Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 03 - Sleight of Paw

by Patricia Fry

  “So what does Damon think about all this?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t know if they’ve told him yet. It doesn’t sound like Craig got a chance to see him today, after all.”

  Michael suddenly reached for his cell phone, looked down at it and said, “It’s Craig.”

  “Hello, Craig. How’s Brett?”

  “Doing okay, we think. It was a rough go.”

  “So I heard. How’s Iris?”

  “She’s an amazing woman, Michael. She’s doing great.” He then changed his tone and said, “Say, Michael, we were wondering if we could come by this evening—Iris and I.

  She has something for you and…” Craig hesitated, “…so do I.”

  “Sure, we’d like to see you. Come by anytime. Wait,” Michael said, “Savannah is motioning to me. He spoke into the phone again, “Craig, Savannah has made some Texas hash and wonders if you two…and Chris…would like to come for dinner. We’ll eat in about an hour.”

  “Texas hash?” Craig said with enthusiasm. “My favorite. Let me ask Iris.” He returned to the phone and said, “Sounds great. We’ll see you in an hour. Oh, and it’ll just be me and Iris. Chris has homework and leftover pizza to munch on.”

  Iris and Craig arrived at six sharp. They stepped into the house when Michael opened the door. “Hi Lexie,” Iris said, bending down and ruffling the dog’s long Afghan fur. “You’re such a pretty girl.” She then looked around the room. “Where’s my Buffy?”

  “Oh, probably in a hidey-hole somewhere. But you know she’ll come out to see you before the evening’s out.”

  “I love that little cat.” Iris smiled.

  “And she loves a warm lap,” Michael said.

  Savannah strolled into the room. “Hi everyone.” She hugged Iris and then Craig.

  “Love your lounging outfit,” Iris said. “That color is so good on you.” Then she said, “What am I saying? I haven’t seen a color yet that doesn’t look good on you.” She scrutinized Savannah for a moment before saying, “Except maybe a bright-yellow.”

  “Well I’ll stay away from yellow, then,” she said with a smile. “What colors do you avoid, Iris?” she asked while gazing over at her friend’s smart ensemble—plum designer jeans, a fine-knit, cream-and-plum print sweater and, of course, matching platform heels.

  Iris thought about it for a moment and said with a laugh, “I don’t think that color’s been invented, yet.”

  “How’s he doing, Iris?” Savannah asked, hesitantly.

  “They said he has a lot of sleeping to do, yet—so we left him to it.” She smiled and clasped her hands together under her chin. “He’s going to be okay. I’ll go back early tomorrow and, hopefully, bring him home sometime later in the day.” She reached out and touched Savannah’s arm—looked over at Michael, “Thank you both for caring and for letting us hang out with you tonight.”

  “And for making Texas hash,” Craig said, winking over at Savannah.

  Later in the evening, while Savannah and Iris cleared the kitchen table, the two men retired to the living room. “Michael, I didn’t want to bring it up at dinner because I’m sure that you two are up to your eyeballs in this thing. But I spoke with the kid who did the engraving on that knife. Sure does sound like our girl, Alyce, was the one using the alias Marjory Madison. I got the signature from the engraving company and our handwriting experts compared it with the sample you gave me. Looks like a match.”

  “So what does this mean?” Michael asked.

  “Not sure yet. We are working on her connections—finding out just who she is and what her part is in this whole thing.”

  “Who wants coffee?” Iris asked as she entered the room carrying a cup and saucer in each hand. Savannah was right behind her.

  “Iris, don’t you ever get tired of serving coffee?” Michael chuckled.

  “Not when there are tips involved,” she quipped.

  “Well, here’s a tip,” Michael said with a smile, “don’t bet on the horses.”

  “Yikes,” Savannah said. “Peaches. Did you feed her, Michael?”

  “Yes, I did,” he said, a smug look on his face.

  “Oh thanks. I forgot all about her. Poor mare. I hope to be able to ride this weekend. I think I’m healed enough if I don’t do too much posting.” Savannah set down two cups of coffee and went back into the kitchen. She returned with a tray holding a sugar bowl, cream pitcher, napkins, and teaspoons.

  Once everyone was settled, Iris held up a gift bag and handed it to Michael. “Happy late birthday, boss, friend, all-around good guy.”

  “Well thank you, Iris,” Michael said sincerely. “How nice of you. Now what could this be?” He reached into the bag while smiling over at Iris. He lifted something wrapped in striped tissue and began tearing into the paper. “Feels like a book.”

  Everyone sat silently, watching Michael.

  When he got the wrapping off, he looked down at the object and said, “Well, how cool is this? Iris, where did you find it?”

  “Online, of course,” she said.

  “What is it, Michael?” Savannah asked. She was sitting on the sofa, her legs folded under her. Rags was lying up against her, watching everyone.

  Michael held the gift up for her to see. “It’s an all-Afghan calendar.” He turned to Lexie, who was hovering nearby. “Look, girl, here are some of your relatives.” He addressed Iris and Craig, “This is great, guys. Thanks a lot.” He thumbed through it. “Here’s one that looks a lot like her.”

  “Oh, here she comes,” Iris said with a smile. She leaned over toward the floor. “Come on Buffy. Come see Aunt Iris.”

  From across the room, the little cat looked up at Iris with big blue eyes. She sat down and began licking her fur. She then looked up at Iris again and walked toward her, jumping into her lap and curling up. “You are such a cutie, Buffy,” she said while petting the long-haired beauty. She looked over at Savannah and said, “Now if I ever decide I want a cat…”

  “Don’t get any ideas. You can’t have that one.” Savannah became contemplative and said, “You know, I’m awfully sorry that Mrs. Armstrong died, but I am so happy that the family gave Buffy to us.”

  “Well, Michael used to have her more than old Mrs. Armstrong did, didn’t you, Michael?”

  “Yeah, she boarded with me pretty often. She’s a good girl, aren’t you, Buffy?” he said smiling over at the cat.

  “And Rags really loves her,” Savannah said. “They sure seem devoted to one another.”

  “That’s because Lexie and Walter have eyes only for each other,” Michael said.

  Everyone watched the animals for a while—and when each cat and dog seemed to have found their comfort zones and settled down, Michael asked, “So Brett can come home tomorrow?”

  “Yes, we think so,” Iris said. “That was a close call and a wakeup call for him.”

  Michael shifted in his seat. “I didn’t know he was doing drugs, Iris.”

  “I really don’t think he was,” Craig said. “I believe that someone may have talked him into trying something at this party or he got it accidently and the stuff these kids got hold of was bad. Some of the other kids were pretty sick, but it didn’t affect them as seriously as it did Brett.” Craig cleared his throat and leaned forward. “You know, I saw Damon late today. He already knew about Brett and was furious.”

  “How did he know?” Savannah asked.

  “Word gets around in these joints,” Craig said. “He thinks he knows who sold the kids the stuff and he gave me some names.” He set his coffee cup on the table next to him. “You may be surprised to know that one of the names that came up was Pete Gamble.”

  “Really?” Michael said frowning. “He was involved in the drug scene?”

  “Yes, I guess in a pretty major way.”

  “How does someone who is involved in drugs run a fairly successful, legitimate business?” Michael asked.

  “Well, Pete inherited the business from an uncle. And I don’t think it has been
all that successful in recent years. Besides, drug lords like having legitimate businesses to hide behind.”

  “He was a drug lord?” Savannah asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “That might be a bit of an exaggeration,” Craig said. “But it seems he was doing a lot of distribution.” He paused. “Damon gave me several other names, too. He seems to think that some of these punks could be after him and they purposely sold or gave Brett and his friends bad stuff. Damon thinks he knows who it was. But if we start approaching these two-bit dealers, this could put Damon in danger.”

  “Even while he’s in prison?” Savannah asked.

  “Maybe even more so in prison,” he responded.

  “Craig is going to take him to a safe place before he starts investigating,” Iris said.

  Michael cocked his head in Craig’s direction. “Out of jail? You can do that?”

  “Yes, he’s up for a furlough and is eligible for early release, anyway. Since he’ll be under my supervision, my request was granted. I have a cabin in the mountains. I’m taking him up there for a few days or a week while we see if we can clean up the streets of Hammond once and for all.”

  “Once and for all?” Michael said with a chuckle. “That sounds like a pipedream to me.”

  “Well, yeah. It is wishful thinking and somewhat unrealistic. But we can certainly put a dent in their penny-ante operations; that’s for sure.”

  “And save innocent kids from what Brett’s going through,” Iris said, dabbing at her eyes. She sat up straight and said with a slight smile, “By the way, Dr. Mike, I won’t be in to clean this week, if that’s okay.”

  “Why?” Michael asked.

  Her smile widened. “The boys and I are going to the cabin to be with Damon. Craig will be coming back and forth.”

  “Oh, no problem, Iris.”

  Savannah addressed her friend with a smile. “Hey, that sounds great, Iris. I’ll bet you’re looking forward to that.”

  “Sure am,” she said, her face aglow with joy.

  “More coffee anyone?” Savannah asked as she stood to clear away the plates.

  “No. None for me. Thanks,” Craig said. And then he asked, “Uh Michael, how’s Alyce doing this week?”

  “Interesting you should ask. We were talking earlier this evening about her. The first week she was with us, she seemed fine. But there’s something missing this week. I think we’ll actually have a legitimate reason to let her go.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Not sure what’s going on with her. It’s like she’s preoccupied. Kind of jumpy, actually, don’t you think, Savannah?”

  “Yes. Yesterday, she had just come in after taking a cigarette break. I asked her to prepare a pen for a new boarder and she just looked at me kind of blank, like she didn’t understand a word I was saying.”

  “Hmmm, you might have a druggie on your hands there,” Craig said.

  Savannah scrunched up her face. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. And you heard about Rags’s reaction to her, didn’t you? He freaked out when she came into the room where he was.”

  “Yeah, that was odd.” Craig leaned forward in his chair. “Well, as it turns out, Damon knows her. He was surprised to learn that she was working for you. Said she usually works in sleazy bars as a cocktail waitress and she sometimes dances at strip clubs. He said he has never known her to have a regular job.”

  “Well, that’s interesting. Maybe she’s turning over a new leaf…or trying to,” Michael said.

  Savannah laughed. “Ever positive, as Auntie Marg says.”

  Craig looked askance at Michael. “I don’t think so. But I guess anything’s possible.”

  ***

  The headlines in Tuesday evening’s paper blared: “Raid Results In Arrests.”

  “Did you see this?” Michael asked when Savannah walked through the door of their home.

  “Yes, I stopped by to see Auntie; and Max showed it to me. I guess Craig’s operation was successful.”

  “Says they arrested a dozen people on all variety of charges,” Michael said. And then he motioned to her. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

  “What?” Savannah asked as she zipped up her purse, set it down and walked over to the sofa where Michael sat.

  “Here, look at this guy.”

  “Well, I can’t see much of him. What about him?” she asked. “Is it someone you know?”

  “Oh, I think he may have paid us a visit at some point—but no, we don’t know him. At least, I hope not.”

  “You’re talking in riddles, Michael.”

  “Look at what he’s wearing, Savannah.”

  “Ohhhhhh. Could it be? Oh my gosh, Michael. It looks like the same fabric as the swatch Rags had at the clinic that night. We’d better call Craig.”

  “Wait—let’s look at the online newspaper. Maybe we can bring it closer and see the fabric better. Do you remember what it looked like?”

  “I sure do. Exactly.”

  Once Michael brought the photograph up on the computer, Savannah stared into the monitor. “Yes, that’s it, Michael—I can see it clearly. That’s the fabric from Rags’s swatch. I’m calling Craig right now.”

  “What did he say?” Michael asked when Savannah had hung up the phone.

  “He seemed glad for the reminder. In fact, he was a little excited about it. I guess he’d forgotten about the fabric.”

  ***

  “I want to talk to one of the men we picked up last night,” Craig Sledge told the sergeant in charge of the jail.

  “Which one, Detective?”

  “Gus Ramirez.”

  The sergeant looked down at a list. “Oh, we just let him go. He had a public defender and made bail.”

  “Crap!”

  “Why do you want him?”

  Craig looked over at him and said, “Well, someone let a cat out of a bag and I want to talk to him about it.”

  “Huh?” the sergeant cocked his head slightly and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Just don’t rent out his cell to anyone else. He may be needin’ it.” With that, Craig turned on his heels and walked back to his office. “Gonzalez, let’s go. We have a possible perp to nab.”

  After driving around for an hour in the area where they’d originally picked up the man named Gus Ramirez, Ramon Gonzalez said, “Sledge, we’ve been past this block eight times. He’s not here.”

  “Well, he could be in the club or the tat parlor. Let’s go see if we can find him there.” They parked and walked into Clive’s Tattoos. “Have you seen Gus tonight?”

  “Nope,” the tattoo artist said without looking up.

  “Are you sure?” Craig said pulling the plug on the tattoo gun he was using.

  “Yeah, man, I’m sure. Now quit interferin’ with my business, man.”

  “Do you know where he might be this time of night?”

  “Don’t know—he’ll probably be at the club later.”

  Once outside, Gonzalez said, “Sledge, why don’t we go get dinner and then do a stake-out. No one goes to the clubs before nine.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I’m just eager to take a good look at this guy.”

  “Where do you want to eat? Your favorite place?”

  Craig looked confused for a moment and then said, “Oh, the diner? Naw, she ain’t workin’ tonight.”

  “You sure are sweet on that gal, aren’t you?”

  “She’s a great gal.” Craig didn’t want to tell his partner that he had Damon at his cabin and Iris and the boys were out there waiting for him. Looks like I won’t return until late tonight, he thought. I’d better call. “Iris, how is everything?”

  “Good. We’re having a nice time getting reacquainted. When will you be here?”

  “I’m on a hot trail, so it may be late.”

  “They’re expecting rain tonight. Drive carefully, will you, ya big lug?”

  “Sure, anything for you. Do you need me to bring anything tonight?”

  “Just you,” she said. Then her ton
e accelerated, “Hey the boys went fishing today. We’re cooking up some trout for dinner. Craig, you should have seen what fun they had out there on the river together. I don’t know how many times I cried from pure joy today. Thank you for giving me this wonderful gift,” she said while looking at the three boys, who were in the kitchen cleaning their fish and trying to freak each other out with fish parts.” She smiled. “We’ll be here when you get here. Good luck with your…hot trail.”

  Chapter Nine

  A couple of hours later, Craig and Ramon Gonzalez parked across the street from Club Macho, watching for Gus Ramirez. “Is that him?” Gonzalez asked, looking from the man he saw on the street to the mug shot in his hand.

  “That’s him,” Craig said, “and he’s wearin’ just the right attire.”

  “What?”

  “Just hang tough. You’ll find out in a few minutes. Let’s go get him.”

  “Gus Ramirez?” Craig asked as he approached the man standing outside Club Macho.

  The thickset Hispanic man spun around, dropped the joint he was smoking, and said, “Yeah, who wants to know?”

  “Detective Sledge,” Craig said, flashing his badge. “This is Sergeant Gonzalez. We want to ask you a few questions.”

  “About what, man? I paid my bail.”

  To Gonzalez’s surprise, Craig reached over and began rubbing the fabric of Ramirez’s lapel between his thumb and fingers.

  “What do you want?” Gus said, slapping at the detective’s hand and taking a step back.

  “Just settle down, Gus,” Sledge said. “I want to check you out.” He looked the man up and down with a wide smile on his face and said, “Yep, you look mighty fine tonight. Just the way I hoped to find you.” He thought for a moment and then said, “Let’s go in the restroom, shall we?”

  “What? Are you some sort of pervert? No, I’m not going in any john with you guys.” He looked from one to the other and began backing away.

  Craig reached out, grabbed the man, and bent one arm behind him. Pushing him along in front of him, he asked, “Where’s the bathroom in this place?”