Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 03 - Sleight of Paw

by Patricia Fry

  “In the back,” Gonzalez said, himself somewhat perplexed by his partner’s actions.

  “Is there a back entrance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, let’s go around back.”

  “Sledge, what are you doing?” Gonzalez asked in a hushed tone.

  “You’ll see, Gonzalez. Just stay with me here. In just a minute, you’ll see this guy’s true colors.”

  “Lock the door,” Craig instructed his partner once the trio was inside the restroom. He cuffed Gus and then stood back and looked intently at him.

  Craig couldn’t help but notice beads of sweat running down Gus’s ruddy face and disappearing into his thick black moustache. “What do ya want, man?” he asked. “What are ya gonna do? I’ll have your badge, you try anything funny with me, you pervert.”

  Sledge reached over and began handling the lightweight, brown tweed shirt-jacket Gus wore. He examined it from top to bottom. Finally he found what he was looking for. “Ah, Gus, it appears that your dress suit here has a tear in it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the swatch Savannah had given him several days before and fingered it so that Gus could see it.

  Gus’s eyes grew large. “What’s that, man? What do you want with me?”

  “I want you to turn around and face Gonzalez, there.”

  Gus didn’t budge, so Sledge took his right arm and swiveled him around. He held the swatch next to the hole near the bottom of the loose-fitting jacket and said, “Bingo. Do you see this here, Gonzalez? Perfect match, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah,” Ramon Gonzalez said, not quite understanding the significance of the discovery.

  Sledge reached over and took the cuffs off Gus. “Now pull down your pants,” Sledge ordered.

  “No!” Gus shouted. “No! I’m not gonna let you…”

  “Let me what? Get your mind out of the gutter. I just want to look at something.”

  “Don’t you need a warrant?”

  “No, but you’ll need a feeding tube if you don’t do as I say.”

  “Okay man, okay.” Gus unfastened his baggy slacks and looked at Craig.

  “Drop ‘em.” And if it will make you feel any better, I want you to leave your shorts on—if you’re wearin’ shorts.” He raised his voice, “Just drop your pants.”

  Gus complied and Sledge put the cuffs back on him, his hands behind his back. Craig then squatted down and looked at the back of Gus’s right thigh. “Oh, Gus, what happened here?” he asked as if he was actually concerned.

  “Uh, what do you mean?”

  “I see a gnarly scratch—looks like you got a pretty good gouge here, maybe a week ago. Looks a little infected.” He stood and turned Gus around so he could look him in the eye. “So what happened? Were you hopping over a barbed-wire fence or something?”

  “Yeah,” Gus said, sweat pouring out of his forehead. “Uh, yeah. I got caught on a damn fence…when I was out in the country…fishin’. Yeah, that’s it, I was fishin’ and had to climb over a fence.”

  “Well, it looks to me more like…” he got in Gus’s face and continued, “a cat scratch. Don’t you think so, Gonzalez?”

  Gus started yelling. “No man. There was no cat. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “Well, how is it that the cat had this piece right out of your jacket there? And the piece is missing from right where this scratch is?”

  “This aint’ my shirt, man. I borrowed it from a homeless guy.”

  “Ramirez, pull your pants up.” He uncuffed him so he could comply and then quickly cuffed him again. “Okay, let’s go.”

  ***

  “Sorry for calling so late, Michael. Just thought you’d like to know, I have someone in jail for the murder of Pete Gamble.”

  “That’s great news. It’s never too late to hear good news. Wake me up anytime you can tell me something like this.” He then paused. “Who is it? Anyone we know?” He looked over at Savannah, who had propped herself up on one elbow on her pillow.

  “I doubt it. Name’s Gus Ramirez. Not sure if or how Alyce fits in, yet, but I imagine it has to do with a drug deal gone bad. We’ll know more in time. Right now, I’m headed out to the cabin to join Iris and the boys. Oh, by the way, Michael, would you tell Savannah that it was her cat that solved the case?”

  “How’s that?” Michael asked, a puzzled look on his face.

  “Just tell her he left his mark on the guy, that’s all.”

  “Sure will. Have a good night. And drive carefully. It’s pouring out there.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m almost to the turn-off to the cabin. I’ll probably lose power on my phone soon. Good night, Michael.”

  ***

  The headlines in the Wednesday evening paper read, “Arrest Made In Pete Gamble Murder.” The story went on to say that the authorities believe there will be more arrests and they aren’t sure if they have the ring leader or not.

  “So Rags saved the day again, huh?” Margaret smiled while staring over at the big cat. “Just look at how nonchalant he is about his part in the investigation. I’m telling you, he ought to be in a movie or at least on a talk show.”

  “What’s he going to say?” Savannah laughed.

  “Oh, they’ll get an interpreter—a cat whisperer—to interview him.”

  “Funny, Auntie.” Savannah thought for a moment, then said, “It really is pretty remarkable how much help he has been to the sheriff’s department since we came here. He ought to be their mascot.”

  Margaret giggled. “If they could only see him now, all stretched out there on his back looking like some sort of lawn ornament. They’d think twice about choosing him as their mascot.”

  “Stop it! He’s cute!” Savannah said.

  “Is that what you call it?” Margaret glanced toward the doorway to the kitchen where the two ladies sat visiting. “Now there’s cute—look at that beautiful cat. Come here, Buffy.”

  “That’s because she reminds you so much of Layla—your beautiful faux Persian.”

  “That she does,” Margaret said, picking up the fluffy little cat and helping her get settled in her lap.

  Suddenly, Lexie, who had been asleep near the side kitchen door on her bed, lifted her head and pricked up her ears.

  “Michael must be home,” Savannah said, peering toward the living room.

  Lexie stood up, shook her whole body, and then trotted off to greet her master.

  “Hi ladies,” he said when he walked in. He bent down and kissed Savannah on the lips and patted Margaret on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  “Just talking shop,” Margaret said.

  Savannah turned toward her husband, “Oh Michael, did you ever hear from Alyce?”

  “No. I think she has quit. I had Scarlett arrange to have the locks at the clinic changed and I brought home the employment applications we accumulated before Alyce came on the scene. We can go over them together, maybe tonight.”

  “Okay. Now, honey, sit down and eat; Craig’s coming over in thirty minutes. Says he has some news.”

  “Gosh, what could be better than having the murderer locked up? That’s the news I was most interested in.”

  Savannah stood and walked over to the stove. “He says they have motive and he wants to share it with us before it hits the papers.”

  “What’s for supper?” Michael asked, while straining to see what Savannah was dishing up.

  “Auntie brought over some of Max’s veggie pasta. We already had a bowl. Would you like some wine with it?”

  “Mmmm, looks good.” He glanced over at Margaret. “Tell Max thank you.” He thought for a moment and then said, “Yeah, I’ll have some of that fancy wine in one of your…our…fancy glasses,” he winked at Margaret.

  “I’m glad to see that you use them, Vannie.” Margaret smiled.

  “I sure do. I love them. They were the best wedding gift ever.”

  “How many have your broken?”

  “None,” Savannah responded indig
nantly, as she poured some sparkling cider into her empty glass. “Want more Gewürztraminer?” she asked her aunt.

  “Sure. Why are you drinking that kids’ stuff?” she asked.

  “Just limiting my alcohol intake, that’s all. One small glass of wine once in a while is enough for me.”

  “Humph, you’re no fun.”

  “Oh yes she is,” Michael countered while rushing to swallow a mouthful of veggie pasta.

  Savannah smiled adoringly at her handsome husband.

  Knock, knock

  “Oh, it must be Craig. I’ll get it,” Savannah said jumping up from her chair and walking into the living room. “Hi Craig,” Savannah said, giving him a one-armed hug around the neck.

  “Hi. How’s everything with you this week?”

  “Pretty good. Is Iris back from the cabin?” she asked.

  “Yes and Damon’s back in the cell, under guard. All is as it should be at the moment, I guess.”

  “But you’ve been working pretty hard, from the sounds of it,” Savannah said, leading the detective into the kitchen.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re being quoted all over the paper and on the radio,” she explained.

  “Yeah, not my favorite thing to do,” he said. “But it goes with the territory.”

  Craig entered the kitchen behind Savannah. He waved at Michael and then patted Margaret on one shoulder as he walked to an empty chair at the kitchen table.

  “Want some veggie pasta?” Savannah offered. “Max made it.”

  “Ooooh, sounds tempting. But Iris and I have plans this evening. We’re actually going out to eat somewhere other than the diner.”

  “Cool. How about a glass of wine or a cup of coffee?”

  Craig looked at the bottle sitting on the counter and then over at the coffee pot and said, “Better make it coffee. I’m driving tonight.”

  “So what’s up?” Michael asked as he wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin into the empty bowl in front of him. “Savannah said you have more news.”

  He looked straight on at Michael and said, “Alyce and Pete Gamble were lovers.”

  Savannah, who had picked up Michael’s bowl and set it in the sink, whirled around. “What? Oh my gosh, that’s too weird.”

  Margaret and Michael sat stunned, eager to hear more.

  “They have children together. He treated her pretty badly; there was so much chaos that the kids were taken away from both of them. The kids live with Alyce’s mother somewhere south of here. According to his rap sheet, there was lots of domestic violence and, from what I hear, only some of it was reported.”

  “Domestic violence? That doesn’t surprise me. Pete was a dark man,” Margaret said.

  “Well, according to the guy we’re holding, Gus Ramirez, Alyce sought solace in a friend of Pete’s—a guy known as the Weasel. And it was the two of them who plotted Pete’s murder. They’d wanted to do it for a long time and when he assaulted you two, they saw this as an opportunity to do the deed and frame you.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Michael said. He stood and began pacing.

  “Ramirez says it was Alyce’s idea to take your dog. She figured the more reason you had to hate Pete, the more likely it was you’d be considered a suspect in his killing. As for the keys, she had given them to the Weasel and he must have dropped them as they were making their getaway the night they killed Gamble. They saw a light go on in your rental and left in a hurry without locking the clinic door.”

  Michael stopped near the pantry and stared across the room. “Yes, certain times of the year—in certain weather—that door is hard to close. It will pop back open if you don’t lock it. Been meaning to fix that.” He looked over at Craig. “So was he killed right there at the clinic?”

  “Yeah, did my cat witness another murder?” Savannah asked.

  “No. Gus said they waited for Pete out in the parking lot of his store and jumped him with a stun gun. They tied him up and hauled him out to a field near the old dump. They stabbed him there—well, Ramirez says it was the Weasel who did the killing. He says the only reason he was involved was to give the Weasel a hand in snatching and then moving Pete’s rather heavy body. That’s what he got paid to do.” He chuckled. “I imagine you two paid his fee.”

  “What?” Michael said as he walked over to his chair and sat down, his eyes fixed on Craig.

  “Well, it appears that Alyce was the only one working, so she was probably paying him out of the salary you paid her,” he said with a grin.

  “Holy cow,” Margaret said. “Sounds like something I’d see on one of my detective programs, not that would happen right here in our town.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Savannah agreed.

  “Oh, Ramirez claims he has a video on his phone of the Weasel doing the killing.”

  Michael poured himself another glass of wine. “Sheeesh. That’s sick.” He turned toward Craig. “Have you seen it, yet?”

  “Naw. It’s in the evidence room. Someone will check it out.”

  “Is Alyce in jail?” Savannah asked. “She didn’t show up for work yesterday or today.”

  “She could be by now. They were supposed to pick her up this afternoon.”

  “So what did you find out about the murder weapon?” Michael asked.

  “Just as we thought. According to our snitch, Alyce had the engraving done, the Weasel used it and another knife to do the job, and Gus snuck up to your property and tossed the engraved one out his car window, hoping the authorities would find it. Which they did. The other knife hasn’t shown up. Gus thinks it’s still out in that field. If so, we’ll find it.”

  “That poor sucker,” Michael said quietly.

  “After all these people tried to do to you, the only thing you can think about is poor Pete?” Savannah said. “Michael, you really are something special.”

  “Well, it would be pretty awful, don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” she agreed. She then turned her attention toward Craig. “Thank you so much for letting us know about this, Craig. You can bet that we’ll have a better night’s sleep tonight than we have had in…well, a couple of weeks.”

  “Me too,” Craig said with a wink. “I’ve been pulling for you guys all along and it feels good to get to the bottom of it. I’ll be able to relax once everyone’s in jail and have been convicted.”

  Michael shot a piercing look at Craig. “You mean those two aren’t in jail yet?”

  Well, let me check—Craig pulled his cell out of his pocket and made a call. When he finished, he said, “It’s a done deal. They were picked up in her car just outside the city limits. Looks like they were running. There were suitcases in the trunk. They found a nice supply of drugs in the car, too.” He smiled. “So that’s more drugs and druggies off the streets.”

  “How many did you round up in your operation this week, Craig?” Savannah asked.

  “Looks like around a dozen, maybe more, where the charges will stick. The courts are going to be busy this month,” he said with a chuckle. “And Damon is pleased as punch to know that the streets are a little cleaner and safer for his younger brothers. He may be released early. Did you know that?”

  “I heard that,” Savannah said. She then looked concerned. “Do you think he’s ready?”

  Craig thought about it for a moment and said, “With the support that kid has now and his good taste of positive sobriety…well, positive in some ways—jail ain’t such a positive thing—I think he’ll be okay. He’s talking about starting fresh somewhere else. It’s always a bad deal for a newly sobered guy to come back to where all of his drug connections are. Damon knows that and is thinking about moving down toward the bay area and getting’ a job as a cook while taking online journalism courses and doing some freelancing. He’s working on a novel for young adults.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Bad news again, Michael.”

  “What, honey?” he asked, yawning and stretching as Savannah climbed into bed and cuddled next to h
im.

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Oh, bummer. But it will happen. We’ve only been trying what, for three months?”

  “Yes. I guess it’s time to see a doctor—to see if either of us has a problem. What do you say?”

  ***

  “Well, I like the doctor’s recommendation, don’t you?” Michael asked as they left the obstetrician’s office, an impish smile on his face.

  “What?” Savannah asked.

  “Keep trying,” he said, laughing.

  “Yes. Best prescription I ever got,” she said. “But he also wants us to go on a fertility diet. Oysters for you and lots of good healthy, whole foods for both of us. I guess it’s as good a time as any to give up alcohol and coffee. It hadn’t occurred to me to do that before getting pregnant.”

  “Like you drink a lot of alcohol and coffee…”

  “Well, I do enjoy my glass of Gwurztereener in Auntie’s pretty wine glasses,” she said, purposely hacking the word. “And my one or two cups of coffee per day—I’ll miss that.”

  “Well, you don’t have to give up using the pretty glasses, honey. We’ll just fill them with herbal tea or lemonade.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Oysters, huh?” he said, making a face. “Never been a big fan.” He smiled. “But I’d eat grasshoppers if it meant we could have a child.”

  ***

  It was early December, nearly six months after Savannah and Michael had decided to have a baby.

  “Maybe we’re trying too hard, Michael.”

  He rolled over toward her in bed. “What?”

  “I’ve been reading that sometimes when a couple adopts or they get otherwise less focused on having a baby, they get pregnant.”

  “Hmmm, I’m sorry, Savannah. I can’t imagine even pretending not to be interested in loving you.”

  “Well, you don’t have to do that, silly. But maybe we should stop wanting a baby so much and just get more interested in something outside of ourselves.”

  Michael thought about it for a while, then said, “You know, the other day you mentioned having your sister come to stay while she’s on break from medical school. Maybe it would do you good to take some time off work and just do girlie things with Brianna and Maggie and maybe Iris for a week.”