Catnapped (A Klepto Cat Mystery) (12 page)

“Wow! Ever have your own Food Network show?”

Max laughed out loud. “No. Wrong era, I’m afraid. I’d probably have a show focusing on making cat and dog food, if I were to do it today. Let’s see, I could call it, ‘The Culinary Cat,’ or ‘Furry Feasting.’”

“How about ‘Feeding Your Feline?’” Savannah suggested.

“Or ‘The Doggy Bag.’”

They both laughed. And then, abruptly changing the subject, Max said, “I’m thirsty, how about you?”

“Yes. I could use some water. But I’d love to hear the rest of your story, Max. Sounds fascinating.”

“Okay, let’s rescue your aunt from Gus or vice versa and we’ll go inside for some refreshment.”

***

No one home—good.
The man steered his dark-colored pickup into the driveway. He stopped in front of the house and looked up at the second-story window where he’d seen the grey-and-white cat.
Not there. That’s okay,
he thought, as he plotted his next move. He sneered.
I’ll find him. He’ll want this fresh fish I brought just for him.
He opened the wire door of the plastic carrier on the seat next to him, slid out the driver’s side and left the door ajar. He’d had enough experience with cats lately to know that he had to act quickly once he got his hands on the animal. He slipped on a pair of tan leather gloves for added protection.

What’s that?
he wondered.
Looks like someone’s coming. Shit.
He yanked off the gloves, tossed them on the floorboard of the truck, jumping in after them as fast as he could. He turned the key, pulled hard on the steering wheel, and headed out the exit of the circular drive and onto the road, hitting 40 mph within seconds.

“Who is that?” Esperanza asked. “He hurries!”

Antonio removed his hat and scratched his head. “I don’t know. Mucho trees. Did you see him?”

“No. Just a dark car and dirt—dust,” she said as she stopped her Toyota in front of the Forster house.”

Antonio stepped out of the car and immediately bent down. When he stood back up, he was examining something he held in his hand. “It’s a glove,” he told his wife. “Not my glove. Not Señora Maggie’s glove. Maybe that man’s glove,” he said, staring off in the direction of the highway.

He shook his head and dropped his hand to his side. He then walked up to the car window to tell his wife goodbye. “Come back and get me for dinner.”

She nodded and watched him deposit the tan leather glove on the porch and then head out to the backyard.

Before she could drive away, he called after her, “Look. Gato watch.” He pointed to a window on the second story.

Esperanza looked up at the cat, smiled, and then waved goodbye to her husband.

***

“Welcome to my cat house,” Max said as the trio entered his kitchen.

Margaret looked around. “No pussy-foot stampede today?”

“Must be nap time. Let’s get our lemonade before they notice we’re here.”

“Can I help?” Savannah asked.

“Yes, thanks. There are glasses in the cupboard on the left. And I think Helena left some cookies in that plastic container.”

“Helena works for you, too?” Savannah wondered.

“Yes. Your aunt and I share a lot—same neighborhood, same housekeeper, same love of cats.” He looked over at Margaret as if making a private statement.

“Yum, cookies,” she said in an attempt to ignore his intent. “Are they the oatmeal raisin she brought me last week?”

“I ate those. These are chocolate-something.”

Once the lemonade was poured, a few cookies were placed on a small plate and everyone was seated, Savannah addressed Margaret, “Max was telling me how he came to start this wonderful rescue operation.” She looked over at Max and said, “I’d like to hear the rest of the story.”

He shot a look toward Margaret. “You’ve heard this before—don’t want to bore you.”

“I never tire of hearing about your interesting life, Max. Please, go on.”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Where were we?”

“You were going to start a cooking show called ‘The Culinary Cat,’” Savannah said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Say what?” Margaret asked, a surprised look on her face.

Max slapped at the air. “She’s joking.” He then squinted his eyes and cocked his head slightly as if he were trying to remember. “Oh, so I was a private chef for a while. I also worked for some pretty classy joints in various cities throughout the West and in Chicago. I was quite enamored with the whole cooking scene for a while. And then I wasn’t.” He paused. “By the time I decided to do something else, my marriage had ended and my son had finished college and started working in the technology industry in Baltimore. I had only me to think about—me and my cat, at the time.”

“So you’ve always had cats?” Savannah asked.

“Pretty much, I’d say. I can’t recall any long periods that I went without a cat. But by the time I gave up my love of cooking…”

“Whoa, back up there, cowboy,” Margaret interrupted. “You didn’t give it up.” She then turned to Savannah and said, “He is an absolutely marvelous cook.”

“Well, no, I didn’t give it up altogether,” Max agreed. “But, let’s say I gave up my obsession with it. I was able and ready to leave that career behind. Now, I wanted to focus on another love of mine—cats. I guess I was lonely after my divorce and with my son so far away. All I had left was the family cat. I really liked that little guy and became rather interested in knowing more about cats. I was living in Chicago at the time and heard there was a cat show in town. The idea intrigued me and so I went to the show. That’s when I fell madly in love with the British shorthair. Long story short,” he said, “I became a breeder.”

He took a generous swig of lemonade and then tapped an ice cube that floated to the top of the glass a couple of times. Max wasn’t all that proud of some decisions he’d made in his lifetime. And breeding cats was one of them. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about it.

“Brits are lovely cats,” Savannah said. “Those I’ve known have made really nice companions. I just love their chubby cheeks and those great round eyes. Hard to resist.”

“And those I saw at the show that day were so calm, unlike some of the more nervous breeds. I just felt good in their presence. I bought one that day, as a matter of fact. Phoebe and I (with our tag-along, Elmer—a mutt of a cat) moved to the suburbs and began planning our breeding program. I joined all of the appropriate associations, attended meetings, did tons of research and, a few months later, I opened my cattery. I sold my little teddy bear kittens to people all over the world. They were especially popular overseas. About six years later, I qualified to become a cat-show judge.”

“You were quite embedded in the industry, weren’t you?” Savannah mused.

Max chuckled. “Oh yes. I think your aunt will tell you that I don’t do anything halfway. Right, Maggie?”

Margaret contemplated the question and had to agree that when he was passionate about something, he gave it his all. That’s why she felt so much pressure from him at times when he pursued the question of marriage so fervently. She loved Max. There was no denying it. But marriage? She wasn’t ready for it at this point in her life—maybe never. She liked things just the way they were. “That’s right, Max. You can become obsessed…or possessed,” she added with an impish laugh.

“Aw, Auntie, is that fair? Maybe it takes one to know one,” Savannah said, a wide grin. Before Margaret could react, Savannah turned to Max and asked, “So what disturbed this lovely lifestyle?”

“In a word, Ellie. He looked down at his glass of lemonade as if in deep contemplation.

“Oh, a female!”

“Yes, Savannah, you might say that,” Max said thoughtfully. “The cattery wasn’t supporting me, you see. Besides, it could be confining. So I took a job as a restaurant chef in downtown Chicago. I’d always been aware of cats hanging around the garbage cans in the alleys behind the restaurants in the city. I felt sorry for them. I saved scraps for them and all. But now—maybe it was because I had become so focused on cats—I began seeing these alley cats as if I were seeing them for the first time. The same cats came night after night. Some were aggressive, some frightened. Some of them would come initially looking pretty good—only a little gaunt. Then they might show up one night missing an eye or an ear. Some were diseased. Abscesses got seriously out of control. And kittens. There seemed to always be pregnant females. Some would bring kittens with them to the garbage bins when they were old enough. Some had obviously lost their kittens.”

Max reached out and petted a big yellow cat that had wandered in on quiet paws. He looked down at him for a second and then continued, “This began bothering me more and more. One night I heard a commotion in the alley.” He took a deep breath. “I went out just in time to see some kids, who were old enough to know better, tormenting one of the cats. Before I could stop them, they had done some serious damage.” Max couldn’t hide the anger he felt inside. It showed like a beacon on his face. He virtually growled through gritted teeth, “I came unglued!”

Savannah sat in silence, swallowing a flow of emotion. Margaret appeared to be holding her breath.

“My heart absolutely broke for this cat. I was pretty sure she was with kittens at the time. I lost it. I rushed those kids—would have beaten them to a pulp if I’d been fast enough to catch them. I even called the authorities, but there was nothing they could do. The kids were long gone. I had a good description and a policeman did actually come out and listen to me. But I knew that was probably the end of it.” Max paused and took a deep breath. “That wasn’t the end of it for me, though,” he said defiantly. “That night, I went out and looked for the little cat.” He choked up a little as he said, “I found her. She had crawled away and hid under some old boxes. She was unconscious.”

Savannah cringed and closed her eyes in an attempt to erase the image. It didn’t help.

Max said, his tone steady and sure, “I put the assistant chef in charge, left the restaurant and took the cat to the nearest all-night vet clinic. I knew about the place because one of my Brits had a problem delivering one night and I had taken her there. Anyway, the little cat was in bad shape. There were some broken bones and she lost her kittens. But I could tell that she was tough. I don’t know if it was her determination I saw or my own reflecting in her. But I had a feeling that she was something special and I asked the vet to do everything he could to save her.

“Actually, I guess that’s when I came to realize that all cats are special and deserve every chance we can give them. I think that’s what I was put in that position to learn. This little cat represented something more to me than one stray I could help. She represented a shift in my very being.”

“Ooooo, goose bumps,” Savannah said with a shiver. By then a tabby had joined them in the kitchen and had agreed to sit on her lap. She found this especially comforting while hearing Max’s gripping story.

“The little cat recovered and I took her home. She was an ugly duckling next to my beautiful Brits,” he said, laughing out loud. “And she didn’t know how to behave. I’m not sure she’d ever been a household pet before. But I suspect she did know people at some point in her short life. She had a lot to learn, and so did I. This little girl turned out to be one of the most interesting and charming cats I’d ever owned. Present company excepted Grizzy and Big Boy,” he said, acknowledging the two cats that had just wandered in. “And you, too, Gretchen; I see you hiding around the corner there.”

He continued, “Truly, there was something about her—and to think that someone could just throw her away like that and that someone could abuse her. I still get choked up when I think about my little Ellie.” He paused. “Yes, I named her Ellie, for the restaurant where I worked—Ellison’s. I never wanted to forget the cats in that alley. To me, she represented all ferals, strays and abused cats everywhere.”

He took a ragged breath. “This was a definite turning point in my life. Ellie is the reason why I quit breeding and judging and why I shifted my whole focus to those cats who are already here and that nobody wants. Ellie and the others in the alley are the reason why I’m here today. She even made a vegetarian out of me.” He straightened his posture, tilted his head a little and said, “I’ll bet you don’t know many vegetarian chefs.”

Savannah shook her head. “How’s that, Max?”

“Well, one night I was holding Ellie in my arms…it took a while and a lot of patience, but she finally gave in and decided that she rather liked being massaged and stroked. So anyway, I was holding her like a baby, looking down into her face, and I realized at that moment that I could never eat animal meat again.”

The only sound in the kitchen for the next several minutes came from the cats. There was a mixture of purring, chirping, and a quiet and occasional mew. Finally Savannah looked over at Max and asked, “So what brought you here?”

He leaned back in his chair, and said, “Well, I got my Brits spayed and neutered—even the kittens. I sold them all and Ellie, Elmer, and I moved out here to start a new life. Sure, there are plenty of cats to save in Chicago, but I was ready for a change. I didn’t know where we would end up. I started scouring the Internet in search of ideas and opportunities. When this nursery came up for sale, I thought it would make a great cat facility and I put in a bid. I’ve been here for nearly three years.”

“Dare I ask…about Ellie?” Savannah said quietly and hesitantly, a lump in her throat.

Max reached out toward a young cat that had stretched up, placed her front paws on his leg and began kneading enthusiastically. “Easy, girl,” he said with a grimace. “You have needles in those paws of yours.” He lifted the cat into his lap, ruffled the fur on her head and then continued his story. “Well, I guess Ellie’s work on earth was finished. She was only about eight when her kidneys began to fail. Despite the fact that she lived like a queen the last few years of her life, her rough beginnings must have caught up with her. She died in my arms the day I opened this facility.”

Savannah could no longer hold back the tears. She picked up a napkin from a stack in the middle of the table and dabbed at her eyes. Margaret sat with her head down, obviously touched by the story even though she’d heard it a time or two or three.