven would be excited.”

  “So he wasn’t home? Oh yeah, probably in school.” She sipped her hot tea and said, “I hope he likes her. She seems like such a sweetheart.”

  ***

  “Hello Mrs. Byrd,” Michael greeted. He looked down into her eyes and said with sincerity, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “It’s Shirley. And thank you. You have been most kind.” She looked over at her son. “I can’t tell you how excited Steven is about meeting the dog. I don’t know where he gets it from, but he’s such an animal lover. My other son, Robert likes animals, too—but not as much as Steven.” She lowered her eyes. “He was just devastated when we lost our dog last year.”

  Just then, Savannah walked into the waiting room with the little Aussie on a lightweight leash. “Here she is.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Shirley Byrd shouted. “She looks just like Prince, only more feminine. What a cute little thing.”

  Savannah stopped and the dog sat down next to her, her tongue hanging out. She looked over at Steven and his mother and back up at Savannah. Steven knelt down and put his hands out toward the dog. “Come on pup, let me take a look at you, girl.”

  Savannah unsnapped the leash and the little dog rushed over to Steven where she got a vigorous petting. He looked up through teary eyes. “She’s great, just great. Mom, can we take her?”

  “Sure, honey. Let’s see how she does with Kitty.”

  Savannah cocked her head. “You have a cat?”

  Shirley Byrd chuckled softly. “No, that’s my daughter’s name, Kitty. Kathleen. She’s five. I left her home with my other son.”

  “I will make it work with Kitty,” Steven said. “She needs a home and we…well, we need a dog, don’t you think, Mom?”

  Tears filled her eyes and she said, “I suppose, Steven. I suppose.”

  “Here’s a leash and a little food to get her started right,” Savannah said. “Play easy at first—remember, she was in an accident and may have some bruising, still. And, from what we can tell, she came from a bad home life, so she may need extra loving care until she forgets her past.”

  “I can do that. I’ll take real good care of her. I promise,” Steven said. He reached down and petted the dog and then turned to Michael and Savannah. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He snapped the lead onto the dog’s collar and said, “Let’s go Princess.”

  ***

  It was almost twenty-four hours later.

  “Savannah, I didn’t expect to see you out here today.”

  “Hi Bonnie,” she said with a wide smile. “It was slow at the clinic this afternoon, and Michael suggested I come over and get to know my new ride.”

  “So you’re going to take on Peaches as a project, are you?”

  “Yes. I’m so excited to get to know her. I’d like to come out for a few hours each afternoon and ride her around the arena and the ranch, if that’s okay.”

  “That sounds great. You remember where we keep the halters and grooming stuff, don’t you?”

  Savannah nodded.

  “You go get her and brush her down. Let me finish with my student and I’ll find that saddle you used last time—that one was comfortable for you, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, seemed to be.”

  Savannah was cleaning the mare’s hooves with a hoof pick when Bonnie walked up. She retrieved a saddle pad and bridle from the tack room. “Walk her over to the trailer, would you? Do you remember how to saddle a horse?” Bonnie asked over her shoulder.

  “It’s been a while. But I watched you do it a couple of days ago. I think I can do it. Would you hang around and make sure I don’t miss anything?”

  “Sure. Tie her lead there.” Bonnie motioned toward a series of tie rings along the side of the four-horse trailer. She handed Savannah the saddle pad and then tugged on the slide-out saddle rack.

  “Here, I can get it,” Savannah offered.

  Bonnie watched as Savannah secured the saddle and slid the bridle over the mare’s ears, “Like you’ve been saddling horses all your life, girl,” she said.

  “Some things you just don’t forget, I guess.” Savannah looked over at the petite woman who was sitting on a wheel fender, leaning up against the trailer. “How long have you had this place, Bonnie?”

  “My husband and I bought it about fifteen years ago with an inheritance. It had always been a dream of ours to have something more than just a backyard corral for our own horses. It’s a lot of work, but neither of us can imagine doing anything else.”

  Savannah brushed at a fly that was buzzing around Peaches’s face. “Have you always been interested in horses?”

  Bonnie laughed, a few black ringlets of hair dancing alongside her face. “I hear it’s in my blood. My great-grandfather was one of the famous black jockeys in some of the early races at Churchill Downs many years ago. My grandfather was a horse trainer. My dad didn’t carry the horse-crazy gene,” she said with a laugh. “He became an architect. But we always had a horse in our backyard. My grandfather saw to it. The first one was a pony named Misty. I was just five or six.” She looked up at Savannah through dark brown eyes and asked, “Do you remember the children’s book, Misty of Chincoteague?”

  “Sure do,” Savannah smiled. “Loved that story almost as much as my Nancy Drew mysteries.”

  “Oh, I didn’t read anything but horse stories—Black Beauty, The Black Stallion, Billy and Blaze…” She laughed. “What about you? What’s your background with horses?”

  Savannah thought for a moment before saying, “I did a little riding at summer camp as a kid. My sister and I rode at a local stable fairly often. I made friends with the trainer there and got to sit in on some of the lessons. Oh, and we visited some of my dad’s friends on a ranch every summer when I was a ten, eleven, twelve... They had some gentle horses, and they just turned us kids loose with them. We rode all over t
hose hills in search of adventure.” She looked off into space. “Such great memories.” She then snapped back, lifted the reins over Peaches’s head and said, “It’s getting late. I want to get some riding in. I need the practice, you know.”

  ***

  Savannah put Peaches through her paces and urged her through an obstacle course. She was loping gently around the arena when Bonnie walked up. She put one foot on the lower rail and watched Savannah ride for a few minutes. “You sit a horse well,” she said. “…like you belong in a saddle.” She tilted her head and asked, “Are you sure you don’t have horses in your blood?”

  Savannah reined the mare in and stopped near where Bonnie stood. “Not that I know of,” she said. “But I did pay attention when those trainers at the stables spoke. I was a sponge for riding technique and tips.” She reached down and patted both sides of the mare’s neck. “She’s a sweet mare—did almost everything I asked of her this afternoon.” She smiled. “She didn’t much like going over the bridge.”

  “Yeah, that’s never been her favorite obstacle. But, actually, this is a pretty boring horse for most riders—she’s so predictable and settled.”

  Savannah chuckled. “Predictable and boring is good. I don’t have the blind nerve I had as a kid.” She looked at Bonnie and said, “You know, I’d like to take her out on the trails, if it’s okay with you.”

  Bonnie shrugged. “Sure, I can’t imagine why not. You have a good seat and a good hand with her.” She looked around as if thinking about something, then said, “I do sanction the buddy system for trail riding, though. How about this…take Bella with you. Are you okay with that?”

  “Bella? Oh the Queensland. Sure, we would love her company.” She grinned. “She can probably keep me from getting lost.” Savannah dismounted, checked the saddle, pulled a bottle of water out of her jacket pocket and took a swig, then climbed back aboard the mare. “Come on Bella,” she called. It took some persuasion from Bonnie, but soon the dog was happily trailing after Savannah and Peaches along a dirt road leading out of the ranch property.

  What a beautiful day, Savannah thought as she gazed along the tree-studded horizon and watched the long wheat-colored grass move in patterns dictated by the breeze. I love the smell of horse, the clip clop sound of hooves on hard dirt, and the muted squeak of leather rubbing against leather. I probably should have majored in equestrian veterinary. But maybe that wasn’t my calling—to work with horses. I sure love being around them, though. There’s no reason why I can’t ride.