by Patricia Fry
"You know, that's just plain odd that he doesn't have cats in the house anymore," Savannah said. "I can totally understand being overwhelmed by too many cats, but... " she started.
Margaret swiped her napkin across her mouth. "Especially if they're high-maintenance cats like yours."
Savannah crinkled her nose up at her aunt before finishing her line of thought. "You'd think he'd keep one or two of them. He seems to like cats."
Rob cleared his throat. "That's the nature of Charles Peyton. He's either 100-percent in or 100-percent out. There's no middle ground with him. He invests in and supports many cat-related programs and he seems to like having cats visit." He turned toward Margaret and then glanced back at Savannah. "Hey, you ladies should tell him about your cat group—what's it called?"
Margaret responded: "The Hammond Cat Alliance."
"He might be interested in helping fund some of your projects."
"Good idea," Margaret said. She was silent for a few moments and then she spoke quietly. "Do you know what else runs around out here besides feral cats?"
"What do you mean?" Rob asked. "I suppose wild animals live out there in the brush and trees—raccoons, squirrels, snakes... "
"Bears?" she asked.
Rob frowned. "I don't know about that, why?"
"Well, I looked out the window last night and thought I saw something. It could have been a bear carrying another animal."
"Like what?" Savannah asked.
"A spider monkey, maybe. I don't know. It was dark and a little foggy. I just saw the outline of something walking along on its hind feet carrying something."
"A bear, Maggie?" Max questioned.
"Well, it was hard to tell; it was sort of lumbering along outside my window. Bears lumber, don't they?"
"Uh-huh, but not normally on two feet," Max said.
Rob looked skeptically at Margaret. "Where would a bear get a spider monkey, anyway? Maybe it was a bear cub."
"No. It was shaped differently than a bear cub. It was more like I said, a small monkey or fox." Her voice became accelerated. "... maybe a weasel. It could have been a weasel."
"Oh Auntie, you're too much," Savannah said. "Talk about imagination!"
Max smirked lovingly at Margaret and then turned to Rob. "I'm curious; why would Mr. Peyton leave Rupert on if they no longer have cats? Just to supervise visiting cats? Do they have many cats visit here?"
Rob set his empty juice glass in front of him. "As I understand it, Rupert does other jobs now. He's Henrietta's driver, he keeps the cars clean and in good running order... things like that. He also helps Victor serve guests when they have parties."
"Hey, what do you know about Mrs. Peyton?" Margaret asked.
Rob peered at Margaret over his coffee cup, then leaned forward. "Henrietta? She's the one with the money. He married into it... was evidently a nobody until he married her. As I understand it, now he spends most of his time squandering all that money. She doesn't seem to mind. She's not interested in the businesses. She just wants to live the good life here and abroad." Rob glanced at his watch. "Hey, we have a meeting in the city."
"Another documentary?" Michael asked.
He winked. "Hope so." He then asked, "What are you all doing today? Going sightseeing? Playing a little tennis? Taking the cat for a walk?"
Michael stretched back with his hands behind his head. "Maybe absolutely nothing."
"That would be my choice," Rob said, laughing. He turned to Cheryl. "Are you ready? We don't want to be late. Traffic in Frisco can be gnarly."
After Rob and Cheryl left, Peter looked at his watch, saying, "We have a meeting in the city later, too... with the gallery designer. We can't agree on the design." He patted Rochelle's hand. "You have time to finish your coffee." Then he lowered his brow. "So tell me, Savannah, what sort of documentary are we seeing tonight? Rochelle and I've been trying to figure out how someone could put a documentary together about a cat." He grinned playfully. "Did he get acting lessons or something? Does he have any lines?"
Savannah laughed. "Well, you know about some of Rags's unusual habits."
"Yes, but how would someone make a documentary about a cat that carries things around in his mouth? And why would they?"
"Because some of the things he's found have helped solve crimes. The documentary is about Rags, but Rob also interviewed people who've been affected by some of his uncanny actions. He came up with a clue that helped authorities find our friend Colbi when she was kidnapped and almost killed by some evil cat hoarders. He identified a murderer in a police line-up once. And he helped to discover a body of a man who'd been missing for a long time."
Michael put his hand gently on Savannah's knee and joked, "Hon, don't give away the plot; you'll spoil the show for them."
"That's incredible," Rochelle said. "He's obviously unusual and clever, but I didn't know he was also helpful in cracking criminal cases."
Peter agreed. "No, I thought he was pretty much self-serving. But he actually does things that help others? That's wild."
"Well, yes, Remember when he brought Dawna's bloody necklace to us at the beach house? He saved her life that night."
"Doggone, he sure did," Peter said.
"He's pretty well thought of down at the sheriff's office," Michael said.
Margaret snickered. "But they don't have to live with him and try to keep him out of trouble."
Peter stood and stretched. "Wow, that's going to be quite an interesting film. Can't wait to see it." Addressing Rochelle, he said, "Hey, we'd better scoot."
"What was wrong with your studio design in LA?" Savannah asked.
"Evidently, they do things differently in San Francisco and the gal is trying to get me to conform. I think maybe to conform is to get lost in the sameness—to blend in. I don't want to blend in here, I want to stand out!"
Michael rose out of his chair. Slapping Peter on the back, he said, "Don't worry, buddy, you stand out."
"Meaning... ?" Peter asked, suspiciously.
Michael looked innocent. "Meaning nothing. You're a standout, that's all."
"So what time is it?" Savannah asked Peter.
"Ten thirty."
"Hey, gang, Iris and Craig should be here soon. Let's have the dishes cleared away. I also want to check on Rags—maybe give him some fresh air." She turned to Peter and Rochelle. "So neat to see you two again. Look forward to this evening."
"Wouldn't miss it," Peter said.
"Neither would I," Rochelle said, hugging Savannah. She then pulled back, furrowed her brow, and said, "Do keep a close eye on him... the cat, I mean." She thought for a moment before continuing, "I don't know what it is, but something is calling to him and he is... listening."
"What was that all about?" Margaret asked after watching Peter and Rochelle disappear around the side of the bungalow, heading toward their car.
"Huh?" Savannah said, appearing to be a little shaken. She took a deep breath and focused on her aunt. "Oh, well, Rochelle is a psychic and I guess she picked up on something and wanted to warn me." She stared off into space for a moment. "Gads, I hope we aren't facing a Pandora's box with him this weekend."
****
Savannah and Margaret had just returned from a walk in the rose garden with Rags on his leash when they saw a car pull up. "It's Craig and Iris," Savannah said, waving enthusiastically.
"Wow!" Iris said, exiting the car and hugging Savannah. "You just keep moving up, don't you? A classy beach house last month and now this." She motioned toward the mansion. "It's... breathtaking."
"Wait 'til you see the inside of that place," Savannah confided. "It's like a storybook palace."
"And you're the princess, right?" Craig asked, hugging her warmly.
"Of course," she said, hugging him back.
Craig reached out and squeezed Margaret's hand. "Hi there, Maggie."
Iris greeted Margaret cordially, as well. She then
looked down at Rags and laughed. "So you're out walking the star?"
"Yeah, practicing his walk on the red carpet," Margaret joked. Then in a more serious tone, she asked, "Iris, what are you wearing tonight?"
Iris's eyes lit up. She smiled broadly. "My little black dress with the deep V-neckline and sassy flared skirt." She leaned in as if sharing something confidential. "I have these darling red-and-black stilettos I've been dying to wear in public and the most exquisite ruby-red knock-off Swarovski necklace."
Margaret slumped rather dramatically, muttering, "Crap."
"What's wrong?" Iris asked, looking from Margaret to Savannah.
Before they could answer, Craig broke in. "While you girls talk fashion, I'll take the bags in and see if I can find a cold beer."
"Sure," Savannah said, you're right there—the Acacia Bungalow. The guys are on our deck, around the other side of the Hyacinth Bungalow."
As Craig walked away, Iris asked again, "Maggie, what's the problem?"
"She needs help from the fashionista," Savannah explained.
Margaret pouted. "I want to look like a fairy princess tonight, not the ugly stepsister."
When Savannah and Iris tried to stifle their laughter, she continued, "Not funny. Look at this body. How does it compete with... you two tall, skinny, model types?"
"Who's competing, Auntie?" Savannah said, not expecting a response.
Iris made eye contact with Margaret. "Hey, show me what you brought to wear and maybe I can give you some ideas."
"Yikes!" Savannah yelped. "What's that?"
Margaret jumped back, her hands against her chest. "What?"
Savannah picked up the cat. "I don't know," she said. "I thought I saw Rags with something in his mouth, but where'd it go?"
"What did it look like?" Iris asked, staring at the ground, apprehensively.
"Well, some sort of a... spider monkey, maybe, or weasel," she said, bending over laughing.
"That's not funny," Margaret insisted.
Iris appeared completely confused. "What?"
Savannah put her hand on Iris's arm and winked. "My aunt saw a bear carrying around a spider monkey—or weasel—out here last night."
"You just wait, young lady," Margaret scolded. "I'll show you what I saw. You come to my bungalow tonight and we'll look out the window. You'll see."
Savannah chuckled. "Okay, but I guess I'd better have a few drinks beforehand, right?"
Iris shook her head, then grabbed both Savannah and Margaret by the arms. "Come on, you two. Let's forget about things that go bump in the night and take a look at Maggie's wardrobe, shall we?"
"Well, what do you think?" Margaret asked after showing Iris the outfits she'd packed for the premiere.
Iris stood silent for a moment, then rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Sistah," she said to Margaret, "I think we need to go shopping."
"I can't afford... " Margaret started.
"Hey, you're not going to pay retail, girl... "
"We're going to shoplift?" Margaret asked, her eyes wide.
"No!" Iris said, emphatically.
"Negotiate for a better price?" Savannah asked.
Iris's eyes lit up. "Well, perhaps, actually. But I know some great secondhand stores in the city that carry designer labels."
"Thrift stores?" Margaret shouted in disgust. "Hand-me-downs? Other people's discards?"
"Yes, and they could be your treasures, Maggie. We're not talking garage sale stuff, but classy, name-brand, once-loved attire. Come on," Iris urged, "let's go shopping!"
"Oh, I don't know," Margaret said.
"You might find something worn by a celebrity," Savannah teased, a playful glint in her eye.
Margaret looked at Savannah and then Iris. "Really?" she asked, excitedly.
Iris nodded. "Sure—maybe Meryl Streep or Marie Osmond... "
"Yeah, when they were overweight," Margaret lamented.
"What time is it?" Savannah asked.
Iris glanced at her watch. "Just after noon."
"Do we have time to shop and be back here by six thirty? We're hosting a cocktail party at seven, before the premiere."
"Oh yes, no sweat," Iris said.
"Then how come I'm sweating?" Margaret asked.
Thirty-five minutes later, the three couples were seated in the Iveys' SUV—the gals on a serious shopping mission and the guys interested in seeing some sights.
"There's a cat!" Max said from the front passenger seat as they drove slowly toward the estate exit.
"Where?" Savannah and Margaret asked, peering out through the car windows.
"He went that way," he pointed, "into those shrubs." Max turned to face Savannah, a puzzled look on his face. "It looked like he was wearing Rags's harness—that blue one he had on last night."
Michael creased his brow. "Now that doesn't make sense. Are you saying Rags gave it to a cat he met at the mansion?"
Margaret snickered. "Yeah, one of the scullery cats?"
"Rags gave his harness to another cat?" Iris asked. "How did he do that?"
"You got me." Savannah faced Iris and Craig, who sat in the third seat in back. "He wore it to the mansion last night for dinner. Then he got lost, and, when we found him, he wasn't wearing it."
"Well, that's strange, isn't it? How do you suppose that happened?" Iris asked.
"Some sort or skullduggery?" Margaret quipped.
"I'm curious," Michael said, pulling the car to the side of the road. "I'd like to find that cat."
"Michael," Savannah whined, "we want to go shopping."
"I know, just give me a few seconds. Come on, Craig, Max—let's see if we can spot the cat."
The three men moved through the brush in the direction Max had seen the cat dash. They'd just about given up their search when Craig called out, "Hey, look here!"
"Did you find it?" Michael asked.
"Not exactly," Craig said. When the duo caught up with him, he was leaning over behind a row of shrubs.
Max rubbed his chin. "Well, I'll be."
"A gravestone," Michael said. He moved closer and knelt down. "Karen," he read. "Is that all it says?"
After examining the stone more closely, Craig said, "That's it. Karen."
Michael stood up and ran his hand through his straight dark-brown hair. "Isn't that odd? Why would it be out here like this?"
"It may be a grave for one of their cats," Max suggested.
Michael let out a breath. "That's probably it. Hey, guys, we're keeping the gals waiting. Let's go to the big city, shall we?"
"Did you plug the address into the GPS, Michael?" Iris asked, when they were at the edge of the city.
"Sure did. Now, let's hope we can find a parking place. San Francisco is famous for parking—that is, no parking," he emphasized.
Margaret patted Michael's shoulder. "No problem. You can drop us off and drive around the block until we finish shopping."
"I'll bet we can find a parking place in front of a bar," Craig offered.
Iris gave him a sideways glance. "As long as you have a designated driver, babe." "There's a museum near where you girls want to shop," Michael said. "If we can park anywhere in the vicinity, maybe we'll walk over there and look around."
"Why not park in the museum lot and the girls can walk to the dress shop," Max suggested.
Savannah glanced at the other women for their reaction. "Okay with us."
"Easy for you long-legged people to say," Margaret grumbled.
Once Michael had located the museum and found a place to park, Iris pulled her phone out of her purse and activated her GPS. "Okay, girls, looks like the shops are just a few blocks east." The trio had reached the first thrift store on Iris's list when she addressed Margaret. "Now Maggie, I want you to go into this store with an open mind. Let me ferret out some things and I don't want any negative vibes coming from you until you've tried them on. Okay?"
Margaret scowled. "Okay, I'll try, but... "
"No buts. Now come on," Iris said, leading the others toward the front door. "Let's go see what dazzling things we can find in your size."
The trio stepped inside the small shop and scanned the area. Iris then marched over to a rack of evening gowns and started moving them aside, one by one. "Hmmm, nothing suitable on this rack." She charged to another section of the store and continued shoving each outfit to the left mumbling, "No. Not quite right. Not that one." Suddenly, she pulled something off the rack, held it up, and announced, "This might work."
A well-dressed, expertly coiffed clerk heard her and approached the women. "May I help you find something?"
Iris acknowledged her. "Hi. We're looking for something enchanting for our friend here." She motioned toward Margaret. "She's attending a movie premiere this evening and must look amazing."
The woman, whose name badge read, Hildegard, smiled. "Exciting! For what film?"
Margaret tugged on Savannah's sleeve. "What's the name of the film, Vannie?"
"Um, I think they're calling it, The Cat and Mouse Detective."
Hildegard frowned. "I haven't heard of that one. Which theater?"
"It's showing at the Peyton Mansion," Margaret responded.
"Oh my." The clerk looked Margaret up and down. "Yes, you will need something wonderful to wear, won't you?" She examined the garment folded over Iris's arm. "That's a superb choice. Would you like me to start a room for you?"
Iris handed over the dress. "Sure."
The woman studied Margaret again, saying, "I have something that I think would look stunning on you—an all-black silk pants ensemble." She looked her up and down. "With black satin platforms to give you some height, and multi-strands of silver layered down the front, you would be absolutely striking with your dark hair and eyes."
Iris nodded. "That's what I'm talking about. Please show us."
The trio followed the woman toward the back of the store where she pulled a silky black pantsuit from a crowded rack, then took a silver necklace from a display and held it at the neckline. Margaret and Savannah looked at each other and started to laugh.