GALLERY CAT CAPER, THE

by Patricia Fry

  "We could do that. It would mean cutting into the walls, unless there's some other way we could camouflage small cameras—behind your art or inside statues, for example."

  "What kind of tools do you think you'll need?" Peter asked.

  "Probably a screwdriver, a small drill, maybe a saw, pliers…" Michael said.

  "There might be tools at the beach house. Dad used to piddle."

  Michael looked puzzled. "Piddle?"

  "Yeah, you know, fix things—make things…."

  Savannah started laughing. "Piddle? So that's what you've been doing around our house, huh, Michael—piddling?"

  Michael sat unsmiling. Finally he said, "Well, if I piddle, then I guess Peter doodles."

  Savannah and Peter looked at Michael, glanced at each other, and then burst out laughing. Michael soon joined them in the laughter.

  "Guess we struck a chord with him," Peter said.

  "Yes," she said between chortles, "a sour one."

  Peter squeezed Michael's shoulder playfully, "Hey, let's continue this discussion later." He yawned. "I'm ready to turn in, how about you two?"

  ****

  "What an amazing day," Michael said, jumping out of bed and throwing open the curtains.

  "Ouch," Savannah said, rolling over. "All that sunshine's hurting my eyes."

  "There's no morning sunshine on this side of the house, hon."

  "Well, it's bright!" she complained.

  He walked into the alcove where Lily slept and promptly returned. "I guess your mother beat us to her, this morning." He chuckled. "She probably waited outside the door for her to wake up."

  "Or she woke her up," Savannah said, yawning.

  Michael laid down on the bed next to Savannah and enveloped her in his arms. "So what do you want for breakfast?" he mumbled into her neck.

  "Are you cooking this morning?"

  "Sure, if you don't mind cold cereal and canned applesauce. We really need to go to the grocery store." Michael propped himself up on one elbow and ran his fingers along Savannah's shoulder. "You know who's coming today," he said in a sing-song fashion.

  Savannah smiled. "Adam. What big plans do you guys have?"

  "Well, they'll arrive late this afternoon, so I'm thinking we'll hit the beach—maybe have a wiener and marshmallow roast this evening. What do you think? Little Rose would enjoy that, too."

  "I'm sure she will." She snuggled closer to Michael. "Well, we'd better go get that cold cereal. We have a big day ahead."

  Fifteen minutes later, Savannah and Michael entered the kitchen. "Hi sweetie," Savannah said, rushing to Lily and lifting her out of her chair. She held her close and murmured, "I missed my girl." She looked at Gladys. "How'd it go last night, Mom? Everything okay?"

  "Oh yes. We had a great time. How did you get such an agreeable baby, Vannie?" she asked. "You were a handful."

  "I was?" Savannah asked, frowning. "You never told me that. I thought Bri was the challenging child."

  "Yes, as a teen, but you were the fussy baby. Nothing suited you. Of course, you were my first and I was inexperienced, so maybe my expectations were unrealistic."

  Just then, Savannah thought she heard something. "Was that the doorbell?"

  "Yeah," Michael said heading toward the living room. "I'll get it."

  Savannah joined him at the front door and was stunned to see Sydney standing on the porch. Glenn stood next to her, holding Rags in his arms. "Oh my gosh," she said. "Where did you find him?"

  The couple chuckled and Sydney said, "He was out on our deck."

  Michael grimaced. "He returned to the scene of the crime, did he?"

  "Yes, and he had something with him," Glenn said, opening his hand to reveal a dollar bill.

  "Oh Rags," Savannah scolded.

  Michael took the cat, saying to him, "You know, you could do hard time for stealing money, buddy."

  "Gosh, thank you so much for bringing him back," Savannah said. She cringed. "I hope he didn't disturb any of your stuff."

  "Oh no," Sydney said, smiling. "We enjoyed his visit. Not a problem."

  "Mom!" Savannah called once the couple had left. "Did you let Rags out? A neighbor just brought him home."

  Gladys looked up at her daughter. "I don't think so." She thought about it and said, "I did walk out on the deck with the baby earlier to let her watch the birds, maybe he slipped out then. I'm sorry. He's okay, isn't he?"

  "Yes, he's fine."

  "Good. Now dear, would you two like your juice and coffee on the deck this morning?"

  Savannah thought about it and said, "That would be lovely, Mom. Let's do that."

  "You go get situated out there with the baby and I'll bring it out. Go on, now," Gladys encouraged, waving her hand in that direction. Michael picked up the baby chair and headed for the deck. Savannah followed him with Lily in her arms.

  Suddenly Savannah said, "Is that your phone, hon?"

  He listened. "Oh yeah," he said, walking into the kitchen where he'd left it.

  Before he returned to the deck, Gladys appeared carrying a tray. "You both take your coffee black, right?"

  "Yup," Savannah said. "Thanks. How nice. It's a pretty morning, isn't it?"

  "Sure is," Gladys said, sitting down in a deck chair and picking up a cup of coffee.

  "We're going to have more company," Michael announced upon joining the women on the deck.

  Savannah set her coffee cup down. "Oh, who?"

  "Peter," he said, appearing rather puzzled.

  "Do you mean for breakfast?" Savannah asked.

  "No. He said he needs to leave his studio and wants to move over here. I didn't notice it, but there's a loft above the garage. He keeps it locked—off-limits to renters. He says he needs to move in there for at least a couple of days. He'll bring the dog. A neighbor will take care of the cats."

  "Sure, it's his house. I don't have a problem with it, do you, Michael?"

  "No, I guess not. Like you said, it's his house. I invited him to the wiener roast tonight."

  "Well, I don't see how you could not invite him. That's fine," she said. She reached down and petted Lexie as she walked past. "You're going to have a friend come visit, Lexie. You'll have a doggie pal to romp with on the beach."

  ****

  "You're quite the boogie-boarder, Son," Michael said, tousling the boy's hair as they walked from the beach toward the deck with Adam's stepfather late that afternoon.

  "Yeah, he's athletic. Loves the water," Eric said.

  "Looks like you know your way around the water, too, Eric."

  "Yeah, I was a surfer in my younger days. I still enjoy the thrill of it, just don't get to do it as often as I'd like."

  "I know how that goes—priorities change when you start building a family," Michael said.

  Eric nodded. "You got that right."

  "Hey, you looked good out there," Savannah said to Adam as they stepped up on the deck.

  "He's my little shark," Marci said, smiling.

  "Hi ya'll," Peter said, joining the others. "Been swimming?" he asked Adam when he saw the three of them walk up.

  Adam nodded. "I rode my boogie board a long ways, didn't I, Dad?"

  "He sure did," Michael said. "He must have skimmed fifteen or twenty feet on that one run."

  "Really?" Peter said, his eyes widening.

  The boy smiled from ear to ear. "Yeah, it was a long one."

  "You must be Adam," Peter said.

  Michael smoothed his wet hair back with one hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, this is Adam, my son. And this is Eric." He addressed Eric, "Peter owns this great house."

  "You do?" Adam said, excitedly. "I'd sure like to have a beach in my yard."

  Eric grabbed the boy playfully around the back of the neck. "And a horse, and a skateboard park, and…"

  Adam grinned up at his stepdad.

  "Did you meet Marci and their daughter Rose?" Michael asked as they walked toward where the women sat in deck chairs.

  "Hello," Peter said
, bowing slightly. He reached down and touched Rose's head as the three-year-old played with a toy.

  "Ready for a wiener roast?" Michael asked. "Sun's almost down. Us guys worked up an appetite. Anyone else hungry?"

  "Sure are," Savannah said. "Marci and I were about to dig into those stale donuts in there."

  Marci laughed, "Not!"

  An hour and a half later, after everyone had eaten their quota of hot dogs and Gladys's famous smashed potato salad, the doorbell rang. Michael answered it. When he returned, he wasn't alone. "Someone to see you, Peter," he announced.

  Peter seemed stunned to see Dawna standing there with Michael. She briefly acknowledged Savannah and then asked Peter if they could talk in private. He hesitated, set his beer bottle on a nearby table, and led her into the living room.

  Fifteen minutes later, Savannah walked through the living room toward the staircase on her way to put the baby to bed. She acknowledged the couple, who seemed to be engaged in a serious conversation. Wow, she thought, Peter's body language is telling. He's not pleased with whatever message Dawna has brought. Poor guy.

  It was on Savannah's return trip toward the living room, baby monitor in hand, that she caught a glimpse of Rags racing past her. Did he have something in his mouth? she wondered. She followed the cat back up the stairs into Gladys's room and coaxed him to let her look at his latest treasure. A business card. "Where did you get this, Rags?" she asked as she examined it. She reached out and petted the cat. "I'm sorry, buddy," she told him, "I really do have to find out if this is important to anyone. If no one wants it, it's yours. How about that?" She laughed softly, thinking, Gosh, here I am negotiating with a cat.

  Savannah looked at the card. "Peter Whitcomb Art Gallery. Kara Little, Hostess." Darn thieving cat, she thought. She turned the card over. Hmm, someone wrote a note on the back. Gads, it's hard to read—really tiny and scribbley. "Job done. Want $100 NOW. Meet side Joe's 8" This is embarrassing, she thought. Where did this come from? Kara hasn't been here—unless she's been to Peter's loft above the garage. But how would Rags find his way there?

  She sprinted easily down the stairs and into the living room, where she approached Peter and Dawna. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, grimacing. She held out the card toward Peter and turned it over once. "I found Kara's card…"

  Dawna took one look at it and quickly grabbed it, burying it in her hand. "Where'd you get this?" she almost demanded, glancing down at her purse and back up at Savannah.

  "Oh, sorry. I thought it was Kara's."

  "Well, yeah…it is…" she stammered. "I…um…" She scrutinized Savannah, her eyes narrowed. "Where did you find it?"

  "The cat steals things," she explained.

  "Cat?" Dawna said. "I didn't see a cat, did you, Peter?"

  "Um…"

  "He can be sneaky," Savannah said. "I apologize."

  Dawna seemed to glare at Savannah for a moment, then her demeanor softened. "No harm done," she said, picking up her purse and shoving the card into one of the pockets. As Savannah started to walk away, Dawna said, "I'll make sure Kara gets it back." She then stood. "Well, Peter, let's continue this tomorrow, shall we?"

  "Sure," he said, walking with her to the front door. Dawna had stepped out and was headed for her car when Peter called, "Wait. That won't work. I'm taking the day off tomorrow."

  Dawna turned and looked at him. "Oh? Going out of town?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact—to Disneyland with the Iveys," he said, smiling.

  "Okay. That'll be…good…I mean, everything will be fine." She seemed to get a new burst of energy, saying, "I have to go; lots to do," as she sprinted off to her car.

  ****

  Friday morning after Adam's mother, stepfather, and sister had left for home, the entire household of vacationers piled into the Iveys' SUV and headed to Disneyland with Peter as their guide.

  "How long since you've been to Disneyland, Peter?" Savannah asked from the middle seat, where she sat with her mother.

  He laughed. "Gosh, since I was a kid, I guess."

  "I'm excited to enjoy it with my grandchildren," Gladys said. She then spoke up a little. "Have you been there before, Adam?" she asked. After a few moments, she craned her neck to look at him, and asked again, "Have you been to Disneyland before?"

  He said, "Yes, Grandma Jordan. I nodded to you."

  Savannah looked back at the boy and smiled. "When someone's not looking at you, you have to respond using words," she said. "They can't see a nod when they're not looking."

  "Oh, sorry," he said, quietly. He explained, "I went to Disneyland once when I was a baby, but I don't remember it."

  "Then you're in for a treat," Gladys said.

  "Have you been before, Grandma Jordan?" he asked.

  "Sure have. I took Savannah and Brianna when they were about your age. I went again a few years ago with one of my sisters and her grandchildren. It's really an awesome place." She turned to Savannah. "Will the animals be okay while we're gone all day?"

  "Well, this is Peter's cleaning lady's day at the beach house. She'll check on things and let the dogs out," Savannah assured her. "I just hope Rags doesn't bamboozle her into letting him out, that juvenile cat-linquent."

  "Cat-linquent?" Adam asked. "What's that?"

  "It's a play on the words cat and delinquent," Savannah explained.

  "Oh," Adam said, "a made-up word."

  She nodded. "That's right."

  In the front seat, Michael and Peter were discussing world issues, their chosen professions, and finally the topic came around to Peter's current predicament. "So Peter, can you tell me what happened to make you move out of your place on the hill?" He punched his friend in the shoulder. "Get tired of that walk?"

  "Naw, just missed you guys. Wanted to be part of the family fun," he said, smiling. He became somber. "It's been a while since I've enjoyed family life. You know, my parents both died in a small plane crash five years ago."

  "No, I didn't know. That must have been a shock."

  "Yes, I miss them. Dad and I did a lot of things together—he was still quite athletic." He turned to Michael. "You lost both of your parents, too, didn't you?"

  "Yes, Mom died of cancer when I was still in veterinary school."

  Peter nodded, unsmiling. "I remember that. She was so young."

  "Yes, and Dad…well, I wouldn't be surprised if it was suicide. He never recovered after we lost Mom. He died in a freak one-car accident the following year. They say he was drinking, but I never knew my dad to overdo it with anything—drinking, gambling, eating, speeding…"

  Peter glanced toward the backseat, where Gladys and Savannah chatted. "She's the lucky one," he said, motioning toward Savannah. "And so is your baby daughter."

  "I'm the lucky one," Michael said. "I couldn't be happier." In a more serious tone, he asked, "So, what really caused you to leave your place, Peter?"

  Peter spoke more softly now: "My PI advised it—said she sensed I was in danger there."

  Michael let out a sigh and shook his head. "Women run your life, man,"

  "Yes; and your point is?" he asked, grinning.

  "She senses something?" Michael asked. "Is she a psychic PI?"

  Peter shrugged. "Naw, just intuitive, I guess."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, she's a fascinating gal. Seems to have a pipeline to the underground—whatever that consists of in the art world—and she sorta follows her gut feelings. She told me I didn't have to move, but she strongly advised it. She said something about negative energy."

  "Wow," Michael said. "That's crazy stuff, coming from a PI." He glanced at Peter a couple of times. "And you buy into it?"

  "Well, I'm paying her. Might as well do what she says." He shifted in his seat so he faced Michael. "She's sure been right-on with her…ideas…so far. And I had a wonderful night's sleep for a change."

  Michael was quiet for a few miles and then asked, shooting a glance into the rearview mirror to make sure the women were still occup
ied in their conversation, "So which ones are you dating?"

  Peter eyed Michael solemnly. "None of them, as far as I'm concerned. But…"

  "But what?" Michael asked, grinning.

  "Well, I think some of those women believe there's more to our…partnerships…than just professional. I guess I somehow give off vibes that I don't mean to. Kara's too young, Charlynn's a bit flighty. Dawna's just not my type." He sat with his thoughts for a moment before saying, "I've actually tried to fall for Dawna, but can't get beyond friendship."

  "And Blake? What about her?" Michael asked.

  "I wouldn't mind…" he started.

  "Hey Dad," Adam called from the backseat. "Grandma says there's a pirate ship at Disneyland. Will you go on it with me?"

  "Sure, Son," Michael said.

  "You're probably tall enough to go on most of the rides," Peter told Adam.

  "They measure you?" Adam asked.

  "Yes, for some of the rides," Peter explained.

  "Lily's probably too short to go on the rides, isn't she?" Adam asked.

  Michael chuckled. "I think her only Disneyland ride will be in the stroller."

  ****

  "Well, what a day," Michael said as he drove the family home that evening. "Did everyone have a good time?"

  When there was no response, Michael said, "Hello, anyone back there?"

  Savannah laughed quietly. "The backseat kids are sawing wood. Mom and I are about to fall asleep."

  "That was great," Gladys said. "I don't know when I've had so much fun. Thank you for including me."

  "Well, thank you for helping out with the kids," Michael said.

  Gladys nodded. "You need a lot of eyes to keep track of them at a theme park."

  "I had fun watching them have fun," Michael said. "Even Lily loved all the sights and sounds."

  "She's sure cute," Peter said. "What a cool baby."

  "We think so," Michael agreed.

  "I'm using that picture I took of her in those Minnie Mouse ears as my phone screen photo."

  Michael grinned at Peter. "So she's a pin-up girl already, huh? Next you'll want to paint her portrait."

  Peter was quiet. "Not a bad idea, actually. She'd be a great subject. Her and your cat."

  "Buffy?" Michael asked.

  "Yeah, she's pretty, but I was thinking more about the regal one—Rags."