A Whisker of Truth

by Patricia Fry

  Savannah laughed. “How about we do some research? Maybe knowing more about the building will help to squelch that awful feeling you have.”

  ◆◆◆

  “What are you two so interested in there?” Peter asked when he entered his home office later that afternoon.

  “Hi, honey,” Rochelle said. “We’re researching the old men’s-club building.”

  “Where the book fair’s being held this weekend?”

  “Yes. Did you know it was built in the late eighteen hundreds as housing for shipbuilders and their families? The Calvert and Gloss Men’s Club took it over in the thirties. I guess they came in with a lot of money and completely refurbished the building with an expansive meeting hall where men could play poker, canasta, billiards, or whatever. There were dartboards, even a small bowling alley, a reading room, and, of course, a bar—actually a cocktail lounge. It was a high-class place for men who wanted to get out of the house and socialize and conduct business with other men.”

  “The apartments on top became office space for many of the members of the club,” Savannah said. “They included lawyers, doctors, financial consultants, and other professionals who could afford the dues and the rent.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Peter said. “It’s just been an eyesore for as long as I can remember. Did Rochelle tell you it’ll be demolished soon?”

  Savannah nodded.

  “Yeah,” he continued, “they’ve been trying to get a unanimous vote for years. Every time it comes up, someone throws a cog in the wheel and the issue’s tabled for a while. Then it comes up again and the same thing happens.”

  Rochelle faced him. “Who do you think is against the demolition, Peter?”

  “From what I hear, it seems to be someone different every time, with a whole new reason for preserving it. Why that one vote makes a difference, I don’t know. Maybe these people are opening a can of worms the city doesn’t want to deal with.” Peter approached Rochelle as she sat at the computer and began massaging her shoulders. “Hey, what’s for dinner? You didn’t forget to fix something, did you?”

  “No. Are you hungry already? I thought we’d have a glass of wine before dinner.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll pour,” he offered. “Want red or white, Savannah?”

  “White. Do you have Chablis or pinot?”

  “Sure. Hon?” he asked.

  “Me too,” Rochelle said shutting down the computer and following him out of the room. Savannah walked along with her.

  “Why are you so quiet?” Peter asked, handing his wife a glass of wine. “You have that faraway look.”

  “Huh?” Rochelle responded. “Oh, I was just thinking about something.” When he seemed to be waiting for more, she said, “There’s just something niggling at me. If my recollection is on target, Alison’s family…” she rolled her eyes for Savannah’s benefit, “…that is, Alison-Francesca, had something to do with a club like the one that operated out of the Bamford Building. Her family moved to San Francisco when we were girls. Alison came back to the east and attended the same college I did. She bragged that her grandfather or great grandfather was involved in a prestigious men’s club here in the city. Hmmm, I wonder…”

  “Who’s Alison?” Peter asked. “You say a college friend?”

  “Yeah, we ran into her today, and seeing her brought up some old memories.”

  “Maybe that’s why she was at the building this afternoon,” Savannah said. “If her family was involved in that old men’s club, she may have been taking a walk down memory lane—going back to her roots.”

  “Yes, maybe,” Rochelle agreed.

  Savannah frowned. “You seem suspicious. What are you thinking?”

  Rochelle shook her head. “I really don’t know. It’s just a sort of haunting thought.” She patted Savannah’s hand. “I’m sorry. I need to put that on the back burner and enjoy the here and now with you. If there’s something I need to know about Alison-Francesca or that I should remember from my past, it will happen, whether I try to force it or not. In fact, it will be revealed more gently and fully if I don’t try to force it.”

  Savannah smiled at her friend.

  “So how did the birdies do today?” Peter asked, sitting down in an overstuffed chair across from Savannah.

  Rochelle winced. “Well…”

  “What happened?”

  When Rochelle stalled, Savannah spoke up. “Clayton got out again. We no longer believe it’s human error.” She glanced at Rochelle. “We think Clayton has a knack for lock-picking.”

  Peter raised his eyebrows. “No kidding?”

  “Yeah,” Rochelle said, “he joined us outside while we were taking Rags for a walk and he even hitched a ride on Rags’s back…”

  Savannah interrupted. “Until a big mean bird attacked him.”

  “What?” Peter yelped.

  Rochelle continued, “Yeah, the hawk or whatever it was knocked Clayton to the ground and he hid until we convinced him everything was okay.”

  “Is he all right?” he asked.

  “Seems to be,” Savannah said. “We did our best to secure that cage door so he can’t get out by himself again, but you might want to take a look at it.”

  Peter stood up and walked toward the service porch. Rochelle and Savannah followed. As Peter examined the makeshift latch, Rochelle said, “You know, I’d like to have an outdoor aviary built for them. In the meantime, why don’t we buy a larger cage for indoors, and we should research bird-proof latches.”

  Peter smiled, then winked at Savannah. “Sounds like she’s decided to keep them.”

  “I just think they’re sweet little beings,” Rochelle said. “I’ve always liked birds. I’m not keen on seeing them caged up, though. That bothers me some.”

  “But it’s their choice,” Peter said. When the others looked at him, he explained, “Remember, they climbed into Savannah’s car all by themselves. She didn’t clip their wings and birdnap them. They made the decision to hitch a ride with her.”

  He put his finger between the bars. “Isn’t that right, Clayton, boy?” When Clayton hopped toward Peter and began nibbling on his fingernail, everyone laughed. “So would you two like to be outside in a nice big cage?” Peter asked the birds.

  All they heard were what seemed to be happy chirps from Clayton and Matilda.

  ◆◆◆

  “Ready to go?” Rochelle asked the following morning after Savannah had gathered her things for the book fair.

  She nodded. “I think so—books, bookmarks, pens, bookstands, two bottles of water, Rags’s collapsible bowl, his blankie, his lunch, my snacks…”

  “How long will you be gone?” Peter asked, laughing.

  “Hey, a gal’s gotta be prepared for anything,” Savannah retorted, “especially when Rags is along.”

  “Well, let me help you out with this stuff,” Peter offered. “Do you want me to meet you over there and carry it inside for you?”

  “Awww, Peter, that’s nice of you, but I have this nifty wheelie-dealie I can use for the heavy stuff. And I have Rags’s small pen for when I’m schlepping books and things back and forth.”

  “So you’ll confine him some of the time?” Rochelle asked.

  “Oh yes,” Savannah insisted. “He can be impossible without a pen in a situation like this. With the smaller pen, I can tuck him in the back of the booth or under a table for a while so he can rest and, frankly, so can I. I’m counting on the author…ahem…the other author, keeping an eye on him when I’m away from the booth so no one takes him or anything. Heck, I don’t even know if she likes cats.”

  Rochelle laughed. “Can someone write about cats and not like them?”

  “I suppose,” Savannah said.

  Peter picked up a box of books and headed toward the door. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

  “Have to with this guy,” she said, running her hand over Rags’s fur.

  ◆◆◆

  “You’re in booth thirty-two,
” a woman sitting at a table just inside the door of the Bamford Building said. She handed Savannah a packet and pointed. “Middle row, left of the red door.”

  “Cool,” Savannah said, looking around the cavernous room. “I love the color-coded doors.”

  The woman chuckled. “Yeah, makes it easy to direct folks—over by the green door, just right of the yellow door, in front of the orange door,” she mimicked.

  “Good idea for a room this size,” Savannah agreed. She asked, “Where do those doors go, anyway?”

  “Well, some of them no longer go anywhere, but there are the bathrooms, a couple of broom closets, storage space for tables and chairs, a small kitchen—that’s about it.” The woman suddenly exclaimed, “You have a cat!”

  “Yes, he’s my partner,” Savannah quipped. “I write about him.”

  The woman stood so she could get a better look at Rags. “Hi there, cat. Aren’t you a pretty thing?” She looked at Savannah. “He won’t be running around free will he?”

  “No,” she assured her. “He’ll be on a leash or in this pen. He’s used to doing this kind of event—well, usually at smaller venues: bookstores, libraries, schools.”

  “Wow!” the woman said. “I’ve never met a celebrity cat…well, except for Morris. I saw Morris once at a cat show. Do you remember Morris on those cat-food commercials?” Before Savannah could respond, she said, “Probably before your time, dear.”

  When a few more people approached the table, she said, “Well, have a good day. Let us know if you need anything. You have a cloth on your table. A food wagon will be out back around noon. We’ll announce it so you can go get something to eat. No hurry, it will be here for a couple of hours. We have a coffee bar set up in the northeast corner. Restrooms are behind the blue door and the pink door. See the blinking sign?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” Savannah said as she turned to walk with Rags toward booth thirty-two.

  She found an out-of-the-way spot to place Rags’s pen in the back of her booth and had started unpacking when she heard a woman’s voice behind her. “Sorry I’m late. Got stuck in traffic. I don’t know my way around this city.” The woman scowled. “They just seem to make everything so complicated—one-way streets, dead-end streets, poor signage. It’s a nightmare!”

  Savannah watched as the short, rotund woman with dark hair streaked with grey fiddled around with a small suitcase on wheels.

  “Darn zipper’s stuck again. Darn! Darn!” the woman complained.

  “Maybe I can help you,” Savannah offered. When the woman faced her, she said, “You must be Tina Bloom.” She offered her hand. “I’m Savannah Ivey.”

  “Yes,” the woman said. “Oh, Savannah, forgive me. Rags’s mom, of course.” She spoke confidentially. “I’ve never done one of these.”

  “You haven’t?” Savannah asked. “I thought…”

  “Yeah, I sign books at local libraries and bookstores sometimes, and I’ve done a few community events.” She looked around at the expansive room. “But nothing this big. I’m a little rattled. Plus,” she said, raising her eyebrows dramatically, “my own kitty’s sick. I’m so worried. My sister’s supposed to take her to the veterinarian as soon as they open this morning.” She teared up. “I’m just afraid I’ll never see her again.”

  “My goodness,” Savannah said. “What’s wrong?”

  Tina dabbed at her eyes. “She regurgitated this ugly thing in the bathroom late yesterday while I was getting ready to leave for the airport—you know, she vomited it up. It looked like some of her innards came out.”

  Savannah tried to squelch a grin. “Was it tan or light brown and it sort of looked like…”

  “Like it should have come out the other end,” Tina insisted. “Like it belonged in the litter box, but I saw it come out of her mouth. You should have seen her gag.” She shuddered. “It was horrible—just horrible.”

  “How was she after this happened?” Savannah asked.

  “Just fine. She was fine; I was a wreck.”

  Savannah smiled. “I’m sure it was just a hairball.”

  “A what?” Tina asked.

  “Cats often cough up what are called hairballs or fur balls from the fur that accumulates in their digestive system from licking. It’s not dangerous. It’s a natural occurrence with cats, and more so with cats that shed a lot. Brushing can help alleviate the problem, at least somewhat. Is this your first cat?”

  “Yes. Writing these fun books about Rags has made me want a cat, so I adopted sweet Alexandria a few weeks ago and we’re just getting to know each other. She’s only two and was left homeless when her owners moved without her.”

  Tina faced Savannah. “How can people do that?” Without waiting for a response, she said, “I’m so grateful that we found each other, but it has been quite a learning experience for both of us.” She looked around. “Hey, do you have Rags with you? Rob said you were bringing Rags.”

  She leaned closer. “Rob and I, we go way back, you know. We knew each other in high school many years ago and we’ve stayed in touch. I thought I’d marry him at one point, but that didn’t work out. We’re more on sister-brother terms, if you know what I mean.”

  Savannah nodded. “Nice.”

  “How do you know Rob?” Tina asked.

  “We met when he came with a crew to film Rags for a documentary three or four years ago.” Savannah moved aside so Tina could see Rags’s pen. “Here he is. He’s resting now and staying out of my way and out of trouble while I get set up. Hey, would you keep an eye on him while I go get the rest of my things out of the car?”

  “Sure,” Tina said. She moved closer to Rags. “So there you are in the flesh and fur.” She jumped a little and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “Hey, I’d better call Peg, my sister, and tell her not to take Lexie…that’s Alexandria, to the vet after all, if you’re sure that it was just a normal function, and that nothing’s wrong.” She tilted her head. “You and your husband are veterinarians, right?” When Savannah nodded, she said, “Then I’m sure you know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, from what you told me, I’m pretty sure she just coughed up a fur ball, but if you’re concerned, it might not be a bad idea to get her checked out. Lexie, huh? We have a dog named Lexie. That’s her whole name, just Lexie.”

  “I think it’s so cute. I renamed her, you see. She came with a really crazy name—something like Scruffy Boo-Boo or Scarfy Hoo-Hoo.” She waved her hand in the air. “Oh, I don’t remember what it was.”

  She leaned toward Rags. “But there you are, Rags, in all your glory. You are such a handsome boy. It’s a huge pleasure to meet you. I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you through all of your amazing stories and the pictures Rob sends me.”

  She looked up at Savannah. “So far Lexie hasn’t shown any signs of that type of cat behavior. When does it start?”

  Savannah couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hopefully never, Tina. As they say, God broke the mold after he created Rags. He’s definitely not your typical cat, which is why your books are doing so well. No one can make up the stuff Rags does.”

  Tina stared down at Rags. “Really?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Savannah said. “Go ahead and start arranging your books. We want to make it welcoming so we get a lot of visitors today.”

  ◆◆◆

  It was a little after noon when Savannah said to Tina, “This is quite a successful book fair. I think I’ve sold fifteen books so far. How about you? You’ve sure had a lot of kids looking at your books.”

  “Yes, and getting to pet the cat star is a thrill for them. I’m sure people bought books today because of Rags.” She ran her hand over his back as he lay on his blanket in the middle of the table.

  Savannah agreed. “He’s a pretty good promotional tool.”

  “Like Morris!” Tina exclaimed. “And that big white fluffy cat that does that other cat food commercial.”

  Savannah glanced around. “It looks like things are quieting down
a little. I think I’ll take Rags out for a walk and maybe get a sandwich, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  “Want me to bring you something?” Savannah asked. “Or maybe you’d like to take a break when I get back.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  Savannah picked up Rags from the table. “Come on, boy. Let’s go take a walk, shall we?”