Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (21 page)

“Sure will.”

“I’d like to send Tasha home maybe tomorrow. There’s no place like home for a pup like this when it comes to healing.” She smiled, and affectionately smoothed the fur on top of the dog’s head.

“It’s your day off, right?” Bud asked.

“Yup, I’m on my way out now.” She walked into her office and picked up her purse. She was heading toward the front door of the clinic dressed in street clothes when a man walked in carrying what looked like a filthy wad of fur.

“I need help,” he said, urgency in his voice.

“What happened?” Savannah asked.

He rushed past her toward the reception counter. “I need to see the vet.”

“I’m Dr. Jordan, a veterinarian at this clinic. What do you have there?”

Savannah noticed a look of relief on the man’s face. He turned toward her and said, “It’s a dog—I hit it with my truck over near the Weldon tract—didn’t mean to. He ran and fell into a ditch full of water and got himself all muddy. I don’t know how badly he’s hurt, but he did let me pick him up and put him in the truck.”

“Bring him in here,” Savannah said quickly leading the way into one of the examining rooms. She grabbed her lab coat off a hook behind the door and hung the strap of her purse there. “Lay him on the table, would you?”

The man stood silent, and watched Savannah examine the dog.

Finally she said, “Well, he is a she. She’s only about eight months old—a purebred Australian shepherd, I would say. I can’t find any broken bones.” She ran her hands along the dog’s face. “She just seems a little frightened, that’s all. She’s a sweet thing. There are no tags—no chip for identification.” She looked over at the man. “I would like to keep her for observation—take a few x-rays to make sure she doesn’t have a hairline fracture or internal injuries.” She poked at the dog’s fur a little and said, “…and definitely give her a bath. And then what?” She looked inquisitively at the burly truck driver.

“Well, don’t look at me. I’m on the road more than I’m home. I live alone. I wouldn’t be a good dog owner, I’m afraid, especially for a young one like this.”

“I understand,” Savannah said, looking into the dog’s light-blue eyes and rubbing her hand over her head. “Look, I have an idea. Let us keep her here—we’ll take care of her medical bills.”

“You mean, you aren’t going to charge me?”

Savannah looked down at the pup, then glanced up at the truck driver. “Why would I? She isn’t your dog. You’re a good Samaritan and we really appreciate you stopping to help her.” She scratched the dog lightly behind one ear. “You know there are people who wouldn’t bother. It’s because of folks like you that we can have faith in humanity.” She smiled over at him. “We’ll take over from here, sir. Thank you again for helping her out.”

He started to leave when he turned back and said, “How about if I make a donation. You shouldn’t be expected to foot the bill for strays.”

A smile brightened Savannah’s face. “Well how nice. Thank you. We do have a fund that’s fed by donations.” She bowed her head slightly. “We accept with gratitude.”

***

Savannah pushed open the front door of Michael’s log house and walked in with Rags in her arms and a plastic bag dangling from her hand. “Where’s the chef?” she called.

“Chef?” Michael said, laughing as he joined her in the living room. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and tossed it over one shoulder. “There’s no chef here; that’s Max, remember? I’m something below a short-order cook.”

“Oh you’re too modest,” she said, bending down and releasing the cat. They watched him saunter over to where Buffy snuggled in her canopy cat bed. Rags boldly pushed his head into her domain, and the two cats touched noses. “Look, they’re kissing.”

“Good idea,” Michael said, pulling Savannah into his arms.

“Caesar salad?” she asked between kisses.

He pulled back a little and flashed her a puzzled look. “How’d you know?”

“Psychic, I guess.” She smiled.

“No really, how’d you know?”

“I can smell the anchovy paste and I thought I could detect the aroma of chicken cooking—is it a chicken Caesar?”

He tapped her on the end of her nose. “Oh, you’ve got a talented nose. That’s exactly what we’re having.”

“Cool. Sounds good.”

Just then Savannah felt something push up against her leg. She broke away from Michael and turned her attention to Lexie.

“She sure loves you,” Michael said with a smile.

“She loves anyone who’ll pet her and toss her ball.”

“Oh no. You’re more than a passing ball-thrower as far as Lexie’s concerned. I’ve never seen her respond to any other woman…”

Savannah looked over at Michael with an impish grin. “Any other woman? So there have been other women?”

“I’d better go check on the chicken,” he said turning and taking long strides toward the kitchen.

“Michael,” she called, “I believe you’re turning red.” She followed him into the kitchen and leaned over in front of him for a closer look at his face. “You are. You’re blushing.” She moved over behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him hard. “You’re so silly. Why would you hide the fact that you’ve dated before?”

“I don’t know, it’s just kind of embarrassing. Seems inappropriate somehow.” He turned toward Savannah, hugged her, saying, “I guess I just don’t want to jinx us.”

“Jinx us?” Savannah laughed. She stepped back. “I’ve never heard of that superstition. Anyway, Michael, I know you’ve been married before. Remember, you told me about your rather brief marriage to Marcy.”

Michael raised his arms, looked up and took a deep breath. “Okay, new subject.”

Savannah nodded.
Boy this is a time in his life he doesn’t like to talk about,
she thought.
I remember him telling me once how thrilled he was to learn she was pregnant and how devastated when she went off and had an abortion without telling him. I wonder how deeply his pain goes—if it will interfere with our happiness. Yeah, Marcy is not going to be a dinner-table topic in our household, that’s for sure.

She quickly shut off her thoughts when she heard him ask, “Hey, horsie girl, how was your day?”

“Oh my gosh,” she said while twirling around the room, “we had a glorious time.” She stopped in front of him and noticed that he was now leaning against the counter facing her; a huge smile on his face. She reached out and touched his crossed arms. “Oh Michael, Charlotte got to feed Hope and Miracle an apple. It was so cute, she just giggled about how the horses’ muzzles felt on her hand. Oh, and exciting news! Five more horses are being adopted. Did you know that? It appears that a lot happened while we were in Big Sur over the weekend.”

“That’s great! Did you girls ride?”

“YES!” Savannah said with delight. “Bonnie gave Charlotte a lesson on a gentle old gelding named Wilson.”

“Wow! Did she enjoy that?”

“She sure did. She was all smiles. She said to me, ‘Thavannah, thith ith tho muth fun!’”

They both laughed at Savannah’s imitation. “Charlotte bragged all the way home about how she got to steer the horse and he would go wherever she wanted.” Savannah began to laugh again and said, “One time she steered him right under an old apple tree and Bonnie and I had to get a stool so we could reach up and untangle some of those gorgeous red curls of hers from the limbs.” Savannah giggled. “Don’tcha know, she was more careful where she steered him after that.”

He laughed at the image. “Oh, she must have freaked out being all caught up in the tree like that.”

Savannah stood silent as Michael turned toward the counter and began cutting up the chicken for the salad. Finally she said quietly, “I got to ride, too, Michael.”

“You did? Cool.”

“Yes.” She moved over to where she could see Michael’s face. “I’d almost forgotten how much I love riding and being around horses. This was just such a perfect day for me, too.” In a soft voice told him, “Michael, I fell in love today.”

He turned quickly toward her, holding a piece of chicken in one hand and a knife in the other. “What?”

Savannah smiled. “Her name is Peaches. She’s a wonderful mare. What heart!” She looked off into space reliving her experiences with the mare in her mind. She leaned toward Michael, looked him in the eyes and said, “Bonnie has asked me if I’d like to ride her—you know, as if she’s my own.”

“Are you going to?” he asked as he went back to cutting up the chicken.

“I sure would like to. I’ll just have to figure out if I have the time to do the horse justice—you know, give her the amount of exercise she needs.”

“What if you bring her to your place?” Michael suggested. “You’d have more time for her, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t have to drive over to Bonnie’s stables. We could set up a portable corral out behind the shed.”

“Hmmm, maybe in time. For now, I’m probably better off being around other horse people, don’t you think? There’s so much I need to learn.”

Michael turned toward the kitchen table, salad bowl in hand just as three cats bounded into the room. The couple looked over in time to see Buffy run at full speed around the corner into the kitchen and slide across the floor like a shaggy mop. Walter was right on her tail and he stopped short at the doorway, cocking his head and staring at her. Rags was next to appear. He jumped over Walter and sideways danced up to Buffy, who was now on her back batting at him. “Not very ladylike, Buffy,” Savannah said, laughing out loud. Before Michael could set the bowl on the table, Rags and Buffy tore out of the room—Rags in the lead—almost tripping Michael.

“Holy cow!” he remarked.

“Yeah, like a herd of cows…” Savannah laughed again. Well, it looks like you have dinner ready, let me wash up and I’ll set the table.”

“This is good, Michael,” Savannah said after taking a few bites of her salad. “You
could
be a chef.”

“Yeah right.” He smiled. “Oh, hon,” he swallowed hard and took a sip of iced tea, “I forgot to ask, have you seen the paper?”

“No. Why?” she asked with a frown. “What’s going on now? Should I be afraid to ask?”

“Well, I guess Damon’s public defender got his bail lowered on the grounds that they didn’t have enough evidence—no motive or something—and he’s out on bail.”

Savannah pursed her lips. “Oooooh, not sure if that’s good or bad. Of course, my concern is Iris. Seems like it would be more relaxing for her if he was in jail.”

“True. But he’s out. This sure has been a convoluted case, it seems. Must be driving Detective Sledge…Craig…crazy.”

“Oh!” Savannah exclaimed as she stood and hurried away from the dinner table.

Michael followed her with his eyes. Two cats scurried out of the way and Savannah stepped gingerly over Lexie, who was sprawled across the threshold between the kitchen and living room.

“I almost forgot,” she said upon re-entering the kitchen.

“What’s that?” Michael asked crinkling up his nose at the plastic bag she held in her hand.

“What does it look like, silly?”

“Well, a glove—a kinda dirty glove. Where did you get it and why do you have it?”

“You may remember the detective asking about a glove. I found it—ah, well, er, Charlotte found it.”

“She did? Where?”

“I asked her about it—if she remembered seeing it and she did, bless her wonderful little memory. We stopped by the house on our way back from Bonnie’s and she went up to Rags’s stash where she’d last seen it. It wasn’t there. So she looked over at Rags, who was sitting beside her, as usual—he sure loves that little girl. Next thing I knew, Charlotte and Rags were in the closet and they came out with this glove.”

Michael sat stunned. “Wow!”

“I’m telling you, Caroline has nothing on Charlotte. She is a regular little psychic—at least where Rags is concerned.” Savannah then looked over at the clock on the microwave and asked, “What time is it? I’d better call the detective. He’ll probably want this right away. Look, Michael,” she said pointing to a spot on the glove, “doesn’t that look like dried blood to you?”

“So what did the good detective say?” Michael asked when Savannah set the phone down and picked up her fork to finish eating her salad. “Did you crack the case with that glove?”

“I left a message for him to call us.”

“I wonder what the significance of it is. Did you see anyone wearing it at the fundraiser? I have to say I don’t remember seeing it.”

“No, I don’t either. And I didn’t remember seeing that black kerchief at the fundraiser, either, until I thought about it later. Iris’s son, Damon, was wearing one like it.” She sighed. “I guess I’m not all that observant, after all.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said before taking a big bite of garlic bread. He reached for his glass of iced tea, swallowed and asked, “By the way, what’s up with that little Aussie I saw at the clinic?”

Savannah set her fork on her plate and sipped some tea through her straw before responding. “Oh yes, I wanted to talk to you about her. A truck driver brought her in. He said he had hit her with his truck. But I haven’t been able to find anything really wrong with her—maybe a little bruising is all. Isn’t she pretty? She was a mess when he brought her in—all muddy. But I gave her a bath and—wow! She’s a beautiful little dog.”

“Yes,” Michael agreed. “Who does she belong to?”

“There were no tags, no chip. Scarlett checked and she doesn’t match any Aussie in our database.” She leaned in toward her fiancé and said, “Michael, I have an idea.”

“Uh-oh. There’s that look in your eyes. I get nervous when I see that look.”

“No really, hon. I think you’re going to like my idea—really! Just listen.”

Michael put his elbows on the table and cupped his hands behind his ears. “I’m all ears.”

She sighed impatiently at his antics. “Really, now, Michael. Be serious. I want to give the dog to Steven.”

He sat up straight. “Steven Byrd? Are you sure his mom wants him to have a dog? Have you done enough to try to find her owners? Maybe we’d better check around in the area where she was hit.” Michael noticed Savannah’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, honey.” He reached for her hand. “Your heart’s in the right place, but we can’t just go giving people’s dogs away without making a serious attempt to find the owners.”