“Oh,” she said, opening her eyes, “forgive me. I sometimes take a little journey all by myself.”

  “So, Linda,” Craig said, returning to his chair and perching on the edge of the seat, “you know who killed your husband, don’t you?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Were you in on the planning of it? Did you hire someone to kill him?”

  “No!” she shouted. “No!” She leaned over Rags and began petting him. “I simply took advantage of the situation. Ferrell was gone and the other man had what I needed. You understand, don’t you, Rags?” she asked, petting him with long strokes. “I was destitute. I had no one to turn to except for…”

  “Blackmail?” Savannah said quietly.

  Linda ignored her.

  Craig stood up. “Mrs. Peters, I’m going to have to take your journal with me.”

  She continued to stare down at Rags.

  Craig looked at Savannah, who said, “Linda, Rags would like to know more of your story. Can he take your journal just for overnight? He’ll bring it back to you tomorrow. Would that be okay?”

  Craig stared at Savannah, then they both watched as Linda pulled the journal out from behind her and laid it next to Rags.

  Savannah lifted Rags and strapped his harness on him, then she picked up the journal, watching for a response from Linda. All Linda said was, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rags. Thanks for coming.”

  Before leaving, Craig handed Mrs. Peters a business card, saying, “Just in case there’s ever a time you’d like to chat with me about what happened in 1995, or if there’s anything else you might want to discuss.”

  Linda studied the card. “You really are a detective, aren’t you?” She nodded. “Yes, I’ll call if I need to. Thank you.”

  “Wow!” Craig said once they were seated in the car. “Good job, Detective Savannah.”

  “Thank the cat,” she said flippantly. “He was large and in charge.”

  “He sure was,” Craig said. “He sure was.” He then said, “I have one more stop this evening. I want to speak to Mrs. Seacrest.”

  “Arnie’s wife, Vickie?”

  He nodded. “He’s at a city function this evening—some sort of a gala affair. I understand his wife doesn’t usually attend those things, so I figured this would be a good time to pay her a visit. Can you hang with me for another forty-five minutes or so?”

  “Let me call Michael.” After ending the call, she said, “Okay, but I’m going to owe my family.”

  “You have tomorrow with them. Take them to the park or something.”

  Savannah grinned at him.

  “Hello, Mrs. Seacrest,” Craig said when she opened the door. “I’m Detective Craig Sledge, and this is Savannah Ivey.”

  “Dr. Ivey’s wife?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She studied Savannah’s face. “You’re a detective?”

  When Craig saw that Savannah wasn’t sure how to answer that, he said, “No, but her cat is.”

  “Rags?” she asked, smiling. “I remember reading about him. I’d love to meet him. I couldn’t make the last alliance meeting. It was at your house, right?”

  Savannah nodded.

  Craig was considering whether to involve Rags in their casual interrogation. When he saw Vickie quickly block a white cat from scooting out through the open door and he spotted another cat on the back of a sofa inside the room, he decided against it.

  “What do you want, detective?” Vickie asked, picking up the white cat.

  “Can we come in? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Vickie thought for a minute. “I guess it would be okay. My husband’s out, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “He’s gone a lot—city council meetings, clubs, all those fundraisers he gets involved in…”

  “He’s a busy guy,” Craig agreed.

  “Yes, he is,” Vickie said. “Please sit down,” she invited. “Now what do you want to ask me? Has my daughter been in trouble again?”

  “Your daughter?”

  “Yes, she’s been into drugs on and off for years. She’s been known to steal. She’s no stranger to a jail cell.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Craig said. “Do you have a relationship with her?” Vickie nodded. “It’s strained.”

  “Are you aware that her father, Ferrell Peters, is dead?”

  Vickie squirmed in her seat. “I heard about that. You found his miserable body on his property. I’m not surprised.”

  “And why is that, Mrs. Seacrest?”

  She looked at him. “Why am I not surprised? Because he wasn’t a nice man.”

  “And your husband, Arnie, is?”

  She became defensive. “Arnie’s a pillar of society—always helping where he can. He raised my daughter as his. Ferrell had no interest in her until he learned about that settlement.”

  “She received a settlement?”

  “Yeah. It was awarded to her when she was still a minor, but she had to wait until she was eighteen to claim it. Arnie was convinced that Ferrell had heard about it and that’s why he was so eager to claim her. Arnie still doesn’t believe Ferrell was her father, and that’s okay with me. It’s all over now.”

  “Because we found his body?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said.

  “Tell me about this settlement,” Craig suggested.

  “Well, Justine was hurt at an amusement park—not all that bad, but Arnie thought we—I mean she should get compensation for the injury and pain and suffering. He found a good lawyer and got over fifty thousand dollars.” She shook her head. “It’s all gone now. They should have held onto it until she was twenty-one, although I’m not sure she would have been any smarter about handling it. She spent a few years living high—financially and drug-wise,” she said, sneering. Now she’s living like the low-life slob that she is with no damn future. I know, because that would have been me if I hadn’t met Arnie. It’s because of him that I live here with the high-class folks.”

  “Nice,” Craig said.

  Vickie looked at Craig, then Savannah, and said, “Arnie was able to guide Justine in investing some of her money. He helped her get into a good investment program. So she does have something put away for her future.”

  Craig leaned forward. “Mrs. Seacrest, do you remember the night of the big flood when Mr. Peters went missing, which was actually the night he was presumably killed?”

  “Why do you think he was killed?” she asked. “I thought he was washed away in the flood waters. You found him buried on his property didn’t you? That’s what my husband told me.” She fidgeted in her chair.

  “No ma’am, he was murdered and buried there.” He cocked his head. “I thought you knew that from the comment you made earlier.” When she appeared confused, he said, “You told me he was not a nice man and that you weren’t surprised he was dead, as if you thought someone killed him.”

  “I wasn’t surprised that he was dead, that’s all,” she said. “The universe has a way of punishing bad people. That’s what I meant. No. I didn’t know he had been murdered.”

  “Do you remember that night, Mrs. Seacrest? The night of the flood of 1995?”

  “Oh, ah…no. That was a long time ago. How would I remember?”

  “I remember it well. I know exactly what I was doing that night—bailing out water that was advancing on the sheriff’s station. Now what were you doing that night?”

  “Probably sleeping. We had no problem with flooding where we lived at the time, so we were not affected.”

  “And your husband—was he home with you?”

  “Um, I think so. If not, he might have been out helping someone in need. He’s like that, you know. And there were a lot of needy people that night.”

  “Yes,” Craig said, “a pillar of the community.” He paused, then said, “Your daughter remembers being home alone that night.”

  “Oh no, that doesn’t sound right. No, I wouldn’t have left Justine by herself. She’s afraid of thunder.”

  “She said you were out and so was your husband. She went to your room and you weren’t there, so she got into your bed to wait for you both to return.”

  Vickie stared at him, looked at her watch, and said, “I have things to do. If you’re finished with your questions, I’d like to get back to them.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Seacrest.” He handed her a business card. “If you happen to remember what you and your husband were doing that night, would you give me a call?”

  Vickie did not respond.

  “So do you think she’ll call you?” Savannah asked once they were in the car.

  “No. But I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing that woman and her husband again, if everything goes the way I expect it to, in a courtroom.”

  Savannah picked up Linda Peters’s journal. “Well, you may have some interesting reading here tonight.”

  He grinned at her. “I was hoping you’d take it and read it. Let me know if there’s anything I should pay attention to.”

  “Me?” she squealed.

  He nodded. “Yes, I can’t concentrate on that sort of thing; I have too much paperwork already. You read it and let me know what you think.”

  ****

  “So what did you learn?” Craig asked when he called Savannah the next morning.

  “About Linda Peters?” she confirmed. “She’s a troubled woman, and I don’t think it started with her husband’s death. You’re right, she was seeing Arnie Seacrest, or else she was fantasizing about seeing him; I really couldn’t tell. I suppose if I were to spend more time with the journal I’d figure it out—discover a pattern in her entries and the meaning of some of her phrases—know what I mean?”

  “I guess,” he said. “So did you get a sense that she had something to do with her husband’s death?”

  “I don’t think so, but I believe she knows who did. I think that’s her secret.”

  “Yeah, makes sense. And that may be who she’s blackmailing—the killer,” Craig said. “But in order to be blackmailable…” he chuckled. “Is there such a word? Well, you have to have money. I can’t help but wonder where Mr. Seacrest gets the funds to meet all of his financial obligations—a very nice home in an upscale neighborhood, and presumably enough to pay secret-keepers. As I understand it, our city council members don’t make enough even for a decent cup of coffee and a donut once in a while. How much do you suppose his business brings in?”

  “Craig, are you aware that his wife’s the new treasurer for the cat alliance, and we’re missing five thousand dollars from our treasury?”

  “Well, there you go,” Craig said. “Yeah, he’s embezzled before and he’s probably doing it again.”

  “Oh,” Savannah said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You might recall his wife saying he’s involved in fundraising and foundations and all. Yeah, he might just be misappropriating funds from a lot of accounts to pay people in order to cover his tracks. Clever.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Craig asked. “It’s not a solution, Savannah. It’s a temporary fix that will one day run dry, and all of Mr. Seacrest’s secrets will come out.” He chuckled. “I’ll bet his stepdaughter’s settlement ended up in his hands somehow. That’s the kind of jerk he is.”

  “Wow! Do you think so?”

  “Hey, I have a call coming in—good grief, it’s from Linda Peters. I’ll call you back.”

  Minutes later, Savannah answered her phone again. “Hi, Craig.”

  “Pack up the cat; I’m coming to get you. There’s an emergency at Linda Peters’s.”

  ****

  “What happened?” Savannah asked as she buckled her seatbelt in Craig’s unmarked vehicle minutes later.

  “She says she’s afraid someone’s going to kill her. She sounded seriously frightened.”

  “Who?” Savannah asked. “Did she say who she thinks wants to kill her?”

  Craig shrugged. “I can only guess.” He glanced at her. “Get ready for an interesting morning.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Peters.” Craig said when she opened the door to her suite. She didn’t respond, and he asked more quietly, “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  Linda nodded and tried to close the door on them, saying, “Yes, I’m just fine, but I’m a little tired now. I want to lie down, if you don’t mind. Can you come back another day?”

  Craig scanned the room behind Linda and finally said, “What I have to say won’t take long. We just have a couple more questions, then we’ll be on our way.” He moved toward her and she stepped back, allowing him, Savannah, and the cat inside.

  “What is it?” Linda asked nervously. She fidgeted with the pendant hanging on her long necklace chain.

  “Can we sit down?” Craig asked gently.

  “Well…” He motioned for Savannah to let Rags go. “Mrs. Peters, we brought Rags back to see you. Would you like to sit down with the cat?”

  “Okay,” she said. “We can sit here in the foyer.” She addressed Rags. “Come here sweet boy. Come let me see you.”

  But Rags had other ideas. He walked past her toward the sitting room.

  She lurched forward. “No. No, Rags. Stay here.”

  Before anyone could react, Rags disappeared into the other room. Rather than go after him, Linda sat staring at Craig and Savannah.

  “Shall I go get him?” Savannah offered.

  “No,” Linda said quickly. “No. He’s fine. So Mr. Sledge, what is it you want to tell me?”

  Craig moved closer to the woman, nodded toward the sitting room, and whispered, “Is someone in there?”

  Linda lowered her head, took a deep breath, and nodded.

  Before anyone could make a move, Rags returned carrying something in his mouth.

  Savannah reached for the cat. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Peters,” she said. “He’s such a klepto. Looks like a set of keys.” When Rags dropped the item, she picked it up. “A skull and cross-bones?” she questioned.

  This got Craig’s attention. He took the key ring from Savannah and examined it, then cautiously walked into the sitting room, and returned with Arnie Seacrest.

  “Let go of me,” the man complained. “Can’t someone visit an old friend without being manhandled?”

  “He killed Ferrell,” Linda blurted. “I saw him hit Ferrell over the head with something and push him into that hole.”

  “The witch is lying,” he snarled. “I wasn’t even there.”

  “You were there!” she shouted. “You killed him!” She turned to Craig and said smugly, “And he’s been paying me to keep his secret ever since.”

  “You are such a liar,” Arnie insisted.

  “Okay,” Craig said, “Mr. Seacrest, sit down there, will you?” When Arnie started to walk toward the door, Craig physically walked him back toward an empty chair and forced him to sit there. The detective sat across from Arnie and Linda. “Now, let’s see if we can sort this thing out.” He tried to make eye contact with Linda. “Mrs. Peters, I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want some straight answers.”

  She nodded half-heartedly.

  “You say you saw Mr. Seacrest hit your husband over the head. What time of the day or night was this?”

  “Around eleven or twelve that night,” Linda said.

  “Who dug the hole?” Craig asked.

  “One of the ranch hands had dug it earlier that week,” Linda said. “They were going to lay some pipe or replace some pipe or something.”

  “So that night,” Craig said, “how did he get covered with all that dirt?”

  Linda pointed, “Arnie used the dirt-moving machine and pushed the dirt into the hole on top of Ferrell.”

  “Didn’t anyone hear this going on and question why the thing was being operated in the dead of night like that?”

  “I did not do that!” Arnie shouted.

  “You’ll get your turn, Mr. Seacrest. Right now I want you to sit there and be quiet. Can you do that?”

  He nodded.

  “Go ahead, Mrs. Peters,” Craig urged.

  “No one was around but Ferrell, me, and Al—oh, and Arnie. Arnie and a few others were helping Ferrell move the horses and stuff. We knew the river could cause us a problem that night.”

  “Where were the others when Mr. Seacrest hit your husband over the head?”

  “I guess they’d left. Ferrell was finished with battening down the hatches, so to speak, Al had retired to his trailer, and Arnie thought I was still back at the house.”

  “And Al is?” Craig prompted.

  “A ranch hand.” “And where were you?” Craig asked.

  Linda swallowed hard before saying, “I’d walked to Al’s place thinking I’d be safer there. When I saw Arnie attack Ferrell, I feared I’d be next.”

  “Why would he kill you? For that matter, why would he kill your husband?”

  Linda broke down. “Because he wanted me. And he was jealous of Ferrell. He couldn’t stand that Ferrell was the father of that wretched girl. Arnie never got over finding out he wasn’t her father.”

  “That’s a lie,” Arnie said. “It was you, Linda. You couldn’t accept that he’d had a child and kept her from you.” He said to Craig, “She made me do it. She wanted me and she wanted him dead. I did it for her, then she started blackmailing me. What was I to do?”

  He turned to Linda. “If only you’d come with me that night like you promised, I would have taken care of you forever. You would have lived like a queen.”

  She grinned at him. “I do live like a queen.”

  “Yeah, because you faked that phony breakdown,” Arnie said, squirming uncomfortably in his chair.

  Craig studied the man for a few moments, then asked, “So Mrs. Peters, I heard you tell the cat that you saw Mr. Seacrest with a woman that night.”

  She thought for a moment and said, “Oh yes, I did. Yes, it was either that wretched daughter of Ferrell’s or Arnie’s mousy wife; in fact, maybe both of them were with him that night.”

  Craig looked at her. “You say there were two women with him?”

  “I’m pretty sure there were,” she insisted.

  “That’s a lie!” Arnie shouted. “It was me and Linda, that’s all, and she turned on me,” he whined.

  “What?” Linda demanded.