Free Cat-Eye Witness (A Klepto Cat Mystery) by Patricia Fry Page B

sofa and clicked off the TV.
    “Hey, I was watching that,” Brett said.
    “Go watch it in your bedroom. Or better yet,” she said, “get busy on your homework.”
    “Awwww…” he started as he reluctantly stood and headed toward the hallway to the bedrooms.
    Before he was out of sight, Iris stopped him with a question. “Brett, do you know where Damon is?”
    “Nope—not my day to watch him,” he said, laughing as he walked on.
    “Damn him,” Iris said under her breath.
    “Something wrong, Ms. Clampton?” the detective asked.
    “I told him to be here this afternoon. He knows you want to question him.” She tried to sound calm. But she wasn’t calm.
    “Don’t worry about him just now. We’ll find him when we need him.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Iris mumbled.
    “What’s that?” Sledge asked, not hearing her comment.
    “Nothing.” She moved her knees slightly to the left, reaching down to adjust the strap on one of her sandals. Sledge couldn’t help but notice the delicate chain she wore around one ankle. She sat upright and asked, in a less-than-pleasant tone, “So what do you want from me?”
    He snapped open the case he’d carried in with him, took out a pair of glasses and slipped them on. “Ms. Clampton, I’d like to print you.”
    “What?” she said, her attractive face twisting into an unbecoming scowl.
    “Get your fingerprints. I have a kit with me…if you don’t mind.”
    Iris shot him a disgusted look. “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?” She watched as he pulled his chair closer to where she sat and reached into the satchel. “I’m guessing this is your way of ruling out innocent people?” she said, using a questioning tone.
    The detective chose not to respond. He just quietly went about rolling each of Iris’s fingers on the inkpad and then on a card. When the process was completed, he scooted his chair back a little and asked, “Ms. Clampton, are you struggling financially?”
    “What? Why?” she insisted, now appearing confused.
    “Just answer the question, please.”
    “Well, sure, isn’t most everyone?” she asked, more to make a point than to solicit a response. “It’s a tough economy and I do have three boys to support.” She avoided making eye contact.
    He looked intently at her. “Did you take the money from the Forster house yesterday?”
    She met his gaze with fire in her eyes. Clenching her teeth, she said, “No! Why would I do that?”
    Sledge smirked. “I don’t know, maybe you needed the money.”
    She stared hard at him, her jaw set. “I work two jobs and I work hard. I don’t live beyond my means—never have.” She paused. “And I am not a thief!”
    She stood and walked over to the front window, not so much to look out, as to collect herself. She quickly spun around to face the detective. “I really resent being questioned like this. You’re making it personal and I don’t think you have any justification for doing that.”
    Sledge studied Iris for a few seconds. He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t dress like a waitress who cleans offices at night.”
    She glanced down at her designer jeans, lime-green body-hugging knit top and matching green high-heeled sandals. She twisted the cuff of bracelets around one wrist. “As if it’s any of your business,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his. “I know how to shop.” She glared at him. “I buy rich women’s cast-offs—you know, secondhand clothes from thrift stores and consignment shops.” She hesitated before saying, “I like getting dressed up. Is there a crime against that?” She looked at her watch and said, “Actually, I have an appointment in a few minutes, so if you don’t mind…”
    “Tell me this, Ms. Clampton,” he said, ignoring her, “have you ever embezzled money from an organization or company—PTA, Pop Warner Football or…” he paused before saying, “a youth baseball program?”
    Iris sank down