Cats of a Feather

by Patricia Fry

  Savannah nodded. “Probably.” When her phone chimed, she checked her messages and reported, “A text from Claudia. She says she and April would welcome a visit after four this afternoon.” She looked at Chris. “Okay with you?”

  “Claudia?” Chris questioned.

  “Yes,” Savannah said. “Rags’s sister, April’s mom. She’s the one who looks like Angel.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Chris said, “that’s okay with me. It’ll be interesting to meet another sibling. Jazzie’s kind of a character. I wonder if April is too.”

  Savannah responded to Claudia’s text, then picked up the paper Marilyn had given her. She looked at her watch. “Hey, we have a little time before we meet Cathy Clayborn. In fact, I believe this cattery is close to where she lives. Want to go check out this place? I want to see if the Gallagher cattery’s still being operated there. Wouldn’t it be cool to talk to someone who knew Angel back when—maybe even when she was a kitten?”

  “Yes,” Chris agreed, enthusiastically.

  The women had been on the road for about thirty minutes when Savannah turned into a housing tract. She said, “Look for one thirty-three.”

  After a moment, Chris pointed. “There! Wow! It looks abandoned. I don’t think anyone lives there anymore.”

  “Not unless vagrants have taken it over.” Savannah said. She parked across the street from the house and asked Chris, “What do you think? Want to go exploring?”

  “Why not?” Chris agreed.

  “Come on, Ragsie,” Savannah cooed as she released him from the car seat. “It looks like it’s been abandoned for a long time. What a mess.”

  “Someone must still own it, but why haven’t they sold it or fixed it up or something?” Chris asked.

  “Good question,” Savannah said. After they’d walked around in the front of the house, Savannah tried a gate latch. “It’s open. Want to snoop?”

  Chris looked around. “I don’t see any no-trespassing signs.”

  “Or big watch dogs,” Savannah joked, pushing the gate open. “Weeds,” she said.

  “Weed?” Chris said. “Are they growing pot back here?”

  “No,” Savannah said, laughing. “Not weed, weeds. Thick, tall weeds.” Suddenly she lurched forward. “Rags,” she yelped. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Follow him,” Chris said, grinning.

  “And get all dirty and scratched up in those weeds?” Savannah complained.

  “Yeah, I want to see what he’s so interested in. Look, he stopped.” Chris noticed.

  “What, Rags?” Savannah asked, catching up to him. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s digging. What’s he digging at?” Chris asked, getting closer.

  “I don’t see anything. Come on, Rags,” she urged. “There are stickers out here, and probably bitey bugs.”

  “Wait,” Chris said. “He’s seriously onto something; let’s see what it is. Aren’t you curious?”

  “I guess so,” Savannah said. “Rags, what did you find? Whatever it is, you probably can’t have it. This isn’t our property.” She turned to Chris. “You know what, he’s probably after the scent of a gopher.”

  Just then they heard a man’s voice. “Can I help you ladies?”

  Savannah and Chris turned. When they didn’t see anyone, they continued watching Rags.

  “What are you doing there?” came the voice again.

  “Where are you?” Chris asked.

  “The back fence,” the man said. “Unlock the gate and I’ll show myself.”

  Chris made her way to the gate and unlatched it, opening it to a man of about forty-five who had a bald head and tattoos up and down his arms.

  “So are you looking to buy this property?” he asked. Before Chris could answer, he said, “I’m Buzz. I live back there. I run a motorcycle shop out of my garage. I was just checking on my dogs when I heard you out here. So are you going to be our neighbors? It’s been a long time since we’ve had a neighbor back here—well, since a couple of years after Mrs. Gallagher disappeared. That was a darned shame. My wife still has the jitters over that deal. I mean, where could she have gone to?”

  “I guess no one knows,” Chris said.

  He raised his eyebrows. “At least one person knows—whoever it was that kidnapped her.”

  “You think she was kidnapped?” Savannah asked, from across the yard.

  “Hell, yeah. She wouldn’t have left those cats of hers. No way. I’ve lived here all my life. I grew up here, and she’s always had cats. Cats were her life, like bikes are mine.”

  “Rags,” Savannah complained, when he pulled away from her again. She stumbled through a shrub trying to keep up with him.

  “Now what?” Chris asked, when the cat stopped.

  “I don’t know,” Savannah complained. “Another gopher hole, I guess. Wait,” she said, “he’s digging at something there—oh, probably something that blew off that clothesline years ago, or it’s just an old rag. Leave it, Rags,” she said. “Leave it.”

  Buzz chuckled. “You sound like you’re talking to a dog. That’s a dog command.”

  “He’s part dog,” Chris said, grinning. She moved closer to Buzz. “So what happened, do you think? When did Mrs. Gallagher go missing?”

  “Well, it’s been about six or seven years ago, I’d say. I told the police that I saw her just before she was reported missing. She was fretting about something. I had come over to fix that clothesline there. The rain had softened the ground and the clothesline pole was tilting. Yeah, she still used a clothesline. I think she had a clothes dryer, but she hung the cats’ blankets and beds on the line.”

  “And she was upset about something that day?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah, she kept muttering something about…well, she said, ‘I shouldn’t have done it. I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I must get her back.’ I remember that to this day, maybe because it was the last conversation I had with her, and because she seemed so focused on something.”

  “What did she mean, do you know?” Savannah asked, having overheard Buzz’s remarks.

  He shook his head. “I think about it every once in a while, but I sure don’t know. I don’t have a clue.” He turned toward his property. “Hey, I’d better get back.” He frowned. “You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here. Do you have business?”

  “Yeah,” Chris said, “it looks like the house could be fixed up. I like the neighborhood. It might just be the perfect house for me.”

  “Well, welcome. I know the other neighbors would also like to see this place fixed up.” He said as if it were a secret, “It’s attracting rats.”

  “Rats!” Chris exclaimed. “Maybe that’s what Rags is after.”

  “Could be,” Buzz said, scrutinizing the cat. “Well, good luck to you. I sure hope you move in and clean the place up, although I didn’t know it was for sale. I heard that the kids want to hold onto it in case their mother comes back.”

  “Really?” Chris said. She looked around. “They must not have the money to do upkeep.”

  “No,” Buzz said, “so maybe they’ve given up and decided to sell. I hope so.” He narrowed his eyes and looked across the yard, asking, “What’s your cat doing?”

  “Looking for those rats you mentioned, maybe,” Chris said.

  Just then, Savannah called, “Chris come look at this!”

  “He’s sure excited about something,” Buzz said, walking closer with Chris. “What’s he got there? Oh, it looks like Mrs. Gallagher’s glasses. She wore glasses just like that. She must have thrown those away. They’re all broken.” He glanced around the yard. “But why would she toss them out here like this?” After thinking for a moment, he reasoned, “I wonder if they fell off when she was trying to fight off her kidnapper.”

  The two women stared at Buzz, and Chris asked, “So you think these are Mrs. Gallagher’s glasses?”

  “I’m pretty sure they are,” he said. He glanced around the yard. “Gosh, I haven’t been back here in y
ears. It sure isn’t like it used to be when she was here. She kept it immaculate.” He smiled. “She’d bring her pretty cats out here sometimes to enjoy the fresh air. She had a portable pen she’d set up for them, and she’d sit out here with them, reading or writing. She was always reading or writing, that is when she wasn’t pampering the cats.” He took a strong breath and said, “Well, I’d better get back. Good luck, there.” He started to walk away, then turned and said, “Want to latch the gate after me? Thanks.”

  After latching the gate, Chris walked back toward Savannah and Rags. “Now what’s he doing?” she asked. She laughed. “He’s sort of like a metal detector, isn’t it? A furry metal detector.”

  Savannah nodded. “Yeah, look what else he found.”

  Chris stared down at the ground. “What is that? It looks like the handle of a cane.”

  “Sure does, doesn’t it?” Savannah said. “Now what, Rags?” she said when he began pawing the ground in another spot. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed.

  Chris moved closer. “A shoe. Good lord, a woman’s shoe.” She swallowed hard. “Do you think the woman tossed this junk out here?”

  “I doubt it,” Savannah said. “You heard that motorcycle guy…”

  “Buzz,” Chris interjected.

  “Yeah, he said she had a really nice yard. It doesn’t seem that she’d be inclined to garbage it up.” Savannah looked around. “Looks like they’ve had some flooding in this area in recent years.”

  “So you think this stuff washed into the yard?” Chris asked.

  More mysteriously, Savannah said. “Or, the flooding washed away some of the dirt and it’s exposing stuff that was buried out here.”

  “Holy shhh… Savannah, are you saying…”

  Savannah interrupted. “I think we should call 911.”

  Chris gulped and looked down at the cat. “You weren’t just a-kidding when you said traveling with Rags could be an adventure. Unbelievable.”

  Savannah looked at her watch and winced. “You know what? We’d better keep our appointment with Cathy, Rags’s first owner. I sure don’t want to miss out on talking to her. Let’s go do that, then come back here and maybe place that call, okay?”

  ****

  “Lucky for us she lives close by. We’re only a few minutes late.” Savannah exited the car with Rags and they approached the door with Chris. “Hi, are you Cathy? I’m Savannah Ivey and this is Chris Tomlinson.”

  “Hello,” a woman of about fifty greeted. She looked down at her slightly soiled jeans and said, “Excuse my appearance. I got carried away in the garden this afternoon. That recent rain grew a new batch of weeds around my veggies.”

  “No problem,” Savannah said. “We just came from a weed patch ourselves.”

  Cathy gave the two women a once-over, then led them to a small den and invited them to be seated. She looked down at Rags. “So you’re traveling with a cat?”

  “Yes, is he okay in here? Do you have pets?”

  Cathy shook her head. “No more. Cats just don’t fit our lifestyle.” She stared at Rags for a moment and asked, “Hey now is this the cat I had years ago—the one called Gray Boy?”

  Savannah smiled. “Yes, he is. As I understand it, you were the first one to adopt him.”

  “Yes,” she said, remembering. “I went to the pet store to buy a gift for my brother and his family who had just bought a new dog. I couldn’t help but check out the pets in the cages, and I saw him and a cute little fluffy kitten. I watched them play for a few minutes. They made me smile. When I got home, I couldn’t get the fluffy one out of my mind, but by the time I decided to go back and get her, she was gone, and he was the only one left, so I took him.” She shook her head. “What a mistake!”

  “Really?” Chris said. “How so?”

  Cathy looked sideways at Rags and let out a sigh. “Where do I begin? He was into everything. He played with my plants, climbed all over the furniture, got into the closet and even dresser drawers.” She looked wide-eyed at the other women. “He’d even climb my leg—you know, with his claws. Can you imagine that?”

  Savannah chuckled. “I’m glad he doesn’t do it anymore.”

  “Yes, he’s huge. Isn’t he large for a cat?” Cathy asked.

  “Yes, he’s a big boy,” Savannah said. “So far, what you’ve told us, Cathy, is pretty much what kittens do. Had you owned kittens or cats before?”

  Cathy thought for a moment. “I remember there being a sweet cat that wandered in and out of our yard when I was a kid. He never got into any trouble—never scratched us or anything. He was quiet and just loved being petted.”

  “Yeah, he was probably an older guy—more settled than a kitten would be.”

  “I guess,” Cathy said, looking at Rags. She took a breath. “We had to lock him in a bedroom when we had company over for dinner; otherwise, he’d take shrimp off people’s plates, or we’d find him on the table licking the roast. He was super naughty. A friend told me I needed to buy a cage for him, so I did, but that didn’t work out so well. I’d put him in there and he’d yowl and yowl until I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

  “Sounds like it wasn’t a match made in heaven,” Chris said.

  Cathy laughed. “Definitely not.

  “But you kept him for six months,” Savannah reminded her. “You must have reconciled your differences with little Gray Boy.”

  Cathy winced. “Not really. We just let him have his way. When we started giving him outdoor privileges, he calmed down some.”

  “So you turned him out?” Chris asked.

  Cathy nodded. “Yes, and the more we made him stay outside, the more pleasant he was to have around. He wasn’t perfect, but I could do the bookkeeping for my husband’s business without him scattering my paperwork everywhere. And he wasn’t as apt to leap up onto the countertop when I was baking. Yes, we got along much better when he became an outdoor cat, only…”

  “Only what?” Savannah asked.

  “Only then he became a thief,” she announced. When she saw the amusement on Savannah’s face, she said, “It was so embarrassing. He found things in our neighbors’ yards and he’d bring them home. People walking past our yard would see something he took and come in and retrieve it. I’m not altogether sure that they believed me when I told them it was the cat taking all that stuff. Would you? I mean, he doesn’t do that anymore, does he?” When she saw Savannah grinning, she asked more loudly, “Does he?” Before Savannah could speak, she said, “I thought we broke him of that. We started keeping him in the garage. We only let him out or in the house occasionally—we’d feed him in the garage, and that’s where his litter box was.”

  “Alone?” Chris asked.

  “Well, I’d go out and talk to him sometimes, but all he’d do is meow and meow, so I’d go back inside where I couldn’t hear him.”

  Savannah frowned and petted Rags, who continued to sit against one of her feet, unmoving.

  “He’s sure staying put there, isn’t he?” Chris said. “He hasn’t moved since we got here.”

  Savannah shook her head, then asked Cathy, “So how long did you keep him in the garage?”

  “Until I decided to return him. Gads, how I hoped they’d take him back. Well, Edgar, at the pet store, wasn’t too happy about it. In fact, he wouldn’t take him back. He said I had to return him to the shelter. It’s cats and kittens from the shelter that the pet store sells. So I went to the shelter and met Betsy. I made up all kinds of excuses for returning him. As it happened, I don’t think they cared. Betsy seemed to be okay with me bringing him back. She assured me they’d find him a nice home.” Cathy smiled at Savannah and asked, “So you’re doing okay with him, are you?”

  Savannah nodded and petted Rags affectionately. “Very well, thank you.” She stood up. “Cathy, thank you for your time. I really appreciate you talking to us. We have another interview soon, and we’d better get a move on.”

  Meanwhile, Rags bolted toward the door, pulling Savannah off balance a little
. Cathy said, “There, see how obnoxious he can be? You must be a saint to put up with that cat.” She looked suspiciously at her, “You didn’t come here hoping I’d take him back, did you?”

  Savannah stared into her eyes for a moment and said, “Absolutely not. That’s the last thing on my mind. I actually adore this cat. Again, thank you for returning him and making it possible.”

  Cathy shook her head. “Well, I don’t see the allure, but then each to his own, I guess.”

  Savannah faced her. “I’m curious, did you ever get another cat?”

  “No. No more animals. I’m just not an animal person. I like other people’s dogs and some cats, but I don’t want one of my own. I don’t know what I was thinking when I dragged him home.”

  “So he was about six months old when you took him back to the shelter?” Savannah asked.

  Cathy nodded. “Yes, I think so. Is that when you adopted him?”

  “No,” Savannah said. “Someone else adopted him, and she took him back after a few weeks.”

  “See?” Cathy said. “He was awful—a real handful. You adopted him after that? What sort of problems did you have with him?” She chuckled. “You know, one of the things I forgot to mention that really raised my dander was how messy he was. I’d buy him toys—you know, trying to keep him busy. Well, he’d leave them everywhere. Not only that, he’d pull dirty laundry out and drag it all around the house, and he’d take other things like our keys, money, letters, tea bags…”

  “And you didn’t see the humor in that?” Chris asked.

  Cathy stared at her. “You consider that funny? Hell no, I didn’t see the humor. I hated having to pick up after him all the time, and what did I get in return for feeding him and taking care of him? Absolutely nothing. He was too active to sit and let me pet him. He wasn’t the lap cat I’d hoped for. And destructive—our drapes were in shreds by the time I wised up and got rid of him.” She squinted down at Rags and shook her head. “Oh no, that was not a match made in heaven. Not with him.”

  “Well, Cathy, thanks again for taking time to talk to us. Hey, before we go, do you have any pictures of him when he was a kitten? I missed that stage with him, and I’d love to see any pictures of him that you might have.”