Part 11 (2/2)
”Now, isn't that good news?” Craig said with a half smile. ”I'm really glad to hear it. That could make a big difference in the investigation.”
”Can they tell the difference between human and animal blood?” Margaret asked.
”Yes,” Michael responded. ”That's not going to be a problem, is it Craig?”
”No, I doubt it. But I am concerned about...something else.”
”What's that?” Michael asked.
He stared over at him for a few moments and then asked, ”Michael, do you carry a knife in your truck?”
”Sure,” he said matter of factly.
”What for?” Craig asked.
”For emergencies.”
”What sort of emergencies?” Craig wanted to know.
Michael grimaced-took a deep breath. ”Well, in case a horse gets tripped up in a rope and I need to cut him free. I might use it to cut an embedded halter off.” He thought for a minute and then said, ”I also have hoof knives.”
”Do you keep them locked up in your truck?”
”Yes,” Michael said. ”I keep things like that locked in the side compartments.”
Craig thought for a minute-his eyes studying Michael's face. ”Did you use your knife on the deer?” he asked.
”I don't...” Michael started. He narrowed his eyes, scratched his head. ”No. I did use it that day to cut a rope. But I'm sure I locked it back in the compartment.”
”Well, we're going to need to take a look at the knives you carry in your truck. Would you show me?”
”Yes. Sure,” he said, heading for the front door.
Craig glanced over at Savannah and then followed after Michael. He watched as Michael unlocked one of the side boxes on his veterinary truck and started to reach in for a knife. Craig said, ”Allow me.” He looked into the well-organized bin, spotted a buck knife in a leather sheath and, after slipping on a latex glove, reached in to retrieve it. He looked it over and then dropped it into a large envelope. ”I'll get it back to you in a few days.”
Michael started to close the box when Craig said, ”I'd like to take a look inside while you have it open, if you don't mind.”
Michael stepped back.
”Can you unlock the others for me, please?” Craig asked while poking around inside the bin. After several minutes, Craig said, ”Okay, I think that's all.” He picked up the envelope, stared intently at Michael and said, ”I'm sure there's nothing to worry about.”
When Michael stepped back into the house, he heard Savannah telling her aunt, ”Well, at least, we don't have to worry about that awful Pete Gamble anymore.” She turned toward her husband. ”Isn't that right, Michael?”
”Yeah, that's a relief,” he agreed. ”But then, our problem with him is the main reason they're looking at me as a suspect,” he added.
”But like you told me earlier, we haven't done anything wrong. We're innocent. We have nothing realistically to worry about.”
”Playing devil's advocate here, let me remind you that we didn't do anything wrong to deserve the trauma and fear Pete put us through when he was alive, either.”
Chapter Six.
”Good morning, suns.h.i.+ne. I guess we have no excuse not to go to work today, right?” Michael propped himself up on one elbow and furrowed his brow. ”What are you doing up so early, anyway?”
Savannah was quick to respond. ”I think there's something wrong with Rags. He isn't eating this morning-didn't eat much last night. He seems lethargic to me. I'm going to take him to work with me and check him out.”
He sat upright to get a better look at the cat, who was lying in a meatloaf position-all of his paws under him. ”Oh, he doesn't look as perky as usual, does he? What do you think is wrong?”
”Could be cyst.i.tis. Or maybe he got some bad cat food. But the other cats seem fine.”
Michael climbed out of bed and walked over to Rags. He reached down and scratched him behind one ear. The cat pushed into his hand with his head, but didn't bother to get up. ”Yeah, he's not feeling himself, that's for sure. Sorry Rags. Mommy will have you feeling good in no time. She's a doctor, you know,” he added, smiling over at Savannah.
Savannah pulled into the parking lot at the clinic a little before 8 a.m. Michael drove in right behind her. It took longer than usual to coax Rags off the car seat and into the carrier. In fact, he didn't want to go in at all. ”It's protocol, Rags-you know, policy-the rule here. Cats have to be confined in a carrier when they visit the clinic. You can ride on the seat in the car. But now it's time to get into the carrier. Come on, boy,” she urged.
Suddenly she heard a rap on the car window. She looked up and saw Michael staring in. ”Need help there, Ma'am? Is that tiger giving you trouble?”
She rolled the window down about two inches and said, ”Doesn't want to get in his carrier. I guess he's feeling better.”
”Looks like a two-vet job. Here, let me help,” he said as he opened the door and latched onto the large cat. Savannah turned the door of the carrier toward Michael and he slipped Rags in and closed it up. ”Voila,” he said.
”Thanks. Now I'll let you carry him in-if you don't mind.” ”Well h.e.l.lo, Rags. You're becoming a regular here, aren't you, big guy,” their receptionist Scarlett crooned. She looked up at Savannah and Michael. ”Something wrong with him?” she asked.
”I think he may have an infection-maybe urinary tract...” Savannah explained. She spotted Bud coming out of the recovery room. ”Bud, would you find a place for Rags? I'm going to examine him after the morning patients.”
”Sure. Come on Rags. We always have room for you,” Bud said as he toted the cat in his carrier to the back of the clinic.
That morning patients came and went. It was a steady stream of mostly routine exams, inoculations, claw-tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, new kitten and puppy checkups, and a few cats and dogs that stayed for neutering and teeth cleaning. It wasn't until noon that Savannah could work Rags into her schedule. She went back to get him. After opening the pen, she took a look to see if he'd used the litter box. She did, in fact, find a small wet spot. Good, but not great, she thought. He could be blocked or just nervous. Some cats actually resist urinating when they're away from home. ”Well, let's take a look,” she said, picking up the cat and carrying him into an examining room. They arrived just as Alyce had finished sanitizing the table.
”Oh, what a cool cat,” Alyce said upon seeing Rags. ”He's big!”
”Yes, this is Rags-he allows us to live with him,” Savannah joked.
”Well, aren't you something?”Alyce said as she moved closer to him. She then said, ”He was in the kitty playpen a few days ago with two other cats, right? I remember seeing him in there.”
Savannah nodded. Suddenly she could feel the cat tense up. He began pus.h.i.+ng his paws against her arms as if he were trying to escape. ”What's wrong Ragsy?” she asked.
Just then, Alyce reached her hand out toward the cat and he began to growl. He hissed.
”Ouch!” Savannah cried, as Rags dug his back claws into her arm and freed himself. He landed on the examining table and then jumped down onto the floor. He turned around once and stared at Alyce, his ears back and his tail low to the ground, before slinking under a chair in the far corner of the room.
Suddenly, the door opened and Michael peered in. ”Everything okay in here?” he asked. ”Did someone get bit?”
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