Klepto Cat Mystery - Sleight Of Paw Part 11

Iris walked up, set Craig's change on the table in front of him, and then reached over him while pouring coffee into Margaret's cup. She looked down at the swatch and said, "It's frayed on the edges."

Craig stared up at her as if hoping for more information. "Yeah?"

"Looks to me like it was torn from a larger piece of fabric." She took the swatch from Craig and examined it more closely. "It's kind of old and worn. I can see that it would rip fairly easily."

"Tell him where you found it, hon," Michael said as he poured gravy over his biscuit.

She looked a bit pensive when she said to Craig, "Rags had it."

"Rags..." he said, tilting his head slightly. "Oh, that's your cool cat."

"Yes." Savannah smiled. "When we moved the cats out of the big pen where they had been overnight, Rags was playing with this."

Craig started thinking out loud. "And the large pen where the cats were is darn close to where the body was found." He took the fabric back from Iris, rubbed it between his fingers, and said, "You know, we're pretty sure the body was brought to that spot. I don't think he was killed there. And the door wasn't jimmied, so someone had a key. It doesn't make sense, Michael, that you or any of your employees would open the door and then leave it open like that, unless..."

"Unless what?" Savannah and Margaret said in unison.

"Unless someone scared them off before they could lock up." He appeared to be deep in thought. After a few moments, he said, "I need to speak with the neighbors around there. I met Mr. Taylor. And what is the name of the couple who rent your log house?"

"Giselle Patterson and Robert Martinez," Michael said. "Then the Normans live on the other side."

Craig took out his pad and made some notes. He then picked up the swatch and took one more look at it before tucking it into his jacket pocket. He winked at Savannah. "Tell your cat thanks." He looked over at Michael. "I'll be in touch." He stood and started to walk away, then he turned and looked at Michael and Savannah. "You two take it easy. I know this is hard, but just know that we're going to find out who did this and then you can have your life back. Until then, it may get gnarly."

"Dang," Michael said as he turned into their driveway and saw a sheriff's car, an unmarked car, and a van parked close to the house. "What do you suppose they're doing here?" He put the car in park and turned off the key. The two of them stepped out of the car.

Savannah took a sweeping glance around the property. "Sheesh, maybe we should have left the cats at the clinic." As the couple walked toward the front door, they noticed their gardener Antonio approaching them. "Senora, what is this?" he asked, swinging his arm around toward a uniformed officer and a couple of plain-clothed men and women milling around the property.

"An investigation, Antonio. Nothing for you to be worried about. Everything's okay." She looked over and saw two people examining the cab and bed of Michael's veterinary truck. Well, I sure hope everything's okay, she thought. They can't actually believe that Michael would do such a thing. She turned her attention back to Antonio. "If you'd like to take the day off, it's okay with me. I think these people will be gone tomorrow. Come back tomorrow, if you like."

The slight Mexican man let out a sigh of what seemed like relief. He reached for his cell phone. "I will have Esperanza come get me."

The trio watched as the investigators climbed in and around the truck. After a few seconds, Michael opened the front door to their home and he and Savannah walked inside. "Hi Lexie," Savannah said as the dog gave them her best tail-wagging reception. "We're happy to see you, too." She couldn't help but smile a little at the dog's enthusiastic efforts; but even Lexie couldn't help her shake the sense of melancholy she felt gripping her. After giving the dog one last scratch behind her ears, Savannah removed her jacket and walked toward their bedroom. She returned wearing a brown cardigan sweater over her cream-colored pullover top. As hard as she tried putting the reality of their morning out of her mind, she was drawn to the front window.

"What do you suppose they're looking for in your truck, Michael?" she asked.

He glanced up from the home remodeling magazine he was reading. "My guess would be, blood."

Savannah closed her eyes, pretending she didn't hear it. She then turned toward him. Her voice raised an octave, she said, "Michael, you hit that deer the other day on your way home from vaccinating Tim Bagley's horses."

"Yes, I did and I threw it in the back of the truck."

"Why? Why did you do that?" she asked, walking across the room and plopping herself down in the overstuffed chair next to where Michael sat on the sofa.

"Well, honey, I didn't want to leave it on that back road. Road crews don't get out there very often," he explained. "I took it over to the preserve for the vultures."

"So they've probably already found blood."

"Certainly, they did. I haven't had a chance to clean my truck in a while." He stared over at her. "Hey, honey. Not a problem. They'll be able to tell it's animal blood."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that..."

He placed the magazine on the end table and leaned toward his wife. "Savannah, you don't think..."

"Oh my gosh, no, Michael. Of course not," she said. "But we both know there are people accused of things they didn't do. It happens all the time." Her voice became more animated. "Just look at what happened a few months ago to Iris. She was accused of Steven's dad's murder and she obviously had nothing to do with it. Things got pretty scary there for a while."

Michael lowered his head and took Savannah's hand. He lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. "There's nothing for us to worry about. The truth-whatever it is-will come out. Savannah, we haven't done anything wrong."

"Yeah, you're right. We don't have anything to worry about."

Michael squeezed her hand before letting go, leaned back on the sofa and picked up his magazine. Just then Rags appeared. He jumped up on the chair and stood on Savannah's lap pus.h.i.+ng his head into her, demanding her attention.

Rap. Rap.

"Oh, someone's at the door," she said. "Sorry, Ragsy-come on, jump down, boy." She made her way to the front door. Before she got there, the door opened and Margaret peered in.

"Yoohoo!"

"Oh hi," Savannah said, a puzzled look on her face. "Everything okay?"

"Well, you tell me. I was driving by on my way home." She motioned toward the front of the house. "Looks like the whole police force is out there-swat team and all," she said, obviously exaggerating. "Stopped in to see what's going on."

Just then, there was another knock on the door. Savannah and Michael glanced at one another in disbelief at how complicated their day was becoming. "Oh hi Craig," Savannah said upon opening the door. "Come in. What's up with all these people climbing in and out of our vehicles? Will they be coming in the house?" Savannah asked, near tears.

"Oh I think they're about finished here," he said. He looked over at Michael, who was still sitting on the sofa. "I just came in to tell you, Michael, they found blood in your truck."

"Yeah, I know that," he said.

"You seem surprisingly calm about it. Is there a logical explanation?"

"Sure is."

Savannah heard her aunt gasp and looked over in time to see her turn a little pale. "It's okay, Auntie, really it is," she said.

"It's okay?" Craig repeated.

"Well yeah," Michael said, standing to address him. "I hit a deer a couple of days ago and threw the carca.s.s in the back of the truck."

"What, you butcher road kill now?" Margaret let out a rather nervous laugh.

"No, Auntie. He just didn't want to leave it along the road-he wanted to properly dispose of it."

"Is this true, Michael?" Craig asked.

"Well, yes. Didn't you see the blood and the dent on the front of the truck? I called my insurance company the next day. I'm sure they have a record of it."

"Now, isn't that good news?" Craig said with a half smile. "I'm really glad to hear it. That could make a big difference in the investigation."

"Can they tell the difference between human and animal blood?" Margaret asked.

"Yes," Michael responded. "That's not going to be a problem, is it Craig?"

"No, I doubt it. But I am concerned about...something else."

"What's that?" Michael asked.

He stared over at him for a few moments and then asked, "Michael, do you carry a knife in your truck?"

"Sure," he said matter of factly.

"What for?" Craig asked.

"For emergencies."

"What sort of emergencies?" Craig wanted to know.

Michael grimaced-took a deep breath. "Well, in case a horse gets tripped up in a rope and I need to cut him free. I might use it to cut an embedded halter off." He thought for a minute and then said, "I also have hoof knives."

"Do you keep them locked up in your truck?"

"Yes," Michael said. "I keep things like that locked in the side compartments."

Craig thought for a minute-his eyes studying Michael's face. "Did you use your knife on the deer?" he asked.

"I don't..." Michael started. He narrowed his eyes, scratched his head. "No. I did use it that day to cut a rope. But I'm sure I locked it back in the compartment."

"Well, we're going to need to take a look at the knives you carry in your truck. Would you show me?"

"Yes. Sure," he said, heading for the front door.

Craig glanced over at Savannah and then followed after Michael. He watched as Michael unlocked one of the side boxes on his veterinary truck and started to reach in for a knife. Craig said, "Allow me." He looked into the well-organized bin, spotted a buck knife in a leather sheath and, after slipping on a latex glove, reached in to retrieve it. He looked it over and then dropped it into a large envelope. "I'll get it back to you in a few days."

Michael started to close the box when Craig said, "I'd like to take a look inside while you have it open, if you don't mind."

Michael stepped back.

"Can you unlock the others for me, please?" Craig asked while poking around inside the bin. After several minutes, Craig said, "Okay, I think that's all." He picked up the envelope, stared intently at Michael and said, "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

When Michael stepped back into the house, he heard Savannah telling her aunt, "Well, at least, we don't have to worry about that awful Pete Gamble anymore." She turned toward her husband. "Isn't that right, Michael?"

"Yeah, that's a relief," he agreed. "But then, our problem with him is the main reason they're looking at me as a suspect," he added.

"But like you told me earlier, we haven't done anything wrong. We're innocent. We have nothing realistically to worry about."

"Playing devil's advocate here, let me remind you that we didn't do anything wrong to deserve the trauma and fear Pete put us through when he was alive, either."

Chapter Six.

"Good morning, suns.h.i.+ne. I guess we have no excuse not to go to work today, right?" Michael propped himself up on one elbow and furrowed his brow. "What are you doing up so early, anyway?"

Savannah was quick to respond. "I think there's something wrong with Rags. He isn't eating this morning-didn't eat much last night. He seems lethargic to me. I'm going to take him to work with me and check him out."

He sat upright to get a better look at the cat, who was lying in a meatloaf position-all of his paws under him. "Oh, he doesn't look as perky as usual, does he? What do you think is wrong?"

"Could be cyst.i.tis. Or maybe he got some bad cat food. But the other cats seem fine."

Michael climbed out of bed and walked over to Rags. He reached down and scratched him behind one ear. The cat pushed into his hand with his head, but didn't bother to get up. "Yeah, he's not feeling himself, that's for sure. Sorry Rags. Mommy will have you feeling good in no time. She's a doctor, you know," he added, smiling over at Savannah.

Savannah pulled into the parking lot at the clinic a little before 8 a.m. Michael drove in right behind her. It took longer than usual to coax Rags off the car seat and into the carrier. In fact, he didn't want to go in at all. "It's protocol, Rags-you know, policy-the rule here. Cats have to be confined in a carrier when they visit the clinic. You can ride on the seat in the car. But now it's time to get into the carrier. Come on, boy," she urged.

Suddenly she heard a rap on the car window. She looked up and saw Michael staring in. "Need help there, Ma'am? Is that tiger giving you trouble?"

She rolled the window down about two inches and said, "Doesn't want to get in his carrier. I guess he's feeling better."

"Looks like a two-vet job. Here, let me help," he said as he opened the door and latched onto the large cat. Savannah turned the door of the carrier toward Michael and he slipped Rags in and closed it up. "Voila," he said.

"Thanks. Now I'll let you carry him in-if you don't mind." "Well h.e.l.lo, Rags. You're becoming a regular here, aren't you, big guy," their receptionist Scarlett crooned. She looked up at Savannah and Michael. "Something wrong with him?" she asked.

"I think he may have an infection-maybe urinary tract..." Savannah explained. She spotted Bud coming out of the recovery room. "Bud, would you find a place for Rags? I'm going to examine him after the morning patients."

"Sure. Come on Rags. We always have room for you," Bud said as he toted the cat in his carrier to the back of the clinic.

That morning patients came and went. It was a steady stream of mostly routine exams, inoculations, claw-tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, new kitten and puppy checkups, and a few cats and dogs that stayed for neutering and teeth cleaning. It wasn't until noon that Savannah could work Rags into her schedule. She went back to get him. After opening the pen, she took a look to see if he'd used the litter box. She did, in fact, find a small wet spot. Good, but not great, she thought. He could be blocked or just nervous. Some cats actually resist urinating when they're away from home. "Well, let's take a look," she said, picking up the cat and carrying him into an examining room. They arrived just as Alyce had finished sanitizing the table.

"Oh, what a cool cat," Alyce said upon seeing Rags. "He's big!"

"Yes, this is Rags-he allows us to live with him," Savannah joked.

"Well, aren't you something?"Alyce said as she moved closer to him. She then said, "He was in the kitty playpen a few days ago with two other cats, right? I remember seeing him in there."

Savannah nodded. Suddenly she could feel the cat tense up. He began pus.h.i.+ng his paws against her arms as if he were trying to escape. "What's wrong Ragsy?" she asked.

Just then, Alyce reached her hand out toward the cat and he began to growl. He hissed.

"Ouch!" Savannah cried, as Rags dug his back claws into her arm and freed himself. He landed on the examining table and then jumped down onto the floor. He turned around once and stared at Alyce, his ears back and his tail low to the ground, before slinking under a chair in the far corner of the room.

Suddenly, the door opened and Michael peered in. "Everything okay in here?" he asked. "Did someone get bit?"