Meow and Forever

by Patricia Fry

  “There’s W,” Rochelle said after they’d taken a long walk along the waterfront.

  “The next-to-last boat is missing,” Savannah said, pointing. “I wonder if he took it out.”

  Craig looked around. “Let’s see if we can find someone to ask.”

  “Okay, I’ll catch up with you,” Savannah said. “I’m going to try putting Glori in the backpack.”

  Before she had the cat settled, Craig and Rochelle returned.

  “Yup, it appears that the boat that’s missing belongs to a friend of the actor. The guy I talked to doesn’t know who took it out, but it could have been Virgil.”

  Savannah stared out into the harbor, tears forming in her eyes. “I wonder if Rags is with him.”

  Rochelle put her arms around Savannah. “He’s okay. That I know. Rags is okay.”

  Craig stared at Rochelle for a moment, then asked, “You gals hungry? Want to get lunch? We can eat right over there on the deck and watch for the boat to return.”

  While the three of them were eating their burgers and fries, they took the opportunity to ask their waitperson a few questions. What they learned surprised them.

  “That was a bombshell,” Craig said a little while later, wadding up his napkin and dropping it onto his empty plate. He stared across the table. “I’d like to find out who was on that boat when it burned last night.”

  “Me, too,” Savannah said weakly. “So, Craig, what will we do now?”

  Craig turned to Rochelle. “Do you sense or feel anything or whatever it is that you do?”

  She smiled coyly at Craig, closed her eyes for a moment, then said, “Rags is okay, and I don’t think he’s very far away.”

  Savannah grasped her friend’s arm. “You’re sure? He wasn’t on that boat when it burned?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Savannah, I’ve had a lot of things float and zip in and out of my consciousness since we’ve been sitting here. Some are stronger than others, and some are weaker. Based on what I know from similar things I’ve experienced in the past, Rags is okay. I believe that to my core. But where he is, I don’t know. So far, the zingers aren’t making any sense. They will in time, perhaps.”

  Just then, the waiter appeared next to Craig. He leaned over and said quietly, “He wasn’t on the boat that burned. He’s staying in one of the converted units over on the east wing, but I couldn’t find out which one. That will narrow it down somewhat for you,” the young man said.

  “Was anyone hurt?” Rochelle asked. “I mean in the boat fire?”

  The waiter shook his head. “Everyone was saved. No casualties. But the boat’s a total loss.”

  “Thank you,” Craig said, handing the young man a fifty. “Keep the change.”

  The waiter’s face lit up. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Let’s go,” Craig said. “He could be on the move. If we get separated, let’s meet back here.”

  The women nodded and followed after the detective, who could only hope he was on the trail of the person they thought had catnapped Rags.

  After wandering through alleyways surrounding what appeared to be warehouses and storage units with a random business operating here and there, Craig stopped and waited for the women to join him. He instructed, “Savannah, let the cat go on the leash. I want to see what she does.”

  “Glori?” Savannah questioned.

  “Yes, Glori. How many cats do you have with you?” he cranked.

  “Okay, but remember, she doesn’t have good hearing. Don’t expect her to use her hearing to find Rags.”

  Ignoring Savannah, Craig said, “Just put her on the ground. I want to see what she does. Watch her, now.” After a moment, he said, “Fish. I think she smells fish.”

  “I’m sure that every board and crevice in this entire wharf reeks of fish,” Rochelle said.

  “I hope that doesn’t impede her ability to find Rags’s scent,” Craig mumbled.

  Savannah flashed a quick look at Craig and chose to ignore him.

  “Okay, now where does she want to go?” Craig asked. “Just give her room to roam.”

  “I am,” Savannah snapped. “She’s sizing things up. She doesn’t know where she wants to go yet.”

  “She seems to be thinking about it, though, doesn’t she?” Rochelle noticed.

  Savannah nodded. “She sure does. Look at her. She’s so alert. What is it, baby cat?” she crooned. She felt a tug on the leash and quickly stepped out after the cat, who was practically running along the planks. Rochelle and Craig followed.

  “She’s slowing down,” Craig said. “Hey, what does she want to do now, Savannah?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s watch her,” she suggested.

  That’s when Glori stopped and jumped up with her paws against a window, as if she were trying to peer into the building.

  “That window’s covered with some sort of dark plastic material,” Savannah said. “We can’t see inside.”

  “Yeah, I hope they can’t see us out here,” Craig muttered. He looked around. “Where’s the door to that unit?”

  Rochelle walked to one side of the building, then the other. “There are two doors,” she reported. “Big one around there; smaller one here.”

  Craig pointed. “You girls knock on that door. I’ll stand outside the other one. If you spook him and he runs, I’ll nab him. If he opens the door and wants to talk to you, I’ll run around and get him from this side. We just don’t want to lose him.”

  “What if he runs out this way?” Savannah asked. “I mean before you get here?”

  “Trip him if you have to,” he said. “Now, go knock. Speak loudly when he answers, to let me know his demeanor and all.”

  “Okay,” Savannah said, leading Glori to the door.

  Rochelle followed. She grabbed Savannah’s arm and hissed, “This is the most excitement I’ve had all week.”

  Savannah grinned at her friend. Once they were in position at the door, Savannah grimaced, then knocked loudly. She waited, and knocked again. After knocking a third time, she heard a lock disengage and she stepped back and waited. She called out, “Oh good, he’s unlocking the door. Hello,” she said loudly.

  “What is it?” a man asked, opening the door just a couple of inches. “It’s not a fire or anything, is it? If not, leave me alone. I’m busy.”

  “But, sir,” Savannah said, stalling, “yes, someone spotted a fire, and we’re trying to get everyone out before it…um…”

  “…causes an explosion,” Rochelle continued.

  Craig, who was grinning and shaking his head at Savannah’s attempts, pushed past the women. When the man started to run, Craig grabbed him and turned him around. “Not so fast, there.” He told Savannah, “Close the door.” To the man he said, “Turn on a light. Do you have any lighting in this dungeon?”

  “Yeah, who are you? What do you want?” the man demanded. “I’ll leave. Just let me get a few things. You don’t have to manhandle me, for cripe’s sake. Is this how firemen evacuate people these days?”

  “Where’s the cat?” Craig growled, looking around. He lifted the black shade on the window.

  “Cat? What cat?” the man asked.

  Craig looked down at Glori. “The one this cat told us is in here,” he explained. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t have a cat, man.”

  Craig took a better look at the man in the light and said, “Do you have ID? Let me see your ID. What’s your name?”

  “Berkely Jones. And I don’t have a cat.” He picked up a wallet from a small table and handed Craig his driver’s license.

  Craig looked at it, then looked down again at Glori, who sat quietly with apparently no interest in following a scent. He asked, “Do you know an actor who calls himself Virgil?”

  “Sure, everyone knows Virgil. He stays down here sometimes. Is he the one you’re looking for? Hey, what did he do? He’s one weirded-out guy.”

  “Does he have a cat?” Craig asked.

  The man shrugged. “
I don’t know. I never saw him with one.”

  “Do you know where he is? We looked for him on a boat he’s supposed to be using.”

  “Oh yeah, someone took that boat out and it burned. No one got hurt, but poor Virgil; he lost a sweet deal. I think he slept on the boat sometimes.”

  “So when he isn’t living on the boat, where does he stay?” Craig asked.

  “Are you going to manhandle him too?” Mr. Jones asked, “’Cause if you are, I’m not sure I want to tell you where he is.”

  “Look,” Craig said, “he’ll get whatever’s coming to him and so will you if you don’t tell me where he stays; and I mean now!”

  “Okay, I’ll show you where he sometimes stays, but I can’t promise he’s there now. He could have gone back to the city for all I know.” He scowled at Craig, then said, “Follow me.” He glanced at Savannah and Rochelle, looked down at Glori, and said, “So, Virgil has a cat?”

  Craig nodded. “Yeah, he stole it.”

  “A cat? Why?”

  “Just show us where he stays and you can go back to your knitting.”

  This irked Mr. Jones and he spat, “I wasn’t knitting, man. I’m making a fishing net. I’m a master netmaker.”

  “Whatever,” Craig mumbled.

  “Hey, it’s a lost art. There aren’t many artists who craft nets by hand anymore.”

  “Uh-huh,” Craig said unimpressed.

  After walking together along a row of buildings, around a corner, and partway up the next alley, the man stopped and pointed. “That’s his space—number one-twelve. I don’t know if he’s there, but that’s his space. He uses it for storing the stuff he inherited from his mom, and stuff he collects. He put a bed in there for when he needs to get out of the city. Now can I go?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Craig grabbed his arm. “But remember, if this doesn’t pan out, I know where you live.”

  Mr. Jones tried to pull away. “Hey, I swear, that’s Virgil’s space. Now let me go.”

  Craig let go and the man ran off.

  “Okay,” Craig said, “same plan.” He stopped and looked at Glori. “Any reaction from her?”

  “Actually, yes,” Savannah said. “She started getting kind of excited when we turned the corner back there. She’s sniffing the air. Yeah, she could be smelling Rags’s scent if he’s been in this vicinity.”

  Craig watched the cat for a few moments, then said, “Let’s do it. You girls go to that door. I’ll be back here at this one.”

  This time when Savannah knocked on the door, a woman opened it right away and asked, “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, um…I’d like to see Virgil. Is he here?” Savannah asked.

  “No, not at the moment. May I say who’s calling?” The woman stooped. “Oh, look at this darling kitty-cat. Isn’t she a cute thing? A girl, am I right? Calicos are always girls.”

  Savannah nodded.

  “Let her go,” Craig whispered when he caught up to Savannah. “Let her go.”

  Savannah winced and dropped Glori’s leash, then said, “Oops, I’m sorry. She pulled the leash out of my hand.”

  “I’ll get her,” Craig said, pushing his way into the converted storage unit and past the woman who had answered the door. When she protested, Craig grabbed her and put her arms behind her.

  Savannah cupped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.

  Rochelle gasped

  “Get your cat,” Craig called, holding the struggling woman.

  Savannah glanced back at them before she walked behind a temporary wall and picked up the leash. “There’s a litter box in there,” she said when she returned with Glori. Savannah watched as the cat leaped up onto a small sofa, pawed at a blanket, and meowed.

  “So he’s been here, has he?” Craig muttered. He turned the woman around, snapped handcuffs on her wrists, and pulled off her wig, saying, “Hello, Virgil. Where’s the cat?”

  “What cat?” he said in his natural man’s voice.

  Savannah and Rochelle exchanged looks, and Rochelle pointed, “Oh, there’s his wardrobe. Look Savannah, didn’t you tell me he wore a tan uniform and,” she picked up a plaid beret, “what does your mom call these—a tam?”

  “You’ll probably find moustaches, beards, and makeup in the bathroom,” Craig suggested.

  “Hey, stay out of my stuff,” Virgil complained. “And you’d better let me go; they’re counting on me being at rehearsal in twenty minutes. It’s a very important rehearsal, you know.”

  “Hey,” Craig said, “we’re out of here and on our way the minute you give up the cat. Where’s the cat?”

  Virgil pointed at Glori. “There’s a cat.” To everyone’s surprise, he then raised his voice and began to chant, “A cat is a cat is a cat. No one can deny that. Just watch them chase a gnat or a rat and take the place where you sat, because a cat is a cat is a cat.”

  “Entertaining,” Craig said sarcastically. “You can perform for all the other prisoners when you get to the jailhouse, ’cause that’s where I’m taking you, Mr. Shakespeare—to jail, if you don’t turn over the cat.”

  “Well, I took him out on the boat,” Virgil whined.

  Savannah gasped. “Oh no! The boat that burned?”

  The actor stared at her. “Yeah, how’d you know?” Before she could answer, he said, “No, the cat wasn’t on it when it burned. I wouldn’t let anything happen to Skitters.”

  “Skitters?” Craig questioned.

  “My cat, Skitters. Yes.”

  “Where is Skitters?” Craig asked.

  “Why? Do you want to take him away? Someone’s always taking him away from me. Every time I find him, they take him away, so I have to keep him where no one can find him.”

  “Where’s that?” Craig asked. “Where is the cat?” When the man tightened his lips defiantly, Craig said, “Listen, I have all day and all night, but if you want to make that important rehearsal, you’d better tell us. We’re going to find him sooner or later. Later, you might just be in jail.”

  Virgil dropped his head. “He’s at the theater. He stays at the theater, mostly. We’re trying to get him ready for a very important part.” He spoke more excitedly, “Hey, maybe you’d be interested in this. He’s going to carry explosives. We’ve been getting him used to the vest…”

  Savannah and Rochelle made eye contact. Savannah whispered, “The corset.”

  “What?” Craig asked.

  “Rochelle saw Rags wearing a corset.”

  Craig frowned. “Oh. Okay, fella, get dressed, and you’re going to take us to the theater. Savannah, you and Rochelle take Glori and wait outside, will you?”

  Before complying, Savannah asked quietly, “Explosives? They aren’t real, are they?”“Naw,” Virgil said, “I wouldn’t let them use real explosives on Skitters.”

  ****

  Minutes later Craig helped Virgil into the front seat of the rental car and asked him to direct them to the theater.

  “Are you kidding?” Virgil cranked. “How am I supposed to give directions with my hands tied behind my back?”

  “Do your best,” Craig said.

  “Okay. Take a right here, go for about eight blocks, then take a left. I’ll tell you where.”

  “Virgil,” Savannah said from the backseat, “why did you take my cat?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t help that, dear lady. I simply fell in love with him when I saw him perform a few weeks ago. He is an exact replica of Skitters, my childhood cat. An absolute clone.” He turned to look at her. “Where did you get him?”

  “From a pet store in LA.”

  “That’s where I was living when we had Skitters. Mother got him from a coworker whose cat was always having kittens, and I kept him until I went off to the college of performing arts. He lived out the rest of his years with Mother. I can show you pictures of Skitters.”

  “I’d like that,” Savannah said. She continued, “So Virgil, you know what loving a cat is like. Why would you ever want to hurt another human being and another c
at by separating them like you did? Why?”

  The actor remained silent, then finally said, “I have no reasonable answer for my obsession, dear lady. But I am genuinely sorry if I harmed anyone, especially the cat.”

  “That doesn’t go very far toward making up for the pain and the expense, and who knows how this might damage my cat!” Savannah spat. “You are a selfish, self-centered, uncaring man!”

  “Not to mention criminal,” Craig added.

  “Ahhh, you aren’t turning me in, are you? Usually I’m not arrested…”

  “You’ve done this before?” Rochelle asked.

  He responded smugly. “A few times.”

  “What do you think, Savannah,” Craig asked, “do you want to press charges?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “You hit a friend over the head, you upset my entire household, you scared me when you came snooping around my house, and you brazenly catnapped my cat!”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “I guess I have tampered with the law a bit, but is this really a criminal offense? Really?” he pleaded.

  “Have you ever spent time in jail?” Craig asked.

  “No,” Virgil said as if boasting. “Not a day. Not a minute. I have a way of talking my way out of sticky situations. I’m an actor, you know—quite a very good one.” He pointed. “Turn here.”

  Minutes later, Craig parked outside a large theater.

  “Gosh, this is impressive,” Savannah said. “Lots bigger than the theater where Rags and I performed.”

  Virgil faced Savannah. “Speaking of that awful name—Rags…”

  “It’s actually Ragsdale,” Savannah said. “Not as silly as Skitters.”

  “You have a point there,” Virgil said. “Yes, I guess Ragsdale is a proper moniker for your cat, but Raaags,” he gagged.

  “Let’s go,” Craig said, slipping out of the car and walking around to the passenger door.

  “You’re not going to walk in with me wearing these things, are you?” Virgil complained. “Uh…no, I guess not. But don’t try anything. I have backup officers on the way. Mrs. Ivey has decided to issue a complaint; it’s out of my hands now. However, I have to say I’d do the very same thing. I would have you arrested in a nanosecond.”