Meow for the Money (A Klepto Cat Mystery Book 14) (7 page)

June slammed her hands down on the arms of her chair. “Perfect!” she said. “Yes, let me know where and what time. Savannah, will you show Ms. Matson out, please?” She then said to the attorney, “Thank you for coming.”

****

“You seem a little preoccupied,” Michael said over dinner that evening.

“Oh,” she said, “sorry.”

“Savannah, why don’t you…”

Before he could finish his thought, her phone chimed. She pushed herself away from the table, then paused and slumped a little. “I hope it isn’t something to do with June. I’m kinda over her drama for the day.”

“Don’t answer it,” he suggested. “Eat.”

She thought about it, then rushed to take the call. “Hello?” she said cautiously.

“Savannah Ivey?”

“Yes.”

“This is Roy Shively from Roy’s Camera Shop.”

“Oh yes, hello,” she said, visibly relaxing.

“I’m calling to let you know that your photograph, ‘Horse Running in the Sunset’ won second place in our annual photo competition.”

“What? Oh yes, I’d almost forgotten that I entered. I won second? Wow!”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t win the trip to Hawaii, but you were certainly a great contender. Your prize is a $100 gift card here at the store and we want to display your photos in several local businesses throughout the month.”

“Well, that’s great. Thank you so much.”

Mr. Shively cleared his throat. “Would you like to send us three or four additional photos we can mount and hang so your work is more widely represented?”

“Sure, I guess I could do that,” Savannah said.

“And a photograph of yourself. What name do you want us to use as the photographer—Savannah Ivey?”

After brief contemplation, she said, “Since my father was well known in the area, how about if we include my maiden name. Make it Savannah Jordan Ivey.”

“Certainly. And do you want to put a price on your work?”

“Huh?”

“Some photographers sell their work. If you want to price it, buyers can make the purchase through us and your work will continue to hang until the end of the exhibit. We’ll handle the sales and settle up with you at the end of the month.”

“Oh, uh, well, gosh…what do photographs like mine go for?”

“It’s up to you. That picture of the horse might bring $300.”

“Yeah, I guess I could put prices on them. If they sell fine—if not, that’s all right, too.”

“Okay, the display goes up day after tomorrow. Can you get those additional photos to us tomorrow morning? You can send them via e-mail if you like, and we’ll print and mount them.”

“Yes, that would be convenient. Sure. I’ll do that this evening.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ivey. And again, congratulations.”

“Wow!” Savannah said as she settled back into her place at the dinner table.

“Who was it?” Michael asked.

“Mr. Shively at the camera shop. I came in second in the photo contest. How about that?”

“That’s great, hon. Good job.”

“They’re going to hang my work in businesses around town with my name next to it and people might actually buy some of my photos.”

Michael smiled across the table at his wife. “So you’re going to become a highly paid artist, are you? Wait ’til Peter finds out. Hey, you can open your own gallery in Frisco next to his.”

“Let’s not get carried away. You know how fickle art can be and how subjective.”

“Who won the contest, do you know?” Michael asked.

“No. I forgot to ask. I wonder what photo beat the one of my mare. I’ll have to find out.” She took a bite of her dinner, then said, “Oops there goes my phone again.” She started to push away from the table, but stopped herself. “Oh, I think I’ll let it go to voicemail. I’m not real interested in talking right now.”

Michael reached over and patted her hand. “Good. You just relax. If it’s important, they’ll call back or leave a message.”

Later that evening after they’d put Lily to bed, Savannah went into their office to pick out a few photos to send to Roy Shively, while Michael sat nearby reading the evening newspaper.

“Do you like this one?” she asked, turning her laptop so he could see the screen.

“Yeah, it’s good,” he said after scrutinizing the shot of a hummingbird in flight. “What else are you sending?”

“That one of Rags crashing through the bush after a bee, one of Lily and her little friend Bradley kissing—remember that one? I’m also thinking about that shot of the eagles I took a couple of years ago.”

“Good choices. Yeah, I like this hummingbird picture.” He looked up from his paper again and asked, “Did you check to see who called you earlier?”

“Oh no, I forgot. I was enjoying the quiet.” She picked up her cell phone and listened to the message.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked, when he noticed her deflated appearance.

She grimaced. “It was June. She said her attorney got the results back on the tea he had analyzed.” She paused. “It was contaminated with some sort of sedative. Evidently, there wasn’t enough in there to kill her; just enough to make her weak and fuzzy-minded, which is how I saw her yesterday.” She clenched her teeth and shuddered. “Someone is out to harm that poor old woman…someone she trusts enough to make her tea, for crying out loud!”

“So June, what are you going to do now that you know someone spiked your tea?” Savannah asked Monday morning after being ushered into the cat room where the elderly woman sat watching her cats at play.

“Well, for one thing, I’ll be drinking prepared tea.” When Savannah looked confused, June held up a bottle saying, “Sterling brought these to me.” She frowned. “He has instructed me not to drink any tea or water unless I break the seal myself. They brought in a small microwave so I can heat it if I want to. Blah,” she spat, “it’s not as good as Gwendolyn’s tea.” Grimacing, she said, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do, Savannah.” She thought for a moment before asking, “Why do you think someone would want to drug me?”

“Well, June,” Savannah said quietly, “it appears that someone might have plans for your estate other than those you’ve laid out.”

“Whatever do you mean?” June asked, creasing her brow.

“As you said yourself, your decisions regarding your will are unpopular. Someone may be drugging you in hopes of making you seem—or even feel as if you are—incompetent.” She took a deep breath. “I saw a movie once where the servants were being paid by unscrupulous family members to watch every move their wealthy relative made and report anything odd that he did. They weren’t drugging him, but they wanted to gather evidence showing that he wasn’t mentally fit to handle his estate.”

June stared down at her hands. “I know what you’re saying. You’ve just voiced my own suspicions about my stepson, my niece, or maybe some of my staff.” She faced Savannah. “But no one has come to me on that subject after serving me the tainted tea.”

“Are you sure, June? No one has asked you to sign anything lately? I mean, that stuff did make you rather confused.”

June shook her head. “No. I’m sure. But you’re right. Why else would they drug me?” She twisted a handkerchief around her fingers. “Maybe it was to be cumulative.” When Savannah appeared to be puzzled, she explained, “They wanted to make me believe I’m losing it—they wanted to get a good dose of the stuff into my system before approaching me.” She grinned slyly at Savannah. “They don’t know this tough old gal very well, do they?”

Savannah grinned, then asked, “So June, have you just recently changed your will to include the cats?”

“No. I’ve always planned to give the bulk of the estate to the care of cats—my cats and any others who might need a shelter or a home. But I did just recently let the cat out of the bag,” she said snickering. “Under pressure, of course, I revealed my intentions to Petra and Jody—my only two living adult relatives.”

“And they weren’t happy about your decision?”

“No, and I can’t understand why—they’re getting a generous portion, but they seem to want it all.” Looking deflated, she said, “I guess greed has no bounds.”

“Have either of them stepped up and offered to care for the cats? That’s what I would expect them to do—so they’d be in line to get their hands on that portion, too.”

June shook her head. “Oh, no. They know better than that. The only person around here who had a heart for the cats, other than the groomers, of course, was Andrew and he’s…dead…rest his soul.” She took a breath and ran her hand over Shadow, who lay next to her. “The others can pretend all they want, but they’ll never convince me to name them as caretaker for these precious beings.”

June leaned toward Savannah. “By the way, your Detective Sledge stopped by. He said they have a possible suspect in poor Andrew’s murder. There’s evidently a child molester living in one of those metal houses east of here.”

“Mobile home park?” Savannah asked.

“Yes. The detective has reason to believe this
pervert
…” she spat, “came here and took the sleeping boy…my grandnephew. Andrew may have seen him and tried to stop him. They discovered a bloody spike of some sort that the killer might have found here on the grounds. They’ve taken this person of interest in for questioning. But how he got into the house without anyone knowing it is a puzzle to me. How did he know the boy was here and where to find him, Savannah? Now, that doesn’t make sense and if it doesn’t make sense, it probably didn’t happen.” She thought for a moment. “I still think it was someone close to me—someone who knows the layout of this house. But who…and why?”

“Maybe someone who has done repairs here,” Savannah suggested.

June thought for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know. My staff takes care of most of those types of goings-ons.”

“Has the detective questioned them?”

“I’m certain that he has…or will.”

Savannah sat quietly for a few seconds, then asked, “June, who feeds the cats?”

“Megan and…well, Andrew did. Now it’s Clarence.” She chuckled. “He doesn’t enjoy cleaning the litter boxes. I’ve heard him try to bribe Megan to do them all. Why?”

“Well, I’m wondering if you should be concerned about what they’re being fed.”

“Are you saying someone might try to poison my kitties?”

“Someone took Mazie Mae, didn’t they?”

Stubbornly setting her jaw, June said, “We don’t know that for sure.” When she saw Savannah smirk a little, she glanced at the Himalayan, who was curled up in one of the hammocks. “I guess you’re right. It’s highly unlikely that she’d go anywhere on her own.” Tears of frustration came to her eyes and she asked, “What’s the alternative, Savannah? How can I make sure the cats are safe? Whom can I trust?” she demanded.

“I don’t know…maybe bring in a whole new staff, at least where food preparation is concerned.”

“That’s rather drastic, don’t you think? Train a whole new staff? Do you know how long it takes to...”

Savannah interrupted. “June, you could be in danger and so could all of these lovely cats.” She ran her hand along Tabitha’s tabby fur. “Such a change might just be temporary, until authorities figure out what’s going on.”

“You’re right of course. But how does one make such a radical change and make the right choices?” She shook her head, taking in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s all rather overwhelming.”

“Yes, I can imagine. Maybe we should have your food and the cats’ food brought in from outside.”

“Well, that would be an extravagant waste of money and resources. Let’s conjure up another way to assure our safety, shall we?”

Savannah let out a sigh. “I don’t know what it would be. Does your attorney have any ideas?”

“Oh, Savannah, I meant to tell you that I believe I’ve found a caretaker for the cats. I met with the girl in the jailhouse. She’s a domestic.”

Savannah frowned. “A domestic?”

“Well, she knows how to cook and clean and care for someone. She’s done it before. And she does love cats. I think she’s the one I can trust to care for them after I’m gone.” June took a sip of tea, shuddering at the taste of it, before saying, “I’ve asked Sterling to come by this morning to discuss terms. He’s my guiding light when it involves hiring and firing.” She set her teacup in the saucer and leaned toward Savannah. “Oh, Sterling said he has something he wants to share with me.” She frowned. “He made it sound rather ominous. He said I should brace myself.” She shook her head slowly. “I can’t imagine what terrible news he’s bringing my way today.”

Savannah cringed. After a few moments, she asked, “What did you offer Nola Kat, or is that what you’re going to discuss with your attorney?”

June grinned. “At this point, nothing more than a job. She gets out of the slammer next week and I invited her to help me out with the cats.” She glanced up at Savannah. “She can be in charge of their meals. That’s a good solution right there,” she said excitedly. “Maybe I can have her also handle
my
meals. Yes, that’ll work. She says she’s a good cook. And she would come here without expectations of getting my fortune. I’ll pay her a good salary.”

“Did you discuss this with her?”

“Some of it, yes. I hadn’t thought it all through by the time we met—and that’s what I want to talk over with Sterling.”

“What will Megan think about this? How will it affect her status here?”

June looked down at her hands. “Yes, that does present a potential problem, doesn’t it? I either trust her or I don’t. And the way it is, I really can’t trust anyone who’s here now. So I think I’ll have to give Megan her walking papers—with enough money to get her by for a while, of course.”

“And your niece?”

“Yes. She can visit, but I can’t have her in the kitchen. She’ll understand. She knows what I’m up against. She’s in the will no matter what, and so is Megan. I must make it clear to them that they will each get a sum. Nothing will change that. If they’re responsible for some of the recent mayhem around here, maybe it will stop once they know this.” She looked at Savannah. “…would sure make the rest of my life easier.”

Just then, the women heard a shrill screech. Savannah leaped up from her chair and peered into the hallway.

“Junie! Junie!” a woman’s voice called. “I think he’s dead!”

“My God, what now?” June wailed, shrinking into her chair. When Megan appeared in the room, her face blotched with white flour and tears running ridges down her cheeks, June asked, “What happened? Who’s dead?”

“Mr. Goss… He walked into the kitchen while I was making a cake and fell to the floor right in front of me. There’s a big knife…” she swallowed hard before saying, “…it’s sticking out of his back.” She covered her face with her hands. “It’s awful. Just awful.”

Savannah picked up her phone and called 911. “I’d like to report a…possible homicide at 348 Greenbriar Circle.” She then dropped her phone into her pocket, saying, “June, why don’t you stay here. Megan, show me, would you?”

“I’m not staying here. This is my house and Sterling is my attorney and my friend!” she shouted, struggling to stand.

“I understand,” Savannah said, helping the woman up and following her down the hall. When the three women stepped into the kitchen, they stood stunned.

“Where is he?” June asked weakly.

Megan pointed. “He was right there.” She covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide and wild. “Oh my God. I swear, he was lying there, on his face…right there,” she said, pointing. She glanced around the room. “I don’t get it.”

Savannah rushed to the door leading outside and noticed that it was ajar. She grabbed a dish towel off the counter and used it to pull the door open wider. “Don’t touch anything,” she instructed, as she stepped outside and looked around. “It appears that something was dragged out through the door…” she pointed, “…in that direction.” Skirting the telltale drag marks, she walked farther out into the yard and saw a car heading down the driveway. “Who drives a…” she strained to see into the distance, “…dark-colored sedan?”

“It’s one of my cars, I imagine,” June said. “The estate has four of them.”

“Who has access to them?” Savannah asked.

“Well, Clarence has permission to drive them. He’s my driver now.”

“Does anyone else you know have a car like that?”

“Dark-colored sedan?” June asked. “Yeah, Petra has one and so does Sterling, why?”

“Well, I guess nothing,” she said, disappointment in her voice. “Oh wait.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and made a call. Shortly, she said into the phone, “I’m calling back from 348 Greenbriar Circle regarding the dead-body report.” She paused. “The body is gone and we think it’s in a black or dark-grey sedan…” Her eyes followed the car until she saw which way it turned, then she added, “He’s heading east on Highway 55.” When Savannah ended the call, she saw both June and Megan staring at her.

“They probably don’t get many calls like that, do you suppose?” June said, laughing a little nervously.

“I imagine not,” Savannah said. Suddenly her phone rang. She glanced up at the other two women before saying into the phone, “Hi Craig.”

“What in the hell’s going on there?” he asked.

“Oh, so you got the message, huh? Well, there was a body in the kitchen here at June Balcomb’s estate, but it appears that it either walked or scooted away or someone took it. We don’t know if the corpse just drove away in a dark-colored sedan or if it is the corpse thief.”

All Savannah heard on the other end of the phone was a deep sigh. Craig then cleared his throat. “Can you give me a description of the…corpse?”

“A staff member, Megan, is the one who saw the body. She said it was Mrs. Balcomb’s attorney, Sterling Goss. Listen, Craig, I want to get Mrs. Balcomb back inside. I’m going to let you talk to the witness.” Handing Megan her phone, she said, “It’s Detective Craig Sledge.” She then took June’s arm and ushered her toward the house. That’s when they noticed Rags walking around outside.

“Good God, Megan, what have I told you about leaving doors open around here?” June shouted. “Where is your head these days?”

“Come here Rags,” Savannah coaxed as she and June walked toward the door. “Gads, do you see any of the other cats out here?”

June shook her head. “No. They never try to escape. They have no reason to go beyond their playroom or the outdoor screened-in area. They know nothing else. Ragsdale does.”

“Unfortunately, he does,” Savannah lamented. Once she’d made sure June was comfortable in her chair, she rushed down the hallway back toward the kitchen. As she drew near, she heard a woman’s voice saying, “Yeah, he’s dead. Okay, let me know what you want me to do.”

Savannah stopped, hoping to hear more, but everything went quiet. She moved slowly toward the kitchen door. Stepping inside, she found Megan standing next to the counter with a phone in her hand. “Who were you talking to?” Savannah asked.

“Me? The detective, of course. Remember, you handed me the phone and asked me to talk to him.”

“No, just now. You were talking to someone else.”

“No,” she said innocently, “I wasn’t.”

“I heard you, Megan,” Savannah said sternly.

The woman’s eyes darted around the room. She then pointed to a small TV on the countertop. “I had the TV on. Just turned it off. That’s probably what you heard.”

Savannah stared at the woman for a moment, took her phone from her, and headed outside through the kitchen door. “Rags!” she called. “Rags, where are you, darn it?”

Just then she heard sirens screaming along the highway toward the estate.
I’d better find that cat,
she thought,
before the sirens scare him into the brush.
She chuckled to herself.
Heck, I might just let him go. Maybe he’ll set up housekeeping with the cats in the ravine.
Shaking her head, she called out again. “Rags! Raaaags!” That’s when she spotted him peering from behind a large potted plant on one of the several patio areas. “Come here, boy,” she said. “All cats inside.”