by Patricia Fry
“So what did he want to know?” Craig asked.
She perked up. “That’s right. He asked some rather strange questions.”
“Like what?” Craig asked.
“Oh no,” she said. “He might have actually been the same guy who called me wanting to buy Rags. I was suspicious, but now…” She choked up. “Craig, I feel so terrorized.” Her voice pinched, she asked, “Just what is he going to do to Rags?”
“Oh, honey,” Craig soothed, “he probably wants to exploit him—try to make money with him, you know.”
“But if that’s what he wants, he’s likely to hurt him,” Savannah wailed.
Craig cleared his throat. “So what did the reporter ask, Savannah?”
“He wanted to know where we work and volunteer, how many pets we have, about any travel plans we might have, what sort of hobbies we pursue, how often I ride the horse…things like that. Craig, I was busy that day and just answered his questions without thinking, wanting to get him off the phone.” She moaned. “Good grief, he was trying to figure out when and how he could get his hands on Rags.”
“Call Rob and find out what he knows about that guy,” Craig instructed.
After talking to Rob, Savannah reported that he knew nothing about the reporter. He had just talked to him on the phone briefly that one time.
“So Savannah, you saw the man who allegedly had Rags wrapped in a blanket a while ago, right?” Craig asked.
“Yes.”
“Which of the descriptions does he fit? Can you identify him as any of these suspicious men you and others have encountered lately? It seems that none of them has anything in common.”
She thought for a moment and said, “I didn’t get a very good look at this guy. I was mainly focused on what he was carrying, fearful that it was Rags and hoping like crazy it wasn’t.”
“So you didn’t actually see your cat in the blanket?” Craig asked.
“I caught a glimpse of what I thought might be Rags,” she explained.
Craig stared across the table at her. “Have you looked for him? Are you even sure he’s gone?”
“Karl heard a cat before he got knocked over the head,” Savannah reminded him. “I haven’t seen Rags.” She asked the others, “Has anyone else seen him this afternoon?”
“Not for a while,” Gladys said.
“Was your cat outside?” Craig asked. “How did he get his hands on Rags?”
“I just checked,” Michael said, “and the window to the bathroom off the service porch was open and the screen is off.” He told Craig, “I closed the window, but left everything else alone in case you want to dust for prints.”
The detective stared at him for a moment, then asked Savannah, “So you say the guy you saw was short, small and dressed in…” he referred to his notes, “black, maybe all black. Tell me again about his coloring,” Craig suggested.
“I’m pretty sure he was Caucasian and I think I saw light-brown or dark-blond hair from under a baseball cap.”
“Any facial hair?” Craig asked.
“He was running away, Craig. I only saw him from the back.”
Craig studied his notes. He lifted a page, then another, and announced, “Well, it looks like your culprit could be the deliveryman who showed up at the old folks home while you were there with Rags.” He shook his head and muttered, “No, the hair color’s wrong. It’s more likely it was the jerk who barged in on Maggie.” He cleared his throat. “I wonder how in the devil these other characters fit into the scheme of things, if at all.” He looked at his notes again and said, “Michael, do me a favor, would you? Call Arthur and see what he can tell you about the fellow wearing the plaid beret.”
Michael frowned. “Why, Craig? He’s probably the most different one of the batch.”
Craig grinned. “Just humor me, will you?”
“Sure,” Michael said, removing his phone from his pocket and walking out of the room. When he returned, he said, “Well, Arthur doesn’t know much about him, just that he’s an old-timer in local theater. He has even performed on Broadway. He’s a colorful guy and he does like cats. Arthur knows this because he was a guest at Arthur’s and Suzette’s once for a cast party and he paid a lot of attention to Koko.” When Craig looked confused, Michael said, “That’s Arthur’s cat.”
“He didn’t try to steal Arthur’s cat, did he?” Craig asked.
“Not that Arthur said. Sounds like simply an eccentric guy with some quirks.”
Karl chuckled. “Isn’t that a description of an eccentric—someone who’s quirky?”
Michael laughed. “If it isn’t, it should be.”
“Right,” Karl agreed.
“Ohhh, little Glori,” Savannah said, lifting the cat into her lap.
“What was she doing?” Michael asked.
“Just staring up at me,” Savannah said. She snuggled with the cat and kissed the top of her head. “I wonder if you saw anything. Did someone take our Ragsie, huh?” When Glori sat down on her lap, looked up at her, and mewed, Savannah ran her hands over her fur and said, “You miss him, don’t you? Poor baby girl. I’m so sorry.”
Again, Glori mewed at Savannah. She leaped from her lap to Michaels and stared into his eyes.
“She knows something’s wrong, Michael,” Savannah said. “I feel so sorry for her. I think she’s in mourning.”
Michael ruffled the fur on her cheek and said, “You could be right. She does look sad, doesn’t she?”
“Do you believe that cats can feel emotions?” Karl asked.
Both Michael and Savannah nodded. She said, “Oh yes, and some cats are more sensitive than others.” She reached out and caressed Glori. “It appears that she’s one of those. It just breaks my heart.”
After watching Glori for a moment, Craig pushed away from the table and stood up. He pocketed his notepad and pen, saying, “Well, that’s all the damage I can do here this evening. I’ll let you get on with your dinner.” He asked, “What is that, anyway? It sure smells good.”
“Mom’s pot roast,” Savannah said.
“I’m so hungry after smelling that for darn near an hour that I don’t know if I can make it home without stopping to eat something.”
“Want to join us?” Gladys asked. “There’s plenty.”
“Thank you, Gladys, I really appreciate it, but we’re eating at the inn tonight.” He winked and said as if sharing a secret, “Mattie’s making lasagna.”
“Ohhh,” Michael said. “Craig, can I come with you?”
“Absolutely, Michael.”
“No he can’t,” Savannah said.
Craig smirked jokingly at Michael. “Sorry buddy. You’re going to have to eat that scrumptious-smelling pot roast.” He headed toward the door, calling over his shoulder, “Enjoy. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you, Craig,” Savannah called, slumping into a chair. “Well, that was a lot of nothing,” she complained. “All of that information and no real clues. Poor Rags.” She took a ragged breath and said to Karl, “I’m sure sorry to have our dinner hour ruined like this. And you were beaten up in the process. I hope everyone’s still hungry.”
“Karl, you were beaten up?” Michael asked.
“Yeah, the guy who took Rags hit him over the head,” Savannah said.
“Well, at least that’s what we think happened,” Karl said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sure went down.
“Poor guy,” Gladys soothed. She said, “Well, let’s pull the roast out and let it rest. Shall we have a glass of wine in the meantime?”
“Sounds good,” Michael said.
“Sure does,” Karl said. “What would you like me to do?”
****
“I like Karl,” Savannah said later that evening as she and Michael prepared for bed.
“Yeah, he’s interesting,” Michael said.
Savannah added, “And easy to talk to. He’s just a nice guy.”
Michael smiled. “Your mom seems happy.”
“Yes, she r
eally likes him.”
“Really likes him?” Michael said. He chuckled. “Like going steady liking ?”
Savannah grinned briefly and mumbled, “Maybe.”
When Michael heard her deep sigh, he sat down on the bed next to her and held her. “We’ll find him,” he whispered. “He always finds his way back to us and he will this time.”
“I don’t think so, Michael,” she said, sobbing. “I have no hope at all of finding him.”
“What?” he exclaimed.
“There’s absolutely no trail, no clues, nothing,” she lamented. She pulled away from him. “My phone,” she said, picking it up and looking at the screen. “It’s Craig.” She answered, “Hi, Craig. Please tell me…”
“What, Savannah? What do you want to hear?”
“You sound cranky. Are you all right?”
He let out a sigh. “Not really. I have you expecting miracles and my wife heading out into the wild blue yonder looking for a fountain of youth or something.” When Savannah didn’t respond, he spoke more gently, “I’m sorry, honey. I know you’re upset. I am, too. I’m pretty attached to that crazy cat of yours and to you and Michael. You can bet that I’ll do everything—I mean everything—to make sure he’s not in any danger.”
“Danger?” she gasped. “You think he’s in danger?”
“I hope not and, from what you told me, probably not. But we don’t know. Priority number one is to find him, and I may have a lead.”
“Really?” she squealed.
“Now, let’s don’t get overly eager here, but it could be a viable lead. More than one resident over in that housing tract said they saw a taxi in their neighborhood this afternoon. They wouldn’t have thought it odd, except that it came twice—maybe three times.”
“Hmmm. A cab, huh?”
“Yes, and you said you think this guy was on your property earlier in the afternoon and again later when Rags went missing.”
“Maybe,” she said, “if it was the same guy.”
“Only thing is…” he said.
She held her breath. “What?”
“The cab they saw was blue, and there are no blue cabs anywhere around here.”
“Taxicab,” she muttered.
“What?” he asked.
“Well, something is niggling at me, but I’m just so tired I can’t think tonight. Listen, it’s late; if I remember what it is I’ll call you in the morning. Why don’t you get some sleep now, too.”
Craig hesitated, then said, “Okay, night-night.”
“What was that about?” Michael asked.
“Someone saw a blue cab in Karl’s tract this afternoon, and Craig tried to track the company for information—you know, in case the guy who took Rags used a cab. But he couldn’t find a blue cab company anywhere in the area.”
“So?” Michael said.
“So, another dang dead end, I guess.” She closed her eyes for a moment, “…only…”
“Only what?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’d better quit overtaxing my brain and try to get some sleep.” She asked, “Michael, will you pray with me before we go to bed?”
****
“The cab!” Savannah screeched during breakfast the next morning. She turned to Gladys. “Mom, you said the man wearing the beret took a cab that night from the theater.”
“Yes,” Gladys said. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s not actually important. I mean, people take cabs all the time in a city like San Francisco. But it’s kind of unusual up here in these small communities.”
“Yes, it is, but not unheard of,” Michael said.
Savannah continued eating, then muttered, “Blue. Mom,” she said, “was it a blue cab? Did that man in the beret leave in a blue taxicab?”
“Huh?” Gladys asked, confused. “Blue? I don’t know…I mean. Gosh, I don’t remember. Let me think about it. Why?”
“Well, the people over where Karl lives saw a blue cab in their neighborhood twice yesterday. Blue.”
“You think he took a cab from San Francisco?” Gladys’s eyes brightened. “Was he wearing a beret and a tweed jacket?”
“Not when I saw him,” Savannah said.
“What about a moustache?” Gladys asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see his face.”
“Sounds like you’re reaching for straws, hon,” Michael said gently.
“I’m turning over every leaf,” she spat. “That’s what you do in a criminal case. You have to think outside the box and consider all possibilities, even obscure ones.” She stood up and walked swiftly out the door.
When Michael heard her phone ring, he picked it up. “Hi, Craig. I don’t think Savannah heard her phone. Let me go get her. I think she went out to feed the horses.”
“Wait, Michael,” Craig said.
“Yeah?”
“How is she?”
“Worried, upset, distraught. You know how she feels about that cat,” Michael said.
“Yes, I do.”
“Any leads?”
“Not really,” Craig said.
Michael hesitated before saying, “Well Craig, I don’t know what it’s worth, but I heard about the cab that seemed suspicious in the tract behind us. Savannah remembered her mother telling her that the man at the theater—you know, the one Gladys said seemed to be so taken with Rags—he left the theater that night in a cab.”
“And it was blue!” Gladys called out.
“Just a minute, Craig,” Michael said. He asked Gladys, “You say the cab was blue? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I remember now thinking that it was the odd man out. There were two yellow cabs out front and this blue one. I don’t think I’d seen a blue one before. Yes, he got into the blue one—in the front seat.”
“Okay,” Michael said into the phone, “Gladys just remembered that the cab the man in the beret took was blue.”
After a moment of silence, Craig said, “So do you think he hired a cab from the city to come here and take the cat? Who would do that?”
“Well, I’m not sure we’re dealing with someone who’s in his right mind. Do you think he is, Craig?”
“Probably not,” the detective agreed. “Hey Michael, I have an idea. Would you give me Arthur’s number? I want to ask him a few questions.”
“Sure, Craig, whatever will help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do, will you?”
“I will. But thanks for this. It just might be the break we need to tie up some very loose ends.”
“You okay?” Michael asked when he joined Savannah out at the corrals minutes later.
“Yes. Just needed some fresh air.”
“Craig called. He’s following a lead. He said he’ll keep us informed.”
“Oh. Really?” she chirped. “Where? What sort of lead?”
“I think he wants to learn more about that guy your mom saw at the theater—the one wearing the beret.”
Frustrated, Savannah blew a puff of air through her lips. “Seems like a long shot. I mean, Michael, we have a possibility of four or five different people as potential suspects, all behaving suspiciously. How does that even make any sense? Craig might go off after one of them and waste valuable time. Meanwhile, the real catnapper could hide Rags away where we’ll never find him. They might even ship him to another country.”
“Now, Savannah.”
“Really, Michael,” she said, gaining energy. “I wonder if I could get Craig to put someone on each of those men who have acted suspiciously—the man in the uniform, the one in the beret, the skinny guy in tight jeans, the deliveryman, and maybe even the guy who lost his dog. They all need to be tailed and interrogated.”
****
Later that day Savannah’s phone rang. “Hi, Iris,” she greeted.
“Hi. Are the kids down for a nap?”
“Right on schedule,” Savannah said. “Why?”
“I thought maybe you could use a walk with a friend—you know, fresh air and an ear.”
“Oh, Iris, you’re so sweet, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, I don’t know. I was just going over my notes for the fundraiser. It’s day after tomorrow, you know.”
“Yes, and what is it you must do today?” Iris asked. “Is it something I can help with?”
“Well, it’s all last-minutes stuff, actually. Michael has Antonio and Juan coming over tomorrow afternoon to help, and a committee will be here first thing Saturday morning to set up.” Savannah thought for a moment, “Hey, Mom’s here. Yeah, let me check with her and see if I can sneak away for a bit.” When Savannah returned to the phone, she said, “Yes, Iris. A walk sounds nice.” Hesitantly, she asked, “Have you heard anything from Craig?”
“Not today,” Iris said. “Things have been quiet around here. He didn’t even come to the inn for lunch, and he eats lunch here a lot. He’s one of Mattie’s biggest foodie fans.”
Savannah chuckled. “What did she fix today?”
“I had leftover lasagna. She made that for dinner last night.”
“I heard,” Savannah said. “Craig was eager to get there for his lasagna dinner last night. If he knows there’s some left, he’ll probably stop in for another plate of it this afternoon.”
“Probably,” Iris said. “So, want to meet me here at the inn?”
“Okay,” Savannah agreed.
“You were right,” Iris said, greeting Savannah minutes later.
“About what?” Savannah asked.
“Craig came in for a plate of lasagna.”
Savannah chuckled.
“I think he wants to talk to you. Do you have time?” Iris asked.
“Yes.” Savannah said with some relief. “I’d like to touch base with him. Hi, Craig,” she said quietly as she and Iris joined him in the kitchen. “Sorry to disturb your favorite lunch. Iris said you want to talk to me.”
“Yeah.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and faced her. “How are you, kid?”
“Doing okay. Sure miss him. And I’m worried about what’s happening to him.”
“Well, don’t be,” Craig said.
She stood up straighter. “Why? Do you know something?”