Leann Sweeney - The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

When Shawn and Doc Howard arrived as expected fifteen minutes later, Candace, Syrah and Merlot came with us down to the basement.

Doc Howard brought his medical kit as well as his scanner. After he made friends with Syrah and Merlot, who continued to stay behind the imaginary line in the sand drawn by Chablis, we all went in the bedroom.

Chablis was not happy about so many invaders at once and arched her back and hissed. I went over and picked her up, holding her close to settle her. A few seconds later she was purring as Doc Howard talked to her.

“Gorgeous cat,” he said before he focused on Dame Wiggins and her litter. “Those kittens are twice as big as the last time I saw them. But that will be her last litter if I have anything to say about it.”

After he gently made friends with Wiggins-not hard to do-he located the spot on her shoulder and separated her fur.

I saw his brow furrow, and he bent to get a closer look. “Hmm. I brought a four-protocol scanner.”

“Is that what you have?” I asked Shawn.

“Yeah,” Shawn said. “There are four common types of animal microchips, and I never know who will have which kind when I do a rescue-that is, if I find one at all. But maybe my scanner was not reading whatever type Dame Wiggins has implanted.”

Doc Howard raised his scanner over the cat’s shoulder and pressed the button, just as Shawn had done earlier. He looked at the results on the readout screen and said, “This is not a pet chip. It is some kind of integrated circuit, though, because data is being transmitted. But not an ID number.”

“Why would she have this thing in her, then?” Candace asked.

“I don’t know, but whatever it’s for, it may not be encased in the biocompatible material that’s used for pet chips.” He set the scanner aside and separated Dame Wiggins’s fur even more. “Look here. She’s getting irritation around the microchip.”

“Chablis has been licking that shoulder like crazy,” I said. “Could she have caused that?”

Doc Howard shook his head. “No. See this red delineation around the chip? If Dame Wiggins will cooperate, I think I’ll take this object out. She’s reacting to it.”

“How will you do that?” I said. And will Chablis allow this? I thought.

“A little local anesthetic, a tiny cut, maybe one stitch,” he said. “The skin in this area is not all that sensitive. Since she’s nursing, I can’t take her to my mobile clinic and put her under. Anesthesia in Dame Wiggins’s system might harm the kittens through her milk.”

“This won’t hurt her?” I said, feeling as if I needed to ask for myself and for Chablis.

Shawn said, “He’s the best. This will take five minutes max, right, Doc?”

“That’s right,” he answered. “But I prefer it if just Shawn stays in here to help. Chablis seems very nervous about me even touching her friend, so take her and wait upstairs, okay?”

Candace and I left for the kitchen, and sure enough, five minutes later Shawn and Doc Howard came back upstairs. Doc went to the sink and used a damp paper towel to wipe off what he held so carefully between his gloved thumb and index finger.

He then offered it to me. It looked like a tiny glass capsule. “This is a microchip, but not like anything I’ve seen used in animals.”

“Then what the heck is it?” I said.

Doc Howard smiled. “I only know about radio frequency identification technology as it pertains to animals. I will leave this little thing for you to figure out.”

Shawn shrugged as if to say he had no clue, either.

“And,” the doc said, “I didn’t have to use a stitch. I used some surgical glue to close the skin. But I’d keep Chablis away from Dame Wiggins for a day so the area can heal.”

And then they left.

I placed the chip in a small jar and screwed a lid on, saying, “Get ready to be kept awake all night by one very nervous Chablis. She’ll probably howl and screech when she finds out she can’t get back to her adopted family.”

“What about this chip?” Candace said. “Maybe forensic tech services will have a look, since the cat was found at a crime scene.”

“How long will that take?” I said.

“Could be years,” she said. “Okay, I’m exaggerating, but months, maybe.”

“Then I’ll call my own tech expert,” I said with a smile.

I phoned Tom, and while I waited for him to arrive, Candace started working. First she called Baca to tell him about the conversation with the VanKleets, and then she pulled out her laptop to update the case file.

“The chief’s planning to have another talk with those people.” Candace sat on the sofa, waiting for her system to boot. “And guess what he told me? Evan does have an alibi. With Lawrence Johnson’s help, Chief Baca put out a few feelers in Denman. A convenience store owner spotted Evan’s car pass at least three times. Guess ‘driving around’ can be a real alibi after all.”

“I knew Evan was being honest,” I said with a smile. “He’s probably the only person who cared about the professor at all.”

I heard Tom’s familiar knock on the back door and went to answer. But only Syrah and Merlot came with me. Chablis had planted herself at the door to the basement bedroom, and I decided that’s where she would stay until she was again allowed to care for her precious family.

I was surprised when Tom cupped my face and kissed me when he came in. But what a nice surprise. Then he held up a leather satchel. “Where’s this microchip your brilliant kitty wanted you to remove?”

I handed him the glass jar from the counter.

He held it up to examine the contents. “That’s a microchip all right. Let’s go to your office and see what the computer tells us.”

“The computer? Are you going to put that inside my computer?”

He laughed. “No, but after I scan it and retrieve the data-”

“Wait. They already scanned it, and they didn’t find any ID number, so-”

“You mentioned gibberish, though. Did you see this gibberish?” he said.

“Yes. It looked like a bunch of ones and zeros,” I said.

Tom smiled. “That’s good. We call that binary code. I can scan that, record the information and input it. That should lead me to something.”

“You can do that?” I said.

“I’m in the security business. I know plenty about RFID technology. And spies know too much about it,” he said.

“RFID? You’re hurting my brain. Just do what you do,” I said.

“And tell us all about it when you’re done,” Candace called from her spot. “We need to solve something today.”

Tom walked into the living room, carrying his satchel. “Hey, Candace. How’s it going?”

“Could be better. Is there ever such a thing as cooperating with the police? Because I haven’t seen any cooperation lately,” she said.

“I think that’s always an uphill climb.” Tom looked at me. “Come on, Jilly.” Tom tucked the jar into his briefcase, took my hand and pulled me with him to my office.

I glanced back, and Candace mouthed, “Jilly?” with a questioning look. Then she gave me a thumbs-up.

The minute the office door was shut, he took me in his arms and gave me a more intense kiss than the one at the back door. Though I loved this, the jar in his satchel was pressing into my back. And pressing on my mind. I pulled away.

“Can we do this?” I said.

“Sure. You want to see how I work?” he said.

“That’s why I’m here,” I said. But though I am an extremely curious person, microchips seemed way over my head. And certainly not as fascinating as they seemed to Tom.

He took from his satchel what I now and forever more will recognize as a scanner along with the microchip.