Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 05 - The Colony Cat Caper (18 page)

She sat down and stared at the woman for a moment. “Leta, what are you afraid of? Is someone after you?”

Leta looked toward the window. When she turned back, she said quietly and methodically, “I was never a very pretty girl. And I moved around a lot with my mother, so I didn’t make lasting friends who could teach me how to use make-up, how to behave with boys, how to dress in the most flattering clothes. I didn’t learn any of that stuff. I grew up to be awkward; I lacked confidence—especially when it came to relationships.”

She closed her eyes; took in a breath. “I didn’t even do well in business.” She rolled her head toward Savannah and smiled. “But I did get married.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Now for me that was an accomplishment. He was
a nice enough guy. We had a decent life, despite the fact that this was the first marriage for both of us and we’d been single for all of our lives. I was thirty-five when we married. He was fifty.” Again she was quiet. “He died just after we celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. Cancer.”

Savannah shifted in the chair and looked down at her hands in her lap.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Leta said, looking over at Savannah. “Guess I need to talk to somebody. Do you mind?”

“No,”
Savannah said, even though she felt a little uncomfortable hearing the secrets of this virtual stranger. “How long ago did your husband die?” she asked.

“Two years.” She wiped her face with a tissue. “I was lonely. Spent every evening by myself. Spent a l
ot of time on the Internet. I was teaching a healthy-cooking workshop in the Frisco area.” She raised up a bit and reached for her water glass. Savannah stood, poured water into the glass from a pitcher, and handed it to her. After she took a few sips through the straw, Leta said, “I loved it. I grew most of the foodstuff.” She stared into space. “Gardening and cooking: those are my passions.” She looked at Savannah. I hated my job—never did have a job I liked. So, well, one evening a few months ago, I got an e-mail from a man who was interested in the work I was doing. One thing led to another and we…well, we developed a rather lovely relationship over the Internet.”

Savannah noticed Leta glancing toward doorway as she spoke. She looked at Savannah. “Heck,
I didn’t even meet him in person until a month ago. He said he travelled a lot on business. Finally, he was in the area and we met for dinner. That’s when I really fell for him. He paid so much attention to me, took me to exotic places. I’ve been having the time of my life. He even encouraged me to quit my job so we could spend more time together. I thought it was a match made in heaven.”

Leta stared out the window. “He even paid off some of my bills, moved me into a posh apartment in San Francisco. I was
happier than I think I’d ever been in my life,” she said.

And then she began to weep. She reached over and picked up a small photo from her bedside table and stared at it for a moment.

She started to put it down when Savannah asked, “Is that him?”

“Oh
yes,” she said, handing the photo to Savannah. She smiled. “That’s my man, Mark Chandler. Nice-looking, isn’t he?”

Savannah raised her eyebrows and cocked her head a little. “Yeah, he is!” she agreed, handing the photograph back.

Leta looked at the small photo again, saying, “I’m so glad they found my purse. This photo was in it and my cell phone…” She stared into the photo again. “It’s strange,” she said, “I trusted him immediately. I shared so much with him.” She looked at Savannah. “I’ve never had anyone show such interest in me and my life.” She paused. “But I’ve come to realize that, even after all this time, I still don’t know much about him. I don’t even know what business he’s in—what takes him out of town so often.”

She glanced at the doorway onc
e again and began speaking more softly. “One night, he told me a deep dark secret. He said he’d been in prison. Years ago, he had stolen something of great value and it was never recovered. He said that over the years, all he could think about was getting out, retrieving the stolen goods, and fleeing the country.”

Leta closed her eyes. Her chin quivered. She spoke just above a whisper. “That night, he told me things were different now that he had met me. He wanted to make a clean break—make a fresh start w
ith me.” She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue and blew her nose. She looked Savannah in the eyes. “He had decided to give the gems back and go straight…all because of me.”

“Gems?” Savannah said, a shock wave reverberating through her.

“Yeah,” Leta said, “it was a jewelry-store burglary. Gems were taken.” She took another sip of water and then said, “That’s all I knew, except that my uncle was somehow involved. When he started talking about where the gems were hidden and wondering how he would get them back to the authorities, boy, was I surprised to learn that they were in my uncle’s building.”

She faced Savannah again and said, “He sure seemed surprised to learn about my relationship to the Fischers.” She dropped her eyes. “But the more I think about i
t, the more I wonder if he knew all along. Savannah, I’m beginning to believe I was set up—that this was all an elaborate plan to use me. I was a target and nothing more.”

Savannah stood and sighed deeply as she gently stroked Leta’s arm. “Gosh, that’s go
tta hurt,” she said. “But you’re not sure of that, are you? Maybe it’s all a big coincidence.”

Leta rolled her head from side to side against the pillow. “That’s what my heart says. But my head is starting to say otherwise.” She moaned. “Mark called me on
my cell phone after I landed in here.” She glanced over at the phone on the bedside table. “…and before it went dead. My charger’s in my car.”

She continued, “That’s when he started accusing me of lying and stealing from him. He went rather berserk. I’ve
been a little scared since then, and broken-hearted.” She pulled her blanket up around her neck and cried. “I feel like such an idiot to have believed him. I should have known no man would ever treat me that way because he loved me.”

Her eyes met Savanna
h’s. “Oh Savannah, it all makes sense to me, now that I know what he wants from me. I’m not the type of woman a man like him would choose for any other reason. I know that. But I thought if I could find the gems, he would reward me by marrying me…or, at least we’d continue to date.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, how I wanted him to love me.”

“Who have you told about the hidden gems, Leta?”

“No one.” She put her hand on Savannah’s arm, looked into her eyes and said, “But they may have got their hands on Jeffie. They think he knows where the gems are.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what happened after I got knocked out. When I woke up, everyone was gone.”

“So there were others with you in the building that night,” Savannah said.

Leta rolled her head in Savannah’s direction. She tightened her lips and then said weakly, “Yeah.”

“Leta, have you told this to the police?”

She stared blankly at Savannah for a moment and then said, “I’m not sure. Someone was questioning me last night and I don’t have much memory of that conversation.”

“You must tell all of this to Detective Sledge. I can put you in touch with him.”

Leta rolled her head back and forth. “I don’t think so. I just hope I didn’t say too much to the cops last night.”

Savannah asked,
“Well, what do you plan to do now? You know, the police are searching for the gems.”

“Yeah, because of your damn cat,” Leta spat.

Savannah grimaced. Then she changed the subject. “I’m curious,” she said. “What’s your cousin’s story?”

Leta looked at Savannah. “Jeffrey? Oh, he’s always wanted to be an actor. When my uncle closed up the building, Jeffie evidently found a way to get in and out and he went a little over the edge, or so it seems, by creating his own little theater domain the
re. From what I understand, he performs almost every night, playing a multitude of characters. Have you seen his studio?”

“Yeah. It seems as though he does some play-acting out in public, too,” Savannah said.

“He does?” Leta asked.

“Yes, he impersonates
security guards, old men, old women—you name it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know about that,” Leta said. “I guess acting has become a way of life for him.” She thought about it for a moment and then said, “More power to him. We should do what makes us happy.”

“They think he attacked someone out at the old building last week.”

Leta lay silent for a moment. “Hmm. I can’t imagine him doing that. Why would he do that?” she asked. Before Savannah could respond, she said, “But then, I don’t really know my
cousin. I’ve only seen him a handful of times in my life. He never appeared to be the violent type—he’s actually rather effeminate, if you ask me.”

“So you don’t think he attacked you last night?” Savannah asked.

Leta thought about the question and then said with a sigh. “I just wish I knew.”

“Did you see Jeffrey that night?”

“Yes, we had a little chat. He seemed annoyed that I was there. But I didn’t sense that he would be violent. Besides, why would he do it?”

“Because he doesn’t want to be discovered. He has eked
out a life for himself there—one that he seems to enjoy. Where would he go if he was pushed out of the building? Or maybe his father and the attorney know he lives there. Do you think they do? Do you think they care?”

“Um, that’s a good question. I don’t
know. I haven’t been in touch with my uncle or his attorney.”

Savannah stared hard at Leta. “Okay, if it wasn’t your cousin who pushed you, who else do you think it could have been?”

Leta was silent. Finally she said, “I’d rather not say.” She turned toward the window and closed her eyes.

Savannah waited for a few minutes. When it appeared that Leta was finished with the visit, Savannah left the room; her next stop—the restroom just off the hospital lobby. As she re-entered the lobby, she glanced over at
the information booth; a different woman was sitting there. The woman looked up at Savannah, smiled, and waved. “Hello there, Dr. Ivey. Come to have your baby?”

“Oh Nancy, hi,” Savannah said. “No. Visiting someone. But I hope to be here having the baby s
oon. How’s Buster?” she asked, walking toward the booth.

“Good,” Nancy said. “That silly pup’s skin has cleared up nicely, thanks to your remedy.”

“Glad to hear it,” Savanna said. “Skin problems can sometimes take a lot of patience and experimentation.”

“I guess that was the key,” she said. “But he’s almost itch-free now.”

Just then a man walked up to the desk. Savannah waved at Nancy and started to walk away, when she heard him say, “Leta Barnes’s room, please.”

Savannah stopped and looked back at the
man. She noticed he was stocky and dressed in slacks and a blue polo shirt. He had a dark tweed blazer over one arm.
Hmm, handsome
, she thought, as she noticed his sandy, graying hair and square, masculine face. Then it occurred to her.
That’s Mark Chandler, the man in Leta’s photograph—the man she seemed to be somewhat afraid of.

“Room one-twelve,” Nancy said. “Straight down the hall to your right.”

He thanked her and headed off in the direction she indicated.

Savannah exited the lobby into the parking
lot. After climbing into her new SUV, she pulled out her phone and placed a call. “Hi Craig. I could be going out on a limb here, but I just left Leta Barnes’s hospital room.”

“Oh, how’s she doing?” Craig asked.

“I’m not sure. I’m actually concerned about her safety.”

“How so, Savannah?” She could hear the concern in his voice.

“Well, she told me a long story about how she’s mixed up in this search for the stolen gems. Evidently, the thief is her boyfriend.” She paused. “I could be wrong, but I think she’s afraid of him.”

“Hmm, she hasn’t been able to come up with the stones, so he’s not so friendly toward her, is that the deal?”

Savannah sighed. “I guess so. But, Craig, Leta showed me a picture of him, and as I was leaving the hospital, I saw him heading for her room. I didn’t know what to do, but since she seemed fearful, I thought maybe I’d better call and let you know.”

“So that sleazebag Mexic
an showed up there, did he?”

“Mexican?” Savannah questioned.

“Yeah, well, a half-breed. Goes by the name Mark Chandler, but with those strong Mexican or Spanish genes, he looks more like a Pablo Sanchez or Pedro Garcia, don’t you think?”

Savannah sat st
unned. “Well, no, Craig. This guy’s not Mexican. He’s kinda blond, actually. Dark blond with a little grey and has a fair complexion. No, definitely not Mexican.”

“Well, that’s odd. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, positive. I saw the picture of him and then I saw him in person—not Mexican.”

Savannah heard silence and then a deep sigh. “What in the hell are we dealing with here?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “Why would someone impersonate a criminal?” Before Savannah could respond, Craig said, “Money, I suppo
se. It always boils down to money. We’ve got to find those gems before these guys hurt someone else trying to get to them.”