The Purrfect Lie (Klepto Cat Mystery Book 12) (10 page)

Margaret nodded. “Yes, but maybe while he was back there, this dropped out of it and he remembered it and came back to get it.”

“Oh, Auntie, you should write fiction.”

“Or,” she said dramatically, “he dropped it that night and didn’t know it and happened to find it there just now.”

Savannah thought for a moment. She took a deep breath. “Could be. Let me see that,” she said, ushering Lily toward her aunt, who handed the necklace to Savannah and picked up the baby.

“It sure looks like a baby locket, doesn’t it? It’s engraved with an A. See that?” she showed it to her aunt. “That’s a fancy A, isn’t it?”

“Where are my glasses?” Margaret complained. “Oh, here they are,” she said, snagging the purple-framed specs off the dining room table and slipping them on. “Yes, that’s an A. It’s not Lily’s or…what’s her name? …Crissy’s.” She grabbed Savannah’s arm in a panic. “Hey, maybe it belongs to the little girl who was kidnapped.”

That evening a few members of the Hammond Cat Alliance showed up at the Sheridans for an emergency meeting Margaret had called to discuss the break-ins at their cat-rescue shelter. President Ida Stone was absent, so Margaret ran the meeting.

After casual greetings among members and a shower of attention given to some of the household cats, Margaret called the meeting to order. “As some of you know, we’re being vandalized here. No cats have been harmed or lost yet, but they are certainly in danger. Whoever is bothering them seems to be working alone, to do what, we don’t know.”

“What is this person doing, exactly?” Kitty Wilson asked.

“Well, he seems to be trying to let the cats out. He…or she…comes in the night and opens the doors to the cat pens. We started locking them. Now he’s cutting holes in the mesh—holes large enough for the cats to escape through.”

A few of the women commented, “Oh no.”

“That’s awful.”

“Who could be doing it?”

Margaret continued. “The strange thing is, he hasn’t taken any cats. He simply opens a pathway for them to escape.” She took a breath. “We’ve installed cameras and we’ve caught him on tape, but we still can’t figure out who it is. We’ll show one of the tapes in a few minutes.” She glanced around the room. “Next, I guess we’ll hire a security company. You know how seriously the sheriff’s department takes complaints about cats,” she said sarcastically.

A rumble of voices reverberated briefly, then Betty Gibson spoke up. “Why you, Maggie? Could it be personal?”

When everyone stared at Betty, she explained, “It could be a disgruntled employee…maybe someone wanting to destroy your reputation.”

“Gosh, could it be another shelter director or someone who wants to start a shelter here?” Colbi suggested.

Savannah spoke up. “Yeah, there are people who don’t understand the ongoing need for out-reach programs to protect cats. They want to help cats, but they don’t understand the magnitude of the overpopulation problem. They might look at other facilities as competition.”

“Sure,” Betty said. “Remember when we had a problem with that among our own members? We worked hard to adjust those attitudes so we could finally work together to help abandoned cats instead of against one another.”

Again, there was a rumble of comments.

Finally Margaret said, “Someone out to ruin our reputation? Gosh, I hadn’t considered that. Do any of you know about another shelter starting up or could animosity be coming from the owners of an already established shelter?” She thought for a moment then said, “I did have what I considered a minor run-in with Sandra Swanson a few months ago—do you all remember that?”

“Yes,” Iris said. “That blond floozy showed up at our fall meeting, right? She had all those questions about laws and regulations, and when you suggested she sort it out with the county, she got kinda huffy.”

“You answered a whole bunch of her questions,” Colbi recalled. “But, yeah. Iris is right. She didn’t seem to accept the answers.”

“Well, she evidently came from a jurisdiction where the regulations were loose,” Savannah said. “She wanted us to give her carte blanche to operate like she had back there.”

“That’s right,” Margaret cut in. “She countered everything we tried to tell her. She definitely had a chip on her shoulder.”

Betty spoke up. “I remember thinking she might even be a detriment to the feral cat population because of the way she seemed to be thinking.” She glanced around the room. “Did they ever open their facility? Does anyone know?”

“I wonder,” Margaret said. “It may be worth checking into.” She cringed a little. “Gads, I’d hate to think we’re being sabotaged by someone from the cat-rescue community, for heaven’s sake.”

“Hopefully not,” Betty said. “Could it be someone from your neighborhood? I think we’ve all experienced complaints from neighbors—cats yowling, a perceived odor, too many people coming and going, and we all know there are people who don’t believe in caging animals, even when it’s temporary and in their best interest.”

“Do you have anyone in the neighborhood who might do this?” Iris asked. She chuckled. “Aren’t Michael and Savannah your nearest neighbors?”

Margaret laughed a little and said, “Yeah, I’m the one who should be complaining about their animals—one of them actually escaped today and came over here.”

“Ha-ha,” Savannah said. She suggested, “It could be that crazy new neighbor of ours.”

“Mr. Crankyshaw?” Margaret said, laughing. “Why would he do it?”

“Why would anyone do it?” Savannah asked, causing the room to become silent for a few moments.

Finally Kitty asked, “So you haven’t lost any cats?”

Margaret shook her head. “No, but it’s unnerving to know that someone is trying to defeat the very purpose of our work.”

A collective “Hear! Hear!” reverberated through the room.

After much discussion and a showing of the videos the Sheridans had recorded of the stranger in the cathouse, the meeting was adjourned and only Savannah, Iris, and Colbi remained.

“Well, girls,” Margaret said, “that didn’t produce the sort of resolution I had hoped for. I think we need to take things into our own hands.”

Savannah put her arm around Margaret’s shoulders. “Oh, Auntie, you certainly have some concrete possibilities to consider—that odd shelter woman with that wild blond hair, and Mr. Crankyshaw.”

“Why would you suspect him?” Colbi asked.

“I don’t suspect him,” Savannah insisted, “any more or any less than anyone else.” She thought for a moment and added, “It’s just that he seems to have some odd opinions about cats and he doesn’t keep them to himself.”

“But he’s old,” Margaret said. “I can’t visualize him dressing up and coming here in the middle of the night to cut the pens open and let cats out.”

“He walks over this way nearly every day without much effort,” Savannah reminded her. “I think he should be considered a suspect.”

“Could it be an inside job?” Iris asked.

“What?” Margaret demanded.

“Yeah,” Colbi said, “one of your volunteers who’s holding a grudge or something?”

Margaret thought about that and said quietly, “I sure hope not.”

“So, Maggie, what do you have in mind?” Iris asked. “It sounds like you have a plan.”

“Well,” Margaret said, her eyes flashing, “I believe in woman power and I’d like for us to get together some evening when we expect him and jump him.”

“Jump him?” Colbi questioned wide-eyed. “Us?”

Margaret nodded. “Yeah, jump him, rip that stupid grim-reaper hood and mask off, and find out who it is once and for all.”

“What would we do with him once we catch him?” Iris asked.

“Turn him over to the sheriff’s office, of course,” Margaret said. “They’ll make sure he gets his due comeuppance once they know who he is. They just don’t seem to have time to do the legwork necessary to capture him.” She glanced around the room, an impish smile pasted on her face. “Well, we have legs, ladies. Let’s use ‘em.”

“You got that right, Maggie,” Colbi said, gazing at Iris’s and Savannah’s long legs.

“So who’s in?” Margaret asked, looking around at the others. “Vannie, I know you’ll be here, right?”

Savannah glanced away, grimaced, then said rather meekly, “I suppose.”

Margaret wrote something on a note pad. “I’ll put you down as a firm yes.”

“If Savannah’s going to be here, I’ll come. Could be fun,” Iris said, winking.

Colbi cringed a little. “Okay, count me in, I guess.”

“Good,” Margaret said. “I’ll contact Brianna. I’m sure she’ll want to be involved.”

“When?” Colbi asked.

Margaret looked briefly at Savannah. “Let’s wait until after the baby’s birthday party, shall we?”

Savannah let out a sigh. “That would be great. Thank you.” She looked around at the others and asked, “Did you all get your invitations?”

Everyone chimed in, “Sure did.”

“So cute.”

“Can’t wait.”

Iris smiled. “We’ll be there with bells on.” She then asked, “Hey, did Craig tell you he made some progress in the child-abduction case?”

Margaret shook her head. “I didn’t know our favorite detective was on the case, did you, Savannah?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve been busy with party plans. Haven’t talked to him in ages. What did he find out?”

“Well, he located the people who ran a nursery here on this property, Ferne and Randolph Greene. Ferne Greene says…”

Suddenly Iris heard giggling. She looked around the room at the others. “What’s so funny?” she asked suspiciously.

“Oh nothing,” Colbi said, sitting back in her chair, hands in her lap, trying not to laugh. When Iris continued to stare at her, Colbi said, “Well, the name Ferne Greene just struck me funny.” When Iris didn’t respond, Colbi said, “Ferne Greene owned a nursery…ferns belong in a nursery and they’re green…I thought it was rather humorous,” she said, trying to contain her giggles.

“You and your word fetish,” Iris said, teasing her.

“Can’t help it,” she said unapologetically. “Go on.” Still trying to stifle her giggles, Colbi then exclaimed, “Hey, you could be in a nursery, Iris!”

Everyone joined Colbi in laughter. They laughed even harder when Colbi got so tickled she began laughing uncontrollably. Restraining herself a little, she said, “So could Lily,” before bursting out laughing again.

“Well, at least we have real names,” Iris said, “not something someone made up.”

Suddenly, Colbi stopped laughing. “Made up?” she said. “What are you talking about? Haven’t you heard of Colby, Texas and Colby, Kansas, Colby Wisconsin and…and…and…” she said, excitedly, “Colby Nolan, the cat that earned an MBA degree at Trinity Southern University?”

“What?” Margaret said, furrowing her brow.

Iris attempted to squelch a chuckle, saying, “No, Colbi, I haven’t heard of any of those places.” She narrowed her eyes. “A cat earned an MBA degree?”

Colbi nodded. “Sure did.” She leaned toward Iris. “Okay, now we’re ready to hear what Craig said, Ms. Flower…I mean, Iris,” she said, smiling.

“You’re too much,” Iris said, good-naturedly. “How does my son put up with you?” She paused, then asked, “Okay, where was I?”

“He found Ferne, the nursery lady.”

“Oh yes, she said there was a man living in the basement here for four or five years around the turn of the century. He did light work at the nursery for his room and board. I don’t remember what his name was, but they think it was an alias. Anyway, he died right there down in your basement apartment, Maggie.”

“Ewww,” Margaret said.

“Do they know if he had any children?” Savannah asked.

Iris pondered the question. “That, I don’t know,” she said. “You’ll have to ask Craig.”

****

“So when’s everyone arriving for the big shindig?” Michael asked the following morning, when he awoke and saw his wife sitting in a chair across the room.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said. She glanced down at her notes. “Some of them are rolling in tonight. My cousin Jimmy and his wife Belinda are bringing their fifth-wheel. I thought they could park it on that flat spot near the orchard. Okay with you?”

Michael stretched, sat up on the edge of the bed, and yawned. “Sure, that old barn slab makes a perfect RV pad.”

“Mom and Bob are coming sometime today. She wants to help with the preparations.” Savannah chuckled. “If I know her, she’ll spend most of the time entertaining Lily, which will actually be a huge help.”

Michael nodded. He stood and slipped into a pair of jeans.

“And I think Aunt Rose and Uncle Don are coming in this afternoon.” She looked at her husband. “Do you know when Marci, Eric, and the kids will be here?”

“Probably tomorrow morning…they have another commitment. They’ll be here in time for the party, though,” he said. He ran both hands through his hair and asked, “How are we doing for rooms? I’m encouraging them to stay over Saturday night. Can we accommodate them?”

“Sure,” Savannah said. “In fact we have more rooms than we need. My Aunt Rose and Uncle Don will stay with Auntie, Jimmy and his family have the RV, so we’re just accommodating Mom and Bob; Marci, Eric, and the kids; and my cousin Roxy and her family.”

“Are Arthur and Suzette going to make it?”

“I don’t think so,” Savannah said, pouting a little. “They really wanted to, but they’re so busy with the new place and Suzette is trying to transfer to a school closer to where they live.” She looked at her list and said, “There will be around thirty here tomorrow, not counting guests under the age of two. Pray for a pretty day with lots of sunshine.”

“Oh, so you think I have that kind of power, do you?” he said pulling a t-shirt over his head.

Savannah stood up and put her arms around Michael’s neck. “You have a magnificent power over me.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, pulling her tightly to him. “Want to experience some of that power now?” He looked at his watch. “I have an extra half-hour.”

“Sounds lovely,” she said, pushing a few stubborn strands of his hair off his forehead. She kissed him, then pulled back and said, “But I need to keep to my schedule.”

At that, Michael grabbed the paper out of her hand, picked up the pen, and wrote something down. “There, now I’m on your schedule,” he said, smiling.