Karen Anne Golden - The Cats That 03 - The Cats That Told a Fortune (11 page)

Cokey agreed, “Yeah, the chief ain’t gonna be available anytime soon.  He’s got his hands full.”

Katherine disagreed.  “I don’t think the two of you should do that. I think we should leave Colleen and the cats here and go back to the mansion to wait for the police.”

“Ain’t happening,” Cokey said, getting up.  He briskly left the room.

Realizing she wasn’t going to win the argument, Katherine reached into her pocket and yanked out her house keys.  Handing them to Jake, she said, “Please promise you’ll wait for the police?”

Jake leaned down and kissed Katherine on the nose.  “Lock up.  I’ll text when I’m coming back.  Oh, and by the way, I plan on staying the night.  So, could you make up that sofa in the front room?”

“Sure,” Katherine said.

After Cokey and Jake left, Katherine locked both of the front door locks.  When she returned to the kitchen, Colleen was rooting around in the refrigerator. 

Katherine read her mind and said, “There’s some Guinness in the very back.  Pour me a glass, too.”

Colleen took out two bottles and flipped their caps.  “How about drinking straight from the bottle?  I’m in that kind of a mood,” she laughed, then asked, “Where am I sleeping?”

Katherine answered, “The official guest room is the first bedroom on the right.  It’s got hardly any furniture in it but a bed and dresser.  The sheets are i
n the bottom drawer.  Follow me.  I’ll help you make up your bed before I make up the sofa.”

As they walked down the short hallway to the bedroom, they heard glass breaking in the front dining room.  The cats began wailing in Katherine’s bedroom.  “Shhh,” Katherine said to Colleen.  She grabbed her arm and led her back to the kitchen. 

Katherine reached behind the small of her back and extracted her Glock.  She motioned for Colleen to get behind her.  She immediately turned off the kitchen counter light.  They could hear someone breaking more glass to crawl inside the window.

“I know you’re in here, you little bitch,” the male voice said.  “Where the hell are you?”  He stumbled over one of the dining room chairs.

Katherine brought her finger to her lips to silently “shhh” Colleen.  She motioned Colleen to crawl underneath the built-in table.  While Colleen scurried under the table, Katherine quietly moved to the open kitchen door and stood beside it. 

The intruder crept through the guest bedroom doorway and switched off the overhead light.  He was dressed entirely in black, with a shaved head and gold earring.  The hood of his jacket was down around his collar.  Then he slowly moved to the second bedroom.  There he made the mistake of opening the door to the cats.

A frenzied pair of seal-point Siamese catapulted out of the room.  Abra went for the man’s belt, and Scout sprang for his head.  Horrible feline screeches began while the man tried to remove the attacking cats.  Distracted, he dropped a tire iron on the floor and didn’t see Katherine inching closer from behind.  Katherine remembered the gun instructor’s sage advice, “Never put your finger on the trigger unless you mean to use it.”  She said in a firm tone, “I’ve got a Glock aimed at the back of your head.  Slowly drop to your knees and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll shoot
you
in a
New York minute
.”

The student Glen Frye knelt on the hallway floor and did what Katherine told him to do. 
Katherine kicked the tire iron and it went skidding down the hallway, out of arm’s reach.  Colleen ran from the kitchen, switched on the hall light, and grabbed her cell.  She punched in 9-1-1.  “Get the police over here immediately.  A man broke into the house and my friend has a gun on him!  Katz Kendall.  I mean Katherine Kendall.  We’re at the bungalow!  Wait I’ll find out,” Colleen said to Katherine.  “What’s the address here?”

“205 Alexander Street,” Katherine answered.

Colleen repeated the address into the phone.  “Okay, I’ll leave the cell on until the police get here.  Thanks.”  She set the phone down on a side table, per the 9-1-1 operator’s instructions. 

Katherine said to Colleen, “I saw Scout and Abra run back into their room.  If Lilac and Abby are in there, can you shut the door?” 

Colleen took a wide berth of Glen and observed the four cats inside.  She quickly shut the door.

Glen struggled to get up but Katherine kicked him in the lower back.  “Hey, I’m a crack shot!  Now stay the hell down!”

Colleen and Katherine could hear police sirens in the distance.  Colleen rushed over to stand by the front door. 

Hearing the sirens, Katherine thought
,
I do hope they’re coming over here first, and not to the mansion.

Glen said slyly to Katherine, “You’ve got something that belongs to me.  If you give it to me and let me go, I’ll tell you where your cat is.”

“I don’t have anything of yours,” she said doubtfully.

“Yes, you do,” Glen said in a low voice.  “I saw you pick it up on the roof and put it in your pocket.”

Katherine wondered where Glen had to be in order to have observed her, then remembered how she picked up an envelope on the roof outside her bedroom window.  Fishing in her pocket with her free hand, she tugged it out.  As she tore open the envelope with her teeth, a gold charm bracelet fell out in her hand.  ‘I Luv Mommy’ was engraved on the charm.  Katherine said with growing disgust, “You stole this from Stacy when you assaulted her.  What kind of sicko are you?”

“I didn’t steal it.  She got the car door open and I lunged to stop her.  The bracelet came off in my
hand.  Look,” he pleaded, “Just hand it over and I’ll tell you about your cat.  Don’t you want to know?”

Suddenly Katherine got a sick feeling deep in her stomach. 
What if he killed her
, she thought, then asked skeptically, “What does
he
look like?  Is
he
fat or skinny?  When
he
sits up is
he
tall or short?”

“He’s tall and skinny,” he said.

“Liar!” Katherine exploded.  She knew Glen was referring to the day Scout and Abra strolled into the classroom.  They were both tall.  “You were standing outside my room and heard me say my cat was missing.”

“Wait a minute,” Glen pleaded.  “I didn’t see the cat, but I heard it.  That damn Russian had it in his Four Winds, locked up in the back.  It was howling like a banshee.”

“What were you doing in Misha’s motorhome?  Did you kill him?”  Katherine accused.  She wondered if there was any truth to Glen’s story about the cat, then said, “Just shut up until the police get here.”  She dropped the bracelet back into the envelope.

Colleen opened the front door and directed the Erie police to the back hall.  Chief London and an officer Katherine didn’t recognize dashed in.  Cokey and Jake sprinted in after them. 

The chief said to Katherine, “Ms. Kendall, I’m here now.  You can put the gun down.”

For a moment, Katherine was so caught up in an adrenaline
rush, she continued pointing the gun at Glen.

“Katz, put the gun down,” Jake said emphatically.  Katherine snapped out of it, held the gun out at arm’s length, muzzle pointed up, and set it slowly on the side table.  

Chief London stooped down and handcuffed Glen.  “Stand up,” he barked.  Glen tried, but wasn’t able, so the chief and the other officer helped him to his feet.  The chief frisked him, yanking out his wallet and cell phone.  He also found a high school ring with the initials J. G. on it.  He tugged a blue latex glove on and removed an evidence bag from his pocket.  He dropped the items inside and handed the bag to the officer. 

“Well
lookie here,” the chief said gruffly.  “Mr. Frye.  You’re just the man I’ve been lookin’ for.”

Glen threw the chief a
venomous look and threatened, “You’ve got nothin’ on me.”

“Is that a fact?  Enjoy taking souvenirs from your victims?  This ring belongs to Jane Gilroy.  Remember her?  The last woman you murdered?”

Katherine handed the chief the scavenger hunt envelope.  “Chief, inside is the bracelet belonging to Stacy Grimes.  Glen just said it fell off when Stacy jumped out of his car.  One of my party entertainers was a close-up magician who lifted things from my guests’ pockets —”

The chief interrupted impatiently, “Okay, I know this is leading somewhere.”

“The bracelet was in Glen’s pocket; Misha the magician pickpocketed it.  I suspect that when Glen tried to get it back, Misha wanted money for it.  Glen wasn’t able to buy it, so he came back later to the mansion to look for it.”

“You lying bitch,” Glen muttered.

“You can’t talk to her like that,” Jake said, throwing a punch at Glen, but Cokey blocked it.

Katherine explained.  “Chief, the last time I saw Stacy
Grimes, she said the father of her child had given the bracelet to her.”

“Is this true, Mr. Frye?” the chief asked, irritably.  “Are you the daddy?”

“I ain’t that kid’s father.”

“This is the way I see it, Mr. Frye,” the chief began.  “You somehow managed to get the magician
to drive you to the Sanders trailer court.  Then you strangled him.  You called my niece Tiffany to come and pick you up, but she declined.”

“That’s a
freakin’ lie!”

“
I’ve got a text message on my phone that says otherwise.  Why did you call Tiffany?  Was she going to be your next victim?”

“You’re crazy,” Glen said.

“It’s only a matter of time till I find out who picked you up and drove you back to the pink mansion,” the chief said.  “Someone else working with you?”

“I hitched a ride.  I do
n’t know who the hell it was, some trucker.  Hey, I’m getting a lawyer,” Glen swore.  “I’m gonna sue you, the town, and that witch with the cats.  I need to see a doc for my wounds.  Can’t you see I’m bleeding?  Better hope they don’t have rabies, Katz!” he threatened.  “Because if they do, they’ll get the needle.”

Katherine was speechless. 
The man is pure evil
, she thought. 

“Getting a lawyer is the smartes
t thing you’ve said,” the chief advised, then read Glen the Miranda warning. 

After the chief finished, Glen said sullenly, “You’re wasting your time.  I’m innocent.”

“Let’s see,” the chief said, tugging at his beard.  “Possession of a crime victim’s personal belonging is good evidence.  But you ain’t heard nothin’ yet.  Stacy Grimes is alive.  She’s out of her coma.  And she’s talking.  You don’t have a leg to stand on.” 

Another cruiser parked in front of the bungalow.  Officer Glover got out of the car and hurried into the house.  The chief said, “Dan, help Officer Troy take Mr. Frye down to the station so we can question him.  Make sure he gets medical help for his cat scratches.”  The two escorted the former computer class student to the
Erie police station. 

The chief lingered behind.  He said, “I’ve got a strong suspicion,
Ms. Kendall, you’ve just single-handedly caught the Festival Murderer.  Or should I include the cats, too?  They seem to have done a number on Mr. Frye.  Would you like to come and work for us?”

Katherine shook her head, “No, but thanks for offering.” 

The chief patted her on the back, “Good work!” he praised.  “I want to talk to you more about this, but I’ve got other fires to put out.  Gotta get a hold of the task force and do a million other things.  How about I get your statement in the morning?” he asked, walking to the front door.

“Chief, what about the tire iron Glen broke in with.  I kicked it to the back of the hall.”

The chief walked back and pulled out a larger evidence bag.  He carefully picked up the tire iron and slipped the bag over it.  He scratched his head.  “Gut-feeling is Glen probably used this to overpower those poor women before he strangled them.   I’ll make sure Detective Martin knows about this.”

Katherine nodded, but then sa
id hurriedly, “Before you leave, can you give me information about the Four Winds motorhome you found, belonging to the Russian, Misha?  Did anyone report seeing or finding a Siamese cat?  Several hours ago she was stolen from my house.  Glen said my cat was locked up in a back room in Misha’s motorhome.”

“Well, Ms. Kendall, that intel certainly places Glen in the
motorhome with the victim.”

Katherine said excitedly, “I need to go
and see if my cat’s there.”

“Hold on there, hot shot,” the chief insisted.  He removed his smartphone from his belt clip and called someone.  He spoke for a moment and then
reattached the phone to his belt.  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but
there wasn’t
a cat in the motorhome.  Gotta head out,” he said, leaving.

“If Glen was lying about my
cat, I have reason to believe Barbie Sanders stole her.”             

“Barbie Sanders, you said?  She’s in a holding cell right now.  She’s the town’s egger.  We found her with her brother egging the mayor’s house.  Caught in the act!  Her car was full of eggs from out-of-town.  I’ll ask her about your cat, but I’m
bankin’ she didn’t do it.”