A Christmas to Purr About

by Patricia Fry

  A Christmas to Purr About: A Klepto Cat Mystery

  Book 22

  by Patricia Fry

  A Christmas to Purr About

  A Klepto Cat Mystery

  Book 22

  Author: Patricia Fry

  ISBN: 978-0-9985356-1-6

  All rights reserved

  © 2017 Matilija Press

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  “What happened?” Savannah asked when she saw Michael rushing toward her with Rags in his arms.

  “He’s hurt badly; we need to get him to the clinic.” He glanced around, then sharply instructed, “Grab those towels, will you?”

  When Savannah saw blood oozing from between Michael’s fingers, she gasped and stared in horror, unable to move. This isn’t happening, she thought. God, please wake me up and tell me I’m having a nightmare.

  “Now, Savannah!” he hissed. “We don’t have much time.”

  Still somewhat dazed, she reached for the cotton towels and tucked them around the barely conscious cat.

  Michael held tightly to the padding as he moved toward the church parking lot. “Let’s go. You drive.”

  “I’ll get my purse,” Savannah said, turning just as her mother approached.

  Gladys saw the dread in her daughter’s eyes. “Vannie, what’s wrong? Are you okay, honey?”

  “Rags has been hurt, Mom. We’re taking him to the clinic. Can you and Lily get a ride home with Auntie? They’re at the playground.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “I’ll call you later,” Savannah said, hurrying toward the church office where she’d left her belongings. When she caught up with Michael, he was sitting in his veterinary truck, still holding Rags. The passenger door stood open. She leaned across her husband. “I’ll fasten your seat belt.”

  “Never mind that. Let’s go.”

  Savannah hesitated just for a moment, then closed his door and ran around to the other side of the truck. After tossing her purse and jacket into the vehicle, she scrambled into the driver’s seat, quickly fastened her seat belt, and sped off toward the Ivey Veterinary Clinic.

  “Call Bud. I want him to assist.”

  “Assist? You’re going to do surgery?” she asked, her voice strained.

  “Yes, make the call.”

  “While I’m driving?”

  “I’ll pay for the ticket,” Michael spat.

  “Bud,” Savannah said into her cell phone, “I’m so glad you answered.” She creased her brow. “Are you still at the church?”

  “No. Brianna and I had to help my mom with something. Pam took my place a couple of hours ago. Why? You sound upset.”

  “Bud, Rags has been hurt…” She paused and took a quick breath. Her voice cracking, she continued, “He needs surgery and Michael wants you to assist.”

  Bud hesitated. “Of course, Savannah. Are you at the clinic?”

  “On our way,” she managed.

  “I’ll meet you there,” he said before ending the call.

  “What happened, Michael?” Savannah asked, glancing down at Rags as she drove.

  “Just pay attention to the road,” he snapped when he noticed their car had swerved a little too close to oncoming traffic.

  Savannah wiped at her eyes. “Sorry.” A few minutes later she pulled into the parking lot at the clinic. “There’s Bud.”

  “Good,” Michael said. “Come around and open the door, will you? I need to keep pressure on the wound.” When he stepped out of the car, he shouted, “Bud, use your key—get the room ready!”

  Bud ran toward the back door of the clinic, glancing over his shoulder once. “Good God, Dr. Mike, what happened?”

  “He was stabbed. Looks like it’s deep.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s internal damage.” He scowled and looked down at the cat in his arms. “Damn it, anyway.” When Michael noticed Bud staring at Rags, he called out impatiently, “Let’s go. We’ve already lost too much time.”

  Savannah watched with tears streaming down her face as the two veterinarians rushed toward the operating room. “Oh Rags,” she murmured, walking slowly into the waiting room. He just has to be okay, she thought, her eyes darting nervously around the room. She lowered her head. “Please, God,” she prayed, “take care of him. He’s one of your creations and I know you love him as we do. You just have to let him live. Please, God. Please.”

  She gazed into the hallway where her husband and his associate veterinarian prepared to work on her precious Rags. What could have happened? she wondered. Michael said he was stabbed. Did someone do this to him? Who? Why? One of the homeless who came to the church for Christmas dinner? Did they catch the creep? Has he been arrested? Maybe it was an accident. It probably wasn’t intentional. Rags is pretty adventurous. I’ll bet he got cut by a piece of machinery or a broken window or something. Then why would Michael be so angry? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry.

  She chuckled through her tears. I should have listened to Auntie. She didn’t want to help feed the homeless from the very beginning. Did she have a premonition? Savannah thought back to that rainy Sunday in November when she and her family and friends discussed helping to serve the homeless during the holidays.

  ****

  “We should do this every Sunday after church,” Margaret suggested while scooping a second serving of tamale pie onto her plate.

  Savannah bumped her aunt’s shoulder with her own. “You want me to cook for ten people every week?”

  “You’re not the only one who can cook, you know,” Margaret grumbled.

  “So true,” Savannah said, glancing around at the others. “We actually have some pretty amazing cooks among us.” She nodded toward Max. “There’s our chef, of course.” She continued, “Auntie, you’re a good cook.” Smiling across the table, she said, “…and Iris sure knows her way around the kitchen.” She looked thoughtfully at Colbi. “I don’t know that I’ve ever eaten anything you’ve cooked.” Before Colbi could respond, Savannah began to laugh. “And then there’s my sister.”

  “What do you mean?” Brianna huffed. “I can cook.”

  Savannah squinted her eyes. “Yeah, I seem to remember you playing around in the kitchen at home when we were kids. And you made a couple of things when we were vacationing at the beach that summer. But I haven’t heard of you cooking lately.” More seriously, she said, “You know that’s one of those things that if you don’t use it, you lose it.”

  “I haven’t lost anything,” Brianna barked. She looked at Bud, who sat next to her. “Have I?”

  He put his hands up in defense. “Don’t get me involved in your sibling rivalry.”

  “So what have you cooked lately?” Savannah challenged.

  “Well, I…um…I made a…” Brianna sat up straighter and announced, “I made a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich for my dinner the other night.”

  Colbi snickered. “Is that what a single doctor living alone in the city eats for supper?” More seriously, she asked, “Who cooks when you visit Bud on weekends?”

  “I help his mom in the kitchen.” She looked sheepish. “She’s a fabulous cook and seems to like it, so I don’t interfere much.”

  Savannah smiled at her sister, then asked, “Bud, do you cook?”

  He sat back in his chair. “Not me. No. I’ll slop the pigs, brand the calves, exercise the horses, clean the stalls, but cooking just isn’t
my thing.”

  Brianna giggled. “I saw you pour yourself a bowl of cereal once.”

  “How’d that go, Bud?” Michael quizzed good-naturedly.

  “It was deeelicious,” Bud exaggerated. He grinned slyly at Michael while asking Savannah, “Does Dr. Mike cook?”

  “He can, but he doesn’t do it much.” When Savannah noticed Michael looking inquisitively at her, she asked, “What?”

  “I grill,” he insisted. He then lowered his voice an octave. “I’m the grill master around here. That’s the man’s job, you know.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “You don’t cook, do you, Damon?” Margaret asked.

  He shook his head. “Not unless I’m given explicit instructions.”

  Colbi smirked playfully. “He’s not kidding.” She mimicked, “Walk into the kitchen. If it’s dark, turn on the light switch. Open the refrigerator—that’s the appliance where you find your beer. Take out the already-prepared casserole and put it into the oven…”

  “Good thinking, Damon,” Craig said. “Play dumb. You’ll get out of a lot of kitchen slavery that way.”

  Iris bumped her husband with her shoulder. “What? So that’s your game, is it? Okay, Mr. Ignorance, you just wait,” she threatened.

  Pretending to ignore her, Craig addressed Damon again. “Here’s another tip: break things, burn things, let food spill over onto the stove; she’ll never let you back in the kitchen again.”

  After the laughter had died down a little, Damon, who was still chuckling, asked, “Then how will I get a beer when I want one?”

  “That can be a problem,” Craig agreed, winking across the table at his stepson.

  Iris shook her head in disbelief at the banter between her husband and her son, then said, “Savannah, the tamale pie is delicious.”

  Once everyone had agreed, Savannah appeared a little shame-faced and admitted, “Helena made it.”

  “What?” Margaret screeched. “Vannie, do you mean that after all your complaining and poor-me drama, you didn’t even do the cooking?”

  “You know Helena likes to cook when she’s here cleaning the house,” Savannah explained. “Besides, I made the salad.” She stood and moved toward the stove. She opened the oven door, pulled out a large baking pan, and smiled as she displayed it for the others to see. “And I made the peach cobbler.”

  A flurry of comments ensued: “You just redeemed yourself, girl.”

  “Good save.”

  “Oh, yum. I love your peach cobbler.”

  Even twenty-three-month-old Lily, who had been eating her lunch with a little help from her Aunt Brianna, cheered. “Peach, Mama, i-cream? I-cream, Mama. Peach, i-cream!”

  “Yes, little one, you can have ice cream on yours,” Savannah cooed.

  “Kitty i-cream?” Lily said.

  Brianna tilted her head and looked at the toddler. “You want the kitties to have ice cream?” She scrunched up her face and became more animated. “Kitty-cats can’t have ice cream.”

  “Auntie Bri i-cream?” Lily asked.

  “Yes, I’m going to have ice cream.”

  “Daddy i-cream?”

  Brianna nodded.

  “Ris-ris i-cream?” Lily said, pointing at Iris. Before Brianna could answer, she asked, “Auntie i-cream? Max i-cream?”

  “Yes, you little nut,” Brianna said. “Everyone’s getting ice cream.”

  At that, Lily looked Brianna in the eyes and held her hands out in front of her in a shrug. “Kitty i-cream?”

  Michael laughed out loud. “You’re not going to win that one, Bri.”

  “Boy, I guess not,” Brianna said. “She has things all figured out, doesn’t she? If all of us are having ice cream, why not the cats?”

  “Here’s hers, Bri,” Savannah said, handing her sister a small bowl of peach cobbler á la mode.

  “Will you look at that,” Brianna said to the toddler. “Yum. Want a bite?” She laughed when Lily opened her mouth wide in anticipation. Once Brianna was served, she placed Lily’s bowl on her high-chair tray and handed the baby her spoon. Brianna then dug into her own dessert.

  Suddenly, Iris cocked her head, listening. “Is that my granddaughter?”

  “I don’t hear her,” Colbi said, gazing toward the bassinet.

  Damon stood and peered into the bed at the infant. “She’s sleeping like a baby.” He then pointed at Lily. “Uh-oh.” When everyone looked in her direction, Damon said, “Looks like the princess got her way again.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Margaret said, laughing. “She’s letting the dog lick out of her bowl.” She leaned to get a better look. “What’s Rags doing?”

  “Well,” Damon said, chuckling, “it appears that Miss Lily has managed to pour ice cream on the floor and Rags is helping himself to it.”

  Savannah jumped up from her chair, took the bowl from the baby, and wiped up the floor with her napkin. “No-no, punkin.”

  “Kitty i-cream,” Lily insisted.

  Max grinned. “Not only does she get her way, she has the last word.”

  “Damon,” Michael said, laughing, “you look like a deer in the headlights. Did you just see your life flash before your eyes?”

  “Something like that,” he admitted.

  “Welcome to the reality of parenthood,” Michael quipped.

  “And you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Iris added. “There are many more sleepless nights to come, tantrums, worrying about teenagers out on dates with your car…”

  “Oh, don’t scare the kids,” Margaret said. “Let them enjoy little Rosemary while she’s still sweet and agreeable.”

  “Is it too late to back out?” Damon joked.

  “Damon!” Colbi scolded, slapping at her husband.

  Just then Iris let out a shriek as a couple of dishes slid off the table and onto the floor with a crash.

  “Rags!” Savannah shouted when she realized the cat had jumped up onto the dining room table. “What do you think you’re doing? Get down from there!” she insisted.

  “He stepped in my cobbler,” Iris complained. “Ick!”

  “Grab him!” Savannah commanded. “Grab him!”

  “Oh no,” Colbi said, laughing, “I think he dragged his tail through your plate, Craig.”

  “I’m done,” Craig said rather dramatically, scooting back from the table.

  “Come here, Rags,” Michael urged, moving closer to the cat.

  However, Rags wasn’t finished checking out the goodies on the tabletop, and he darted in Bud’s direction. Bud quickly picked up his unfinished bowl of cobbler. When the cat saw him holding the bowl in the air, he reached for it knocking over a glass of iced tea.

  “Got him,” Max said. He frowned when saying sarcastically to the cat, “Thanks a lot for wiping your dirty paws on my shirt, there, guy.”

  “So it appears the child has better manners than the cat,” Margaret said. She shrugged. “But then I already knew that.”

  “How embarrassing,” Savannah said quietly. “I’ve never seen him do that.” She looked at the others, some of them standing away from the table still holding their bowl and others busily soaking up spills with an array of towels. “Coffee, anyone?” she offered in a nonchalant manner.

  “Is it safe?” Brianna asked wide-eyed. “Maybe you should serve it in Lily’s sippy cups.”

  Savannah made a face at her sister. “Funny.” To the others, she said, “Pour yourselves a cup and bring it into the living room. I need to go clean up Lily.”

  In the meantime, Michael took Rags from Max. “Let me have him: I’ll wash his paws.”

  “Better feed him, too,” Margaret said in her usual crusty manner, “so he doesn’t start chewing the toes off Buffy.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes at her aunt before leaving the room with Lily.

  ****

  “So who signed up to help serve Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless?” Savannah asked when she joined the others in the living room with Lily, who was wearing a clean pair of leggings a
nd a matching top with an elephant appliqué.

  “Bud and I did,” Brianna said.

  “We’ll be there—or one of us will,” Colbi said. “If we both go and if Iris goes, there’s no one to watch the baby, unless Uncle Harrison and Aunt Leah are available.”

  Savannah smiled. “How does your brother like his new niece?”

  Colbi giggled. “Oh, he’s so funny. He’s mesmerized by her. He’s already bugging Leah to have a little girl.”

  “Shouldn’t they get married first?” Margaret asked.

  Colbi jumped a little in her chair. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? They were married last week.”

  “What?” Savannah and Iris said in unison.

  “Yeah, they decided to just do it and they did it. Told us about it later,” Colbi said. “They may have a reception at some point.”

  “Wow! I’m stunned,” Savannah admitted. “I can’t believe Leah didn’t tell me.”

  “Oh, you know, Savannah, they’re pretty busy with the baby and Harrison’s culinary school and his job. Leah’s been looking for a job, too. She may go to work at a school for special-needs children.”

  “She’s a teacher?” Margaret asked.

  “No, but she’s enrolled in a program where she can earn the requirements for becoming an aide in this type of school,” Colbi explained. “It’ll also help her learn more about how to raise little Charlie to become independent, if his Down syndrome isn’t too severe.”

  “She’s a busy little bee these days. Who takes care of Charlie while she’s in school?” Savannah asked.

  “Harrison can be there with him sometimes during the day and they’ve hired a woman they adore through the program to help out.”

  “How old is the baby now?” Margaret asked.

  Colbi scrunched up her face thoughtfully before answering. “Ten months.”

  “And he’s a real charmer,” Iris said. She added, “Craig and I’ll help with the homeless—that is if Harrison and Leah can take over with baby Rosemary.”

  “What about you, Auntie and Max?” Savannah asked.