What the Cat Saw Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked back at the police officer, a faint frown on her face. “How did the thief get in?”
    Hansen said carefully, “We haven’t found evidence of a break-in.” His hooded gaze settled on Nela. “When we arrived, the front door was locked. Ms. Farley opened the door for us.”
    Blythe Webster looked puzzled. “If nobody broke in and the door was locked, how did someone get in?”
    Nela felt her face tighten. “I don’t know.” She didn’t like the searching looks turned toward her. “Maybe someone had a key.”
    Blythe Webster’s brown eyes narrowed. “I suppose somewhere up at the house we may have a key in case of an emergency. I’ll ask my housekeeper. But I can’t imagine that Marian passed out keys to her apartment. That would be very unlike her.”
    The officer turned to Nela. “Are you sure you locked the front door?”
    “Positive.”
    He didn’t appear impressed. He’d probably been told many things by many witnesses that turned out to be mistaken or false. “There was a real nice story in the
Clarion
about Miss Grant and a funeral notice. The intruder counted on the place being empty. Maybe he found the door unlocked.”
    Nela started to speak.
    He forestalled her. “Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he jiggled a credit card, got lucky. It’s an old door. Once inside, he locked the door to keep anyone from surprising him. When he heard you calling for help, he ran out and slammed the front door behind him.” He glanced toward the door, gave a satisfied nod. “It’s an old lock, one where the lock doesn’t pop up when the inside handle is turned. Then it took only a minute to get down the stairs and disappear inthe dark.” He looked from Nela to Miss Webster. “Did either of you hear a car?”
    Nela shook her head. Inside the apartment, she had been acutely aware of sounds from outside, waiting for the police to arrive. She hadn’t heard anything until the sirens rose and fell.
    Blythe Webster was dismissive. “I was asleep. The sirens woke me. But most cars don’t make much noise these days.”
    Officer Pierce yanked a thumb toward the front door. “They haven’t found any trace outside. It looks like he got clean away.”
    “Whoever came is long gone now.” Blythe sounded relieved. She turned to Nela. “As soon as the police finish, you can lock up and feel quite safe. Can’t she, Officer?”
    Officer Hansen’s face was studiously unexpressive. “You may be right, Miss Webster.”
    Officer Pierce, who had arrived with Hansen, spoke quickly. “Right. Once you scare ’em away, they won’t come back.”
    The redheaded patrol woman, who had followed Blythe Webster inside, nodded in agreement.
    “I locked the door.” Nela was insistent.
    Blythe Webster nodded. “You thought you did.” Her tone was understanding. “Anyway, these things happen. I’m glad you’re fine. I expect you’re very tired. As for me, I’m ready for a nightcap…Oh, here’s Jugs.”
    Nela distinctly remembered engaging the front-door lock. She would have objected again, continued to insist, but at the mention of the cat, she swung to look toward the doorway.
    The big-eared brown tabby strolled past them, his gaze flicking around the room.
    Nela looked into the cat’s huge pupils, still dilated for night vision. “…
Cars…strangers…like the day She died…lying onthe concrete…”
The cat moved away, heading straight for the open door to Marian Grant’s bedroom.
    Blythe Webster’s face abruptly tightened, cheekbones jutting. “Do you suppose he’s hunting for Marian? I hate that.” There was a quiver in her voice. “Anyway, now that everything’s under control, I’ll say good night.” In a flurry, she was gone.
    Nela scarcely heard the clatter as Blythe Webster hurried down the wooden steps….
lying on the concrete
…There was a square of concrete to one side of the apartment stairs, possibly at one time intended for outdoor parking.
    Officer Hansen adjusted his earpiece, spoke into