Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (14 page)

Savannah stood still, stunned at Caroline’s accuracy. She then said, “Yes. My aunt and her now husband rescued her and even had to bottle feed her—actually, I believe with an eye dropper.”

Caroline continued, “She didn’t want to live until they showed her love. Then she changed her mind. Bless her sweet heart,” Caroline said, her voice cracking. She reached out and petted Layla. “She is a dear thing.” She stood up, took a breath and said, “Now, let’s meet Rags.”

“Oh, isn’t he a handsome fella?” Caroline said while lying on the floor looking at him as he huddled under Savannah’s bed. “Will you come out to see me?” She shook a bag of organic treats and set a few down in front of her. But Rags wasn’t interested in coming out even for a fish-flavored treat. “No matter, Rags. We can talk here, just like this.” Without taking her eyes off Rags, she said, “Dr. Jordan, you can stay or go—doesn’t matter. If you stay,” she said, keeping her eyes focused on Rags, “just sit across the room somewhere, okay?”

After several minutes, Savannah saw Caroline push herself back onto her knees. Using the bed, she pulled herself up to a standing position. Savannah stood and asked, “What did you find out?”

“He’s traumatized, all right. I used some mind-talk to help calm him, I hope you don’t mind,” she said, rubbing her hands together and glancing back at the bed.

“No, no, not at all,” Savannah responded. “I know he understands things…”

“Which is probably why this has upset him more than it would the ordinary cat.”

Savannah was eager to hear more.

“He was definitely a witness to violence.” Caroline turned to face Savannah. “I even got a sketchy picture of the murderer from him.” She rolled her head from side to side. “If only they allowed cats to testify in court. They’d be really good at it, don’t ya know?” She laughed a little before saying, “And it would be job security for people like me.” She winked. “…being a cat interpreter, and all.”

Savannah chuckled.

Caroline became serious again, looked at Savannah and added, “I don’t think he knows the guy.”

Savannah tilted her head. “It was a man?”

“Yes, I’m almost positive…according to the picture he showed me.” She looked squarely at Savannah before saying, “And the guy kicked him.”

Savannah caught her breath and squeezed her eyes closed. “Oh my gosh, no.”

Caroline glanced back toward the bed. “Yes, this seems to be the thing that has him most upset—not the violence he saw, but the violence he experienced.” She spoke haltingly. “Oh, he’s sensitive to…what happened to the other guy, but…more so about what happened to him. He’s…he’s still in pain. But you know cats…” She turned to face Savannah. “Well, of course you do. They are good at dealing with pain. There’s nothing broken, but there is bruising on his left side in the upper ribcage area.”

“Oh, that’s why he bit at me when I picked him up that night,” Savannah said, her voice catching with a surge of emotion. She then collected herself. “This has been most enlightening, Caroline. Thank you so much. What do I owe you?”

“How about a trade?” She walked toward the bedroom door. “My girls are due for inoculations soon.”

“Hey, I’m good with that. Just request me when you call for an appointment and I’ll take care of your girls—Sophie, Mitzi and Karma?” she asked as if not quite sure?

“Close; Sophie,
Missy
and Karma.”

The two women started to leave the room, when Caroline looked back and saw a green eye peering out from under the bed ruffle. “Oh, there he is. Hello Ragsdale. It’s been a pleasure.”

Rags hesitated before crawling out. He stopped in the middle of the room and stretched his paws in front of him with his butt up in the air. He stood tall on all fours, shook, and then walked confidently over to Caroline. She put her hand out and he head-butted it with a little jump—his front paws coming off the floor. “He’s really a smart cat, isn’t he?” She turned toward Savannah, looked at her expectantly and asked, “Does he have any unusual non-catlike habits? I mean like carrying things around in his mouth—which is more doglike?”

“Actually, yes. He steals things.”

Caroline smiled down at Rags. “A klepto cat? How cool is that? I haven’t known many of them. Does he have a stash?”

“Oh yes. When we lived in the burbs in Los Angeles, he went out some and he was always bringing things home—sunglasses, bathing suits, sponges, chamois, shoes, toys. He doesn’t get out much anymore—too many predators here. But he’s starting to take things from people who visit. He’s a character,” Savanah said with a wide grin.

“I can see that.” She knelt down. “Nice to meet you, Rags. Thanks for coming out for a proper greeting.” She roughed up the fur on his head and stood to leave.

“This has been fascinating,” Savannah said as she opened the front door for Caroline. “Thank you so much for…well, for talking to him.”

Caroline stepped out onto the porch and glanced back at the cat who had followed Savannah into the living room. “My pleasure…truly.”

***

In the meantime, that same afternoon, Detective Sledge and Sergeant Gonzales walked into the Home and Garden Real Estate Company owned by Fred Garfield.

A petite Hispanic woman in her forties looked up from her desk as the two men approached. “Hello, may I help you?”

The detective handed her a card. “We have an appointment with Fred Garfield.”

Just then, a balding man in his early-sixties entered the outer office. He wore slacks and a long-sleeved dress shirt. A thin fringe of light-brown hair mixed with grey almost covered the back of his collar. “Detective?”

“Yes, Detective Sledge and Sergeant Gonzales,” Sledge said nodding toward his partner. Garfield looked from one to the other, then turned and said, “Come in.”

The two men followed him into a private office where they were invited to sit down opposite Garfield at a large desk.

The realtor leaned forward and folded his hands together in front of him. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

Sledge glanced quickly around the room. “Nice setup, Mr. Garfield.”

“Yes, I like it. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the two said in unison.

Sledge started the questioning. “I understand you attended the fundraiser at the Forster place over the weekend.”

Garfield leaned back in his expensive leather desk chair. “Yes, my family and I were there. It was quite a success…except for…”

“Except for what?”

“Well, the murder, of course, and the robbery…”

Sledge remained silent for a moment before saying, “I notice in the photographs taken at the event that you were wearing gloves.”

“Um, yes.” Garfield looked quickly from one man to the other before explaining, “I have a skin condition and I have to wear gloves anytime I’m outside…and a hat.”

Sledge looked over at the man’s hands and noticed that they were, indeed, blotchy. He made some notes. “Mr. Garfield, did you have occasion to go inside the Forster home last Saturday during the party?”

He leaned forward, allowing the chair back to sit upright. After thinking about the question for a moment, he said, “No, I don’t believe so. Why?”

“Think hard, Mr. Garfield. At any time that day did you go inside the home?”

Garfield shifted his eyes from side to side and finally a weak smile emerged. He spoke with confidence, “Oh, yeah…yes, I did. Being a realtor, I’m always interested in what’s on the market. In fact, Margaret Forster…er…Sheridan… plans to list the old place probably sometime next year.” He avoided eye contact. “Of course, I wanted to take a look around.”

Sledge fiddled with his pencil. “Why did you have to stop and think about that question, Mr. Garfield? Is there something you’re hiding?”

Garfield shifted in his chair, looked out the window, took a deep breath and said, “Well, no. Why?”

“You seem kind of nervous, Mr. Garfield.”

He said, “Anyone gets nervous when they’re being interrogated, don’t you think, Detective?” He spoke faster now. “In fact, I can tell you that I was wrongly accused of something once and darn near sent to prison. It’s frightening and it does happen—I mean there are innocent people in prison. They’re discovering more and more of them all the time.” He stood up and began to pace. Glancing quickly at Sledge and Gonzales, he said, “I have high blood pressure, you know, and I’m under a lot of stress in my work and at home. I just don’t like it when I feel as though I’m being backed against a wall.”

Sledge frowned. He shook his head. “How are we backing you against a wall, Mr. Garfield? All we’re doing here is asking you a couple of questions. So you went inside the house…”

Garfield raked one hand over his head and said, “Yes, I guess I did, actually.”

“Did you go upstairs?”

“No,” he said, looking down at the floor. “No, I didn’t go upstairs at all—just the kitchen and I walked around in the living room and dining room. That’s all.”

“Did you happen to see anyone else go upstairs?”

Garfield stopped pacing and appeared to be thinking. “I didn’t notice anyone, but I wasn’t really paying that much attention.”

“Did you see anyone behaving in an unusual manner that day that you can recall?”

“Hmmm. Strange questions,” he said, as he walked over to his chair, settling back down into it.

“Not really, when you consider we’re investigating a murder, do you think Mr. Garfield?” Sledge looked hard at the man for a few moments. “Mr. Garfield, did you know Marvin Byrd?”

“Um, I think so. He has come to city council meetings a few times. I didn’t know him in any sort of personal way,” he said shaking his head and looking down at something on his desk.

“Are you a friend of Iris Clampton?”

Sledge was sure he saw an increase in perspiration beads forming on Garfield’s forehead. After some hesitation, Garfield said, “I know Iris. Yes. I eat at the diner quite often during the week. It’s too far to drive out to my home for lunch every day. I have my dinner there on meeting nights. You know I’m on the city council…”

“Do you have a personal relationship with Iris Clampton?”

He looked confused. Suddenly, as if understanding the question, he responded, “Oh no. No, no, no, nothing like that. I like her—she’s a nice lady. But no, I’m happily married to a wonderful woman.” He then looked at his watch, stood up and said, “Now, if there’s nothing else, gentlemen, I have to show a house. Gotta keep the flow of money coming in so I can afford this luxury office, you know.” A nervous smile visited his lips, but only for a brief moment.

Sledge and Gonzales stood. “Okay, that’s it for now. Mr. Garfield, I would appreciate it if you would not leave town for the next few weeks.” Sledge started to turn and follow Gonzales out when he stopped and looked back at the realtor. “We may have more questions. And please let us know if you happen to recall anything you observed at the Forster place that might be considered suspicious.”

“Uh, okay.”

Sledge was the first to speak once the partners were in the car. “Well, that guy’s wound tight, isn’t he? He and Iris Clampton sure make a pair.”

Gonzales shook his head in disbelief. “Sure is—like someone with a whole lot of lies to hide.”

“So it wasn’t just me?” Sledge asked, not expecting an answer. “Hey, what do you say we go have a conversation with Mrs. Garfield?”

“Sure—can’t be any more weird.”

“Wow, that’s some place,” Gonzales said as they pulled up in front of 1001 Peacock Avenue.

“Gadzooks!” Sledge exclaimed. “He must sell a lot of houses—or something...”

The pair made their way up the rock walkway onto the roomy porch and Sledge rang the doorbell. “Oh, hello,” he said to the woman who responded rather promptly, “Mrs. Garfield?”

The slightly stooped sixty-something woman smiled warmly. “No, I’m Gert. May I ask who’s calling?”

He handed her a card. “Detective Sledge and Sergeant Gonzales.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. We’d just like to ask her a few questions.”

“Certainly,” she said, pushing the door closed as far as it would go without latching.

They didn’t wait long before a plump woman with dyed blond hair, wearing an expensive gabardine suit appeared at the door. “Hello?” she said questioningly as she opened the door wide. A small white poodle mix dog stood a distance behind her.

“Hello, Mrs. Garfield?” When she nodded, Sledge continued, “I’m Detective Sledge, this is Sergeant Gonzales. We’d like to come in and ask you a few questions about what you observed at the Forster home Saturday during the party…er…fundraiser.”

“Oh, I just arrived home and I have another appointment soon…” She glanced at her watch. “But, if it doesn’t take too long…”

“Fine. Where can we talk?”

She glanced again at each of the men and invited them inside. She led them through the great room and into a stunning sitting room decorated in wicker. The little dog trotted over to a matching wicker dog bed and promptly curled up on the plush cushion. Cecilia Garfield motioned toward two matching chairs. “Please have a seat.” Once everyone was seated, she let out a breath and asked, “Okay, now what is it you need from me?”

“Mrs. Garfield, who was with you at the party Saturday?”

“My husband, Fred, our oldest daughter and her two children. They sure enjoyed the arcade. The arcade was my favorite part of the event because the kids had so much fun. They’re six and eight. Great kids.”

“I’m sure they are. Was your husband with you throughout the event?”

“Well, yes. Why?” she asked furrowing her brow as if confused by the question.

“He went over to the arcade with you and the grandchildren?”

“Yes.” She stopped before saying, “Well, he wasn’t there the whole time, of course. He always has to schmooze at these social events.” She sat more erect as she announced, “He’s a city councilman, you know—been elected for three terms. People look up to him. We have a
place
in this community. It’s important that Fred socialize. So, to answer your question, he wasn’t with us in body the entire time, but certainly in spirit.” She laughed, exposing her perfectly whitened, slightly crooked teeth between thin, shapeless lips.