by Patricia Fry
“You saw the delivery man?” Michael asked.
“Just a glimpse,” Savannah said. She nodded. “Yeah, that could have been him, but how did he even know about the program?”
“Maybe he followed you there,” Margaret suggested. “He’s watching your house and he followed you.”
“Now that’s a lovely thought,” Savannah carped.
“What else did he say?” Michael asked. “Did he tell you why he wants the cat?”
“Not really.” She tilted her head. “Although he did say that having Rags would complete him, whatever that means. Oh, Michael, he sounds so insistent that I give Rags to him. It’s like an obsession with him.” She winced. “If only I knew who he is and what he has in mind.”
“Why don’t you quiz the gal at the nursing home?” Michael suggested. “Maybe she got a name or saw what he was driving or something that would help identify him. Then we can sic Craig on him.”
“Or Rags,” Margaret said, chuckling. When the others looked at her, she explained, “He’s been known to do his own dirty work. Turn Rags loose on him and that guy will change his mind about wanting the cat pronto-quick.”
Michael considered Margaret’s suggestion, then said to Savannah, “Hey, so let’s hear the report. Tell us what happened today.”
She took a deep breath and smiled. “It was a success, for the most part.”
“Well, that’s boring,” Margaret groused.
“Wait,” Savannah said, “that doesn’t mean we didn’t have some interesting moments. As you can imagine, Miss Glori spent most of her time curled up in laps. Several of the folks had soft lap blankets and she was really into that. Everyone loved her. She probably got more loving attention today than she ever had in her previous life.”
“How nice,” Gladys said. “She’s such a sweet thing.”
“Sooo,” Margaret said, rubbing her hands together, “what juicy tidbits do you have on Rags?”
Savannah creased her brow. “Juicy tidbits?” she repeated. “This isn’t an x-rated story, Auntie.”
“You never know about Rags,” Margaret said. She leaned forward and said gleefully, “Remember the time he pulled that packet of…um…some x-rated things from that man’s jacket pocket at the park? That was hilarious.”
Savannah rolled her eyes, muttering, “Embarrassing.”
“What x-rated things?” Gladys asked.
Margaret whispered to Gladys, who gasped and yelped, “Oh no!”
Margaret added, “And Rags has a fetish for your undergarments, Vannie.”
“Oh, Auntie,” Savannah complained. She glanced at the others and quickly said, “Well, Rags was a pretty good boy today, actually. He seemed to enjoy himself. He greeted those who showed an interest in him—you know, who reached out to him. But he didn’t feel like napping in a lap or even being petted. There was too much for him to see and do. He walked across laps, startling some of the people.”
She giggled. “You should have seen this one poor woman. Rags leaped from behind her across her shoulder onto her lap. Boy, was she surprised. She didn’t seem to know what was going on around her anyway, and to have this big cat seem to drop from the sky…” She laughed uncontrollably for a moment. “It was hilarious, but I felt sorry for the old gal.”
“Poor soul,” Gladys said.
Savannah continued, “Oh, but when he curled up on her lap, she was content, and so was he.”
“I thought you said he didn’t do any lap-sitting,” Margaret said.
“Yeah,” Savannah said, “well, he didn’t stay long. At one point, while he was wandering around getting acquainted with the residents, he took a woman’s stuffed dog. Evidently this woman keeps it with her all the time. It rides around on her walker. When she was ready to go back to her room, she discovered the toy dog was missing. Everyone was on the hunt for that thing and she—her name was Rita—was near tears. Finally, when I was packing to leave I found it in Glori’s carrier.”
“Oh, heavens,” Gladys said. “Glori wasn’t blamed, was she?”
“No,” Savannah said. “By then they all knew about Rags’s habit, and most everyone got a kick out of it—all except for Rita, who was about to have a conniption until we found her dog. Rags definitely left a bad taste in her mouth.”
“I’ll bet,” Michael said.
“But he sure made points with one guy,” Savannah continued. “Bruce was his name.”
Lily interrupted, “Glori took that lady’s dog?”
“No, honeybun,” Savannah said, “Rags did, but he gave it back.”
Lily stared down at Rags.
“So what about Bruce?” Michael asked.
“Well, he came up to us later and said he’d lost a picture that meant a lot to him. Someone had brought him a frame to put it in, but then the picture went missing. He’d spent days looking for it.”
“He lost his doggie?” Lily asked.
“No,” Michael said, “Rita lost her doggie. Bruce lost a picture.”
“Of his doggie?” Lily asked.
“It was actually a picture of him…”
“Bruce?” Lily asked.
“Yes,” Savannah said, “a picture of Bruce and his doggie and kitty when he was a little boy about Teddy’s size.”
“Oh,” Lily said.
“So Bruce came up to you…” Michael prompted.
Savannah nodded. “Yes. After having heard some of Rags’s stories, he asked if Rags might help him find his picture.”
“Of course,” Margaret said. “Who else but the sneaky snoop?”
Savannah glanced at her aunt, then continued, “Well, I thought it was a strange request, but I figured, what the heck. I decided to give it a try. So Bruce took us to his room and showed us where the picture was the last time he remembered seeing it. Another resident insisted he’d shown it to her when they were outside one day. She was convinced that he dropped it out there and the gardener chopped it up in his lawn mower.”
Laughing, Gladys asked, “So did Rags find it?”
Savannah nodded. “He did. I suggested we pull out the nightstand, but Bruce insisted the cleaning staff had looked under it and the picture wasn’t there. So I tried using mind talk with Rags. I imagined a photograph sort of hanging out in space, hoping he’d pick up on it and know where to look.”
“Well, that was a stretch,” Margaret carped. “Now you’re entering into the realm of woo-woo stuff. You can’t use that with a cat. I don’t even believe in that anyway—a cat reading your mind—hogwash.”
“You said you felt that electric shock, Maggie,” Gladys said.
“Well, that was tangible.”
“Tangible?” Michael questioned.
“Yes, I felt it.”
Savannah took a sip of iced tea. When everyone stopped talking, she said, “Anyway, Rags started showing an interest in the nightstand. He sniffed around it and pawed under it, so I pulled it out. Nothing. He continued to snoop and sniff around it, so I felt up under the stand. I didn’t feel anything there. I asked the gent if I could open the drawer and he said ‘sure,’ so I did, and Rags jumped up on top of the nightstand. When he jumped down I started to close the drawer, but I saw something. I guess Rags saw it about the same time I did, because he batted at it and it fell. There it was: Bruce’s picture.”
“Where was it?” Michael asked.
“Caught under the drawer, like it slid down along the side of the drawer when it was being closed or something. Anyway, Rags became a hero.” She cringed and said, “But it didn’t last long.”
“Uh-oh. What happened?” Gladys asked suspiciously.
“I guess he’d gotten thirsty from all that work searching for the picture, and decided to drink from a bouquet of flowers, which of course toppled over onto the floor and into the poor man’s slippers.”
“Bruce’s slippers?” Lily asked.
Savannah nodded. “The housekeepers weren’t too pleased, but the man was so happy to get his photograph back that he forgave Rags
.”
“Well, I’d say he did pretty well for his first day on the job,” Michael said. “Will they invite him back?” “No,” she said emphatically. “And I don’t particularly want to take him back there. No, he’s not cut out to be a therapy cat for the elderly—maybe one-on-one, but not with a whole batch of people. In fact, I think a couple of those people need therapy after meeting Rags.”
“Why would you say that?” Margaret asked, chuckling.
Savannah took a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t tell you the worst of it. One woman was knitting and he…”
Gladys laughed. “Oh no, Rags wanted to play with her ball of yarn? My cat used to do that.”
“Well, yeah,” Savannah said, “but he also chewed on the yarn, so when she knitted to that spot, she found a soggy end.”
“I can sympathize,” Gladys said. “So she’ll have a knot in her finished project; that’s too bad.”
Savannah grimaced. “Five knots.”
“Oh, Rags,” Margaret said, laughing.
“And he caught a thief,” Savannah announced.
“What?” Margaret yelped. “A thief in the nursing home?”
“Yeah. He must have seen the corner of a napkin sticking out of this man’s robe pocket, and he pulled it.”
“Bruce?” Lily asked.
“No, this man’s name was Ronald.”
“Like Ronald McDonald?” Lily asked.
Savannah nodded. “Well, out spilled a whole bunch of little sugar packets. When one of the caregivers saw the sugar packets in the napkin on the floor, she asked, ‘Okay, who did this? Who took the sugar packets?’ Well, no one spoke up, so what did Rags do?”
“What, Mommy?” Lily asked.
“He picked up the napkin and carried it to Ronald, and the poor man gave himself up.”
“That easily?” Margaret asked.
“Well, no,” Savannah said, chuckling. “At first he ignored Rags. Then he tried to shoo him away. When Rags got up in his lap, dragging that napkin with him, the aide approached Ronald and he admitted to the theft.”
“What’s the big deal about someone taking a few sugar packets?” Michael asked. “Those folks probably pay a pretty penny to stay there. Can’t they have a little sugar in their life?”
Savannah raised her eyebrows. “Evidently Ronald is diabetic and isn’t supposed to have sugar, so he tries to smuggle it from the dining room. He was not happy with Rags.”
“Oh, my gosh,” Margaret said. “I haven’t laughed so hard since—well, since you and I were running around in LA last year, Gladys. Now I’d better get home. Thanks for the chuckles, Rags,” she said, petting him as she walked toward the door.
“Thanks for coming by, Auntie,” Savannah said. “Let me know when you’re going off the deep end with Iris.”
“Huh?”
“You know, on a space ship or something,” Savannah teased.
Margaret waved a hand at her. “Oh, stop it. See you later.”
Michael laid his napkin on the table and shook his head. “Well, I must say that was entertaining table talk.” He addressed Rags. “You’re one of a kind, old boy. So hon, will you take Glori back there?”
“I might. But if they invite Rags back, which will probably be a cold day in you-know-where, I’m not sure I can do it again with him. He wears me out.” Savannah let out a sigh. “Maybe I should consider giving him to that guy.”
“Well, you should find out what he wants to do with him first, don’t you think so?” Michael suggested.
“Oh,” Gladys said, “before I forget, I wanted you to know that something set off the alarm today.”
“Really?” Michael asked suspiciously. “What happened, Gladys?”
“I don’t know. I set it and walked over to Maggie’s with the kids. I heard it go off from Maggie’s house. The deputy got here pretty quickly. He told me to stay at Maggie’s with the children while he looked around. He didn’t find any problems or breaches or anything. No broken windows. He said either it was a glitch in the system or…”
“Or what?” Savannah asked.
“Or someone set it off just to see what would happen—someone who has a reason for wanting to break in,” Gladys explained.
Michael frowned. “Hmmm. Well, I’m glad you put the alarm on, Gladys. It was probably just a malfunction that set it off, but maybe it actually prevented a burglary.”
“Or a catnapping,” Savannah said under her breath.
“But you had Rags with you,” Michael reminded her.
“Yes, but Buffy was here. Oh, it would be horrible if someone took our Buffy.”
****
“Hi, Joyce,” Savannah said into the phone early the next morning. “This is Savannah Ivey.”
“Hello, Savannah. The residents are still talking about your visit with your beautiful cats. I do hope you’ll return sometime soon.”
“Well, thank you,” Savannah said. “We enjoyed your hospitality. Say, the reason I’m calling is that I wonder if you could describe the deliveryman you talked to while I was there yesterday.”
“What?”
“You said a deliveryman was trying to deliver something you didn’t order…”
“Oh,” Joyce said. “Yes, that was while you were here.” She paused. “Why, Savannah?”
“Uh…well, I’ve been getting calls…”
“From a food supply company?” Joyce asked.
“Is that who he says he represented?” Savannah asked.
“Yes, I think so. He came into the kitchen with a box in his hands and the kitchen staff didn’t want to sign for it without my okay. It wasn’t on their order sheet.”
“So he was an imposter?” Savannah asked.
“Why, Savannah?” Joyce asked. “Do you know him?”
“No,” she insisted, “but he might know me. He might have been following me.”
“Oh my gosh, do you think he was a stalker or something?”
“Maybe,” Savannah said. “Can you describe him for me?”
“I’ll try. Let’s see, he was Caucasian. He wore a tan uniform, although I didn’t see a logo or name or anything on it, nor did I see a truck parked anywhere. He just had a small box in his hands and he said it was something the kitchen staff had ordered. He didn’t know what it was. He said he was simply a courier.”
“Oh, so he didn’t claim to represent a company, then?”
“No,” Joyce said, “I guess not.”
“What about his hair color,” Savannah asked. “It seems like it was dark.”
“Yes, he had black hair and a black moustache, but it didn’t look real to me.”
“You think he wore a fake moustache?” Savannah asked.
“Maybe fake hair, too. He just didn’t look normal to me.”
“Interesting. Did you happen to notice his shoes?”
“His shoes?” Joyce repeated. “Yes, I did notice them. They were brown oxford type shoes—you know, like the dress shoes men used to wear?” She chuckled. “They reminded me of a pair my father had. He died last year, and it happens a lot that something out of the blue will remind me of him. Those shoes did it for me yesterday. So does he sound like someone you’ve seen before?”
“It’s hard to tell.” When Joyce remained quiet, Savannah added, “I’m not sure that I’ve actually seen him or if I’m just spooked and imagining things. Someone has called me a couple of times.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry someone’s bothering you.”
“It’s not actually me,” she said. “It’s Rags. Someone seems to think they want Rags. The guy has even offered me money for him.”
Joyce was silent for a moment. “For your cat?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t have a clue,” Savannah said. “I wish I knew. Certainly it’s not for his well-behaved nature. I don’t know, but it sure has me worried about his safety.”
“And you think someone came here thinking he could snatch him from under your nose?”
Joyce asked. “Or talk you into giving him up, maybe?”
“Possibly.”
“Will you call the cops?” Joyce asked. “Do you need me to testify? Because I sure will, in a heartbeat.”
“Thank you, Joyce. I appreciate it. I’ll let you know if it comes to that.” Savannah thought of something. “Hey, you’re a real cat lover; would you like to come to a meeting of the Hammond Cat Alliance this afternoon here at my home? We meet at one, and we’re planning a fundraiser to help with the cats in that awful hoarding situation near San Francisco last month.”
“Oh, today?” she said. “I’d love to. I know someone involved in working with those cats at one of the shelters in the city. Hey, didn’t you say Glori came from that mess?”
“Yes, she did,” Savannah confirmed.
“It’s so wonderful to see the results of the effort and love being poured into those beautiful cats. Yes, I’d love to be a part of the fundraising effort, and I’d like to meet some of the people in your organization. Thank you for the invitation.”
“Great. I’m at 33 Cranberry Way. Come at one.”
“Recruiting people, are you?” Gladys asked when Savannah ended the call.
“Yes, that was Joyce from the nursing home. I wanted to ask her about that man who made a phony delivery yesterday. Her description doesn’t match that of the man we saw here at Teddy’s birthday party—the one who was looking for his dog. Remember, we thought maybe he was Rags’s stalker?”
Savannah faced her mother. “And you told me about the man in San Francisco at the play wearing the beret.” She shook her head. “Auntie described the man who came to her door looking for us as wearing tight jeans, a t-shirt, and a fishing hat. None of the descriptions match. I’m totally confused.” She thought of something. “Wait. His shoes.”
“What about his shoes?” Gladys asked.
“Well, Joyce described the delivery man’s shoes and they could be the same ones that made the prints out near the corrals on Saturday.” She shook her head. “Oh, it’s probably just another long shot.”