Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat by Patricia Fry Page B
Authors: Patricia Fry
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story about cat hoarders when she disappeared.”
“Cat hoarders?” Savannah repeated. “That would have been an interesting story.”
Margaret spoke up. “I hear Damon was the last one to see her.”
Iris glared over at Margaret. “Maggie, don’t even go there,” she warned. She glanced around the room and then back at Margaret. “We don’t want to attract any trouble. Damon is hurting. He’s confused. He loves that girl. She’s all he can think about.” She stared hard at Margaret. “He had nothing to do with her disappearance.” She took a breath, as if she wanted to say something more, but instead, snatched the menus from the table, turned quickly and walked away.
“Oh my,” Margaret said, trying to look innocent, “I didn’t mean to open a can of worms.”
“Well, obviously, you did,” Max scolded.
“I’ll have to apologize to dear Iris. I didn’t mean…” she started. “It’s just that…”
“Yeah, with him recently out of jail and all…” Michael tried to take up the slack. He leaned across the table toward Savannah’s aunt. “But Maggie, you’ve gotta know this is a sensitive subject for Iris. And Damon has never been in any trouble for hurting anyone. His trouble was more about hurting himself with those drugs.”
“Yeah,” Brianna said, “you guys better hope he doesn’t go back to them.”
“Why would he do that, Bri?” Gladys asked.
“To try to block the pain, Mom…that’s what druggies do. They can’t face reality, so they self-medicate.”
“How do you know that?” Gladys asked, facing her younger daughter.
“I’m a doctor, Mom, remember?”
“Let’s change the subject,” Michael suggested. “Brianna, I want to hear about your new job.”
“Yes,” Max said, “I hear you’ll be working with seniors.”
Just then, Iris walked over and broke in. “Sorry guys,” she said. “I’m in a bit of a foul mood this morning. Didn’t mean to snap at you.” She patted Margaret on the arm. She pulled a chair from another table and perched on the edge of it. She glanced around the room and then spoke to the group in hushed tones, “I just found out that Frank told the sheriff’s investigators that Damon and Colbi were arguing in here Thursday night. I guess they will be questioning Damon about this. Has me pretty scared.”
“I can imagine it does,” Michael said.
“But I know…” she started. She then looked over at the window behind the counter. “Crap, order’s up—I’ll talk to you guys later,” she said as she stood, replaced the chair, and walked away.
Chapter Four
In the meantime, on Sunday around noon, Damon drove his 1998 Honda Civic down the rutted driveway toward Colbi’s house. He stopped the car outside the ring of yellow police tape and killed the engine. Where is she? What could have happened to her? He felt as if his heart would break. There was a knot in his stomach. Gotta stay focused, he thought to himself. Need to feed those cats.
Damon exited the car, reached into the backseat, and unloaded a large bag of cat kibbles. As he carried it toward the porch, he saw movement. Swatches of different-colored fur appeared and then disappeared above and then under the porch. He stopped. He could see those round green eyes peering at him from between the steps. He bent down and stared back for a few seconds before continuing with his mission. Cats of all sizes and colors scurried to position themselves within their individual comfort zones as Damon approached the feeding area. Some waited cautiously near the food bowls, while others hid in nearby shrubs, around the side of the house, or deep under the porch. He reached in and pulled the bowls out, filling each of them to the brim with the kibbles. He then slid the bowls back under the porch shelter and began filling the two large water bowls with fresh water.
Before walking away, he took another look and saw the smallest cat—the long-haired, light-grey-and-white striped cat
“Cat hoarders?” Savannah repeated. “That would have been an interesting story.”
Margaret spoke up. “I hear Damon was the last one to see her.”
Iris glared over at Margaret. “Maggie, don’t even go there,” she warned. She glanced around the room and then back at Margaret. “We don’t want to attract any trouble. Damon is hurting. He’s confused. He loves that girl. She’s all he can think about.” She stared hard at Margaret. “He had nothing to do with her disappearance.” She took a breath, as if she wanted to say something more, but instead, snatched the menus from the table, turned quickly and walked away.
“Oh my,” Margaret said, trying to look innocent, “I didn’t mean to open a can of worms.”
“Well, obviously, you did,” Max scolded.
“I’ll have to apologize to dear Iris. I didn’t mean…” she started. “It’s just that…”
“Yeah, with him recently out of jail and all…” Michael tried to take up the slack. He leaned across the table toward Savannah’s aunt. “But Maggie, you’ve gotta know this is a sensitive subject for Iris. And Damon has never been in any trouble for hurting anyone. His trouble was more about hurting himself with those drugs.”
“Yeah,” Brianna said, “you guys better hope he doesn’t go back to them.”
“Why would he do that, Bri?” Gladys asked.
“To try to block the pain, Mom…that’s what druggies do. They can’t face reality, so they self-medicate.”
“How do you know that?” Gladys asked, facing her younger daughter.
“I’m a doctor, Mom, remember?”
“Let’s change the subject,” Michael suggested. “Brianna, I want to hear about your new job.”
“Yes,” Max said, “I hear you’ll be working with seniors.”
Just then, Iris walked over and broke in. “Sorry guys,” she said. “I’m in a bit of a foul mood this morning. Didn’t mean to snap at you.” She patted Margaret on the arm. She pulled a chair from another table and perched on the edge of it. She glanced around the room and then spoke to the group in hushed tones, “I just found out that Frank told the sheriff’s investigators that Damon and Colbi were arguing in here Thursday night. I guess they will be questioning Damon about this. Has me pretty scared.”
“I can imagine it does,” Michael said.
“But I know…” she started. She then looked over at the window behind the counter. “Crap, order’s up—I’ll talk to you guys later,” she said as she stood, replaced the chair, and walked away.
Chapter Four
In the meantime, on Sunday around noon, Damon drove his 1998 Honda Civic down the rutted driveway toward Colbi’s house. He stopped the car outside the ring of yellow police tape and killed the engine. Where is she? What could have happened to her? He felt as if his heart would break. There was a knot in his stomach. Gotta stay focused, he thought to himself. Need to feed those cats.
Damon exited the car, reached into the backseat, and unloaded a large bag of cat kibbles. As he carried it toward the porch, he saw movement. Swatches of different-colored fur appeared and then disappeared above and then under the porch. He stopped. He could see those round green eyes peering at him from between the steps. He bent down and stared back for a few seconds before continuing with his mission. Cats of all sizes and colors scurried to position themselves within their individual comfort zones as Damon approached the feeding area. Some waited cautiously near the food bowls, while others hid in nearby shrubs, around the side of the house, or deep under the porch. He reached in and pulled the bowls out, filling each of them to the brim with the kibbles. He then slid the bowls back under the porch shelter and began filling the two large water bowls with fresh water.
Before walking away, he took another look and saw the smallest cat—the long-haired, light-grey-and-white striped cat
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