Mansion of Meows (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 9)

by Patricia Fry

  "Gads, who gave you all of that personal stuff?" Margaret asked.

  Rob smiled. "Best if I don't reveal my sources."

  Savannah put up her hand. "Yeah, suits me fine. I'd rather not know." She lowered her voice. "So do your sources think Charles Peyton killed the kids?"

  "Or had them killed... " Max suggested.

  Rob nodded. "Those are some of the theories. But the fact that the investigation stopped has some people believing he had nothing to do with the children's deaths." He stared down at his hands and then looked up. "Maybe they were coincidentally accidental."

  Savannah swallowed hard before speaking. "I talked to our detective friend Craig Sledge today. I can't reveal everything he told me, but he has some connections at the local police department. He's going to try to get us a search warrant for that room."

  "Cool," Cheryl said.

  Rob smiled. "All right!"

  "He said we could be opening a can of worms."

  "Is that so?" Rob said, smiling even wider. "I need to sit down with Craig."

  Savannah looked at Michael's watch. "He'll be here just about any time."

  "Tell me, Rob," Michael said, "do you know who has a key to the door in that room upstairs?"

  "Not that I can track down, yet," Rob said. "But the more I looked at that area from the outside, the more I think that door could lead right into the turret." He shook his head. "I don't think it's a closet."

  "Yeah, that was my thought," Michael said. "From what Cheryl observed, it seems like it's in the right spot to go into the turret."

  "And who locks a closet door?" Max added.

  "So you think they keep cats in those turrets?" Margaret asked. "I wonder if Charles Peyton knows about that. He seems adamant that there are no cats on the property."

  Max nodded. "True. ... and Henrietta, too."

  "One of them may be lying," Savannah said. "I can't imagine there's something going on in that place that they're both oblivious to. There's a mystery and one of them is privy to it." She cocked her head to the side. "Maybe both of them."

  Max looked askance. "Yes, that place sure seems to harbor secrets." He laughed. "And if they want to keep those secrets, they're messing with the wrong cat."

  "... and the wrong family," Savannah added.

  Chapter 10

  "So what's the plan?" Savannah asked after pouring Craig a cup of coffee in their motel room later that night.

  "I had a chance to discuss that with Bob Walker, my source on the force. He's going to push for a search warrant, but he's not sure we can get it. Even if we don't, I think it's worth investigating that part of the house... " Craig focused on Savannah. "... one way or another." He took a sip of coffee. "Now, have any of you seen lights in the windows of that west turret?"

  "Actually, no," Savannah said. "And that's strange, because the others are dimly lit at night." She turned to Rob. "Did you ever see lights in those windows?"

  He shook his head. "Not that I recall."

  Craig stared into space. "If there were stairs inside the turrets, which there usually are, you might be able to go from the ground floor to the third floor."

  "Always clockwise," Max muttered.

  Craig looked confused. "What?"

  Max spoke up. "I read in something at the library that old turret and tower staircases always spiral clockwise so any ascending warriors have the disadvantage—unless, of course, they're left-handed swordsmen."

  "Hmm," Craig said, only partially digesting that bit of trivia. He then said, "If someone's using that turret as a passageway, for example, they might have the windows blacked out."

  "And there could be another way in and out of it, right?" Rob suggested.

  Michael studied Rob for a moment, then said, "Yeah, that's always a possibility. Let's see, as I recall, the bottom of that turret looks like it's right next to the kitchen. Did anyone see a door in the kitchen that might lead into it?"

  "There's a large pantry in that area," Cheryl said. "I went in there with Rupert."

  Rob squinted in Cheryl's direction. "You did?"

  "Yeah, Rupert went there to get a flashlight before we headed up the stairs that night."

  "A flashlight? What for?" Margaret asked.

  Cheryl shrugged. "I don't know, he never used it. But that is one big pantry."

  "Did you see a door inside the pantry?" Craig asked.

  She shook her head. "Didn't notice one."

  "Got a call," Craig said, picking up his phone from the table. He walked away while

  taking it and came back looking disappointed. "Can't get the warrant," he said, soberly. "Okay, let's move on to plan B." He looked around the room. "Anyone have a plan B?"

  "Kick the door down?" Rob suggested.

  "Two doors," Michael said. "We don't even have a key to the green door."

  "And those are some heavy-duty doors," Cheryl said. "I think you'd need a blowtorch or a hand grenade to get them open."

  After a brief silence, Savannah asked quietly, "What or who do you think we'll find in there? I mean, there must be someone with Rags and there must be more than one cat, according to how much cat food was purchased."

  Craig looked up from the notes he was writing. "How do you know cat food was purchased?"

  "Cheryl found a receipt for cat food up in that room—dated last week!"

  He turned quickly toward Cheryl. "Do you still have it?"

  "Yeah." She reached for her oversized purse and removed a manila envelope. After sifting through the papers, she said, "Here it is, why?"

  Craig studied the receipt. "It gives the date and time of day the purchase was made. I'd like to visit the store. It's recent enough that maybe someone will remember who bought that much cat food. What time is it?" he asked.

  Michael checked his watch. "Seven fifteen."

  "I think I'll bop over there now. Someone at that house knows who or what is in that room and I want to find out who it is."

  A little while later Savannah got a call from Craig. "Do any of you know who Ruth is?"

  "I don't," she said. "Wait, I'll ask."

  When she came back to the phone, she reported, "Rob says she's Henrietta's personal maid. Why?"

  "Someone at the store knows Ruth and says she's always the one who buys the cat food."

  "Have you talked to her?" Michael asked Rob after Savannah had ended the call with Craig.

  "Yes, and she seemed a little nervous when I questioned her about that room upstairs. I made a note to meet with her again, actually. I think she knows something."

  "I wonder if she'll help us get into the room," Savannah said.

  Rob frowned. "I don't know. She's kinda scared and meek. I guess it depends on how much her job—and maybe her life—means to her."

  Upon Craig's return, Rob asked him if he had any ideas for motivating Ruth to help them get into the room.

  "Maybe we could get keys from her without her knowing it," Craig suggested. "Is there anyone inside you can trust with a job like that?"

  "Well, Ruth seemed to like Cheryl. Maybe she could attempt to socialize with her and somehow get the keys."

  Everyone looked at Cheryl, who stared back at them, eyes wide. "Hey, I didn't sign on to be a spy, you know. I'm a mere film producer's assistant."

  Rob patted Cheryl's knee. "You got that right, honey bun. The operative word here is 'assistant'. You assist me with whatever I need, right?"

  Craig smiled at Cheryl. "It would be really helpful if you could pull it off."

  "Michael and I would be forever in your debt," Savannah said.

  "Well, I'll give it a try," she said. "How should I proceed? Call her and say, 'I'd like to chat—oh yes, and bring your ring of keys?'"

  Everyone laughed.

  "Yeah," Savannah said, "go to her room if you can; she's liable to remove her apron—does she wear an apron? And you can get the keys from her pocket."

  Rob st
raightened himself in his chair. "Hey, Cheryl's a massage therapist."

  "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" Savannah asked, smiling.

  "I think so. Cheryl, here's how it could work," Rob said, "... run into her at the mansion and tell her you notice she seems tense—maybe needs to relax more. Offer to give her a massage." He thought for a moment. "Here's an idea—tell her you need to put in time giving massages in order to get your certificate. Convince her she'll feel so much better afterward. When she takes her clothes off and is relaxed, slip the keys out of her pocket and into yours. Could you do that?"

  She pursed her lips. "Could work, I guess. Sure, I'll try it. When—tomorrow?"

  Rob nodded. "Yes, the sooner the better. Shoot, it's not too late tonight. Let's get back over to the mansion and maybe call for her to bring us something out to the bungalow."

  "Hold your horses, there, cowboy," Cheryl said. "Ruth's Henrietta's private maid. She's not on call for guests. She'd know something was fishy if we asked her to bring us a bar of soap or a cup of coffee."

  "Right," Rob said, slapping his leg. "We'll just tell her we have a few questions."

  "Uh, Rob," Craig said, "we want Cheryl to go to her room, if at all possible. She's more apt to set the keys down someplace where Cheryl can get to them." He thought for a moment, then addressed Cheryl, "Why don't you just call Ruth and ask if you can come to her room to continue the interview?"

  Rob patted Cheryl's knee. "Think that would work?" Before she could respond, he said, "Let's go give it a try."

  "Hey, good luck, Cheryl," Michael called out. He then spoke quietly. "Thank you for doing this. The cat means a lot to us."

  "And the story that could come from this means a lot to us," Rob said, kissing her. He turned to the others. "Will you be staying up for a while? Do you want a report tonight?"

  "Absolutely," Savannah said.

  Craig nodded. "If we get those keys tonight, we should really try to use them tonight, while the Peytons are gone."

  "Okay, guys. We're on it. We'll be in touch later tonight, then."

  ****

  Two hours had passed when Savannah got a call from Rob. "She's got 'em," he said, excitedly.

  "Wow!" she said into the phone. She spoke to the others in the room. "Rob says Cheryl has the keys."

  Craig reached for the phone. "Let me talk to him." Into the phone, he asked, "Does she know if the key to that room is on the ring?"

  "No," Rob said. "We're just crossing our fingers on that one. Hey, Craig, we'd sure like to get those keys back to Ruth before morning."

  "I hear ya. Um, let's leave them conspicuously somewhere around the place—on the kitchen counter where she may think she left them or on the grounds where she'll think she dropped them. We sure don't want to cast any suspicion on Cheryl. Tell her not to worry."

  "Thanks," Rob said.

  Craig hesitated for just a moment. "Okay, Rob, here's what I want to do. I'll come out to the mansion and bring Savannah."

  Savannah's heart raced. She glanced at Michael, who scowled in her direction.

  Craig turned to the others. "How far away are we?"

  "About thirty minutes," Michael said.

  Into the phone, Craig said, "We'll be there in forty minutes. Stay put, will ya?"

  "Sure."

  "Why do you want to take Savannah?" Michael asked when Craig ended the call.

  "If the cat's there, he'll most likely respond to her. Our main objective is to get the cat out, right?"

  Michael nodded. He stared down at his hands for a moment and then addressed Craig. "Let me go with you. What if there's trouble?"

  "I've got her covered, Michael," Craig said, his voice deeper now. "No harm will come to your wife, I promise; and we'll have a better chance of getting the cat." He looked at Savannah. "What do you think?"

  "Yes, I want to go." She turned to her husband. "I'll be okay, Michael. I would love to bring Rags home tonight. He must be so scared."

  "Is there any reason why we can't go over there with you?" Michael asked the detective. "We can stay in Rob's bungalow, out of sight. What do you think, Craig?"

  He mulled the idea over and then said, "I guess there's no harm in that. But here's what I want you to do. Park down the road a ways and walk in quietly. I don't want extra cars alarming someone. Do you have a flashlight?"

  "Yes, I bought a new one; it has fresh batteries."

  "Okay, then, keep it low as you walk in—on the ground in front of you. Go behind the bungalows to Rob's and stay there until we return from the mansion. Savannah and I will drive in and park behind Rob's bungalow. Once we believe the coast is clear, we'll make our way over to the mansion. It should be no problem exploring the second floor, since none of the staff stays up there—supposedly, anyway." Craig looked around the room. "Is everyone clear?"

  "Yes, sir," Margaret said in jest.

  Craig grinned half-heartedly at her, then turned to Savannah. "Dark-colored clothes." In a sweeping glance, he said to the others, "I want everyone to wear dark-colored clothes. Savannah, wear rubber-soled shoes that don't squeak."

  "Got it covered, captain," she said with a salute.

  He grinned at her and shook his head.

  Craig was deep in thought as he drove toward the mansion. Savannah was glad, because she had something she wanted to do on the way. She spent the next several minutes visualizing a successful outcome for Rags. She envisioned opening the green door and finding him unharmed, picking him up, and carrying him to safety. As Craig parked the car behind Rob's and Cheryl's bungalow, Savannah took a deep breath.

  "Good luck," Rob said, handing Craig the rather large ring of keys Cheryl had taken from Ruth's room.

  Craig held it up. "Hell, this could be an all-night deal." He turned to Savannah. "Let's go, partner." Before stepping out through the bungalow door, he pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it off. He instructed Savannah to do the same.

  She motioned with her head. "I left it back there in my purse."

  "That's strange," Craig whispered upon trying the kitchen doorknob. "It's unlocked." He eased slowly into the room. Savannah followed quietly, both of them looking around in the near darkness to make sure they were alone. There was just enough light that Craig could see the pantry door that Cheryl had mentioned. After opening it, he shined his pocket flashlight inside. "Look for a door," Craig whispered. "Could be concealed." Suddenly, he heard something and quickly shut off the flashlight, motioning for Savannah to back out of the doorway. He ushered her to a refuge on the other side of the commercial refrigerator.

  There was enough pale light shining into the kitchen from outside the windows that she could see Craig put his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. She was sure the sound of her beating heart could be heard in the next county as she waited to see what or who was moving around inside the pantry. Finally, the wait was over. The pantry door opened and a figure emerged into the kitchen. Savannah peered around the refrigerator in time to see what looked like an elderly man or woman dressed in all black, a hood covering his head. He's stooped a little and walks with a slight limp, she noticed as he left the mansion through the kitchen door. Craig and Savannah moved cautiously toward a window and watched the figure disappear rather swiftly into the night.

  They exchanged glances, then Craig motioned for her to follow him back into the pantry. He began pushing and pulling on the shelves inside, until finally one of them gave a little. He quickly found a latch, disengaged it and the shelf moved aside, revealing a door. "Aha," Craig whispered, taking the key ring out of his jacket pocket. Being careful to keep the keys from jangling, he prepared to try each of them until he found the one that would unlock the secret door. In the meantime, Savannah reached around him and twisted the knob. To their surprise, the door opened. He raised his eyebrows, smiled at her, and winked.

  Craig slowly pushed the door open and eased through it, motioning for
Savannah to stay put. When he gave her the signal to follow him, they promptly found themselves inside the ground floor of the west turret. The pair approached the spiral staircase, with intentions of climbing to the second floor, but something stopped the detective. He stepped back and shined his light toward his feet where he saw a crumpled rug at the base of the staircase. Craig, having seen something like this before, quickly pulled back the rug. "Well, I'll be," he said quietly, glancing up at Savannah. "Isn't this a nice surprise?"

  "What?" she asked frowning.

  "Watch," he instructed as he lifted a hidden trap door.

  Savannah could see a glow emitting from the depths below them. Before she could get a good look, Craig motioned for her to stay back.

  "Well, I'll be damned," he said under his breath, as he peered into the secret room.

  "What?" she whispered.

  "Cats," he said, leaning back so Savannah could take a look.

  "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. She felt a surge of excitement. "Can we go in?"

  After quickly scanning the area, he whispered, "Why not?" He put his hand up to stop Savannah and mouthed, "Me first." Savannah watched as Craig stepped down the ladder. It seemed like an eternity before he motioned for her to join him in what appeared to be someone's living quarters—someone who obviously liked cats.

  "This is huge," she said. "It must encompass the entire expanse of the mansion. And look at all the cat jungle gyms and kitty perches. This is absolutely wild!"

  "Do you see your cat?" Craig asked.

  Suddenly remembering the reason they were there and the risk they were taking, she began to focus. She glanced around the large room then stepped into another room and another—each had a few cats at slumber or play. There was a TV and game room, a bedroom, bathrooms, a sauna, a gym, a small swimming pool. And there were cats.