“Why would someone remove it?” he asked.

  Savannah chuckled. “Didn’t you hear her? She loved that raincoat. She wanted it back.”

  “Yeah?” Craig said.

  “Well, then she realized it might implicate her if anyone ever found Ferrell Peters…or maybe it had blood on it…I don’t know. But she decided she couldn’t keep it, and asked her trusted employee to take care of it for her.”

  Craig was quiet for a few moments, then asked, “Hey, do you remember the lineup of sorts that Rags participated in the year we met, when Iris was accused of that awful crime?”

  “Yes,” Savannah said. “How could I forget?”

  “I’d like to do something similar this evening, and I’d like you to bring Rags to the party.” “Party?” she questioned, her voice tense. “Do you mean you’re going to put all of those people in a room together?”

  “Sure, why not?” he said glibly. “There’s bound to be some backbiting or accusations, and maybe a thread of truth will come out.” He paused. “Savannah, that thread of truth just might incriminate the real killer. Can you bring Rags to the sheriff’s office this evening at seven?”

  “But Craig, he wasn’t a witness to anything. He wasn’t even born when Ferrell Peters was killed.”

  Craig chuckled. “I know, but his presence just might shake things up in the direction I hope things will go. Bring him.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Oh, and can you get a piece of that vinyl slicker you were telling me about?”

  “Got it,” she said. “I thought you’d want to examine it.”

  “Good girl. See you at seven.”

  As Savannah ended the call, Gladys walked in the front door. “Hi, Mom. How was your class?” “Fun,” Gladys said. “The teacher’s really knowledgeable and the other students are about par with me—beginners. I think I’m going to learn a lot, and I do enjoy the process.” She shimmied with delight. “I made the most adorable—kind of misshapen, but cute—vase.” She giggled. “I think it’s a vase.”

  Savannah laughed. “Mom, you’re like a child on the first day of school.”

  “I feel like it. Oh, I’m so glad you talked me into doing this.” She put her hand on Savannah’s arm. “Karl might join the class. He said that bringing the potter’s wheel out has brought back memories of his mother at the wheel and some of the lovely things she made. He’s been looking for something to do with his hands.”

  “Were there other men in the class?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes,” Gladys said. “Two men and four women.”

  “Well, I’m glad you went and enjoyed it. Can’t wait to see what you make.”

  “Me, too,” Gladys said. “Do you need me to start dinner?”

  “Absolutely not. You relax; I have it under control. I made a chicken-and-rice casserole and a spinach salad.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Oh, and I’ll be going out this evening,” Savannah announced. “Police business.”

  “Really? Are you going on a stakeout or something?”

  “No. Rags and I’ve been invited to a lineup.”

  “Oh?” Gladys said, surprised.

  “A lineup?” Michael asked, frowning when he walked into the room.

  “Oh, hi, hon,” Savannah said, kissing him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You’re going to a lineup?” he asked again. “Who’s going to be in it—Rags?” She chuckled. “No. Hopefully one of them will be Ferrell Peters’s killer.”

  ****

  “This is like déjà vu,” Michael said as they parked outside the sheriff’s office just before seven that night.

  “I know, only we don’t have a good friend in the lineup this time, thank heavens.” Savannah sighed. “Wasn’t Rags wonderful that night? He rattled the real killer so much that he confessed.”

  “And you remember who else was implicated in that deal,” Michael said.

  She nodded. “Yes, Damon. What a blessing that turned out to be. He went to jail for the mistakes he made in all that, then Craig took him under his wing…”

  “And Iris,” Michael said, grinning. “He took Iris under his wing.”

  “Yes, he married Iris once Rags exonerated her from any wrongdoing.”

  “And then he helped Damon find a better way of life.”

  Savannah nodded. “Damon straightened up, married Colbi, and he’s a fine citizen as we speak. So refreshing.” She sighed. “Well, let’s go see what miracles Rags can work tonight.”

  Michael chuckled. “Yeah, it sounds like Craig needs a miracle to solve this complex case.”

  “Michael,” Craig greeted when he and Savannah walked into the lobby of the sheriff’s department with Rags on his leash, “glad you could join us.” He nodded toward Savannah and leaned over to acknowledge the cat before inviting, “Come on in. I’ll have the suspects brought in after you and the cat are ready.” Craig elbow-nudged Savannah. “Nervous?”

  She nodded.

  “I can tell. Just relax. It’ll be okay.”

  She and Michael followed Craig down a hallway and into a conference room where chairs were arranged against the walls. “Wow, how many people are you expecting?” she asked.

  “Well, some of them might have attorneys, and I like to give them a choice of where to sit. That is sometimes telling in and of itself.”

  “Really?” Michael questioned.

  Craig made a call. Soon the door opened and Arnie Seacrest entered the room in handcuffs. He was followed by his wife, Vickie, and her daughter, Justine, along with a woman dressed in a business suit.

  “Must be their lawyer,” Savannah whispered to Michael.

  He nodded. When a woman walked in wearing a striking mint-green suit and matching green shoes, he asked, “Is that Mrs. Peters? That guy with her must be her attorney.”

  “Yeah,” Savannah scoffed, “looks like he’s just out of high school.”

  Michael whispered back, “He is young-looking.”

  Craig watched as Arnie Seacrest sauntered to the far end of the room and sat down in the last chair on the left. Vickie and Justine sat together with their attorney centered against the back wall, and Linda stood in place for several moments, evidently trying to decide where to sit. Her attorney guided her to a seat across from Savannah and Michael.

  Craig was first to speak. “Thank you for being here.”

  “Like I had a choice,” Arnie spouted. “You would have to do this on my only night off,” he complained. He jumped up from his chair. “I don’t even know why you brought me here. I…”

  Before he could continue, Craig said calmly, “And you wondered why we cuffed you. Sit down or we’ll tie you to the chair.”

  Arnie sprawled against the chair and glared at the detective.

  “We brought you here to help us clear up a little matter of murder,” Craig said. “He looked around at the potential suspects and their representatives as they protested quietly among themselves.

  Just then Rags stepped out from under Savannah’s chair and everyone’s eyes were drawn to him.

  “Oh,” Craig said, also looking at the cat, “let me introduce you to my partner, Rags. He sees all and knows all when it comes to fingering a criminal.” He gazed around the room at the others and added, “His specialty is murder.” Craig sat down in a chair close to the door, crossed his legs, and slumped a little, saying, “The thing is, we might have a suspicion as to who committed a crime, but the cat—well, the cat has a remarkable way of identifying a wrongdoer.” He sat forward. “He’s here tonight to reveal the killer of Mr. Ferrell Peters.”

  Savannah noticed Arnie start to fidget and she was pretty sure she saw a look of horror on Linda Peters’s face. When she gazed across at Justine and Vickie, she noted that they seemed a little uncomfortable too.

  Justine sneezed, then claimed, “Hey, I think I’m allergic to that thing. I never could stand being in a room with a cat.” She coughed a couple of times, then their attorney put her hand on Justine’s knee and shook her head.

  “Here we go,” Craig said. He pulled out the piece of vinyl Savannah had given him and tossed it into the middle of the floor. He addressed Linda Peters. “Look what we found—does it look familiar?”

  “Um…yes. Where did you find it, in the ground with my poor husband?” she asked. “I told you he was wearing it that night.” She pointed at Justine and Vickie. “They thought he was me.”

  “Then why wasn’t he wearing it when we found his body?” Craig asked, his eyes piercing hers.

  Linda glanced at Rags. She fidgeted with a button on her jacket. “I don’t know,” she said, attempting to keep her voice from quivering. “I suppose they took it off him. Maybe they wanted to keep it—it’s unique, as you can see, and expensive.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Craig said.

  Before he could continue, Justine stood up and shouted at Linda. “You’re so messed up; nothing you say makes any sense.”

  The attorney took Justine’s arm and urged her to sit down, then whispered something to her. Justine nodded, but continued to glare at Linda.

  “Yes, maybe they took it off him and kept it,” Craig agreed. “I guess that’s one possibility.” He shifted his focus. “Mr. Seacrest, you were there that night helping Ferrell Peters move horses and prepare his property to ride out the storm, weren’t you?” “Yeah. I was there early in the evening, but I didn’t…”

  Craig interrupted. “Was he wearing a raincoat in this fabric?”

  Arnie became more agitated. He squirmed in his chair, glanced at his family, then at Linda, then finally said, “I don’t remember.”

  Craig laughed. “How could you not remember seeing a man—your friend—wearing a pink slicker with pussy cats all over it?”

  “I…um…no. I don’t think he was wearing anything like that. Yeah, I would have noticed that, for sure.” His eyes widened. “But he might have put it on after I left. No, I never saw him wearing anything like that.”

  “What about you, Mrs. Seacrest?” Craig asked. “Did you see Mr. Peters wearing this that night when you went there?”

  “No, I…” Her attorney whispered something to her and she said, “No, because I wasn’t there that night. I don’t ever remember being at the Peters’s place.”

  “Is that right?” Craig asked. He looked at Justine. “And you? Was Mr. Peters wearing a slicker made out of this material that night when you tossed the box of his belongings into the grave with him?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t see him at all. I wasn’t there. As far as I know, those things he gave me are still in my parents’ garage.”

  Craig opened an evidence box and began pulling items out of it. “So these dog tags and military discharge orders were not in the box he gave you when you were a teen, some twenty-five or so years ago?”

  Justine stood and moved closer. She studied the things Craig had removed from the box. “No, I never saw that stuff before. The letters, yes. There were letters in the box he gave me, and patches—you know, military patches that go on a uniform, and certificates.”

  Craig asked, “Are you sure? You said you never looked at the things in the box. How did you know what was in there?”

  “I told you Papo and I went through that stuff once. He wanted to see if there was anything of value in there. No, there were no dog tags.” She took a second look. “Most of that other stuff doesn’t look familiar—just those letters. There were letters like that, on that kind of paper.”

  Once Justine was seated again, Craig asked her. “What sort of box was the stuff he gave you in?” “A wooden box—you know, sort of a keepsake box.”

  “Hmmm,” Craig murmured. He glanced at Savannah, who looked equally puzzled. He then stared at Linda Peters. He started to ask her something, but changed his mind. Instead, he spoke to the cat. “Tell me, Rags, which of these suspects is not telling the truth? Each of them has spoken—they all have a story. Which story doesn’t ring true to you?”

  “Now that’s absurd,” Linda’s attorney said. He stood up. “I’m Timothy Brakey, attorney for Mrs. Peters. I have to say, this is the craziest mockery of the law I’ve ever been witness to, and…”

  “I agree,” the attorney with the Seacrest women said, standing. “Totally unprecedented.” “But not illegal,” Craig defended. “Please, sit down. I think you’ll be amused by what the cat will tell us. Rags, show us who we need to question further—who isn’t telling us the truth? Who is hiding something?” He motioned for Savannah to let Rags go.

  Everyone watched quietly and suspiciously as Rags walked near where Craig sat. He sniffed the things in the box Craig had opened and dug in the papers for a moment. He sauntered to the middle of the room where the swatch of cloth lay and pawed at it, then he moved toward the Seacrest women. Vickie smiled down at the cat and started to pet him. She looked at Craig, who shrugged. “Yeah, pet him if you want to.”

  Justine simply stared at the cat and her attorney avoided eye contact with him. Rags sat down and began licking one of his paws. He pulled at a claw with his teeth, eventually removing a sheath from the claw and shaking it from his mouth. When it landed on the floor near him, he walked over and sniffed it.

  “This is bull,” Arnie Seacrest said. “I have things to do.”

  Rags looked at the man, then walked toward him.

  “Stay away from me,” Arnie said, holding one foot out defensively.

  “Put your foot down,” Craig demanded. “He’s not going to hurt you, unless…” he said, grinning slyly. He continued, “Yeah, unless he knows you did something wrong. He can smell a crook a mile away.”

  When Rags was just a few feet away from Arnie, he sat down and stared up at him.

  Arnie glanced away. “That cat’s spooky. Make him stop looking at me.”

  “If you have something to hide…” Craig started.

  Before Arnie could respond, Rags looked toward a sound to his right and saw a large green purse standing open on the floor at Linda Peters’s feet. He strolled in that direction and peered into the purse.

  Linda smiled. “Hi Rags. Want to hear a story?”

  Ignoring her, Rags reached into her purse and began digging around. When he buried his head in the purse, everyone chuckled, but when he pulled back and Linda saw what was in his mouth, she panicked. She grabbed it from Rags. “You naughty cat,” she shrieked.

  “So you have something to hide, do you, Mrs. Peters?” Craig asked.

  “I ah…” she said.

  “I can tell by the way he’s looking at you that you haven’t been truthful with us tonight. Rags knows. That cardboard box and the passport found with your husband—in your husband’s grave—that came from your house, didn’t it? That wasn’t the box of stuff he gave to his daughter.”

  Linda’s attorney objected. “Sir, I’d say that’s quite enough.”

  “I don’t think so. Mrs. Peters,” Craig continued, “I also happen to know that you didn’t find Justine’s earring on your property that rainy night, or any day or night, did you?” He gazed at Justine, who looked puzzled.

  “My earring?” she repeated. She stood up. “Do you mean the pair Mr. Peters’s mother gave me? So you’re the one who…” she shouted.

  When Justine’s attorney tried to quiet her, Craig said, “No, let her talk. I’m interested in what she has to say.”

  Justine looked at Craig, then scowled at Linda Peters. “I didn’t want those ugly things, and I thought they might be worth something, so I took them to a pawn shop.” She grinned. “Got $50 bucks for them.”

  “So how did Mrs. Peters get her hands on the earrings, if those were the same earrings you’re talking about?” Craig asked.

  “Gold leaves,” Justine said confidently. “Three leaves, each with a small ruby—gaudy,” she said, making a face.

  Craig looked at Savannah for confirmation. She nodded.

  “So, tell me how those earrings came into Mrs. Peters’s possession,” Craig said.

  “She saw me,” Justine explained.

  “At the pawn shop?”

  “Yes. I didn’t know it was her until I was leaving—she saw me sell the guy those earrings, I’m sure of it. I always thought she might buy them back from him.” She spat at Linda Peters, “You did, didn’t you? And then you tried to frame me with them. Well, good luck, lady!” she shouted. “Bill at the pawn shop knows me well and he’ll testify as to what happened with those earrings.” She sat back smugly in her chair and huffed, “Trying to frame me with them…nice try, witch.”

  “Okay, okay, let’s settle down,” Craig said when voices began to reverberate throughout the room. He looked at Linda Peters.

  Before he could speak, however, Linda’s attorney stood up. He took Linda’s arm and said, “I think we’ve had enough of this charade. I’m going to direct my client to leave with me before this circus becomes any more offensive.”

  “Oh, sit down,” Linda snarled. “I knew it was too good to be true.” She threw her head back and seemed to be gloating for a moment. “But it was a good run—a very good and a profitable run.” She glared at Justine. “Just so you know, you little lowlife, as soon as I’m finished with those earrings of yours, I have someone eager to buy them for five hundred dollars.”

  “Mrs. Peters,” her attorney warned.

  “It’s too late,” Linda lamented. “The cat knows. I didn’t actually get away with it, did I, Rags? And I did it for nothing—nothing!” She sobbed into her hands, then sat up and smiled. She looked at Arnie. “Well, I did get to live like a queen for twenty years.” She spat, “Not your queen, like you promised, but a queen, nonetheless.” She nodded toward him, then toward the Seacrest women. “Thank you very much for that.”

  “You?” Justine shouted. “You’re the witch that drained him dry. You ruined our family.” When her attorney tried to stop her, she waved her off and continued, “Papo had to borrow so much money because of you that my mom will never be able to crawl out from under the debt.”

  Linda simply grinned at her, finally saying, “What are you complaining about? You got the father you wanted; all I got was the money. Lots and lots of his money.” She kicked at Rags, which put Savannah on high alert. “Get out of here you little snitch,” Linda shouted. When Rags didn’t move, she reached out for him and he ran. Savannah stood and retrieved Rags, fastening the leash to his harness.