by Fry,Patricia
“The burglar who only borrowed things,” Craig said, chuckling.
“Yeah, I never bothered to tell anyone over there that it was Luke. I didn’t want them to go after him. Anyway, I figured things would settle down once he was out of the area.” She paused. “But yeah, I do know people with those cameras—paranoid people. And a lot of businesses use them. Don’t you think they’re catching more criminals because there are so many of those cameras around? And they’re identifying hit-and-run drivers, too!”
“Sure are,” he agreed. “But here’s my thought. If we can piece together the cats’ whereabouts during those fifty-some hours, we might be able to find Leo Kittleman. And with him being so well-thought of within the community, I’m pretty sure the response to our request for information and videos will be generous, don’t you think so?”
“Sure. I can imagine people coming forward to help find him.” She sat for a moment, then said, “Wow! I’m speechless. That sounds like quite an elaborate scheme. Does the sheriff’s department have time to track cats, for heaven’s sake? Do you really think it would work?”
Craig chuckled. “For someone who’s speechless, you have a lot to say there.”
“You know, it sounds like a rather fun puzzle—a treasure hunt of sorts. How does one organize something like that? Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah, I think so. We need to run public announcements on the radio, get TV coverage, and have Colbi put an article on the front page of her newspaper. Would you and Colbi get together and write up the story? Run it by me and we’ll contact radio and TV stations—hopefully by tomorrow—this evening, if you can get it together in time.”
“I’m on it,” she said.
“By the way,” Craig added, “if you need help with Lily this afternoon, I have Iris at the ready.”
“Gosh, you’ve thought of everything, haven’t you, Craig? Thanks, I’ll call her.”
“No need, she’s right here.”
****
An hour later, Savannah and Colbi sipped water in the lunchroom at the newspaper office and brainstormed on how to proceed with the project Craig had handed them.
“First we need a name for it,” Colbi suggested.
“A name?”
“Sure, a project needs a name—like ‘Mission Cat and Mouse,’ or ‘Operation Cat-Track.’”
“How about ‘Project Catventure’?” Savannah suggested.
“Huh?”
“You know, cats having an adventure—catventure.”
“It works as well as any, I guess. Okay, Project Catventure, it is. Now, what is the outcome we hope for—the goal?” She looked at Savannah. “To find Mr. Kittleman?”
“Yes.”
“And the method?” Colbi asked. “I guess we want to accumulate as much information as we can from all sources available in order to piece together the cats’ travel route. How, Savannah? How are we going to do that?”
“By questioning people—enticing members of the community to come forward with cat sightings during those critical fifty hours.”
“And by soliciting videos and photographs inadvertently or intentionally taken of those two. We’ll have to get permission to look at surveillance cameras in public areas, businesses, and homes,” Colbi said. “That’ll be quite a task, don’t you think?”
“Well, the difficult part will be piecing all the information together.”
Colbi nodded. “If people don’t come forward, you know, we may have to canvass neighborhoods, knock on doors, and visit retailers asking questions. That will take time and people-power.”
“Whew. Maybe we can get some volunteers from the Hammond Cat Alliance to help with that.”
Colbi’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, those gals and guys like a challenge. And they’re always ready and willing to help with any worthwhile project that involves cats.”
“According to Craig, already dozens of people have reported to the sheriff’s department their last sightings of Mr. Kittleman. People sure care about that man and they want to help. Maybe we can recruit some of them to join our posse,” Savannah quipped.
“Yes, great idea.” Colbi raised her hand for a high-five. “I do believe we have an outline for an excellent plan.” She leaned forward. “Now, did Craig say he would contact the TV and radio stations?”
“Yes, and they need you to run a piece prominently in the newspaper. The front page will do. And it had better be quick, before people are apt to erase what they’ve captured on their cameras during the week.”
“Okay,” Colbi said. “Let’s note the particulars we want to include in the article.”
“You sure are organized,” Savannah pointed out. “No wonder you’re so good at what you do.” When she noticed Colbi waiting for her response, Savannah said, “Okay, the time period we’re interested in is Monday afternoon, say around one or one thirty, through Wednesday evening, May second through the fourth. We need a picture of the cats, information about where they were last seen, and the reason we want folks to come forward; in order to find Mr. Kittleman.”
“Let’s run a photo of Leo Kittleman, too.”
Savannah nodded. “Absolutely.”
After several minutes, Colbi picked up her notes and stood. “I think we’re ready to roll. Except for one thing.”
“Which is?”
“Where do they take or send their videos, photographs, and other information?”
“Hmm, good question. Let me call Craig and find out. I actually don’t mind taking calls from citizens. That might be kind of fun.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Savannah,” she warned. “It could be time-consuming handling all those calls and you’re bound to get some cranks and calls from people who have nothing better to do than chat.”
“Naw, I don’t mind. Let’s provide our landline number. It has an answering machine. I can call people back while Lily’s napping.”
“Good idea, if you don’t mind.”
Savannah picked up her phone and placed a call to Detective Sledge. “Hi. I think we’re ready to go with the newspaper article. We just have a couple of questions. Where shall we have people send their videos and photographs?”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Have them sent to me. I’ll text you the information for publication.”
“Okay, I think we can run it this afternoon if we get the info back from you in time.” She looked up at Colbi, who was motioning with her hands and pointing to her watch. “What?” she asked.
“Thirty-five minutes to press.”
“Thirty-five minutes, Craig. Send it to Colbi’s phone, would you? And Craig, I’m going to take the calls from citizens, if that’s okay. I’ll use my landline.”
“That would be great, Savannah,” he said, “if you don’t mind.”
“No. I think it would be kind of fun.”
“If you say so. And send me your article, would you?”
“Yes, right away.”
After ending the call, Savannah started flipping through her cell-phone photographs. “Here’s a great shot of the two cats from when we were at the cabin. What do you think?” she asked showing it to Colbi.
“Perfect. Yes. Text it to me; that’s the picture I’ll use.” She started to walk away, then turned. “You know, I’m kind of excited about this project. It’ll be fun knowing where the cats have been and what they’ve been doing, don’t you think so?”
“Yes, I’ve always wished I had a camera on Rags when he wanders. This could be eye-opening.”
Chapter 5
“You’re going to do what?” Michael asked, later that evening.
“Here, read Colbi’s story. It’s on the front page. They bumped a political piece to run it; and it’s on all the local radio and TV stations.” Just then their landline phone rang. Savannah’s eyes widened. “Oh, that might be the first of our neighborhood cat-watch volunteers. I can’t wait to hear what people are saying.” She rushed to pick up the phone, only to return rather quickly.
“Dang telemarketer,” she muttered.
Michael chuckled and shook his head. “Well, it’ll be interesting to see what comes of your little plan.”
She put her hands on her hips. “It’s no little plan, Michael. In fact, what we learn about the cats’ wanderings might go beyond finding dear old Mr. Kittleman. It might be useful in scientific studies—you know—explaining how animals navigate, how a housecat handles himself when out and about, how sharp a coddled cat’s instincts really are.” She bounced with excitement. “This may give clues as to a cat’s actual brain function—their thought processes.”
“You think there are such studies, do you?”
Easing onto the ottoman and pouting a little, she said, “You’re patronizing me, aren’t you, Michael?” She sat up straight. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do believe there are such studies. Don’t you? I mean, there are studies on everything imaginable.” Before she could finish making her point, her cell phone rang and she looked at the screen. “It’s my aunt. Hi,” she said into the phone. All she heard was laughter. “Auntie, what’s so funny?”
“You and Colbi.”
“What?”
“I just read the paper. You’re going to try to retrace those cats’ tracks? Aren’t you afraid of what you might find out? I mean, if Rags wanted you to know details of his secret life, he’d invite you to join him on his escapades.” She broke out laughing again.
“Oh stop,” Savannah snapped. “It was Craig’s idea. It’s part of a well-thought-out investigation,” she said, trying to sound self-assured.
“An investigation that’ll take you to the fish market and the city dump and maybe to a cat-food factory.”
“Auntie,” Savannah said sternly, “if we can get people to call in with information about having seen the cats, we’re likely to find out where Mr. Kittleman is. Don’t you think that’s worthwhile? I mean, he’s been gone what, a week now? Yes, a week tomorrow. We could be running out of time.”
Margaret remained quiet for a moment, then said, “Yeah, it would be nice if that happened, but knowing cats the way I do—especially your cat—and human nature, I kinda think this is a huge waste of manpower and our tax dollars.”
“Tax dollars?” Savannah shrieked.
“Yeah, don’t we support our local sheriff’s office?”
“Auntie, for one thing, you should be the last person to doubt a cat’s ability to help in a crisis situation. You know cats and you advocate for them. Why are you so pissy about this plan? Is it because you aren’t included? Because you don’t have any cats involved?”
“Naw, Vannie. I’m just needling you. I got a kick out of the story and the idea, that’s all. Yeah, it would sure be something if you can find Leo through the cats’ wanderlust. I hope you do.”
“Good, because we might need your help to make it work.”
“What? What do you want me to do, for Pete’s sake?”
“It depends. Maybe canvass neighborhoods and talk to people, put up flyers…things like that.”
After several seconds of silence, Margaret said, “Oh. Well, I guess I could do that.”
“Good. We’ll let you know if we need your help.”
Margaret said more quietly, “I’m still floored at how many people showed up for that candlelight thing Tuesday night. It sure was nice. There must have been two hundred people there, don’t you think so?”
Suddenly Savannah interrupted her aunt. “Hey, that’s the house phone. I’m taking calls about the cat sightings, so I’d better get it. Talk to you later, Auntie.”
Before Savannah reached the phone, Michael had answered it. “It’s for you,” he called as she entered the room.
“Thanks, hon.” Into the phone, she said, “Hello, this is Savannah Ivey.”
“Hi, I saw the story in the newspaper and I’m calling to tell you I saw those two cats in the picture. They came to my back door one evening…let’s see…it must have been Monday. I’d just returned from my Zumba class and was putting food out for the neighborhood strays. I was pretty sure they weren’t feral; for one thing, they practically knocked me over with their appreciation.” She laughed. “And they’re both so healthy-looking—not at all like the scaredy, skinny cats that live behind me in the creek bed.”
“Where are you located, Ms….?” Savannah asked, picking up the pen she had sitting next to a pad of paper.
“Oh, it’s Myrna Jones. I’m on Foster Avenue…1112 South. I guess they had to walk down the creek bed from Lilac Drive, where the article said they came from. It runs behind those newer houses all the way to the highway, you know. So they must have walked a long ways before landing here for supper, unless they hitched a ride.”
“How long did they stay with you?” Savannah asked.
“Oh, they didn’t stay. They did an eat-and-run routine. I had to fill the bowls twice that night so the ferals could eat. Yeah, the tuxedo cat and the tabby ate, then moseyed off in the direction of the creek bed toward the highway. That’s the last I saw of them. Nice cats, they were. It was a pleasure meeting them.”
“Thank you very much. This might give us some idea of their route.” Before ending the call, Savannah asked, “Did you happen to notice if either of the cats had anything on their fur—mud or a stain of any sort?”
“Nooo, nothing that I noticed.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Yes, let’s hope they lead authorities to Leo Kittleman.” Ms. Jones’s tone suddenly became more reverent as she continued, “He was the only teacher I ever had who made me want to go to school. I learned more from him about life than anyone I think I’ve ever met. I even hired him to tutor my own children when they had trouble in school. I believe he’s the reason they stayed on a good path.” Her voice became a little higher when she said, “Oh, they had temptations of the worst kind. The kid two doors down started dabbling in drugs. He became a thief, stealing from all the neighbors. My boys hung out with him when he first started getting into trouble and I had just about lost control of them. But Leo had a way with the boys. He was more than just a tutor, he became sort of a father figure or big brother, you know, and he encouraged them in some of the positive things they were interested in. Best of all, he taught them that it is okay to say no and, in fact, sometimes the best thing to do.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “You know, it seems that what Leo said and how he felt mattered to my boys and they ended up staying out of any major trouble. They’re grown now. One of them is an attorney who works with some of the street kids. I mean, he tries to help them find a positive direction to follow. My other son became a psychologist. They both plan to join the wilderness walk this weekend in search of their beloved mentor. That is, if your cat doesn’t lead authorities to him before that.”
“Thank you so much Myrna. You’ve been most helpful and I enjoyed hearing your story. Very touching.” When Savannah joined Michael in the living room, he handed her her cell phone. “It’s Craig. Says he’d like to talk to you for a minute.”
“Hi, Craig. I got my first call about the cats. So far, we’ve traced them approximately a quarter of a mile, where they stopped in for a free meal with a bunch of feral cats.”
He chuckled, then said, “Well, we’ve received a few videos, too. There’s one showing what looks like them behind the grocery store on Evans. Do you know the one?”
“Yes. When was this, do you know?”
“Tuesday night. So that means they covered a mile.”
“Or more. Ever watch a cat travel? They don’t walk a straight line. They meander and wander. I wonder if they hitched a ride. What were they doing there…at the store?”
“Snooping around in the trash bin. Didn’t look like they found anything and they moved on. We got another video taken a few hours later across the street, where the cats curled up on a porch chair after drinking quite a bit of water from what appeared to be a dog’s water bowl.”
“Yikes, where was the dog?”
&
nbsp; “Didn’t see one. Must have been in the house. Savannah, the reason I called is that we were able to pan in on Rags and there’s no sign of blood as of Tuesday night, so the information we get for Wednesday is going to probably be crucial. Just wanted to mention that in case you start canvassing or get more calls. Wednesday is the day the cats evidently ran into Mr. Kittleman—hopefully alive.”
“Okay. Or it could have been later Tuesday night. Cats are nocturnal, you know.”
“Oh yeah, I guess they are.” He paused. “Didn’t see you at the vigil.”
“I didn’t see you, either.”
“So you were there?”
“Yes,” she said. “Sure was well-attended.”
“Sure was,” he said. “I never heard so many accolades about anyone. He was popular with all ages, it seems. I saw teens as well as seniors crying, for heaven’s sake.”
“Oh, the landline’s ringing, Craig. I’d better answer it. It might be another clue. I’ll talk to you later.”
As Savannah rushed to the phone, Michael shook his head and grinned.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Ivey? This is Brandt Jeffers. I checked my surveillance cameras after I read the article in the paper tonight and thought you might be interested in what I captured. It’s those two cats pictured in the paper and shown on TV and a dern rattlesnake.”
“What?”
“Yup. I can’t tell from the recording if they were bitten, but the big cat sure gave that snake a run for his money.” He chuckled. “It seemed that the spotted cat had a curiosity for the serpent and the grey cat, obviously more savvy, was doing his best to keep her from getting bitten. I think the smaller cat was simply curious—wanted to maybe play with the snake, not knowing the dangers. But the other cat sure seemed to know. When he couldn’t keep the mottled cat away, he started trying to attack the snake. After a while, it appears that the smaller cat lost interest and the two of them wandered off and so did the snake. But that bigger cat looked kinda tired after the fiasco.”