Murder on Eagle Drop Ridge by DonnaRae Menard

Author:DonnaRae Menard [DonnaRae Menard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Level Best Books
Published: 2022-07-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

While Katie folded laundry and Ruth chased cats, the telephone rang. Brad, another full-time deputy stationed in Parentville, had a job for the cat lady.

“Animal control call,” he said. Katie had not talked with him since the day on the ridge with Sheriff Lewis, and Brad sounded as though his nose was still out of joint. “Call the woman, Theresa Higgins, 482-5505. Female cat hit by a car, kittens in distress.”

“Thanks, Brad,” said Katie, wondering at his stiff and formal statement, but the line had already gone dead. She blinked at the buzzing receiver in her hand, belatedly realizing she should have asked who gave her name to Allan Gavin.

“Humph,” she muttered to Ruth. “What crawled up his butt and died? I’d have to call him back to find out about Gavin and I bet he still would have hung up on me before I knew.”

After calling Mrs. Higgins, Katie pulled on her boots and grabbed her coat and keys. At the door, she turned to find Ruth right behind her, buttoned into her camel-colored wool jacket.

“Where are you going?” Katie asked.

“It’s dark,” said Ruth, pulling on her gloves. “You might need someone to hold the flashlight.” Tucked under her elbow were the emergency household flashlight and a large piece of an old blanket. Ruth carried a smaller net. Before Katie could say another word, Ruth squeezed past and hurried down the steps. Rick stood at the kitchen door, waving goodbye, a grin on his face.

They drove into the village and south on Silver Street, toward Monkton. At the Higgins’ house, they found a tearful Mrs. Higgins shooing her children toward the television.

“My husband put the cat in a box,” Mrs. Higgins sniffed. “It’s on the porch.”

“Is it your cat?” Katie asked.

Mrs. Higgins shook her head. Katie went outside. With Ruth holding the flashlight, she examined the remains.

“Well, it is a nursing female,” sighed Katie. “I’d say from the number of swollen teats, four or five kittens.”

Mr. Higgins came outside. “She’s been holed up under our shed. I’ll show you.” Mr. Higgins had on a worn bomber’s jacket and uniform trousers. Behind the house, a ten-foot by ten-foot garden shed sat in the corner of the yard. An overhead wire ran from the house, which meant the shed had electricity. When he threw the switch, fluorescent lights illuminated the entire space.

“Wait,” said Katie, “don’t walk on the floor.”

Taking the flashlight, she walked around the shed, pushing the bushes out of the way, looking for a crawl space. She found several openings, but she couldn’t make out anything underneath when she shone her light in. Back at the wide door over the lawn tractor ramp, she laid on the floor, ear pressed to the flooring.

“The floor is kind of dirty to be crawling around on it,” Mr. Higgins said.

Katie held her hand up for silence. Moving sideways, she listened again. A faint scrabbling came through the plywood beneath her ear.

“I think the nest is right here,” she said, with her hand pressed to a spot three feet from the outer edge.

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