2 CATastrophe by Chloe Kendrick Page A

doesn’t talk much. She just sits there and minds her own business. I can’t talk to her for anything. It’s annoying. She was here yesterday and then left about 5pm. I knew it was then because that’s usually when the donations come in, all those businessmen coming home from work. She just up and left and missed all of the money. I did well for myself that day.”
    I nodded at her. “Do you think she’d be at any of the shelters? Is there one around here that would take her?” I admitted to myself that I had no idea about the resources for the homeless in Toledo. There could be 20 facilities or none, and I’d not know the difference. I thought about my habit of looking for Susan on the streets, but I’d never taken a step to look for her at a shelter, the next logical step. I wondered why, since I was obviously willing to do it for a stranger.
    “There are a few shelters around here, but there’s only one that she’d use. The others usually fill up early or they don’t let you come by until after dark. She left in the afternoon.”
    “Which one is that?” I felt guilty for taking this woman’s time, so I let the other five dollar bill drop from my hand into her container.
    She smiled at me. “It’s the Main Street Drop Inn.” She gave me some quick directions. “The woman’s name is Evie. She did tell me that once, but that’s about all I know.”
    I walked to Main Street and down the few blocks to the shelter. I found a volunteer near the front door, who seemed to be helping people find a place to eat and sleep for the evening. She was an older woman, perhaps in her late 50s, with broad hips and an oval body that seemed to always be in motion. She had a kind smile and was able to talk, listen and take care of small things all at the same time. I was impressed with her busyness.
    “This time of year, people want to get out of the sun. We fill up fast in the afternoons and evenings. We’re about there now,” she explained. I waited patiently until she’d told two more people where they could find food and lodgings.
    “What can I do to help you?” she asked.
    “I was looking for a woman named Evie. She usually is on Adams near the theater, but no one has seen her for a few days.”
    The woman scrunched up her face. “I wish I could help you, but it’s our policy not to talk about residents. There’s a liability issue if you are trying to find them to lock them up or injure them in some way.”
    Maybe Green was right. I did need to work on my image if this woman looked at me and saw someone creepy enough to prey on the homeless. “It’s not that. She had a cat named Harold, and she lost him. I found the cat, and I’m trying to return it.”
    The woman looked around, but of course, saw no cat since it was safely in police custody. “Sorry. We don’t allow pets here, so she wouldn’t have been able to stay with a cat. Other residents have allergies and other issues with animals. It’s best to have the clients alone. It’s probably better for the pet too, since someone will be taking care of them rather than feeding them scraps from whatever trash bin is around.”
    I nodded. If I couldn’t find the woman who had the cat, then I was going to have to find the organization that had adopted the cats to “Marsha Miller.” Brett had indicated that they’d come from a rescue organization, and I now had to call him back and learn more about the cats.
    No one answered the phone, so I left a message. I explained that “Marsha Miller” had adopted two cats from the shelter. She’d raved about how easy they were to work with and how wonderful her cats were. I told the machine that I wanted to adopt a cat as well and had decided to take her recommendation.
    I checked my email, and one of the three emails regarding Dr. Vires had been returned as a bad address. A second email was waiting for me. The message gave me a phone number and a name.
    I called and a woman answered after only half a ring. I