what.”
“And that’s how you saw someone digging in Mrs. Brenner’s flower bed on Saturday night?”
“10-4,” Edgar responded. “And not just someone. It was the woman’s brother. Elinor pointed him out to me before. My wife keeps track of who’s who around here. Me, I’m more interested in what they’re doing.”
The old man laughed again, which brought on a coughing fit.
Whiskey, who’d watched the proceedings without comment to this point, barked an alarm.
“I hear him, girl,” Mac responded, hoping he wasn’t going to have to do CPR on the man before the night was over. He hated the taste of peppermint.
***
The touch of a damp, sandpapery tongue licking at her cheek woke her. Rachel jerked and almost knocked her feline companion off the bed.
“Damn it, Snickers. You know I hate it when you do that.” She scrubbed at the side of her face, trying to erase the crawling sensation.
In the dark the cat’s unblinking green eyes seemed to glow as she stared into Rachel’s face.
“What is it? I’m not feeding you anything else this late, so forget it.”
The cat arched her back and hissed.
Rachel reached out a hand and stroked the cat’s fur. “Is this some kind of delayed reaction to last night’s events? I know we’re both a little twitchy but we really need to try to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow and you have to…well, do whatever you do all day while I’m at work.”
The radiator in her bedroom clanged as the furnace switched on.
Snickers hissed again and jumped to the floor. She stalked over to an armchair and used it to climb onto the windowsill.
“It’s too cold to open the window.”
The cat stared out into the night, and then turned back towards her.
“If you are trying to tell me the Wilson’s light is out, I know that. The police told me the bulb was broken.”
The cat’s eyes narrowed to glittery green slits.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Rachel tossed back the covers and hurriedly crossed the chilly room. She scooped up the fluffy sentry and quickly returned them both to the warmth of her bed.
Tucking the cat under the covers next to her side, Rachel slowly stroked the cat’s fur, whispering, “Go to sleep. I’ll make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”
***
“The gun should be right about there.” Edgar pointed to a spot under a rose bush about a foot from where Mac was kneeling.
“Gun!” Mac’s voice was a little louder than he’d intended, but the old man had failed to mention a gun before.
“What did you think we were digging for? Bulbs?” Edgar cackled and then coughed.
“Shush. We don’t want to wake her up,” Mac warned, glancing at the dark house, glad he’d left Whiskey in the truck.
The old man nodded, lowering his voice to a whisper. “It was late, just past 11 P.M. on Saturday night. The brother drove up and instead of going to the front door, he came around to the side of the house and started digging by that bush. I saw him pull a gun out of his jacket, wrap it in one of those knitted caps, and stick it in the hole. He covered it up real nice with some of that cedar mulch you see there.”
“How did you see all that? The goggles?”
“Nah. Didn’t need them. The Wilsons’,” Edgar pointed to his right, “have one of those motion detector lights. When the brother walked across the yard, it lit up.”
Mac looked towards the house the man had indicated. He didn’t remember any light when Whiskey was busy stealing a ham on Sunday night. “It must not be working now.”
The old man shrugged his bony shoulders. “Hasn’t worked since the burglary. Think the thieves did that?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. What happened after you saw Thayer bury the gun?” Mac continued sifting through the loose soil and mulch around the bush, trying to avoid catching his coat on the thorns.
“He left. Just got in his car and drove away.”
Mac leaned back on his heels. “Okay, I’ve found the hole