Catnapped (A Klepto Cat Mystery) Read Free Page A

elbow-nudging and face contortions of his two passengers as they silently communicated their disgust at his body odor.
    This is one day I’ll be glad to get to school, thought the taller boy. This guy friggin’ stinks.
    The smaller boy had the displeasure of sitting closest to the grubby man. Phew! I hope we score and earn some money fast. I can’t wait to get outta here.
    The driver was silent, as well, caught up in his own thoughts. Stupid kids. Stupid job. I’m gonna git what I’m owed one way or t’other, so I don’t hafta do this shit no more.
    ***
    “It’s okay, Max,” Margaret crooned while leaning forward and placing a hand of comfort on his arm. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. You know we will.”
    “What’s going on, Auntie?” Savannah asked quietly.
    “We’ll talk about it, later. In fact, you may learn more about human nature before the week is out than you ever wanted to know.” She gave her niece a knowing wink.
    I should have expected there would be more to this visit than playing nursemaid for my aunt, Savannah thought to herself.
    “Well, good morning, Lady Layla,” Max said in a sing-song voice as Margaret’s faux golden Persian strolled in, looked around the room, and headed for Max’s shoes.
    Rags, who had been lounging nearby, jumped to his paws and greeted her, as well. At least he tried to be cordial. His attempt at rubbing up against her was met with a hiss.
    The visiting cat seemed puzzled by Layla’s reaction to his friendly overtures and he sat down, cocked his head, and stared at her, as if contemplating his next move.
    Time to intervene, lest we wear out our welcome, Savannah thought . “Auntie, why don’t you two visit? I’ll be down in a minute. I want to hear more about your cats, Max. Come on, Rags.” She motioned for the cat to follow, as if he actually understood. Maybe he did, for he ran after her into the living room and bounded up the stairs ahead of her. When she neared the top of the wide staircase, she noticed that he sat waiting for her on the landing. “Show off,” she said with a laugh. She stared into his quizzical face for a few seconds and then, in a more serious tone, she asked, “Now I want to know, where did you put Auntie Marg’s glasses, you naughty boy?”
    As Savannah rounded the corner into her guestroom, Rags leaped onto the bed, walked over to the headboard and stretched up as tall as he could toward the window. She put her hands on her hips and scolded, “Rags, move on. I want to make the bed.”
    He responded by jumping in the middle of the bed, rolling onto his side, grabbing a wad of the sheet between his front paws, and kicking at it playfully. Savannah wanted to be annoyed, but couldn’t help laughing at his antics. She picked up the pencil she’d used to work a crossword puzzle the night before and tossed it on the floor. Just as she thought he would, the frisky cat dove off the bed after it. She took that opportunity to pull the blankets up and cover them with the handmade quilt that had adorned the spare rooms in Aunt Marg’s homes for years. Savannah had lost track of who made the now slightly faded patchwork quilt—a great-grand or great-aunt somebody. But she remembered having seen it in every house her aunt had lived in since Savannah was old enough to notice the intricate design of the pretty pastel-print fabrics. In fact, the pattern became imprinted in her memory the summer old Jed Forster died in a barn fire on the property.
    The Brannon siblings and their families had all converged on Tom and Margaret’s home for a weeklong stay. Savannah had just turned eleven; her sister Brianna was nine. The two girls shared this room with their twin girl cousins Melanie and Roxy, while the boy cousins slept on the screened-in porch. Each set of parents had their own rooms. Since Savannah was the oldest of the children, she got her own bed. The others shared beds and used sleeping bags. At that time, Savannah was devouring