The Secret in the Whiskers Read online

  Savannah stopped and asked, “What will I need, Craig?”

  “Warm clothes, sensible shoes, and maybe your overnight bag. You keep that packed, don’t you?”

  She nodded and disappeared into the hallway.

  ****

  “You expect me to walk around this spooky place in the dark?” Savannah complained when Craig parked their rental car in an abandoned industrial park in San Francisco three hours later.

  “We need to find him sooner rather than later,” Craig said. “So, yes.” He handed Savannah a flashlight. “In case we get separated.”

  She pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “Let’s start where we found those fools hiding out,” he suggested.

  Savannah followed Craig, holding the flashlight in one hand and Rags’s leash in the other. “There’s a cat,” she announced. “There’s another one, or was that a rodent?” She shivered. “This place is creepy.”

  Craig ignored her and led the way into a building. “This is where they set up housekeeping.”

  “Karl’s son?” she asked.

  “Yes, and his two accomplices.” He shined his flashlight around. “Cozy, huh?”

  “Yeah, lovely,” she snarked. “Hey Craig, look at Rags. I think he’s found something.”

  “What,” he spat, “a rat?” He continued shining the light around, then focused on Rags. “What’s he doing, anyway? Why’s he doing that?”

  “I don’t know,” Savannah whined.

  He grumbled, “I thought you were tuned in to that cat. You don’t know why he’s clawing at that stack of boxes?”

  “He probably thinks there’s something under there,” she said. “Maybe a mouse or a cricket, or a spider. Let’s pull them out from the wall and see.”

  “Why?” he protested. “We’re on a mission, not a pleasure trip for the cat.”

  “Humor him, Craig. He may have found something important. Move those boxes and let’s see, shall we?”

  Craig pushed against the stack of boxes with one leg and discovered they were too heavy to slide. He placed his flashlight on the floor and lifted the top box from the stack, then the second one. He slid the largest box away from the wall. “Nothing,” he said, picking up his flashlight. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait,” Savannah called. “What’s that? There’s something under that box. I can see it sticking out. That’s what he’s after. See, he’s pawing at it.”

  Reluctantly, Craig lifted the box and Rags batted at something with his paw.

  “What is it,” Craig asked sarcastically, “part of a cigarette carton or a twelve-pack of beer?”

  “I’m not touching it,” Savannah said, recoiling.

  Craig, meanwhile, shone his light on the item. “Looks like a lottery ticket.”

  “Really?” Savannah exclaimed.

  He picked it up and examined it, saying, “Well, I’ll be.”

  She moved closer. “What?”

  “Remember I told you the family thought Mr. Baker went out to get lottery tickets?”

  She nodded.

  He waved it in the air. “This could be it, and guess what?”

  “What? Did he win a free ticket?” she asked.

  “Yeah, like maybe ten thousand free tickets.” He held it up for her to see. “It’s a big winner, Savannah.” He stared down at it again. “I wonder if he knows about this, or if those jerks took it from him and scratched it off, then hid it under those boxes.”

  He laughed. “Good job, Rags. Good boy. You may have turned the tide for an innocent family.” He tucked the ticket into his pocket and said, “Well, let’s start looking for something like a freezer or a cooler with a spray of blue paint hidden among debris, shall we?”

  “Did you hear that, Rags?” Savannah asked, petting him. “Can you recognize blue?”

  Craig looked down at the cat. “Do you think he can?”

  “Heck, I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he knows we’re looking for someone. If he gets a sense or a scent, he’ll probably tell us about it.” She looked back at the boxes Craig had moved. “I mean, how in the world did he know that ticket was under there?”

  “Maybe a piece of it was sticking out,” Craig reasoned.

  “But why would he care?” she asked.

  Craig shook his head and led the way back out into the night.

  Several minutes later Savannah said, “I don’t see anything like what Rochelle described. Are you sure we’re in the right area? We’ve walked through almost every building out here and it just gets spookier and spookier.”

  “You said it. We’ve walked through almost all of them, but not all of them. We have a few more to go. Spooky or not, we have to find that guy.”

  “Why aren’t the San Francisco police on this?” she asked.

  “I told you, they believe they’ve exhausted the options out here. They’re convinced he isn’t here, but they don’t have what we have,” Craig said.

  “What’s that,” she asked, “a warped sense of reality?”

  “No. We have Rags.”

  “A big help he’s been so far,” she grumbled

  He faced her. “Didn’t you take your Prozac today?”

  “What?” she asked. “I don’t take Prozac and you know it.”

  “You sure sound grumpy. I’m not used to having a grumpy partner. Maybe I ought to just take Rags, and you can go wait in the car.”

  “By myself?” she yelped. “No thanks.” Before she could say anything else, Rags pulled against the leash. “Hey Craig, he wants to go that way. Look at him pull.” She said to the cat, “Hold up, boy. Where are you taking me?”

  “Follow him, Savannah,” Craig said with renewed energy. “Let’s follow him. Where’s he going?”

  “I don’t know.” She aimed her flashlight out ahead of them. “Toward that stack of lumber and brush, I guess.”

  “Debris,” Craig recited as they approached the large pile. He looked around. “Surely this isn’t what Rochelle saw.” He poked around in the rubble. “There’s nothing here but junk and trash.” When he saw Savannah struggling a little with Rags, he said, “Let go of him. I want to see where he takes us.”

  “Oh Craig, I don’t know,” she whined.

  “Just do it. He’s not going to run off. He knows where his meal ticket comes from. Let go of the leash; we’ll be able to catch him.”

  Reluctantly she removed the cat’s harness. “There’s just too much stuff he could get caught up in with the harness on him.” She took a deep breath. “Find poor Mr. Baker, Rags. Be safe,” she whispered.

  “There he goes,” Craig said, watching the cat work his way into the pile of lumber, brush, bricks, boxes, and pieces of metal. “I hope he isn’t after someone’s decaying lunch.”

  Savannah recoiled. “I hope he doesn’t meet up with a badger or a snake.”

  The couple continued watching Rags until he disappeared.

  “Oh no,” Savannah said. “I can’t see him. Where’d he go?”

  “Relax,” Craig said. “We know he’s in the pile there, somewhere. He knows where we are. He could be trying to show us something. Let’s see what it is.”

  Savannah took a deep breath and shivered against the damp chill. They waited and they waited.

  Finally Craig called out, “Here he comes.” He moved closer, directing his light beam toward the cat. “He’s got something. Let’s hope it’s painted blue, or that it’s directions to the cooler Rochelle saw.” He motioned to Savannah. “See if you can get your hands on him.”

  Savannah moved forward and called to Rags, who finally snaked his way out of the twisted jumble of refuse. “What did you find, Rags?” she asked. “It had better be something useful to us, or you’re probably going to be fired.”

  “What is it?” Craig asked, moving closer. When he realized that Savannah wasn’t eager to put her hands on the thing, he reached for it, held it up, and examined it.

  “Is it bl
ue?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No.” More excitedly he said, “But I believe it belongs to Mr. Baker. He held it out for Savannah to see. “It’s a check stub from Simmons Pet and Feed. That’s where he works.” He shined his light into the debris again and muttered, “Either Mr. Baker is in there somewhere, or he has been separated from his belongings and they were tossed out here.”

  He glanced around. “Savannah, put him back on his leash and tie him up someplace. Let’s start tearing into this pile and see what we find.” He retrieved his phone and placed a call. “Sledge here. I’m out in the industrial park off Adams Street. We may have found Aaron Baker. No, we don’t know if he’s dead or alive, but we could sure use some help. Can you send out a couple of officers ASAP? Thanks.” He pocketed his phone and he and Savannah began moving the pile, piece by piece.

  It didn’t take long for Craig and two police officers to remove enough of the trash so that they could see into the center of the mound. Savannah held the light for the workers. “Look!” she shouted. “Blue! Craig, I see a streak of blue in there!”

  “Blue?” one of the officers questioned, heaving a section of a two-by-four across the yard.

  Craig picked up his flashlight and moved into the pile where Savannah pointed. “Well, I’ll be,” he remarked. “There’s a small building under this stuff. See that, officers? We sure missed this before, didn’t we?” He moved closer. “It looks like an old icehouse, and there’s a swatch of blue paint across the door there. Hurry,” he called out to the others, “let’s get this stuff away from the entrance. I want to be able to get to that door.” As the others continued to toss pieces of wood and brush aside, Craig looked more closely at the small building and said, “But how did the cat get inside?”

  “The cat?” one officer repeated.

  “Yeah, Eaton,” Craig said. “The cat came out of this garbage pile with Baker’s paycheck stub a while ago, but where did he get it? I hope from Baker himself. I think he’s inside there, but how did the cat get to him?” He tossed his flashlight aside and began moving the contents of the pile even more quickly, creating a pathway to the door of the icehouse. “Stuck!” he complained after he tried to open the door. He motioned for the officers to join him, and instructed, “Savannah, shine your light over here.”

  “It’s jammed,” Officer Espinoza said after they’d used brute strength trying to force the door open. “It’s been out here for too long.”

  Craig looked around. “But how did the cat…” He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe he didn’t get inside.” He shined his light around the outside of the building. “Do any of you see anything out here, like maybe a body or someone’s personal papers?”

  Savannah shuddered, but contributed her light to the task.

  “Savannah,” Craig called out a while later, “see if your cat will show you where he found that stub.”

  “Come on, Rags,” Savannah said, “where did you get that clue, huh, boy? Show me.” She watched him for a sign, but he didn’t move. He simply sat staring at the men in the dim light. After a short while, Rags stood up and walked intentionally to the right of the small building, into and under and through a tangle of brush that had been added to the pile probably months earlier.

  Savannah did her best to follow him. When she was in a position to see the side of the building, she used her flashlight and called, “Hey Craig, there’s a window over here!”

  “Well, I’ll be. Whoever heard of an icehouse with a window?”

  “I don’t think it’s glass,” she said. “I’m not even sure you can see in there. It’s painted over. Hey, maybe it’s an escape hatch.”

  “Could be,” he said, making his way to Savannah and Rags. He took one look and called out, “Hey, let’s move the stuff from over here! This may be our way in.”

  It didn’t take the men long to clear a path. Craig was first to reach the window. “Baker!” he called, tapping on it. “Baker!”

  They heard nothing. Craig examined the window more closely when Rags walked up to him and meowed. Craig asked, “Is this your way in, cat?” He picked up Rags, who immediately stepped onto the narrow sill and pushed his way into the structure.

  “Oh, that’s how it’s done, is it?” Craig said. He pushed the bottom of the window and shined his light inside through the small opening. “Mr. Baker?”

  All Craig heard in return was, “Meow.”

  “Mr. Baker?” he called again.

  “I heard something,” Savannah said.

  “Oh, yes, you have those supersonic ears. What did you hear?”

  “A moan. I’m pretty sure it came from inside there.” Wide-eyed, she said, “I think he’s in there, Craig.”

  “Mr. Baker!” Craig called again. He put his ear up to the opening and announced, “Yes, he’s in there.” He glanced at the others and said more quietly, “Or someone is.” He stepped back and examined the window. “We need to tear that off of there, guys, so we can climb inside. Do you think we can do it?”

  “With some of the tools I saw in that pile, I think we probably can,” Officer Espinoza said. “Let me see what I can find.”

  Just then Craig heard another voice. “What’re you fellows doing?”

  Savannah grabbed Craig’s arm. “Who’s that?”

  “I don’t know,” he hissed, unbuttoning his jacket for easier access to his pistol. “Show yourself,” he demanded.

  “Who says?” the voice responded.

  “Police. We need to get into this icehouse. Can you help us?”

  “Why?” the man asked, walking closer. “There’s no ice in there no more.”

  Going out on a limb, Craig said, “But we believe someone is being held hostage in there.”

  The man drew closer and squinted. “Are you playing me for a fool, mister? ’Cause you got the wrong man. There’s been no one in that cooler for forty years, I’d say. And there’s nothing or no one inside now, I can tell you that!”

  Craig looked the man in the eyes. “How do you know? You must have had it open at some time. Can you open it for us?”

  “Sure I have,” the stranger said. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He turned to Craig. “By the way, I’m with the police too. I’m a security guard when I’m working. I come out here to walk at night, to keep myself in shape, you know. Usually no one’s around. I have the place to myself. Sometimes people come out here to hide, like those punks who were here last week. I reported them, and the police took them away yesterday. Never did find out why they were hiding out, but they’re gone now.”

  “That’s right,” Officer Eaton said, returning with an iron bar. “They’ve been arrested.”

  Craig added, “But they left someone behind, and we think he’s inside this…um…tomb.”

  The security guard stared at Craig for a moment, then walked around to the front of the icehouse. He tried the large lever handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “Hmmm. Something seems to be jammin’ it.” He looked at Craig. “I had it open just a couple of days ago. In fact, I opened it for those punks.”

  Craig turned quickly to face the guard. “No kidding? And did they say why they wanted it open?”

  “Naw. Just curious, I guess.” The guard scowled. “I helped them clear this pathway, then noticed later that they’d covered it all up again. They sure went to a lot of trouble to do that, but I guess they had their reasons.” He examined the door lever again. “Why is this thing stuck like this? I had it working pretty slick a couple of days ago.” He faced the others. “And I made sure it worked from the inside, too. It’s a dangerous thing to leave where kids might go inside and become trapped.”

  Craig pointed. “There’s a window on that side, but it doesn’t seem to open other than to let a little air in.”

  “Right,” the guard agreed. He went back to work on the door, eventually saying, “It looks like someone shoved some rocks into the mechanism here. Let’s see if we can find a screw driver or something we can use to dig those out.” He glanc
ed at Officer Eaton. “Let me see that poker you found, and I might need extra muscle here.”

  The two officers moved forward and the three men worked to try to release the lever, when finally Officer Eaton announced, “Got it. Stand back.”

  Once the door creaked open, Craig pushed his way into the icehouse ahead of the others. He shone his flashlight into the room and muttered, “Good God.” He shouted, “Savannah, call for an ambulance, and come get your cat!”

  Savannah placed the emergency call, then walked to where the detective and one officer crouched inside the icehouse, looking down at a man who was lying on a single blanket on the floor.

  “Rags,” she said when she saw the man weakly petting him.

  “Is this your cat?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper.

  “Yes,” Craig said. “I guess he came in a little earlier and took something from you.” He said to Savannah, “This is Aaron Baker.”

  Before Savannah could speak, Mr. Baker said haltingly, “How he…found me in here…” he swallowed hard. “I’ll never know. I see cats, but…” he took a couple of shallow breaths, “he’s different. He came in with something in his mouth.” He swallowed again. “I think it was…a...an old rag. So I…I gave him my check stub in case…”

  Craig pulled a bottle of water from his jacket pocket. “Don’t try to speak. Here, take a few sips.” He lifted Mr. Baker up a little so he could drink. “Did you know you’re practically buried out here in this old icehouse? It was hidden under the biggest pile of rubbish.”

  “Not really,” he said. “I sleep a lot.” Mr. Baker smiled weakly and pointed. “The cat…he pushed on that window…did he bring you the…?”

  “Yes,” Craig said. “He brought your check stub to us, and that’s why we were fairly certain you were here.”

  “I didn’t know a…a cat could…” Aaron Baker started.

  Craig smiled. “He’s an unusual cat.” He then asked, “How are you? Anything broken?”

  Aaron rolled his head from side to side slowly. “I don’t think so. Just cold…hungry…scared.” He looked around. “Where are those…those…”

  “Hoodlums?” Craig said.

  Aaron nodded. “They hit me with their car.”