What the Cat Saw Read Online Free PDF Page A

Maybe not fine. Maybe still a little breathless, pulse racing, but standing in the trashed room, she felt safe, safe and grateful for the quick response of the Craddock police.
    “Check the living room windows, Pierce.”
    The stocky officer began a circuit of the windows.
    The officer in charge cleared his throat. “Ma’am, can you describe the intruder?” He looked into her face, his eyes probing.
    Nela clasped her hands together. “I never saw him. I heard him. I was in the guest bedroom.” She realized she was shaking with cold. “Please, let me get my jacket. It’s right by the door.” She moved fast and yanked Chloe’s long car coat from a coat tree near the front door. She shrugged into it, knew she looked absurd in the big floppy coat, bare legs and feet sticking out below the hem.
    When she turned back, the officer held a small electronic notepad in one hand. “Name?”
    “Nela Farley. Actually, it’s Cornelia, but I’m called Nela.” With every moment that passed, she felt more assured.
    “Cornelia Farley.” He spelled the name as he swiped the keys. His questions came fast. She answered, wishing she could be more help, knowing that all she had to report was noise.
    Shouts and calls sounded outside. Officer Pierce made a slow circuit of the room, making notes.
    The inquiring officer’s nose wrinkled above a thin black mustache. “So you got here tonight. Anybody know you were here?”
    “My sister.”
    He nodded. “I got it. You’re in town to take her job. Anyone else know you’re here?”
    “They’re expecting me at her office Monday.”
    “Do they know”—he was patient—“that you’re staying here?” He jerked a thumb at the room.
    “No.” Chloe hadn’t mentioned that Nela would be in Miss Grant’s apartment.
    The officer’s gaze was intent. “You know anyone at the office?”
    “Not a soul. I don’t know anyone in Craddock.”
    “So, nobody came here because you’re here.” He surveyed the litter. The computer was lying on the floor. Drawers were pulled out and upended. Glass from a smashed mirror sparkled on the floor. The cracked mirror hung crookedly on a wall. “More than likely, somebody saw the death notice in the
Clarion
and thought the apartment was empty.” He sounded satisfied. “Did the intruder make this mess?”
    Nela nodded. “The noise woke me up.”
    “I’ll bet it did. Wake anybody up.” His tone was dry. “Looks like the perp got mad. Tossed that little statue and totaled the mirror. Maybe he didn’t find cash. Or whatever he was looking for.”
    Nela, too, looked at the broken mirror. Lying on the floor was a crystal statuette of a horse that had been on the desk.
    A woman’s imperious voice rose above the hubbub outside. Footsteps rattled on the steps. “Of course I can go upstairs.” The voice was rather high and thin and utterly confident. “The place belongs to me.”
    The front door opened.
    Nela and her inquisitor—she noted his name tag: Officer T. B. Hansen—looked toward the open doorway.
    A slender woman strode inside. Blue silk pajama legs were visible beneath a three-quarter-length mink coat. She wore running shoes.
    She was followed by a middle-aged, redheaded patrol woman who gave Officer Hansen a worried look.
    He made a slight hand gesture and the officer looked relieved.
    The newcomer held her fur coat folded over against her for warmth. Her black hair appeared disheveled from sleep, but her stare at the officer was wide awake and demanding. “What’s going on here?”
    Officer Hansen stood straighter. “Reports of a prowler, Miss Webster.”
    The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Here?” She glanced around the room. “Who made this mess?”
    The officer’s tone was noncommittal. “The young lady said an intruder is responsible.”
    The woman stared at Nela with narrowed eyes. “Who are you?” Her tone was just this side of accusing.
    Nela took a quick breath. “Nela Farley, Chloe’s sister.”
    The