Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (24 page)

“Aww, Sledge. It’s my kids’ school open house tonight.” He sighed deeply before saying, “But I can do some checking after we get home. Roni can put the kids to bed tonight.”

“Good. I’ll go to City Hall first thing in the morning and see what I can dig up there.”

***

“Anything?” Sledge asked the next morning, upon seeing Ramon Gonzales step into the office and remove his coat.

“Not much, I’m afraid. Looks like Garfield lied to us—he has had some business dealings with Byrd, but it’s hard to tell to what extent. Garfield’s name comes up in a few places, but there’s nothing to track. It’s as if he’s a ghost in some of these transactions. How’d you do at City Hall?”

“I have Louise on it. There’s a whole lot of transcripts and stuff to go through, and when you don’t know exactly what you’re looking for and specific dates, it’s kinda like trying to walk up a slippery slope.” Sledge shoved some papers aside and said, “I’ve asked Judge Peterson for a warrant. I’d like to go through Garfield’s office. That’s where the paper trail probably starts or ends.” He picked up his cell and said, “Yes, Sledge here.” He listened for a moment and then slumped a little in his chair. “Oh, no warrant, huh? Damn. Not good news.” He pushed a button on the phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Why not?” Gonzales asked.

“Same old story—not enough evidence,” Sledge said with sarcasm. He leaned forward and looked his partner in the eye. “You gotta have it in order to get it. Something’s wrong with the system.” He sat tapping his fingers on the desk. He then reached into his jacket pocket and said, “Well maybe I know a way to get that evidence we need.” He dialed, and put the phone up to his ear. “Hello, Ms. Jordan…uh…Savannah. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

“No, Detective…Craig. I’m home today. Had a little horse accident yesterday and am confined to the house.”

“Sorry to hear it. Doctor’s orders?”

“Yeah, Dr. Ivey,” she quipped.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” Sledge asked.

“Well, how nice of you to ask. I’m much better this morning. Just have a bump on my head. Can’t wait to get back on the horse.”

“Oh, like the hair of the dog, huh?”

“Something like that, I guess. So what’s going on in your world today? Have you caught any perps, lately?”

“We may be getting real close to catching one. I’m hoping you can help.”

“Me? Sure. What can I do?” she asked, grinning.

There was a pause. “Um, I think maybe we ought to...um, maybe we could try to use your cat…you know, to identify the killer. What do you think?”

Her smile faded.

“Savannah, are you there?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m just wondering how you envision us using Rags. I don’t want to put my cat in any more danger than he’s already in.”

“I was hoping you and Dr. Ivey might have some ideas. I’d like to just have three possible suspects placed in a room with the cat and see how he reacts to each of them.”

“Like a sort of line-up? Let me talk it over with Michael and I’ll get back to you. Is that okay, Detective?”

“Certainly. When?”

“Excuse me?”

“When can you let me know?”

“Um, after the noon hour. Michael is supposed to stop in or call around lunchtime.”

“Okay. I’ll expect to hear from you, then.”

***

“How are you doing, hon?” Michael asked, upon entering the living room. He walked over to Savannah and looked at her eyes, felt her forehead, and took a close look at the lump on the back of her head.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. No more wooziness.”

“Have you been resting?”

“I told you I would be, didn’t I?”

“And did you?” he asked, his eyes piercing into hers.

She glanced down, shifted her position. “Yes, that’s all I’ve been doing.” She then looked up at Michael and said, “Do you know what’s on daytime TV? The scheduling must be for morons. Finally, I found a cooking show. I learned how to zest a lemon and make crème brulee. All I need is a zester and a little torch thingy.” She laughed.

“So you’ve been watching TV all morning?” he asked sitting down next to her.

“No, I talked on the phone a lot—to Aunt Marg, Iris, Brianna, Bonnie—she called to make sure I was okay, my mom—we haven’t chatted in a while. It was cool catching up with everyone.” She pointed the remote at the TV and clicked it off. She then turned toward Michael. Mom sounds so good. I’m really glad she’s getting out and doing more with her life.” She took Michael’s hand and said, “We get to meet Bob at the wedding. Mom was thrilled when she heard we had set a date, by the way.”

“And I’m thrilled to see you so happy and feeling so much better. Gosh, you gave me a scare yesterday. You won’t do that again, will you?” he asked running his finger down the side of her face.

She lowered her head and looked up into Michael’s eyes. “You aren’t saying you don’t want me to ride, are you?”

He straightened his posture and frowned over at her. “Heavens no. I would never do that to you, Savannah. It means too much to you. We have to be free to do the things we love.” He moved his face closer to hers and said, “Don’t even think about it. I want, more than anything, for you to be happy.” He kissed her gently and then pulled back, searching her eyes with his. “Just be careful—can you promise me that?”

“Oh Michael, I love you so much,” she said wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. She pulled back, looked at him, and said, “Where have you been all my life, anyway?”

“Waiting for you.” Suddenly, he glanced at his watch and jumped to his feet. “Now, what do you want for lunch? I can’t lounge around here all day with you, you know.”

“Why not?” she asked holding onto his hand as he attempted to walk away. “Sounds like fun to me.”

Michael groaned and smiled. “Oh, I would love that. But we have a business to run, my dear—you know, dogs and cats that need us. Now, what can I bring you for lunch?”

“How about some of that soup I made yesterday. A bowl of that and a piece of fruit—don’t we have some raspberries? That would be perfect. There’s plenty for both of us.”

“Coming right up,” Michael said, turning toward the kitchen.

Savannah stood, swayed just a little before getting her balance, and followed after him. “Michael,” she said, “Detective Sledge called. He wants Rags to identify the killer.”

“What?” He turned to face Savannah.

“He said he has three suspects and he wants to put them in a room with Rags to see if he reacts to the real killer.”

He ladled soup into two bowls before asking, “How do you feel about that?”

She held onto the back of a kitchen chair and stared down at the seat. “A little scared,” she said quietly.

“What are you thinking, that someone would come after him again or that he might be traumatized if he sees the killer again?”

Savannah thought for a moment; nodded. “Actually both.”

He placed the bowls in the microwave and headed for the refrigerator to retrieve the raspberries. “His life might still be in danger anyway, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” she said. “It’s kinda weird to think of him in a situation like this. But might be interesting. And it would be great to have the killer behind bars.”

“I wonder who the three suspects are—surely, Damon,” Michael contemplated. “Who else? I hope not Iris.”

“Gosh, I don’t know. I hope not.” She relaxed a little. “Anyway, Rags likes Iris. She was here a few days ago petting him. She would never kick him, either.” Her face brightened into a smile. “Hey, this is a good reason to let Rags do it—to clear Iris.” Savannah walked over and took two placemats out of a drawer. She then took two spoons from the dish drainer. As she placed them on the table, she asked, “But where? What do you think, Michael?” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want this here…”

He turned quickly to face her. “Definitely not here. Some place neutral…not the clinic.”

“You know, Rags is pretty adaptable. He adjusts easily. So what about the sheriff’s office? They must have a room there. Maybe we could take him over there and see how he does.”

“Good idea. I like that. Seems like a safer solution.”

“Okay, I’ll let Craig know. I’ll ask about doing a test run…maybe this evening?”

***

Sledge greeted the couple as they walked into the sheriff’s office. “Hello, uh Savannah, Michael.” He then peered in through the wire door of the carrier. “Hi there, kitty. Rags, right?” He looked up at Savannah for confirmation.

She nodded.

Sledge motioned for Michael to bring the carrier into the next room. “As Savannah and I discussed, rather than a formal trial run, we’ll let the cat out in here with us to wander around before we bring the suspects in. I had Deputy Jenson set out some water and a bowl for his favorite food—you brought that, right?”

“Yes.” Savannah looked around the room. She saw two large tables folded up against one wall and half-dozen folding chairs standing open around the room.

“I had the tables moved out so we’d have an unobstructed view of him and this also gives him more space to walk around. He won’t feel closed in.”

“Good idea,” Michael said as he set the carrier on the floor.

Sledge nodded and sat down in the nearest chair.

Upon seeing the wire gate open, Rags stepped out of the carrier, placing his front paws on the floor. He looked around and sniffed the air. He glanced over at Savannah, who was now seated nearby and proceeded to walk out into the room. He turned and watched as Michael moved the carrier back into a corner, leaving the wire door open. “In case he needs an escape route,” he explained to Sledge and Savannah.

Savannah smiled approvingly and went back to watching her cat as he checked out all the unfamiliar sights, scents and sounds. He stopped occasionally to listen to something, to sniff a spot on the floor or to look at a spot on the wall. After he made the rounds in the room, he strolled over to Savannah, put his paws up on the seat of her chair and stretched. She scratched him behind one ear before he jumped down and walked over to rub up against Michael’s legs.

“He looks pretty relaxed to me,” the detective observed. “Shall we bring in the others?”

Savannah swallowed hard, looked over at Michael, and nodded.

Craig Sledge left the room. Soon, the door opened. Savannah was surprised to see Iris enter. She glanced at Savannah before looking away. Behind Iris was her son, Damon, hobbling in on a walking cast, his left arm in a cast and sling. Fred Garfield was the next one to enter, and then Sledge came into the room last. “Please, each of you take a seat anywhere you like,” the detective instructed.

Iris glanced over at Savannah and Michael, giving them a weak smile. She sat in a chair against the wall to the right, leaving two chairs empty between herself and Savannah.

“Sit down, Jackson,” Sledge demanded.

Damon had his eye on the cat. Reluctantly, he hobbled toward a chair across the room from his mother and sat down. He continued to stare daggers at Rags. “I hate damn cats,” he said under his breath.

Fred Garfield appeared to be completely out of his element. Beads of sweat poured from his forehead. He glanced over at Rags, who was sitting next to Michael watching the parade of people move around the room. Garfield walked the length of the room and sat in the middle of three chairs along the far wall. Sledge grabbed a chair near the door, turned it around and straddled it.

All eyes were on the cat.

“Jackson, you go first,” Sledge instructed.

“What, man?”

“See if you can get the cat to come over to you.”

“I told ya. I hate cats. I don’t want that cat near me.”

“Just do what I tell ya!” He then turned to Savannah and asked, “Did you bring a cat toy?”

“Oh yes.” She jumped to her feet and swayed just a little. She glanced over at Michael, expecting an intervention. But his eyes were on Rags. Savannah walked over to the carrier, reached in and retrieved a wand with a feather on the end.

“Give it to Jackson, will ya?”

She did as the detective asked. Damon took the wand and just sat there looking at it in complete and utter disgust. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he spat.

“Show him, will you, Ms. Jordan?”

She took the wand from Damon, placed the feather end on the floor and began moving it around to entice the cat. Rags crouched and looked at it with great interest. She handed it back to Damon.

“Do what she did,” Sledge ordered.

Damon gritted his teeth and shook his head, mumbling about the “Damn stupid cat.” He slammed the wand on the floor over and over again.

Rags, who was still sitting next to Michael, sat straight and began watching the feather, his head bobbing up and down in rhythm with it.

“Slowly,” Sledge barked.

“Damn stupid cat,” he said as he began moving the feather around more slowly. Suddenly, Rags sprinted over to the feather, attacking it as if he were in a jungle chasing after a lizard.

“Whoa,” Damon yelled. “That’s one scary cat!”

“Put your hand down so he can smell it. Speak to him,” Sledge said.

Damon cringed. He put his right hand toward the cat and continued to say, “Stupid damn cat.” Rags crouched and stretched toward Damon’s hand and then he recoiled—stepped back, sat down and stared at him.

“Move toward him, Jackson,” Sledge demanded. “Slowly. Try to make friends.”

“Shit, man, I don’t want nothin’ to do with this stupid cat.”

“Just do it!” Sledge hissed.

Damon set his jaw and shook his head. “I have better things to do than talk to a stupid cat,” he spat.

“Want to spend the night in a jail cell?” Sledge threatened.

Daman rolled his eyes. “Awwww man.” Reluctantly, he reached out again with his right hand. The cat stared at him for a few moments. Rags stretched toward Damon sniffing at the cast on his foot.

“Pet him,” the detective said.

“Shit,” Damon said under his breath as he clumsily patted the cat’s back.

Rags turned and sniffed Damon’s hand. He then backed up and sat down in front of him. He spotted the feather wand on the floor and batted at it a few times.

“Okay, Ms. Clampton. See if you can get the cat to come to you.” Sledge watched as she stood, smoothed her sassy, knee-length skirt, walked across the room and knelt down to retrieve the feather wand. She bent over a little and drug it along the floor as she returned to her seat. Rags chased after the feather.