Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (27 page)

“Why didn’t you call the sheriff?” Sledge asked.

“Fear. I didn’t trust you guys to handle it. I…”

“You didn’t want to tarnish your reputation, did you? It was your reputation you were most concerned about, wasn’t it?” Sledge said in a menacing manner. “So were you paying this guy?”

Garfield slumped over, looking completely deflated. “Yeah. I was paying him off.” He then perked up and said, “But he kept wanting more, more, more!” He waved his hands in the air. “What was I going to do? My wife started to complain that we weren’t going on all of those fancy vacations—that the bills weren’t getting paid on our beach house. I was in a real bind.”

“So you decided to kill Byrd and make all your problems disappear?”

“No!” Garfield slammed his fist on the table. “I didn’t plan to kill him. It was an accident.” When Garfield saw the look on Sledge’s face, he said, “You’ve gotta believe me. I wasn’t going to kill him.” He was speaking faster now. “I was going to give him one last payment and get him to sign that he would stop harassing me and threatening me and my family. I figured if I gave him something really big, he would agree to leave me alone.”

“So what were you going to give him?” Sledge smiled. “Your first-born?”

“My Escalade. He loved that car. I would sign that over to him and he would walk away—no more bribery and no more threats.”

“But it didn’t work out, did it?” Gonzales said.

“No.” Garfield looked down and shook his head.

“So what was he doing there at the Forster home?” Sledge asked.

“Well, I didn’t actually plan to meet him there. But he called me on my cell during the party, and I decided to get the thing over with once and for all. I knew about the bedroom at the top of the stairs and I…”

“Yeah, that’s where you had the rendezvous with Iris Clampton. Go on,” Sledge said.

Garfield stared across the table at the detective. He then squirmed in his seat and continued, “I told him to come in through the front door and go up the stairs to that room. I went up there early—the first chance I got.”

“What time?”

“It was about twelve-thirty, I guess. I was already there when he showed up.” Garfield took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. “He didn’t like my deal. Said he didn’t want the Escalade—he would rather keep getting ‘regular payments’ from me until the council okayed his permits to build out there on that old lakebed.” He became animated. “That just wasn’t going to happen. The ground is unstable. He knew it, but he didn’t care. He bought the land sight unseen and was determined to build out there and sell the housing development for a huge profit before anything bad started happening. There’s no way I could get the okay from the council.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “But since I took his damn money and promised to see what I could do, he just wouldn’t turn loose of his evil hold on me.” He buried his eyes in his palms and said, “It has been pure hell—every day since I met that man.”

“So you got him up in the room at the Forster home. Then what?” Sledge asked, trying to keep the momentum going.

“We argued. I became furious. He laughed at me…called me a dope and a few other things. I lunged at him. Just wanted to hurt him a little. I was mad, as I said. He came back at me, knocked me off my feet. When I stood up, he came at me again and I grabbed the first thing I saw—that marble or granite thing—and I swung it at him.” Garfield stopped—twisted up his face in an attempt to curb any display of emotion. A few minutes later, he took a ragged breath and continued. “I guess I hit him just right, ’cause he went down and didn’t get back up.”

“That’s when you connected with Damon Jackson and paid him to help you hide the evidence?”

“Yeah!”

“And your glove. What happened to your glove?”

Garfield looked down at his hands and said, “I’m not sure. I guess I took it off. I looked for it; couldn’t find it. Then there was that damn cat. He came out and ran in front of me almost tripping me. I guess I kinda pushed him out of the way with my foot.”

“You kicked him,” Sledge corrected.

“Yeah, I kicked him. I hate cats. I even went back up to that room later when no one was around and looked for my glove. Never could find it. I figured that Jackson kid may have picked it up for me.”

“Don’t worry, Garfield,” Sledge sneered. “We found your bloody glove.”

“Where?” he asked, his eyes wide in anticipation.

Sledge laughed out loud before saying, “The cat had it.”

***

“Ms. Clampton, this is Craig Sledge. I’d like to talk to you if I might. Can I come by later today?”

“Um, okay…around four? I’m anxious to find out what’s going on with my son. I hear he was arrested yesterday. I’d like to know what they charged him with.”

“Certainly. See you at four.”

Craig was a little surprised at how eager he was for the four o‘clock appointment. As he drove up in front of Iris’s house, he thought,
This could be the last time I’ll see her. I hope not—but under the circumstances, I can’t expect anything else.

“Hello, Ms. Clampton,” he said as she opened the front door.

“Oh, Detective. Please come in. Would you mind sitting in the kitchen, I have a pie in the oven.”

“That’s fine,” he said, noticing that she looked fresher, somehow. Less stressed.
She is a handsome woman,
he thought.

“Coffee?” she offered.

“Yes, black. Thank you.” Once seated, he cleared his throat before saying, “As you know, we have your son in custody.”

She slipped into a chair across from him and looked him in the eye. “What are the charges?”

“We’re working on that. But they will be reduced because he’s cooperating.”

“Did he…?” Iris started.

“No, Ms. Clampton, he did not kill Marvin Byrd.” He noticed her relax—tears forming in her eyes. He couldn’t help but reach out and cover her hand with his. She looked down at his hand and then up at his face.

“Iris, if I may call you, Iris…”

She felt a little uncertain, but nodded.

“Fred Garfield has confessed to murdering Byrd over a business deal involving blackmail. Damon just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—in fact, he was in the process of a crime himself.”

She looked puzzled.

“He was stealing the money from the box and heard the commotion in the opposite room. He stepped out into the hallway to see what was going on. Garfield saw him and lured him into his crime by offering him large sums of money.”

Iris gave a knowing smile and shook her head.

“Yes, he does seem to like money,” he said before continuing. “He will have to spend time in jail. You understand that, don’t you Ms…er Iris?”

She nodded and pulled her hand out from under his. She used both hands to unfold a tissue, which she used to blot at her eyes. “But why did he agree to cover for Fred? What is he to my son?”

“Money. That’s all; money. Your son told me that he owed a guy named Jesse Salgado some money and he had until four that afternoon to come up with it. That’s why he agreed to help at the fundraiser. Did you know that? He hoped to come across some money or something to sell among all those people at the Forster home. And he scored pretty big, actually—for someone who lives in the moment and doesn’t consider consequences. That’s who Damon called or texted on his cell phone—Salgado.” He took a sip of coffee and continued, “He went to the Forster house in that orange Stingray of his, twice that day, actually—once to get some of the money from Damon and later to pick him up. He was also Damon’s ride the night he tried to poison the cat.”

Iris shook her head. “I should have known better than to let him come there with me and the boys.”

“I’ll recommend a lighter sentence and I’ll try to get him into a good rehab program.”

Iris’s eyes came to life. “You would do that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well…um…” Iris stammered.

Sledge’s voice and demeanor gentled down some as he explained, “He reminds me of my boy, Iris. I’d like to give him this opportunity. He knows he did wrong. He knows his life’s screwed up. He can change his life and I want to help make that happen…” He shrugged. “I mean, if he’s ready.”

Iris smiled through another onslaught of tears. “Thank you,” she said weakly.

“And Iris,” he continued, “I’d like to ask you to attend a program to help you understand Damon’s addiction better. Would you consider going with me to an Al-Anon meeting?”

She sat stunned for a moment. Suddenly, she looked up at the clock on the wall and stood, moving quickly toward the stove. She opened it, grabbed two pot holders and pulled out a bubbling apple pie.

“Mmmm, apple. My favorite,” Sledge said.

Iris didn’t respond.

“There’s a meeting tonight. What do you say?”

She placed the pie on top of the stove and turned to face her guest. “Is this business or pleasure, Detective Sledge?”

“Um, call me Craig and let’s consider it pleasure. It would be a pleasure for me to get to know you a little better—under…” he chuckled quietly “…different circumstances.”

“Gosh, I’ll have to think about it. This is kind of odd. I mean, you were ready to arrest me for murder last week.” Iris looked over at the detective and started to smile. “It is rather humorous, isn’t it? I mean to find yourself attracted to a man who believed you were a murderer and a thief?”

Craig raised his eyebrows. “You find me attractive?”

“Oh,” Iris blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry. I tend to say what’s on my mind…sometimes gets me in trouble.”

“No, no, I’m quite flattered.” He stood and walked over to Iris, taking her hands in his. “I can’t tell you how happy I was when I discovered it wasn’t you.”

“I didn’t know that such a staunch detective would…” she started.

“Have feelings?” he offered. “I’m human, Iris and I really am interested in spending time with you—I mean a different kind of time…aw, this is kinda awkward.”

“Do you often hit on your suspects?” she asked only half joking.

Sledge dropped her hands and turned away. He then faced her again and said, his voice deeper now, “Iris, I was married and that was it. Other than a few high-school crushes, I’ve never done much dating. Oh no,” he said looking down at the floor, “this is not a common occurrence with me. Not at all.”

Iris reached out and placed her hand on Sledge’s arm. Almost whispering now, she said, “Well, I’m afraid I can’t say the same. But, then, you know that.” She looked into his blue eyes. “If you’re willing, so am I.” A strained smile played at her lips. “Yes, I’d like to go to the meeting with you tonight. Afterward, if you want, we can come back here for a piece of apple pie á la mode.” She raised one eyebrow. “Keep in mind, though, that I have two teenagers in the house. There will be no hanky-panky.”

Sledge laughed and patted her hand. “No hanky panky.” He added with a wink, “At least not on our first date.”

“Hi, Mom, everything okay?”

She pulled away from the detective. “Oh, Brett. You remember Mr. Sledge. Craig, this is my son, Brett.”

Craig held out his hand, and the boy took it…reluctantly. “Who’s this?” he asked looking down at the spaniel-mix dog standing at Brett’s side.

“This is Willie,” Brett said, reaching down to rough-up the dog’s fur.

“Hi, Willie.” Craig leaned over in an attempt to make friends with the dog. “A springer spaniel?”

“Maybe part springer. We’re not sure,” he said.

“Looks like a good dog.”

“Yeah, he really is,” Brett agreed. “I’m taking him for a walk now, Mom. Okay?”

“Yes. Good idea,” Iris said.

The boy took a leash off a hook in the kitchen, snapped it to Willie’s collar and started to lead the dog away. He stopped and turned back before leaving the room. He looked at his mother and then at Craig. Shaking his head, he said, “Now, this is weird.”

Iris waited until Brett had closed the front door behind him and she began to laugh. “He’s right,” she said. “This is a little weird. But maybe a good weird. What time is the meeting?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be ready.”

***

“Why is Iris so happy these days?” Michael asked during a dinner in the Forster house dining room, a few weeks later.

Savannah and Margaret glanced at one another, both of them wearing broad smiles.

“Yeah,” Max said, “you’d think she’d be upset with her son and her boyfriend in jail.”

“Shall we tell them?” Savannah asked.

“I don’t think it’s any big secret, why not?” Margaret responded.

“What?” the two men asked in unison.

Margaret spoke up. “She’s in love.”

“Or at least serious like,” Savannah interjected.

“Oh, not again.” Michael shook his head in disbelief. “Who is it this time?”

“Detective Sledge,” Savannah announced, grinning. “She’s really been enjoying his company. They’re going to his mountain cabin this weekend—taking the boys fishing.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Michael said.

“No kidding?” Max responded. “Good for Iris.”

“And good for Craig Sledge,” Michael added.

Margaret abruptly changed the subject. “So, Vannie, how are the wedding plans coming along?”

“Welllll…” she looked over at Michael.

Michael smiled and picked up Savannah’s hand, putting the back of it to his lips. “She’s been a busy girl. But I think things will calm down, don’t you honey? You should get a lot done next week.”

“You mean
we
will. Michael, there are still some decisions you need to help me with—won’t you dear?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in his direction.

“Uh, sure. Yes I will,” he said while feigning ignorance and shaking his head in the direction of Margaret and Max.

Everyone laughed.

“How hard can it be?” Max said.

At that, Margaret turned to face her husband. “Spoken by someone who didn’t make a single decision or share a single opinion for his own wedding.”

He twisted toward her in his chair. “Yes, I did.”

“What did you do?” she challenged.

“Well, I…I…I said, ‘Yes, dear.’”

Michael began to laugh. “I’m going to remember that one. That’s rich, Max. Thanks ole buddy.” He reached across the table for a high-five.