Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 03 - Sleight of Paw (16 page)

“What?” Savannah asked as she zipped up her purse, set it down and walked over to the sofa where Michael sat.

“Here, look at this guy.”

“Well, I can’t see much of him. What about him?” she asked. “Is it someone you know?”

“Oh, I think he may have paid us a visit at some point—but no, we don’t know him. At least, I hope not.”

“You’re talking in riddles, Michael.”

“Look at what he’s wearing, Savannah.”

“Ohhhhhh. Could it be? Oh my gosh, Michael. It looks like the same fabric as the swatch Rags had at the clinic that night. We’d better call Craig.”

“Wait—let’s look at the online newspaper. Maybe we can bring it closer and see the fabric better. Do you remember what it looked like?”

“I sure do. Exactly.”

Once Michael brought the photograph up on the computer, Savannah stared into the monitor. “Yes, that’s it, Michael—I can see it clearly. That’s the fabric from Rags’s swatch. I’m calling Craig right now.”

“What did he say?” Michael asked when Savannah had hung up the phone.

“He seemed glad for the reminder. In fact, he was a little excited about it. I guess he’d forgotten about the fabric.”

***

“I want to talk to one of the men we picked up last night,” Craig Sledge told the sergeant in charge of the jail.

“Which one, Detective?”

“Gus Ramirez.”

The sergeant looked down at a list. “Oh, we just let him go. He had a public defender and made bail.”

“Crap!”

“Why do you want him?”

Craig looked over at him and said, “Well, someone let a cat out of a bag and I want to talk to him about it.”

“Huh?” the sergeant cocked his head slightly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Just don’t rent out his cell to anyone else. He may be needin’ it.” With that, Craig turned on his heels and walked back to his office. “Gonzalez, let’s go. We have a possible perp to nab.”

After driving around for an hour in the area where they’d originally picked up the man named Gus Ramirez, Ramon Gonzalez said, “Sledge, we’ve been past this block eight times. He’s not here.”

“Well, he could be in the club or the tat parlor. Let’s go see if we can find him there.” They parked and walked into Clive’s Tattoos. “Have you seen Gus tonight?”

“Nope,” the tattoo artist said without looking up.

“Are you sure?” Craig said pulling the plug on the tattoo gun he was using.

“Yeah, man, I’m sure. Now quit interferin’ with my business, man.”

“Do you know where he might be this time of night?”

“Don’t know—he’ll probably be at the club later.”

Once outside, Gonzalez said, “Sledge, why don’t we go get dinner and then do a stake-out. No one goes to the clubs before nine.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m just eager to take a good look at this guy.”

“Where do you want to eat? Your favorite place?”

Craig looked confused for a moment and then said, “Oh, the diner? Naw, she ain’t workin’ tonight.”

“You sure are sweet on that gal, aren’t you?”

“She’s a great gal.” Craig didn’t want to tell his partner that he had Damon at his cabin and Iris and the boys were out there waiting for him.
Looks like I won’t return until late tonight,
he thought.
I’d better call
. “Iris, how is everything?”

“Good. We’re having a nice time getting reacquainted. When will you be here?”

“I’m on a hot trail, so it may be late.”

“They’re expecting rain tonight. Drive carefully, will you, ya big lug?”

“Sure, anything for you. Do you need me to bring anything tonight?”

“Just you,” she said. Then her tone accelerated, “Hey the boys went fishing today. We’re cooking up some trout for dinner. Craig, you should have seen what fun they had out there on the river together. I don’t know how many times I cried from pure joy today. Thank you for giving me this wonderful gift,” she said while looking at the three boys, who were in the kitchen cleaning their fish and trying to freak each other out with fish parts.” She smiled. “We’ll be here when you get here. Good luck with your…hot trail.”

A couple of hours later, Craig and Ramon Gonzalez parked across the street from Club Macho, watching for Gus Ramirez. “Is that him?” Gonzalez asked, looking from the man he saw on the street to the mug shot in his hand.

“That’s him,” Craig said, “and he’s wearin’ just the right attire.”

“What?”

“Just hang tough. You’ll find out in a few minutes. Let’s go get him.”

“Gus Ramirez?” Craig asked as he approached the man standing outside Club Macho.

The thickset Hispanic man spun around, dropped the joint he was smoking, and said, “Yeah, who wants to know?”

“Detective Sledge,” Craig said, flashing his badge. “This is Sergeant Gonzalez. We want to ask you a few questions.”

“About what, man? I paid my bail.”

To Gonzalez’s surprise, Craig reached over and began rubbing the fabric of Ramirez’s lapel between his thumb and fingers.

“What do you want?” Gus said, slapping at the detective’s hand and taking a step back.

“Just settle down, Gus,” Sledge said. “I want to check you out.” He looked the man up and down with a wide smile on his face and said, “Yep, you look mighty fine tonight. Just the way I hoped to find you.” He thought for a moment and then said, “Let’s go in the restroom, shall we?”

“What? Are you some sort of pervert? No, I’m not going in any john with you guys.” He looked from one to the other and began backing away.

Craig reached out, grabbed the man, and bent one arm behind him. Pushing him along in front of him, he asked, “Where’s the bathroom in this place?”

“In the back,” Gonzalez said, himself somewhat perplexed by his partner’s actions.

“Is there a back entrance?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, let’s go around back.”

“Sledge, what are you doing?” Gonzalez asked in a hushed tone.

“You’ll see, Gonzalez. Just stay with me here. In just a minute, you’ll see this guy’s true colors.”

“Lock the door,” Craig instructed his partner once the trio was inside the restroom. He cuffed Gus and then stood back and looked intently at him.

Craig couldn’t help but notice beads of sweat running down Gus’s ruddy face and disappearing into his thick black moustache. “What do ya want, man?” he asked. “What are ya gonna do? I’ll have your badge, you try anything funny with me, you pervert.”

Sledge reached over and began handling the lightweight, brown tweed shirt-jacket Gus wore. He examined it from top to bottom. Finally he found what he was looking for. “Ah, Gus, it appears that your dress suit here has a tear in it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the swatch Savannah had given him several days before and fingered it so that Gus could see it.

Gus’s eyes grew large. “What’s that, man? What do you want with me?”

“I want you to turn around and face Gonzalez, there.”

Gus didn’t budge, so Sledge took his right arm and swiveled him around. He held the swatch next to the hole near the bottom of the loose-fitting jacket and said, “Bingo. Do you see this here, Gonzalez? Perfect match, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah,” Ramon Gonzalez said, not quite understanding the significance of the discovery.

Sledge reached over and took the cuffs off Gus. “Now pull down your pants,” Sledge ordered.

“No!” Gus shouted. “No! I’m not gonna let you…”

“Let me what? Get your mind out of the gutter. I just want to look at something.”

“Don’t you need a warrant?”

“No, but you’ll need a feeding tube if you don’t do as I say.”

“Okay man, okay.” Gus unfastened his baggy slacks and looked at Craig.

“Drop ‘em.” And if it will make you feel any better, I want you to leave your shorts on—if you’re wearin’ shorts.” He raised his voice, “Just drop your pants.”

Gus complied and Sledge put the cuffs back on him, his hands behind his back. Craig then squatted down and looked at the back of Gus’s right thigh. “Oh, Gus, what happened here?” he asked as if he was actually concerned.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“I see a gnarly scratch—looks like you got a pretty good gouge here, maybe a week ago. Looks a little infected.” He stood and turned Gus around so he could look him in the eye. “So what happened? Were you hopping over a barbed-wire fence or something?”

“Yeah,” Gus said, sweat pouring out of his forehead. “Uh, yeah. I got caught on a damn fence…when I was out in the country…fishin’. Yeah, that’s it, I was fishin’ and had to climb over a fence.”

“Well, it looks to me more like…” he got in Gus’s face and continued, “a cat scratch. Don’t you think so, Gonzalez?”

Gus started yelling. “No man. There was no cat. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Well, how is it that the cat had this piece right out of your jacket there? And the piece is missing from right where this scratch is?”

“This aint’ my shirt, man. I borrowed it from a homeless guy.”

“Ramirez, pull your pants up.” He uncuffed him so he could comply and then quickly cuffed him again. “Okay, let’s go.”

***

“Sorry for calling so late, Michael. Just thought you’d like to know, I have someone in jail for the murder of Pete Gamble.”

“That’s great news. It’s never too late to hear good news. Wake me up anytime you can tell me something like this.” He then paused. “Who is it? Anyone we know?” He looked over at Savannah, who had propped herself up on one elbow on her pillow.

“I doubt it. Name’s Gus Ramirez. Not sure if or how Alyce fits in, yet, but I imagine it has to do with a drug deal gone bad. We’ll know more in time. Right now, I’m headed out to the cabin to join Iris and the boys. Oh, by the way, Michael, would you tell Savannah that it was her cat that solved the case?”

“How’s that?” Michael asked, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just tell her he left his mark on the guy, that’s all.”

“Sure will. Have a good night. And drive carefully. It’s pouring out there.”

“Tell me about it. I’m almost to the turn-off to the cabin. I’ll probably lose power on my phone soon. Good night, Michael.”

***

The headlines in the Wednesday evening paper read, “Arrest Made In Pete Gamble Murder.” The story went on to say that the authorities believe there will be more arrests and they aren’t sure if they have the ring leader or not.

“So Rags saved the day again, huh?” Margaret smiled while staring over at the big cat. “Just look at how nonchalant he is about his part in the investigation. I’m telling you, he ought to be in a movie or at least on a talk show.”

“What’s he going to say?” Savannah laughed.

“Oh, they’ll get an interpreter—a cat whisperer—to interview him.”

“Funny, Auntie.” Savannah thought for a moment, then said, “It really is pretty remarkable how much help he has been to the sheriff’s department since we came here. He ought to be their mascot.”

Margaret giggled. “If they could only see him now, all stretched out there on his back looking like some sort of lawn ornament. They’d think twice about choosing him as their mascot.”

“Stop it! He’s cute!” Savannah said.

“Is that what you call it?” Margaret glanced toward the doorway to the kitchen where the two ladies sat visiting. “Now there’s cute—look at that beautiful cat. Come here, Buffy.”

“That’s because she reminds you so much of Layla—your beautiful faux Persian.”

“That she does,” Margaret said, picking up the fluffy little cat and helping her get settled in her lap.

Suddenly, Lexie, who had been asleep near the side kitchen door on her bed, lifted her head and pricked up her ears.

“Michael must be home,” Savannah said, peering toward the living room.

Lexie stood up, shook her whole body, and then trotted off to greet her master.

“Hi ladies,” he said when he walked in. He bent down and kissed Savannah on the lips and patted Margaret on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Just talking shop,” Margaret said.

Savannah turned toward her husband, “Oh Michael, did you ever hear from Alyce?”

“No. I think she has quit. I had Scarlett arrange to have the locks at the clinic changed and I brought home the employment applications we accumulated before Alyce came on the scene. We can go over them together, maybe tonight.”

“Okay. Now, honey, sit down and eat; Craig’s coming over in thirty minutes. Says he has some news.”

“Gosh, what could be better than having the murderer locked up? That’s the news I was most interested in.”

Savannah stood and walked over to the stove. “He says they have motive and he wants to share it with us before it hits the papers.”

“What’s for supper?” Michael asked, while straining to see what Savannah was dishing up.

“Auntie brought over some of Max’s veggie pasta. We already had a bowl. Would you like some wine with it?”

“Mmmm, looks good.” He glanced over at Margaret. “Tell Max thank you.” He thought for a moment and then said, “Yeah, I’ll have some of that fancy wine in one of your…our…fancy glasses,” he winked at Margaret.

“I’m glad to see that you use them, Vannie.” Margaret smiled.

“I sure do. I love them. They were the best wedding gift ever.”

“How many have your broken?”

“None,” Savannah responded indignantly, as she poured some sparkling cider into her empty glass. “Want more Gewürztraminer?” she asked her aunt.

“Sure. Why are you drinking that kids’ stuff?” she asked.

“Just limiting my alcohol intake, that’s all. One small glass of wine once in a while is enough for me.”

“Humph, you’re no fun.”

“Oh yes she is,” Michael countered while rushing to swallow a mouthful of veggie pasta.

Savannah smiled adoringly at her handsome husband.

Knock, knock

“Oh, it must be Craig. I’ll get it,” Savannah said jumping up from her chair and walking into the living room. “Hi Craig,” Savannah said, giving him a one-armed hug around the neck.

“Hi. How’s everything with you this week?”

“Pretty good. Is Iris back from the cabin?” she asked.

“Yes and Damon’s back in the cell, under guard. All is as it should be at the moment, I guess.”

“But you’ve been working pretty hard, from the sounds of it,” Savannah said, leading the detective into the kitchen.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being quoted all over the paper and on the radio,” she explained.

“Yeah, not my favorite thing to do,” he said. “But it goes with the territory.”

Craig entered the kitchen behind Savannah. He waved at Michael and then patted Margaret on one shoulder as he walked to an empty chair at the kitchen table.

“Want some veggie pasta?” Savannah offered. “Max made it.”

“Ooooh, sounds tempting. But Iris and I have plans this evening. We’re actually going out to eat somewhere other than the diner.”

“Cool. How about a glass of wine or a cup of coffee?”

Craig looked at the bottle sitting on the counter and then over at the coffee pot and said, “Better make it coffee. I’m driving tonight.”

“So what’s up?” Michael asked as he wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin into the empty bowl in front of him. “Savannah said you have more news.”

He looked straight on at Michael and said, “Alyce and Pete Gamble were lovers.”

Savannah, who had picked up Michael’s bowl and set it in the sink, whirled around. “What? Oh my gosh, that’s too weird.”

Margaret and Michael sat stunned, eager to hear more.

“They have children together. He treated her pretty badly; there was so much chaos that the kids were taken away from both of them. The kids live with Alyce’s mother somewhere south of here. According to his rap sheet, there was lots of domestic violence and, from what I hear, only some of it was reported.”

“Domestic violence? That doesn’t surprise me. Pete was a dark man,” Margaret said.

“Well, according to the guy we’re holding, Gus Ramirez, Alyce sought solace in a friend of Pete’s—a guy known as the Weasel. And it was the two of them who plotted Pete’s murder. They’d wanted to do it for a long time and when he assaulted you two, they saw this as an opportunity to do the deed and frame you.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Michael said. He stood and began pacing.

“Ramirez says it was Alyce’s idea to take your dog. She figured the more reason you had to hate Pete, the more likely it was you’d be considered a suspect in his killing. As for the keys, she had given them to the Weasel and he must have dropped them as they were making their getaway the night they killed Gamble. They saw a light go on in your rental and left in a hurry without locking the clinic door.”

Michael stopped near the pantry and stared across the room. “Yes, certain times of the year—in certain weather—that door is hard to close. It will pop back open if you don’t lock it. Been meaning to fix that.” He looked over at Craig. “So was he killed right there at the clinic?”

“Yeah, did my cat witness another murder?” Savannah asked.