“Well, I’ll be,” Margaret muttered. “I heard she went off the deep end, but I didn’t know she was still living in the community. That’s a shocker.”

  “Yeah, Craig wants me and Rags to go with him to meet her. He thinks she’ll talk to Rags and maybe tell us what happened to Mr. Peters—that is, if she knows or remembers.”

  “So they think that body was Ferrell Peters?” Margaret asked.

  “Craig said they’re leaning in that direction. No positive ID yet.”

  Margaret parked the car, then sat looking out over the terrain.

  “What’s wrong?” Savannah asked.

  “Oh, I’m just kind of creeped out, that’s all,” Margaret said. “What if there are more bodies out here?”

  “Oh, I doubt that. Come on. The cats need our help.” She prodded, “Auntie, the sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be finished. Now, come on. I have things to do today.”

  “Okay,” Margaret said, slipping out of the car. “Let’s set the traps.” She looked around. “First let’s walk the perimeters and see who’s here, shall we?”

  “Who’s here?” Savannah asked.

  “The cats,” she said. “Now that the tunnel’s gone, there might be some out in the open that we haven’t seen before.” She pointed. “Like that Siamese. I haven’t seen him before, have you?”

  Savannah shook her head. “No. So we still have six out here, right? Wait, that one’s wearing a collar.” She held the binoculars up to her eyes and searched the area, counting, “One…two, three…four…five, yes, six, counting the Siamese. Do you see any others?”

  “Did you count those two black ones in the shadows there?”

  “Darn. No. So we’re back up to eight.” She faced her aunt. “But if some of them are pets that have wandered into the colony, what will we do with them? We can’t trap them, can we?”

  “I think we should. Maybe they’re lost. If they’re wearing tags or have a chip, we need to get them back to their owners.” Margaret took a deep breath and blew it out. “Okay, let’s finish our work and get out of here. Savannah, why don’t you go let Al know we’re setting the traps again.”

  As Margaret baited the traps, Savannah walked to Al’s trailer and knocked on the door.

  “Hi there, cat girl,” he greeted. He stepped down out of his trailer.

  “Hi,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here this time of day.”

  “Yeah, I was just getting a bite to eat before heading out to move some hay for Barney. What do you need?” “Just wanted to let you know we’ve set two traps. If you happen to hear them spring or you see that we’ve caught a cat, would you please let us know?”

  “Sure will.” He looked out over the colony. “Hey, look at this,” he invited, walking to a small table on a cement slab near his trailer. “Remember, I told you about the art piece Miss Linda gave me?”

  “Yes,” Savannah said. “You found it?”

  He nodded and motioned toward where they’d dug up the body. “It was over there. I guess it came out of that hole with a load of dirt. It was half-buried along the rim of that grave. It must have been down in there with Mr. Peters.” He scratched his head. “I wonder why?”

  “With Mr. Peters?” Savannah repeated suspiciously. “What makes you think that was Mr. Peters?”

  “Uh…just a guess. He’s been missing.” He gulped. “Who else could it be?” He nervously held up the piece of art and complained, “My hippo has a stain on it.” He pointed. “See that there?”

  “Hippo?” Savannah asked, studying the object.

  Al nodded. “It’s called an abstract. Miss Linda always made abstracts. See, it has tiny legs and this big round body with a face you can barely see. And there’s this stain on it now. It wasn’t there before.”

  Savannah glanced toward where Margaret now waited in the car. Eager to leave, she nodded and started to step away. She returned, however, and looked more closely at the item. “Blood,” she said. “That could be blood. Al, would you mind if I take this with me? It might be important in the case.”

  “Case?” he asked.

  “Well, in case that was Mr. Peters…”

  Al held the art object close to him, then said, “Well, I guess if you think it’s important…” He asked, “Will I get it back?”

  “I’ll make sure that you do,” she promised.

  “What’s that?” Margaret asked when Savannah climbed into the car with the hippo.

  “It’s very possible that it’s a murder weapon,” Savannah said quietly.

  ****

  “So did you capture any cats today?” Craig asked when Savannah slid into his car with Rags later that day.

  “Yes, Auntie caught one this morning. She said he was a growly, ferocious kitten—she guesses about three months old. She said he’s a cute little dickens. He went straight to Michael for the snip-snip job.”

  Craig glanced at what Savannah carried. “What do you have there in that pouch? You don’t expect me to run you around town to do your errands, do you? We’re on police business.”

  Savannah chuckled. “No, I have Rags’s blanket and treats, and…” she said dramatically, holding up a plastic bag, “…this.”

  Craig frowned. “What in the hell is that?”

  “Possibly the murder weapon,” she said smugly.

  Craig did a double take and stopped the car.

  “That spot could be blood,” she explained. “The guy who owns this piece of art found it yesterday or maybe this morning out where you dug up the body. He said that stain wasn’t there when it went missing. Oh, and guess when it went missing…”

  “Tell me, Savannah.”

  “Around the time of that flood when Mr. Peters disappeared.”

  Craig examined the object and asked, “What is it, anyway? Does it have a purpose?”

  “It’s modern art—you know, abstract. Linda Peters made it, and she gave it to one of their ranch hands. Al lives in a trailer near the cat colony.”

  This caught Craig’s attention. “You don’t say? So who is this Al? What do you think his role is in all this?”

  “His role?” she asked. “I don’t think he has a role.”

  “It’s his ball of clay,” Craig reminded her. “So who is he?”

  “Well, like I said, he’s a ranch hand. He worked for Mr. Peters’s family and now he works for Barney and Bonnie. He’s probably in his seventies. Barney says he’s a hard worker, and he seems to me to be a nice man. He’s been caring for the cats; feeding them as best he can. I like him.”

  Craig thought about what she’d said, then placed the plastic bag on the floor in the backseat of his car and drove off.”

  “So have you met Mrs. Peters?” Savannah asked.

  “Not yet. I hope we can get some useful information from her.” He pulled into a small parking lot. “Here we are. Nice place, huh?”

  “It sure is, at least from the outside.” Savannah glanced around. “I don’t think I’ve been in this neighborhood since I was a kid. It isn’t like I remember it. That looks more like a luxury hotel than a nursing home. I’m surprised she can afford it.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “From what I understand, she lost her home and it was sold to help cover her expenses at whatever nursing facility she lived in at the time. That was—what—fifteen years ago or more? She must be getting state benefits by now.” She gazed at the structure. “I wouldn’t think our tax dollars would pay for something like this, though.”

  “Hmmm,” he said. “Well, let’s go in and meet the lady, shall we?” He looked at Rags. “Are you ready to make a new friend, guy?”

  Savannah chuckled. “He’s always ready to make new friends, huh Ragsie?”

  “Hello, we’re here to chat with Linda Peters,” Craig said, approaching a woman behind a spacious counter.

  “Oh!” the receptionist exclaimed. She glanced toward an elevator. I believe there’s someone with her now. Would you like to wait?” She then said, “Here he comes.” She frowned upon seeing a man of about sixty burst out of the elevator and walk swiftly toward the exit door. When the automatic door didn’t open quickly enough, he slammed a fist against it. It slid open and he walked out.

  “Boy, he’s one angry guy,” Savannah said.

  Craig cocked his head. “Yeah, he looks familiar. Where have I seen that face before?”

  “At a city council meeting?” the receptionist suggested. “He’s kind of a rabble-rouser. I don’t know how he got elected. I watch the meetings online because he’s really rather entertaining—colorful, you might say.”

  “Yeah, that’s who it is—Arnie Seacrest,” Craig said. He faced the receptionist. “He was here to see Linda Peters?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, comes here every once in a while.”

  “How often? Do you know why?”

  She shook her head. “Even if I did, I…”

  “I understand. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. But can you tell me how often he visits Mrs. Peters?”

  “Yeah, maybe once or twice a year.” She paused and said, “Actually, he was here just last week. I’m surprised to see him back so soon.”

  Craig stared after the man and muttered. “Well, isn’t that odd?” He asked, “Which room is she in?”

  “Second floor, two-twelve.”

  “Thanks.”

  When Savannah and Craig exited the elevator on the second floor, they were met by a pert young woman, who asked, “May I help you?”

  “We’re here to see Linda Peters,” Craig said.

  “Is it business or…” she looked down and saw Rags. “Oh, you have one of those therapy cats. Aren’t you a pretty kitty?” She spoke to Savannah. “He sure seems calm and friendly. By the way, I’m Estelle. It’s best that I go in with you. Miss Linda will be more cordial. And you are…?”

  “Craig and Savannah,” Craig said. “The cat’s name’s Rags.”

  “Rags, huh?” Estelle said. “Okay, follow me. She’ll be glad to see him—the cat, I mean.” Estelle hesitated at the door to Linda Peters’s quarters. “Please wait. I’ll let Miss Linda know that you’re here.”

  The woman returned about five minutes later. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t think this is a…” She looked down at Rags, and said, “You know what? This may be the perfect day to bring a cat to see Miss Linda. Please come in.”

  “What a beautiful room,” Savannah said, looking around.

  “Yes, Miss Linda loves having nice things around her. Some of them are family heirlooms. She can tell you about each beautiful piece in this suite.”

  Savannah smiled. She watched as Estelle disappeared into another room, then returned promptly, saying, “Please bring the kitty-cat in. Miss Linda’s eager to see him.”

  After leading the couple and the cat into an adjoining room decorated much like the smaller foyer, Estelle made the introductions: “This is Craig and Savannah. They have brought you a new cat friend. His name’s Rags. Want to meet Rags?”

  “Yes,” Linda said, leaning over from her chair with one hand out toward the cat.

  Savannah walked closer with Rags on his leash. She noticed that the woman looked to be in her sixties. She was thin and well-dressed. She wore makeup and her tastefully dyed red hair was perfectly coiffed.

  “Please sit down Craig, Savannah,” Linda said, keeping her eyes on the cat, who sat on the floor next to her. She tugged at the harness. “Take this thing off him, will you? I want to pet him and this is in the way.”

  Savannah removed the harness. She pulled a blanket from her tote bag and asked, “May I put this on the ottoman near you? He’ll be more likely to stay close so you can pet him.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Linda said. “I want to have a little talk with him.” She looked up at Savannah. “Animals keep secrets, you know.”

  Once Savannah had removed the harness and everyone was seated, Estelle said. “I just got a message. I’m needed downstairs. Enjoy your visit, Miss Linda. I’ll see you later today.”

  Linda didn’t respond.

  After sitting in silence for a while watching her pet Rags, Craig cleared his throat. “Mrs. Peters, I saw Mr. Seacrest leave a few minutes ago. Is he a friend of yours?”

  “Hardly,” she growled. “He comes here to bring me grief.” She took a breath and focused on Rags again, petting him and saying in a calmer tone, “But he’s the one who’s grieving even more than I am, because he doesn’t know when—if ever—I’m going to tell. Maybe never…maybe tomorrow.”

  Savannah and Craig exchanged looks and Linda continued, “I wish he wouldn’t come. All he does is remind me of what happened, and that’s something I want to forget.” She smiled down at Rags. “Aren’t there things you’d like to forget, Rags? Actually, I came here to forget. They thought that if I stayed in that awful place on the other side of town I’d forget, but I didn’t. One day I remembered more. I probably shouldn’t have summoned him. What do you think, Rags?”

  She smiled sweetly at the cat when he looked into her eyes. “But that decision brought me here, and I like it here. Don’t you like it here, Rags? I’ll bet you’d like to stay here with me and live like a king cat. Would you like that, Rags?”

  She put a finger across her mouth and made a shushing sound. “But you can’t say anything. That’s the promise. If they knew—if anyone found out—we would have to go back to that other place. That’s what he told me.”

  She appeared to be angry. “I hate it when he tells me that.” She calmly said, “I might tell someday, but not today.” She ran a finger gently across Rags’s mouth. “Mum’s the word today.”

  Meanwhile, Estelle returned, asking, “Everything okay in here?” She smiled at Linda. “It appears you have a new friend. He sure enjoys your petting, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, and he likes hearing stories.” She focused on Rags. “I have another one I should tell you.”

  “Oh?” Estelle questioned. “That story you tell all the cats that come here, about your childhood cat friends?”

  Linda frowned. “No. Rags wants to hear a different story—about what happened that night.” She looked the woman in the eye. “Estelle, would you leave me alone with the cat, please? I don’t think you want to hear that story.”

  When Estelle glanced at Savannah and Craig, Linda waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, they can stay. They aren’t involved. It’s all right if they stay.”

  “Okay, then,” Estelle said, leaving the suite.

  Once Linda heard the door close, she leaned closer to Rags and said, “It was a dark and stormy night.” She chuckled. “It truly was, Rags. Do you remember that night? Oh, you’re probably too young. Yes, it was stormy, and the river was rising.”

  Her eyes wide, she said, “I knew it was going to come right through the house, and it did. I was terribly frightened.”

  She fidgeted nervously. “I saw the water getting closer and closer, so I ran outside. I thought maybe I’d be safer with Al. His trailer was far from the river. So I put on my raincoat and ran out into the storm. I ran and I ran. I tripped and fell in the mud many times because I couldn’t find a flashlight, but I could see the light at Al’s trailer. That’s when I saw them—both of them. She was holding something in her arms. It was covered with a tarp, and I couldn’t see what it was.”

  She stopped talking and petted Rags for a moment with her eyes closed, then continued breathlessly, “He was on that machine Al had been using to dig up some old pipes, but that job was never finished, because everything changed that night and I never saw my Ferrell again.” She took a raspy breath. “I didn’t know what happened to him. No one did, but I figured it out.” She spoke more quietly. “I told him I knew. Mind you, Rags, I was ill. They said I wasn’t coping. I wasn’t eating or bathing, you know.”

  Her voice became more accelerated. “I was no longer able to take care of myself. I needed someone to take care of me.” She petted Rags with long strokes. “You understand, don’t you, Rags? I needed someone to take care of me.”

  When Rags became restless, Linda stopped talking. As if no one were there, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Rags seemed to take this as a cue for him to go exploring, and he jumped down from the ottoman.

  This startled Linda. She abruptly opened her eyes and asked, “Where’s he going? What’s he doing? I can’t have him snooping around here.” More nervously she said, “I have secrets, you know. If he spoils my secret, then I’ll go back to having nothing.” She looked at Craig and then Savannah. “Can you take him away now?”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Peters,” Craig said. He motioned for Savannah to take charge of the cat. As she put his harness on him, Craig said, “Mrs. Peters, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can chat again sometime.”

  Linda seemed to stare right through him and didn’t say a word.

  “Good-bye,” he said as he opened the door to leave.

  Savannah slipped out ahead of him with Rags.

  “Finished visiting?” Estelle asked when she saw the couple in the hallway.

  Craig nodded. “Yes, I think she’s tired. Maybe ready for a nap.”

  Estelle smiled. “Or a game of bingo; she does enjoy bingo.”

  “Tell, me,” Craig said, “does she get many visitors?”

  Estelle shook her head. “No. Just that man who was here earlier, the city councilman. A woman came one time—a younger woman. But she really upset poor Miss Linda. She told us she didn’t ever wants to see that woman again. Then there are the people who bring visiting cats. She does love that, so we appreciate you bringing this charming kitty. Thank you. Do you want to share him with any of the other residents today?”

  Just then a woman appeared in the hallway in a motorized wheelchair. “A cat,” Savannah said. “She has a cat on her lap.”

  “Yes, that’s SallySue. She belongs to Mrs. Trimble.”

  “So residents can have cats here?” Savannah questioned.

  “Yes, it’s allowed, as long as it’s an indoor cat.”

  “Do you think Miss Linda would want one to take care of all the time?”

  “Oh, we take care of them—clean the litter boxes and all. So care isn’t a problem. But whether she’d want to live with one all the time, I don’t know. Do you have a nice lap cat that needs a home?”