Meow and Forever

by Patricia Fry

  “Why would she come here, then?” Savannah asked.

  Before Dora could respond, Colbi announced, “Here’s a picture of the hoarder. It’s not a very good one, but I don’t think it’s Virginia.” She looked at the others. “Maybe her sister or friend. She just seemed way too sympathetic to Denise Barrows’s situation. I think she knows her.”

  “Denise Barrows?” Dora asked.

  “That’s the name of the hoarder—Denise Barrows.”

  Janice frowned. “Why would she bother to come here and sit in on our meeting like that if she was the hoarder?”

  Eerily, Edie said, “Maybe she moved here to start collecting cats again and she thought we might be able to help her with that.”

  “I’d like to help her,” Margaret said. Before anyone could respond, she said, “Help her out of town with a boot to the butt…”

  “Auntie,” Savannah cautioned, glancing at Lily, who didn’t actually seem to be paying any attention.

  “Maybe it would be kinder to teach her to properly care for cats,” Dora suggested.

  When Gladys returned to the room with Teddy, she asked, “Are you talking about Virginia? She sure seemed interested in the house, don’t you think so?” Savannah laughed. “Everyone is. It’s unique.”

  “But she used the bathroom three times,” Gladys said. “I thought it was odd the second time, because she knew someone else was already in the bathroom and she asked if there was another one.”

  Savannah winced. “I hated to send her to the cats’ litter room off the service porch. It isn’t always fresh, you know. But it was either that or upstairs.”

  “I think she was checking things out,” Iris insisted.

  “Yes,” Gladys agreed. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Why?” Savannah asked. “Why would she do that?”

  “To get decorating ideas?” Edie suggested.

  “To case the joint,” Colbi said. “Maybe she’s a burglar. Savannah, you don’t leave diamond earrings out on your dressing table or anything do you?”

  “Good grief,” Margaret complained. “Are you saying it could be dangerous to allow uninvited guests to our meetings? How will we ever recruit new members?”

  “Oh, Auntie,” Savannah said, “they’re just letting their imaginations run away with them. I’m sure Virginia didn’t bother anything. She probably has a bladder problem, and she also seems just a bit eccentric, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh yeah,” Margaret agreed. “That’s a good word for her, I guess.”

  ****

  By a little after four the last of the members had left, each with their volunteer assignments for the fundraiser. While Gladys read to the children, Savannah cleared the refreshment table and made a salad for dinner. She checked the pot roast and vegetables in the slow-cooker, then called, “Mom, I’m going out to feed the horses.”

  “Okay,” Gladys replied.

  Savannah stepped into the living room. “Your roast looks beautiful, by the way.”

  “You peeked? Vannie,” Gladys scolded, “you’re not supposed to lift the lid until it’s done.”

  Savannah grinned. “Couldn’t help it.” She turned to leave. “I’ll be right back.”

  Don’t forget to set a place for Karl.”

  “I won’t,” Savannah said. “So he’s looking forward to your slow-cooked roast, is he?”

  “Yes. He says it’s his favorite meal since boyhood.” Gladys grimaced. “I just hope this is one of my better attempts.”

  “Oh, Mom, your pot roast is always delicious—succulent and flavorful.”

  “Thank you, but you know how sometimes you miss the mark with your signature dish. There are those times when something goes wrong—usually when you most want everything to go right.”

  Savannah smiled at her mother, then walked toward the side kitchen door. “Be back in a jiff.” She heard Peaches whinny and thought, You know when it’s dinnertime, don’t you, girl? After feeding the horses, checking them both over, making sure they had water, and cleaning the corrals, she trudged back to the house. She’d just stepped into the kitchen when something from outside caught her attention. She turned to see a man running away, his arms wrapped around a bulging blanket. Rags! she thought He has Rags! “No!” she shouted through the window. She ran toward the door yelling, “Mom, call Craig! He took Rags!”

  “Who?” Gladys asked. “Where?”

  “I don’t know,” Savannah said over her shoulder. “Just get the detective out here!” She bounded down the porch steps, sprinted through the orchard, and entered the wooded area. But before she could catch sight of the man who ran from her property, she slammed into someone and fell to the ground. “Ouch!” she complained, rubbing her elbow. “Karl,” she said, when she recognized the man who held a hand out to her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her up. What were you chasing?” He chuckled. “That cat of yours?”

  “Did you see him?” Savannah asked, breathlessly. “You must have seen him. He ran in this direction.”

  “Who?” Karl asked.

  “I don’t know,” she wailed. “He took Rags. He snatched him in broad daylight. I can’t believe this has happened.”

  Karl looked in the direction he’d come from again. “Your mother told me someone was threatening to take your cat, but she sure didn’t think anyone would actually do it. I mean, who would…why would…? There are free cats everywhere.”

  “So you didn’t see anyone?” Savannah asked. “Were you looking down at your phone or something?”

  “Well, I guess I did check a text,” he admitted, “but certainly I would have noticed if someone passed me.”

  Savannah said more quietly, “Maybe he didn’t.” She glanced around. “Maybe he’s hiding out here somewhere. Hey, Karl,” she whispered, “would you stay put for a minute and watch for that guy? I want to see if our detective friend’s here yet.”

  “Sure,” he agreed. “Tell your mom I’m on my way over.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I mean, if I see her. Thanks, Karl. Now watch for him.”

  He nodded.

  Within minutes, Savannah led Detective Craig Sledge out through the orchard. “Where’s Karl?” she muttered. “I told him we’d be right back. Where’d he go?” She grasped Craig’s arm and hissed, “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Craig asked, looking around.

  She pointed. “Over there.” She took a few steps forward and stopped. “Oh no. Karl!” she called when she saw him lying on the ground.

  “I’m okay,” he said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck.

  “What happened?” she asked breathlessly. She glanced around. “Did you see him? Did he have Rags with him? Who is it?”

  Karl shook his head slowly. “I didn’t see anyone, but I guess he saw me.”

  “Which way did he go?” Craig asked. When Karl shrugged, he pointed, “Probably that way; toward the tract. Savannah, stay with Karl,” he instructed.

  She nodded and watched as the detective checked the ground for tracks, then he walked swiftly toward the housing tract. When Karl started to get up she took hold of his arm to help him.

  “I’m okay,” Karl said. “Come on, let’s hotfoot it to your place. I don’t think the detective wants us hanging around out here.” When she resisted, he said, “Come on now, Savannah. Your mother would never forgive me…”

  “Okay,” she grumbled. She looked him over. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  He nodded. “Could have been worse.”

  “So you didn’t see the man or Rags?” she prodded as they walked back toward her house.

  Karl was quick to say, “No.” Then he stopped. “Hey, there may have been a cat.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I heard one. Yeah, just before my lights went out, I heard what sounded like a cat meow real loud.”

  “Poor Rags,” Savannah said, slumping. She took a deep breath in an attempt to hold back a flood of te
ars.

  ****

  Several minutes later Craig returned. “You’re supposed to keep this locked,” he scolded, walking in through the kitchen door as Savannah held it open.

  “You didn’t find him?” she asked. She stared out a window and moaned, “Who is it? Why is he doing this?”

  Craig shook his head. “I don’t know, honey. I didn’t catch sight of him. No strange cars—nothing. I talked to a few people over there in that tract. They didn’t see anything, either.”

  “Oh, Craig, what are we going to do?” Savannah wailed.

  Just then Michael walked in. “Michael,” she said, running to him. “He took Rags. I saw him. He did it in broad daylight. Rags is gone and we don’t know where or who has him.”

  Michael grimaced. “Oh, no.” He wrapped his arms around Savannah. “I’m so sorry, hon. I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Okay, Savannah,” Craig said, “let’s sit down, and I want you to tell me everything. Let’s start with a description of the man you saw running away just now. Then I want to know what you can remember about the man who’s been calling you.”

  “I don’t know, Craig. I sent you a tape of his voice.”

  Before Craig could respond, Gladys suggested, “I’d see what you can find out about the man in the beret.”

  “You think he followed us from San Francisco to take Rags?” Savannah asked. “Why? It’s not logical.”

  “At times like this, Savannah,” Craig said, “you need to look at all possibilities. Anything out of the ordinary. Everything and anything.”

  Savannah sighed and eased into a kitchen chair.

  Craig motioned for Karl to sit down across from him, and the others joined them around the table. “You first, Savannah. What can you tell me about the man you saw running away just now?”

  “Well, he wasn’t very big. I only saw him from the back, you know. He had light-colored hair—dark-blond maybe—and it was short or maybe curly. I think he wore dark-blue jeans—maybe black—and a dark shirt; a sweatshirt.”

  “Any identifying marks or gestures or unusual way of moving that you noticed?” Craig asked.

  Savannah shook her head slowly. “Not that I can remember.” She sat up straighter. “It didn’t seem like he could run very fast, but then, if he was carrying Rags…”

  “You didn’t see Rags with him?” Michael asked.

  Savannah shook her head. “No, but what else would be wrapped in that blanket?” She lurched forward a little. “Karl heard a cat before he got conked on the head.”

  Everyone looked at Karl and he nodded. “I sure did. Don’t know where it came from, but I definitely heard a cat complaining rather loudly.”

  Craig wrote something on a small pad and flipped the page. He narrowed his eyes and asked, “What about the guy you saw here this afternoon wearing a uniform. Didn’t someone say he was carrying a blanket?”

  “Yes,” Savannah yelped. “Janice saw him carrying a blanket. Did you write her description of him down?” He thumbed through his notes. “Yes, got it here—so he could be the culprit based on his proximity to the crime scene, his description and all. Plus he was seen with a blanket on his person.” Craig tapped his pencil against the pad. “Now we have something that’s starting to fit together. He faced Gladys. “Okay, now tell me about the man in the beret.”

  “He paid a lot of attention to Rags at the theater one night,” Gladys explained. “Craig, you were there. Maybe you saw him. He wore a plaid beret—you know, blues and grays, as I recall, and a tweed jacket. I also saw the mouth tip of a pipe in his pocket. It was one of those Sherlock Holmes pipes.”

  Savannah added, “And he left in a taxi.”

  “Do you recall what he looked like, what nationality he was…anything?” he asked.

  Gladys shook her head slowly. “Caucasian, I’m pretty sure. Although I think his hair was dark. I guess I don’t really know, but his eyebrows were definitely dark—kind of bushy. I remember thinking he could be of East Indian descent or Spanish.”

  “So he had dark skin?” She winced. “I don’t think so. Oh, I just don’t really know. I’m sorry Craig.

  “Okay,” Craig said, jotting the last part down as if it were incidental. He mumbled, “Doesn’t sound like the same person to me.” He suggested to Gladys, “Would you call Maggie and get a description of the man who visited her that day looking for Rags?”

  “Yes,” she said, standing up and walking toward the buffet where her phone was charging.

  Craig focused on their guest. “Karl, have you seen anyone who doesn’t seem to belong in your neighborhood, lately?”

  “Not off the top of my head, but I’m not at the front of the house much. I’ll certainly check with neighbors, though. Most of them have small children and they spend more time out in their yards.”

  “Please do.”

  “In fact, I’ll call a couple of them now,” Karl offered.

  While he was doing that, Craig asked Savannah to describe the man who had come looking for the dog during Teddy’s birthday party. He asked, “Hey, were people taking pictures that day? See if anyone caught that guy in a picture, will you?”

  “I’ll do it,” Michael offered, pulling his phone from his pocket and walking into another room. He returned about the same time Karl did and he told Craig, “Everyone’s checking their photos. If he shows up in any of the pictures they’ll send them to me.”

  “Good job, Michael,” Craig said.

  When Michael’s phone signaled a text coming through, he grinned at the detective. “Hopefully that’s an answer to my request.” He cheered. “Yes, it’s a couple of pictures from Damon. I’ll go print them for you, Craig.”

  “Craig, I told you about the man who showed up at the elderly care home while I was there with Rags, right?” She frowned. “But he didn’t look anything like these other men. He had really dark hair and a moustache, so maybe he wasn’t the one who called me that evening, after all. Shoot, it must have been someone else.” She creased her brow. “I can’t imagine who.” She watched as Craig made more notes, then she thought of something else. “I don’t know if it means anything, but we had an unexpected guest at the cat alliance meeting today—a Virginia Stallings. She was kind of strange, and it was odd that she’d show up like that.”

  “Really?” he questioned. “You don’t want new blood in your group?”

  “Yes, we do,” Savannah assured him, “but this gal had an odd way of thinking.”

  “Yeah, and she used the bathroom about three times,” Gladys said, returning from making her call.

  “Only two,” Savannah said.

  “No, I think it was three,” Gladys insisted.

  “Why is that odd?” Craig asked. “The poor woman probably has that condition old gals get—leaky bladder or whatever it’s called.”

  Gladys rolled her eyes.

  Savannah continued, “She said a few things that made us think she was siding with the hoarder who was caught with all those sick cats in San Francisco last month. Why would someone who likes cats side with someone who hurts them?”

  Craig thinned his lips while he thought. “Well, I guess that is an oddball behavior. So what do you know about her? Where’s she from? Why did she show up at your meeting?”

  Savannah and Gladys looked at each other and Savannah said, “I don’t know.”

  “Which means you have absolutely no reason to connect her to the catnapper, right?” Craig asked.

  “Right,” Savannah said. She leaned closer to Craig, “Hey, Joyce at the care facility said the fake delivery guy was wearing a pair of those oxford shoes men wear—you know, they could have made the print you found out near the tack room Saturday.” She looked off into space for a moment. “Now that’s really strange. I was convinced that he was the original caller—I mean, he called me later that night and...” She let out a deep sigh. “Oh, Craig, I’m just so confused.” She quickly faced him. “Maybe it’s more than one person conspiring to take Rags. It
’s a gang.”

  Michael took her hand and squeezed it.

  Craig addressed Gladys, “Did you get a description from Maggie?”

  “Yes, she said the guy who burst into their house that day was Caucasian and wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt and she thought she could see light brown hair under his fisherman’s hat.”

  Craig looked at her. “Doesn’t sound like your Sherlock Holmes wannabe.”

  “Not hardly,” Gladys agreed.

  Craig studied his notes again, then gazed at Savannah and Michael. “So do you two have any enemies?” Savannah frowned. “What an odd thing for you to ask.”

  “Awww come on, work with me here,” Craig said. “Surely there’s a jealous former girlfriend…”

  “Michael’s?” Savannah asked.

  “No,” Craig said impatiently, “yours—maybe someone who’s jealous of your great looks and your marriage and family, your status in the community. It happens, Savannah.”

  “No,” she insisted.

  “An old boyfriend?” he asked. When Savannah didn’t respond, Craig looked at Michael. “Any disgruntled clients or malpractice suits?”

  Michael shook his head slowly. “Nothing, Craig. At least nothing that I’m aware of. Neither of us has received any threats—just those phone calls threatening to take Rags.”

  “Why, Craig?” Savannah asked, tearing up. “Why would you suddenly put the blame on us?”

  Craig let out an impatient sigh. “Savannah, if we’re going to get your cat back, I have to ask. There are crazies out there who might want to play payback or something.”

  “Rob,” Savannah muttered.

  “Rob is a crazy?” Craig asked.

  She shook her head. “I’d better call him and let him know what has happened.”

  “Good idea. And ask him if he knows of anyone who would want to do this,” Craig suggested.

  “The reporter!” she blurted. When Craig looked at her, she explained, “Rob said a reporter called him, asking to talk to me. You know, he is Rags’s agent and he’s listed as a contact person on our behalf. Well, Rob gave the reporter my cell phone number. I talked to him once—didn’t have time to do an interview, but he never called back after that. I was just as glad, because I didn’t like his demeanor, I guess you’d say.”