Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (18 page)

“I’m glad to hear he’s doing okay. I liked him. Didn’t you like him, Michael?”

“Yes, he seems to be a good kid.”

“So sad that he had to lose his dad twice.”

“Twice?”

“Well, you heard him—his dad wasn’t really there for the family anymore and then he died.”

Savannah selected her favorite music from the CD player and rested against the back of the seat—her eyes closed. After several more miles of driving, Michael said, “Hey sleepy girl, we’re here. I can see your cat in the window. Look!”

***

“Good morning Auntie,” Savannah said into her cell phone. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I want to talk to you before you go to work—but didn’t want to bother you two while you were traveling. How was the trip? When did you get home?”

“Wonderful. We pulled in last night about dark. Oh, by the way, you’re the first to know—December fifteenth.”

“Huh?” Margaret said dully. Then she squealed with excitement. “Oh, your wedding date. Really?”

“Yes!” Savannah smiled broadly.

“And to think that I was the one who introduced you two. I knew you would like our Dr. Ivey and I was pretty sure he would fall for you.”

“Now don’t tell me that’s why you went and broke your foot earlier this year…just to introduce us to each other.”

“Hmmm, could be.”

“Well thank you,” she said with passion and in earnest. “I’m
so
glad you did.”

They both laughed.

“So, what’s up? Everything okay?” Savannah asked.

“Not really.” Margaret’s tone changed.

“Oh no, what happened?”

“It’s Iris. She’s being harassed.”

“By whom?” Savannah asked, crinkling up her nose.

“She called last night—didn’t want to bother you—and said that Fred Garfield’s wife Cecilia, has been calling her and making all sorts of threats. I guess she has already fulfilled some of them. She’s blasting all over the Internet—you know, on Facebook—that silly thing—that Iris was having an affair with Marvin Byrd and that she’s the one who killed him.”

“Why? That’s insane!”

“Savannah, that Garfield woman has been insane for years. Ever since her son drowned in that awful accident, she has not been the same. And now to have her husband accused of having an affair, she’s even more unstable.”

“What!?” Savannah almost shouted. “An affair? What’s that got to do with Iris? I’m not following you.”

“That’s because you’re naïve, my dear. And you’ve been out of the loop for a few days. A lot has happened while you were gone resting, or romping or whatever you two were doing. Here it is in a capsule: evidently, Iris and Garfield were having an affair. Somehow his wife found out and she’s threatening to go to the sheriff with her false accusations about Iris and Marvin Byrd.”

“What does she want from Iris?”

“I guess she wants her to stop seeing her husband. But as loony as this woman is, I’m not sure that would be enough.”

“Oh our dear Iris—what has she done?” Savannah tried to assimilate all that Margaret was saying. “But Auntie, she’s not going to convince Sledge that Iris was with Marvin Byrd. That’s absurd…Isn’t it?”

“Don’t be too sure. She can be convincing and conniving…and she has a following.”

“She does?”

“Oh yes, she’s still one of the women about town—you know—they dress up and do good work, belong to the best clubs and all. They’re very social and she’s rather popular among those women, as I understand it. They’ll surely stand behind her.”

Savannah’s mind was in overdrive. She felt her stomach tighten. “Cripes. Poor Iris. What’s she going to do? What can we do to help her?”

“Pray, girl. And stay in touch with her. She really needs us now.”

***

Savannah had a busy Monday morning at the clinic—a puppy with a broken leg, a couple of cases of kennel cough, an abscess on a pit bull, routine inoculations for a pair of shelties and a cat with a fever for no apparent reason. She also had to break the bad news to a family that their older cat was in renal failure. She asked their receptionist Scarlett to clear her schedule during the lunch hour. At noon, she walked the few blocks to the diner.

“Hi Frank,” she said while scanning the restaurant with her eyes. “Is Iris here?”

“No, she didn’t come in today. Want a booth?”

Savannah fidgeted with something in her pocket for a few seconds. “No, I think I’ll see if I can find Iris.”

Savannah started to walk toward the exit when she heard, “Well, hello, Dr. Jordan.”

She looked over and saw two women seated in the booth where she and Michael usually sat for lunch. “Hello…”

“Mildred Sparks…I met you at your home last Saturday and I bring my Dalmatians to Dr. Ivey’s clinic.”

“Oh yes, of course, Ms. Sparks. Nice to see you.”

Savannah started to edge toward the front door when Mildred spoke again, “Such a shame about Iris, isn’t it?”

Savannah looked at her inquisitively. “Why? What happened?” She was sure the woman was curbing the urge to smile.

“Oh, you haven’t heard? It’s all over town. I guess she was the one involved with the dead man—Marvin Byrd. Speculation is that they had a lover’s quarrel and she killed him.” Mildred Sparks waited and watched for a reaction.

Savannah looked into her face for a few seconds, set her jaw and abruptly turned and walked out the front door of the diner.

She hurried back to the clinic where her car was parked, and drove the few miles to Iris’s home. She knocked on the door. There was no response. Savannah looked over and saw Iris’s car in the driveway and she continued knocking, calling out, “Iris, it’s me, Savannah.”

Eventually, she heard the metal lock disengage. The door opened. “Savannah? I didn’t expect you.”

“Sorry, I should have called. I was eager to check on you. Can I come in?”

Iris pushed her naturally curly, dyed red hair back in an attempt to calm it, pulled her threadbare robe around her, and, opening the door wider, said, “Yeah, why not?”

“Iris, what’s going on?”

The distraught woman walked over to the nearest chair, plopped down into it and started crying. “Hell if I know. I’m some sort of target. The whole town’s against me. And what have I done? Nothing to deserve this.” She leaned forward in the chair and said, “Savannah I’m being accused of murder!”

Savannah walked over behind Iris and put her hands on her friend’s quaking shoulders as she continued to sob into a wad of tissues.

“Can I make you some coffee?”

Iris sniffled. “No. I’ve had too much already.”

Savannah went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. She walked back into the living room and handed it to Iris. “Here, drink some of this. You’re going to dehydrate.”

“Like I even care,” she muttered through sobs.

“Come on, you’ve gotta care. Drink!”

“Is there bourbon in it? Or better yet, poison? Arsenic?”

“No!”

“Then I don’t want it,” she said, pulling her knees up and curling herself into a tight ball within the lap of the chair.

“Iris, stop this,” Savannah said sternly. “Pull yourself together and tell me what happened, will you?” She set the glass on a nearby table, moved a chair up in front of Iris and sat down. “Come on, speak to me.”

Iris sat up, put her feet on the floor and dabbed at her eyes. “My life’s over, that’s all.”

Savannah stared at her for a few moments and then asked, “Iris, how many times have you been divorced?”

She cocked her head and looked up at Savannah. “Three.”

“How many times have you been called in the middle of the night about trouble with Damon?”

Iris waved her hand in the air. “Oh, I can’t count that high.”

“How many times have you felt that your world was caving in on you and there was no way out?”

“Lots! But,” she wailed, “I’ve never been accused of murder before.”

Savannah ignored her and continued, “My point is, you have had problems; you have had heartbreak; you have had people treating you badly and you have survived. Iris, you will survive this. Now just calm down and get to work taking care of yourself. You have support. You have friends. You have a family…a family who needs you, by the way.”

“I can’t. They’re going to put me in jail.”

“Iris, look at me.”

“What?” She dabbed at her eyes.

“Were you having an affair with Marvin Byrd?”

She sat straight up and said a strong, “NO!”

“Did you kill him?” Savannah asked.

Iris rolled her head from side to side, gulped in some air and said, “Savannah, you know I didn’t.”

“Then the truth is on your side. Don’t you think that’s important?”

“Sure, but…”

“No buts. You have work to do…something to prove. Sure, you’re getting a bad rap.” Savannah stared over at her friend for a moment before continuing. “Iris, you’ve made some mistakes.”

Iris harrumphed. “Yeah, you got that right. Why I ever bought into that bastard Fred’s line of baloney, I will never know. Look at the mess I’ve gotten myself into.” She slumped down in the chair, her wraparound robe coming open at the top revealing a silky midnight blue gown.

“I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Savannah said light-heartedly.

Iris smiled up at her. “Oh yeah.” She then shook her head in disgust saying, “But it turns out it wasn’t worth it.”

“Okay, where do you go from here, Iris? What’s next? Have you talked to your attorney?”

“Yes, she’s coming over this afternoon.” Suddenly, she sat up, looked over at a clock above the TV and said, “Oh, she’ll be here in half-hour.”

“Iris, drink this water. Go get in the shower. You’ll feel better.” Savannah frowned over at Iris before saying, “And do something with that hair.”

Iris laughed a little. “It’s pretty wild when I let it go curly, isn’t it?”

***

Savannah opened the newspaper that evening and spotted a picture of Iris on the front page. The headlines screamed, “Waitress Linked Romantically To Murdered Man.”

Ooohhh nooooo, Aunt Marg was right, that woman has power. Now look what she’s done. This is awful
.

“Hi hon,” Michael greeted as he stepped inside the door. “Any good news there?” he asked.

She scowled, shook her head, and turned the headlines toward Michael.

“Good Lord,” he said, driving his hand through his hair. He sat down next to Savannah on the love seat and asked, “What has happened?”

“I saw Iris this afternoon. She’s a mess.” She looked at him, took in a deep breath and said, “Well, Michael, it seems that she was having an affair with Fred Garfield.”

“The city councilman?”

“Yes. His wife found out and she’s spreading rumors that Iris was having an affair with the dead man—Marvin Byrd. Now it looks even more suspicious for her—that she may have killed him.”

What?”

“She didn’t, of course. She had an appointment with her attorney this afternoon.” She stared over at Michael. “I’m so worried about her.”

“Well, if she didn’t do it, no worries, right?”

“You’ve never heard of someone being convicted of something they didn’t do?”

“Yes, it does happen—but the evidence has to be pretty strong, doesn’t it?”

The two of them sat quietly and read the rest of the article. “I’m going to call her,” Michael said, slipping his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. He stood and began pacing as he spoke. Upon ending the call, he glumly plopped down into Margaret’s favorite overstuffed chair and said, “She hasn’t seen the paper. She was pretty upset when I told her about it. She said Sondra Blair advised her to ‘just chill’ and the rumor would blow over. She told Iris that, when there’s no basis for a rumor, it eventually goes away. But she is going in to see Detective Sledge tomorrow with Sondra for more questioning.”

He reached out to run his hand over Rags as the cat walked past while adding, “Oh, and she said that the sheriff nabbed Damon a couple of days ago and hauled his you-know-what down to the station for questioning. From what Damon told his mother, he didn’t tell them ‘nothin’,’ because he doesn’t know ‘nothin’.’ Oh, he also told her that they found his fingerprints on the ladder. But he has a logical explanation for that. He used it that day to retrieve a balloon stuck in one of those junipers for a little boy. I guess the detective will see if he can corroborate that story.”

Savannah settled back in the love seat as if in contemplation. She said, “Gosh, there really is a lot to detective work, isn’t there? There are so many stories. How do you sort through them all and figure out which ones to believe?”

“Yes, it is a complicated profession and this is a complicated case. Poor Iris. Should we go check on her?”

“I’m kinda thinking no. I mean I was rather hard on her this afternoon, but I believe my tactic was fairly successful. I got her to get cleaned up, anyway. She has had a big day. She’s probably exhausted.” She blinked over at Michael and asked, “How did she sound to you just now?”

“Exhausted—as you said.”

“Then, I say we should leave her alone tonight. Iris isn’t too shy to call if she needs us.”

He chuckled. “You got that right.”

“Hey, I didn’t have lunch, how about we go out and get some Italian, or something? Are you game?”

“You mean you used your lunch hour to help Iris?”

She pressed her lips together, then said, “Something like that.”

“You know, you are really a wonderful woman.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going home to shower and feed my critters. Be back in half an hour.”

“You mean you came here straight from work?”

“Uh-huh, had a couple of calls out this way.” A smile brightened his face. “Did you know that one of your neighbors has a new set of twin calves? I stopped by to check them over. And one of the Zimmerman’s Four-H sheep has a fatty tumor that needs to be removed before the fair.”

Savannah yawned and stretched. “You had a busy day, Dr. Mike,”

He chuckled, “Are you going to be able to stay awake through dinner?”

“Yeah, if you hurry. Chop, chop…Go get yourself ready,” she said while pushing him toward the front door.

***

“Feel better, my love?” Michael asked as he pulled into the driveway at the Forster home.