by Patricia Fry
Blake chuckled. "…and a woman's tattoo."
"No, I was enhancing her tattoo," Peter explained. "She told me she thought my art was
better than her former boyfriend's. He's a tattoo artist."
"Oh?" she said.
"Yeah, so she pulls up her dress and shows me this tattoo on her thigh. You know I'd had a little bit to drink…"
"A little bit?" Blake questioned, smiling.
"Uh-huh, so I offered to enhance her tattoo with my artistic flair," he said, motioning dramatically with his pen in the air.
This has been a wonderful evening," Savannah said. "Thanks for including us."
"Yes," Brianna said. "I had such a good time."
"Me, too," Bud agreed. "I don't think I've ever been to such a fancy shindig that was so…entertaining."
"Nope, in our neck of the woods, a barn dance is a big deal," Michael said, laughing. "Peter, you'll have to come visit us sometime. We'll show you how to party down hillbilly style."
Peter grinned. "You guys jest, but hey, I'd like to share in your lifestyle—that would be a vacation for me."
"Oh my gosh, Michael," Savannah gasped, as they pulled up in front of the beach house.
"What?"
"Is that Rags? Dang, he's outside again."
"That's him," Michael said, shaking his head. "That knucklehead. What does he think he's doing? How does he keep escaping?"
Peter peered out the window and started to laugh. He said to Blake, "They have the coolest cat. He steals things."
"Really?" she said. "I've heard of kleptomaniac cats, but I've never met one."
"Well, come on," Savannah invited. "Shall we have a nightcap before you head home, Blake?" Michael nudged Savannah with his elbow. "Oh, or maybe you're not going home…" Completely embarrassed now, she took a deep breath and said, "Well, let's go get our cat. Do come in and meet him."
"Looks like he has something in his mouth," Blake said, squinting a little.
Savannah looked out at him again. "Yes, he does. Darn it."
Brianna shook her head slowly. "That crazy cat."
"He solved a murder that happened at our clinic once," Bud reported.
"Oh, he's the one I read about that helps the police department," Blake said, excitedly. She laughed. "Hey, I could sure use a cat like him in my line of work."
"Michael, would you get him?" Savannah asked, when the limo had stopped. "I can't run in these heels."
Michael called to the cat, who glanced toward the limo, hopped up on the porch steps, and sat down, staring at the front door. When Michael opened it, Rags picked something up off the porch and marched into the house with it in his mouth.
"What is it?" Brianna asked, as they all rushed through the door.
"I think it's jewelry," Blake said. "Looks like a pearl necklace."
"Close," Michael said, grabbing the cat and taking it from him. "It's shells. A shell necklace."
"That's odd," Peter said, furrowing his brow.
"What?" Savannah asked.
"Well, Dawna bought a necklace like that just today from a couple of young girls who came into the gallery. Let me see it."
Before handing it over, Michael looked more closely at it. "There's something all over it—paint or something."
Peter started to take the necklace from Michael, when Blake said, "No. Give me your pen, Peter." She took it and reached out, looping the necklace over the pen. "Blood," she said, upon closer examination.
"What?" Michael and Savannah said in unison.
Blake made eye contact with some of the others. "That's blood splattered on the shells." "Did he kill for that piece of jewelry?" Peter asked, laughing.
"That's not funny, Peter," Michael said, chuckling a little. "He has a record, but he's never been booked for anything that serious."
"Can you identify this, Peter?" Blake asked.
"Uh, well, I don't know. I mean those shell necklaces are a dime a dozen in this area." He stared at it intently, then said, "Wait. There was one thing Dawna showed me." He stooped to get a better look at the necklace that Blake held up. "There it is," he said, his voice raised slightly in anxiety. "See that little face on that one shell?"
"Face?" Blake said, peering at the necklace more closely.
"Yes, if you look at it from just the right angle, you'll see an Asian-looking face inside one of the big shells. The girls had a story behind that phenomenon—said it occurs like one in a thousand shells."
"Or they painted it on there as a selling point," Brianna said.
Peter took a step back. He appeared shaken. "I think that's Dawna's necklace. But how did the cat get it?"
"Maybe she came here looking for you and dropped it outside," Brianna suggested. She leaned in and examined it carefully. "Doesn't appear to be broken." She turned toward Savannah and Michael. "Can he unfasten jewelry clasps?"
They both shook their head. "Not that I know of," she said.
"She wouldn't come here tonight," Peter said. "She knew I wasn't here. She arranged the charity gig, for Pete's sake."
"Doesn't she live near here?" Blake asked. "You showed me her place; seems like it was in this area."
"Yeah," Peter said, "she has an apartment north of here, about a block over."
"That is close," Blake said. "Think we ought to check on her?"
"Why?"
"Because that's blood on the necklace and if this is hers, she could be in trouble. Maybe she had an accident or something," she reasoned.
Peter thought about it for a moment. "Let's go," he said.
"Do you have an envelope I could put this thing in?" Blake asked.
"I think so," Peter said. "I'll get one."
"Can we come?" Brianna asked, rather eagerly.
Blake looked around at the others and shrugged. "Sure, okay with me."
Savannah started to rush toward the stairs, saying, "Let me get my comfy shoes."
"Me, too," Brianna said, heading down the hallway.
Savannah stopped before taking the stairs and looked at Blake's feet. "What size do you wear?"
Blake dropped the necklace into the envelope Peter had handed her and then quickly flashed one hand at Savannah twice, indicating size ten.
"Perfect," Savannah said. When she returned, she had two pairs of flip-flops and offered Blake her choice.
She reached for a pair and then quipped. "These go better with my dress."
Michael looked at Bud. "How about we stay here and chug down some beers on the deck?"
"Hey, my kind of invitation," he said.
"Take good care of the girls," Michael called to Peter.
"Sure will," he said, glancing in the direction of the three women.
Bud started to step out onto the deck, stopped, and asked, "Got your phone, Brianna?" Suddenly, both Savannah and Brianna scurried away in search of their cell phones, rejoining Peter and Blake within seconds.
"This is a bloody long walk for a cat," Blake said. She flashed Savannah a smile. "Thanks, by the way, for the flip-flops. I don't walk much in heels."
"Really?" Savannah questioned. "You seem so at home in them."
"Naw," she said. "I can look like a Barbie, but I'm really more the Dora type."
Brianna appeared puzzled. "Dora?"
Savannah responded. "She's a more down-to-earth, realistic, smart role-model for young girls who don't buy into the princess thing."
Brianna shrugged.
"There's her place," Peter said, walking faster than the others.
"The one with the light on?" Brianna asked.
"Look, there's no screen on that open window," Savannah observed. "Gosh, I hope she's okay."
The quartet walked up the stairs to Dawna's apartment door. Peter knocked. He knocked harder and called out. When he didn't hear a response, he tried the door. Locked. That's when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring. "In case of emergency," he said, defending the fact that he had Dawna's house key. "This could be an emergency."
Once inside, Savannah and Brianna hung back and Peter and Blake disappeared into another room. Within seconds, the sisters heard, "Oh my God!! No!!"
Blake returned to the living room. She was on her phone. "9.1.1, we need an ambulance. Stat! Yeah, it looks like a woman was attacked in her home. She's losing blood fast. Address?" she looked at Savannah, who rushed outside.
"1842…" she said, reporting the numbers on the building. She hesitated, straining to see the street sign.
Brianna walked down a few steps and leaned over the railing. She squinted to see the sign in the dim street lights. "Dolphin Street."
"Apartment six," Savannah added, looking at the open front door.
Blake relayed the information to the dispatcher and then rejoined Peter in the next room.
"Michael," Savannah said quietly into her phone from the porch, "Dawna is hurt in there. That might have been her necklace that Rags had. Paramedics are on their way. Oh, I hear them."
"So do I, hon," he said into the phone. He hesitated and added, "Bud and I are going to walk out and meet you two. Where are you?"
"Take our street south to Seahorse and turn left. It's the green apartments just up from the corner of Seahorse and Dolphin. We'll head that way." Before leaving, Savannah stepped inside the front door and called out to Peter and Blake, "They're on their way. We're going back home. Anything you need us to do?"
"No. Thanks anyway," Peter said. When he stepped into the doorway, Savannah saw blood on his clothes. He was obviously distraught. "You know, the police might have questions. If so, I'll send them down to the house, okay?"
"Sure," Savannah said.
Peter started to step back into the other room when he stopped and said, "Tell your cat thanks. He may have saved her life."
Savannah took in a ragged breath and nodded.
****
Once the two couples were back at the beach house, the women changed into more casual clothes and joined the men on the deck. They were solemnly discussing their experience at Dawna's apartment and taking turns making suppositions as to what happened, when the doorbell rang. Upon opening the door, Savannah greeted two police officers standing on the walkway leading to the small porch.
"Savannah Ivey?" the male officer asked, referring to a small notepad.
"Yes," she said.
"You were a witness to…"
"Well, not exactly a witness," she explained, "…but I was there when they found…the victim…"
He studied her for a moment then said, "I'm Officer Studor." He nodded toward the female officer. "This is Sergeant Markle. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
Savannah stepped back from the door. "Sure. Please come in. Let's sit in here?" she invited, motioning toward the large dining room table. Savannah looked from one to the other of the officers and asked, "So what actually happened?"
"Not sure, yet, but it looks like attempted murder."
"Attempted?" Savannah questioned. When she saw Brianna enter the room from the deck, she said to her, "She's alive."
"Oh, that's good news."
"Are you Brianna?" the officer asked.
She nodded.
"And your last name is…"
"Jordan," she said. "Dr. Brianna Jordan."
"Sis, this is Officer Studor and Sergeant…"
"Markle," the sergeant said.
The officer glanced up at Brianna and then back at his notes. He wrote something on the notepad. "So tell us what happened this evening," he prompted.
Savannah spoke first. "Well, we were coming home from an art show and saw my cat…"
"Your cat?" Sergeant Markle asked, tilting her head.
"Yes," Savannah said. "He escaped somehow and he was outside walking toward the house carrying a shell necklace."
"Wearing a necklace?" Officer Studor asked.
"No, carrying it," Savannah corrected.
"In his mouth?"
Savannah explained. "Yes, it may sound unusual, but it's something he does."
"Like that," Brianna said.
The police officers looked in the direction she pointed and the sergeant said, "Well, look at that. He's carrying something in his mouth…like a dog."
"What is that?" Officer Studor asked, smiling. "A sock?"
"Yes, I think so." Savannah took it from Rags. Holding it up, she said, "One of my daughter's socks."
"So he was carrying a necklace…" Officer Studor prompted.
"Yes, and it appeared to have blood on it. When Peter—that's Peter Whitcomb— remembered that his gallery manager Dawna had recently bought a necklace just like that, he thought maybe it was hers. We got worried when we saw the blood and, since she lives close by, we decided to walk up to her place and…well, they found her and we called you."
"Who walked up there?" the officer asked.
Savannah motioned toward her sister. "Brianna, Peter, his friend, Blake, and I." "Blake, that's old man Eastman's daughter," the sergeant said to her partner.
Officer Studor continued the questioning. "What did you do or see once you got to…" he referred to his notes again, "…Ms. Paulson's apartment?"
Savannah said, "Well, Peter knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he used a key and he and Blake went inside."
"There was a window wide open with no screen on it," Brianna interjected.
"Did you see the victim?" he asked.
Both Savannah and Brianna shook their heads. Savannah said, "No, we just stepped inside the living room. That's all. Only Peter and Blake went in wherever she was."
Officer Studor looked at her and then at Brianna. "Do either of you have anything to add?"
Savannah shook her head. "Just came down from Northern California for a quiet vacation on the beach and landed in the middle of a crime," she lamented.
"How well do you know the victim?" Officer Studor asked.
Savannah explained, "I just met her a few days ago."
When the officer looked at Brianna, she said, "I wouldn't know her from Adam." Then she chuckled.
"What's funny?" he asked, frowning.
"Oh nothing, except that my nephew is here and his name's Adam. That's all." She sat back and scrunched down a little in her chair.
Just then, Rags sauntered into the room again, jumped up on one of the dining room chairs, and stared at the two officers from across the table. "Handsome cat," the sergeant said. "What's his name?"
"Ragsdale," Savannah said.
"Do you always travel with him?"
Mew
Everyone looked toward the sound and saw Buffy entering the room from the staircase.
"Gosh, is the baby awake at this time of night?" Savannah asked. "Better go check."
"Uh, just out of curiosity," Sergeant Markle said, "why would you assume the baby's awake just because this cute little cat appears?"
"Oh, she's our babysitter," Savannah explained, before heading out of the room.
The officers looked at Brianna, obviously craving an explanation. Before she could respond, Lexie raced into the room at full speed, sliding across the tile floor as she made the corner into the kitchen; Walter on her tail.
The sergeant chuckled. "Did I just see a cat chasing a dog?"
Before anyone could comment, the pair appeared again. This time the black cat playfully attacked Lexie and coerced her into a wrestling match. Suddenly, Walter scampered off toward the kitchen, Lexie racing after him.
When Brianna noticed the officers looking to her for an explanation, she shrugged. "What can I say? They have some strange animals." The pair still looked puzzled, so Brianna added, "My sister and her husband are both veterinarians…kind of like Dr. and Mrs. Doolittle."
The sergeant suppressed a smile. She took in a deep breath and stood, saying, "Well, I guess that's all we need from you this evening. How long will you be staying?"
"My boyfriend and I are leaving Wednesday and I think my sister's staying for another week or so." Before the officers reached the front door, Brianna said, "Uh-o
h."
"What?" Sergeant Markle asked, looking back at her.
She winced and held up a small notepad. "The cat had it," she explained, quietly.
"Huh? Well…I…" Officer Studor stuttered. He patted his shirt pocket before saying, "How'd he...? I mean…where'd he…? That cat?" he asked, pointing.
Just then Michael walked into the room. "Michael," Brianna said. "You'd better teach your cat better manners. He just stole from a policeman."
"Oh no. I'm sorry officers," he said. He then turned and looked at Bud, who had followed him in. "Stop laughing, man, you'll encourage him."
Officer Studor looked at Bud and then Michael. "No harm done." He then nodded in Brianna's direction and said, "Thanks, ma'am for your help."
Brianna couldn't help peering through the wood blinds after the officers left. As she expected, they were both laughing heartily. She grinned and said, "I think we made their day."
She then turned to Michael. "You have quite the conversation piece there in that cat, you know it?"
"Tell me about it," he said, glaring down at Rags.
****
Despite their late night, everyone was up early Sunday morning. They had just finished a leisurely continental breakfast on the deck, when Adam asked Brianna. "Aunt Bri, would you come out and play in the water with me?"
"I'd love to. Can I bring your sister?"
"Sure," he said. "She likes putting her feet in the water."
"I'll walk down with you," Savannah said. "I want to look for more beach glass for my collection."
"How big is your collection?" Brianna asked.
"I have twelve pieces," she said proudly. "…mostly brown and clear."
"The brown ones are from beer bottles," Bud said.
"Yeah, probably. I also have a couple of sea-green pieces, and I'm looking for red and blue."
"Good luck," Brianna said, smirking. "Those are the hardest to find."
Savannah looked at her sister. "How do you know?"
"Mom and I used to pick up beach glass, didn't we, Mom?"
"Sure did. I still have a little box full of it."
Savannah frowned. "Oh, I thought I invented it. You mean other people pick it up, too?"
"Yes," Brianna said, laughing. "You thought you were the only one? That's funny."