Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (3 page)

Savannah walked over to where her aunt sat on the dressing-table stool. Max knelt next to her, his hand on her knee. “You’d better go take a look,” she said, touching his shoulder. “I’ll sit with her.”

Everyone but Margaret watched as Max looked down at the corpse.

“Anything?” Jim asked.

Max shook his head slowly.

Suddenly Savannah gasped. Her eyes darted around the room. “Rags! Where’s Rags?”

She rushed toward the closet and started to open the pocket door when Jim yelled, “Don’t touch anything!”

“But my cat…he was in this room.” Speaking now in a high-pitched voice, she insisted, “I have to find him.”

Michael moved toward Savannah. “Honey, we’ll find him. He’s okay. He couldn’t have left the room.” He addressed Margaret. “The door was closed when you came up here, wasn’t it Maggie?”

“Yes,” she said, her response barely audible.

Savannah put her hands on her hips and frowned over at Jim. “If I wear gloves, can I open the closet door?”

Jim shook his head. “I’d rather you wait for the investigator.”

“Hey, there he is!” Iris said.

Savannah looked in the direction Iris pointed and saw her cat crouched on a shelf peering out from behind a large basket. “Oh Rags. Thank heavens.” She headed toward him.

Michael followed close behind. “His eyes are as big as saucers. Something has really scared him.” Still keeping his eyes on Rags, he said, “Jim, I’d like to get the cat out of here.”

Jim frowned and thought for a moment, finally consenting. “Yeah, I guess it’s okay. Just don’t disturb anything.” He addressed everyone in the room with his next instruction, “Why don’t you all go downstairs. Try to keep anyone else from leaving. Stay out of the room across the hall and this room until and unless you’re called back up here.”

Savannah stood on one foot and then the other, wringing her hands while watching Michael reach for the large grey-and-white cat. “We’ll put him in my bedroom downstairs. Otherwise, too many open doors and windows.”

“Gosh, he’s frightened,” Michael remarked. “What did you see, buddy, huh?” He cradled Rags in his arms, allowing the cat to hide his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

Savannah picked up the litter box and followed Michael and Rags down the stairs and into her bedroom. She filled a small bowl with kibbles and another with water, placing them in the adjoining bathroom. She then walked over and knelt down next to the bed where Michael sat comforting the cat.

“Oh Rags, I’m so sorry, sweetie. You poor boy,” she murmured while scratching him behind one ear.

Michael smiled. “Do you hear that? He’s purring. I think he’ll be okay. We’d better get back out there.”

Savannah nodded and then kissed Rags on the top of the head. “See you later, boy,” she said as she and Michael left the room, closing the door behind them.

Michael put his arm around Savannah’s shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze as they walked toward the kitchen. “Now, let’s go tell our guests the party has become a crime scene and they’re all suspects.”

Savannah frowned. “Sheesh, that’s a bit harsh. We don’t want to freak anyone out.” Suddenly, she stopped and grabbed his hand. She felt a rush of panic. “Michael, what if the murderer is still here?”

By five-thirty that evening, three sheriff’s cars, the coroner’s car, an unmarked official car and a van were parked in front of the old Forster house. A few of the remaining guests busily cleaned up around the property and in the kitchen. Others lounged on the spacious wraparound porch. The jovial mood was now subdued. Some of the guests were becoming impatient.

“Hey, ya can’t keep us here like this,” a barrel-chested man wearing jeans, a plaid long-sleeved shirt, Western boots and a white straw hat said. “I need ta get these horses back to the shelter and take down the portable corrals. This is crazy. I’ll be loadin’ and feedin’ in the dark.”

Max exhaled slowly. “We sure appreciate you bringing the horses here for the day, George. I understand where you’re coming from. Wish I could do something about it.” He reached over and patted Margaret’s hand. “George, we didn’t plan this tragedy, you know. It’s affecting all of us.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “Sorry for bein’ cranky.”

Savannah jumped to her feet. “How about if I put on a pot of coffee?”

A few people responded, “Yes.”

“Yeah, sounds great.”

“Might as well.”

“In the meantime, is there anyone else who absolutely has to leave—on a time deadline or something?” Max asked as he glanced around the area.

“I don’t care if I never leave,” Edie said, squeezing the hand of her partner, a balding man with a friendly face. “I love it out here.” She became solemn. “…except for...” She took in a ragged breath. “I can’t believe this awful thing happened while we were all enjoying ourselves.”

“Yes. Such a dang shame,” Max said.

Suddenly, Edie lurched forward. “Oh, no, Sally. I can’t leave her for too long, you know. She’s not well.”

“I understand, Edie,” Max said. “Is there someone who can come in and check on your kitty—I’m sure she’s just fine—but for peace of mind?”

Her man-friend, Charles, suggested, “Let’s call your daughter. I’ll bet she’ll go over and feed her supper and make sure she gets her pill. Then we can relax until they allow us to leave. Okay, dear?”

Edie smiled up into his face. “You think of everything.” She took her cell phone out of her pocket. Before dialing, she addressed Max. “Who takes care of all your cats when you’re gone?” She looked over at Charles and explained, “Max and Maggie have a great cat-rescue facility right next door, here. I’ll have to take you over to see it sometime; it’s really quite amazing.”

“Thank you. We do our best to socialize and find forever homes for the kitties that come to us.” He turned sullen. “Just wish there wasn’t such a need for rescue operations like ours.” He cleared his throat and smiled a little. “To answer your question, Edie, we have a great staff of mostly volunteers. They do a good job. Nice to have people you can count on when it really counts.”

“Hey, who is it up there, anyway?” a large dark-haired women asked, rather brusquely. “Was someone murdered?”

Max took in a deep breath. “We don’t know much about what happened, yet.”

A petite woman with spiked white hair piped up. “You’d better believe someone was murdered, otherwise, why all the commotion?”

“Do any of you ladies need to leave for any reason?” Max asked.

Three women responded, “No.”

“Not me.”

“Hey, I’m mesmerized by this sunset. I’m not ready to leave. Besides, if I go home, I’ll just have to feed a husband and three kids.”

A middle-aged blond with a ponytail spoke up. “Yeah, I’m curious about what happened. This is all rather exciting, if you ask me.” She laughed. “…better than the Kindle book I’m reading.”

Just then, Betty and Gil Gilbert walked up from the arcade area, where they’d been breaking down the makeshift booths. Iris’s two younger boys followed. “I think we got ‘er done,” Gil said, taking off his baseball cap and scratching the top of his balding head.

“These boys are amazing,” Betty said, smiling over at them. “Chris is a genius when it comes to mechanical things.” She patted his shoulder and then looked over at the other boy. “Brett is just a darn hard worker.”

Chris, in typical fourteen-year-old fashion, blushed and looked down at the ground. Brett, one year older, grinned and avoided making eye-contact.

Savannah returned from the kitchen in time to notice Iris beaming with pride. She smiled.
You’d never know those two boys aren’t her own. She’s as proud of them as any mother would be,
Savannah thought.
Actually, she has been the only mother they’ve known since they were two and three years old when she married their father. When he left her seven years ago, the boys stayed with Iris.
She gazed in Iris’s direction.
She’s quite a woman, She was already raising her own troubled teenage son from a previous marriage and then to open her heart to these two boys…

Suddenly Iris stood. Her eyes darted around the spacious yard. “Where’s your brother?” she demanded.

“Uh, Damon? He left,” Brett said, tugging at his baggy low-rider jeans that looked two sizes too big.

“You mean he didn’t help clean up?” Iris insisted.

No one spoke for a moment and then Gil said, “We got ‘er knocked down. No problem.”

“Well, he was supposed to stay.” Iris became more and more agitated. “Where did he go?”

“Don’t know,” Brett said. “Do you, Chris?” he asked, reaching over and flicking the bill of the baseball cap the boy wore backwards on his head.

The younger boy ducked and pushed at his brother. He then said without making eye contact with Iris or anyone else, “Uh, all I know is, he called someone on his cell.” He motioned with his head. “And he took off down the road.”

“How long ago?” she asked.

“Dunno. I guess a couple a hours.”

“Damn,” she said under her breath, her eyes blazing with anger.

Max stared over at Iris for a moment and then looked at the Gilberts. “Betty and Gil, can you stay? They want to question us.”

“You’re
askin
’ them?” George demanded. “I thought you said we have ta stay.”

“Well, yeah, we do. I was…a…just…” he stammered.

“Yes, we can stay,” Betty said, shooting a disgusted look at George.

“Okay, the porch crowd is accounted for. Now to check in with the kitchen bunch,” Max quipped.

After he had finished putting together a list of the people present, and highlighting those who needed to leave as soon as possible, he jaunted up the stairs and delivered it to a young sheriff’s deputy who stood just inside the master bedroom door. He briefly explained that those names with checkmarks should be called first. Before leaving, he caught a glimpse of the corpse lying face down on a tarp in the middle of the room. A slight brunette woman wearing a white lab suit and surgical gloves was examining the head wound. He noticed that someone had turned on the ceiling fan and opened the only window in the room. He was surprised at the amount of blood. He started to turn and leave when Jim called out, “Hey, Max.”

He spun around. “Yes?”

“Where can we set up our interrogation…um, er, questioning area?”

“Well, how about in the kitchen? I’ll ask the ladies to finish up their work in there.”

Jim spoke to one of the other men in the room. “Sledge, follow this guy. He’ll show you where to set up.”

“Here’s a list of names for you, Detective.” The young deputy handed the paper to him as he walked past.

“Thanks.”

When they reached the staircase, Max held back in order to walk at the detective’s pace. “I’m Max Sheridan. I live next door. My wife owns this house.”

“Sledge…um, Detective Craig Sledge.”

Once they had descended the stairs, Sledge held the paper up to read it and asked, “Is there anyone I should talk to first? Any witnesses to anything?”

“Not that I know of. I’d appreciate it if you could speak with George Kreston. He has horses to move and not much daylight left.”

The detective placed the list on the kitchen table and glanced around the room. “Okay, would you send him in, please?”

“Coffee? Water?” Max asked.

“Yes, coffee, black. Thanks.”

Max then asked the women who were chatting in the kitchen to join the others on the porch. He walked over to Charlotte’s mother and spoke softly. “You might want to keep your daughter away from the front of the house. They’ll be bringing out the body soon.”

Reba, a plump woman of barely five-four, looked up at Max. She wiped a few strands of her brown highlighted hair from one cheek. “Sure.” The pair looked in the direction of the lovely teen who was laughing with her friend Dora. “She had the best time today,” Reba said. “It’s so nice of you all to include her the way you do.”

“Charlotte is a wonderful girl and she sure loves cats,” he said. He then grew pensive. “She has a way with them, you know?”

Just then, the child walked over to them. “Hi Makth.”

“Hi Charlotte. You have sure been a big help today. Did you have fun?”

“Yeth. Loth of fun. I like it here,” she responded with her lisp; a wide smile on her face. “I like wearing cowboy thingth,” she added, lifting her tangerine calico print skirt up to her knees by the ruffle. She looked down at her beaded moccasins. “Theeth are my momth thooth,”

Dora walked up and took Charlotte’s hand.
“
Let’s go out and watch the sunset, shall we cowgirl?”

“Okay.” The girl laughed, her soft red curls bouncing as she hurried along toward the door.

After leading the women out to the porch, Max caught Savannah’s attention. “Would you get the gentleman in the kitchen a cup of black coffee? He’s going to question us. George, go on in.” He pointed. “Through that door halfway down the porch, there.”

***

Most of the guests were questioned and had left by the time Iris was called.

“Do you have to interrogate my boys?” she asked as she settled into one of the wooden kitchen chairs across from the detective.

Sledge looked up from his notes. “How old are they?”

“Fourteen and fifteen.”

“You can sit in here with them when I question them.”

“Why? They’re only boys. They certainly didn’t see anything,” she reasoned.

He looked her square in the eyes. “How do you know that?”

Iris held his stare just long enough to notice the flecks in his blue eyes and his long lashes.

“For the record, what’s your name?”

“Iris Clampton.”

“I see that you have red hair,” he said, still looking at her.

“Well, yes. Why?” She ran her fingers through the ends of her straightened hair. She thought she could feel his eyes burn into her face. She looked away.

He asked, “Was there anyone else here today with hair the color of yours?”

“What? What are you talking about?” She looked up at him and realized this was a legitimate question, so she responded. “Yes, I saw several people here today with red hair. Why?”

“Okay, Ms. Clampton, just tell me what you know about the deceased.”