What the Cat Saw by Carolyn Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

looking for something to explain what drew an intruder past an expensive purse to this sleek desk. She started with the drawer emptied nearest the desk, turned it right side up. She restored Miss Grant’s personal papers to the proper folder—insurance policies, a car title, medical records, bank and credit card statements, travel receipts, copies of tax submissions. Near the next drawer, she found clips of news stories about individuals, research programs, fellowships, and educational institutions. Each person or group featured had received a grant from the Haklo Foundation. She was getting good at her project and quickly placed clips in the correct folders. The second drawer slid into its place.
    Doggedly, Nela continued until the floor was clear, the drawers replaced with the proper contents.
    When she’d finished, she stared at the desk with a puzzled frown. She had a conviction that the searcher had emptied the drawers not to mess up the papers or even to check them, but to be sure there wasn’t something hidden among the folders.
    She looked across the room at the Coach bag. Instead of finding reassurance, she felt more uneasy. Had the searcher been hunting for that obviously expensive necklace? If so, why not look in the purse? Why the desk? But who knew what a thief thought or why?
    Nela stripped off the rubber gloves, returned them to the kitchen. She found a broom closet, picked up a broom and dustpan. Soon the last of the broken mirror had been swept up and dumped into the trash container. Lips pressed firmly together, she carefully eased the frame with the remnants of the mirror from the hook on the wall. When she’d placed the frame inside Miss Grant’s bedroom, she returned to the living room. She opened the blinds, welcoming bright shafts of winter sunlight.
    Yet the apartment held no cheer. She had rarely felt so alone,so cut off from human contact. She wouldn’t be around anyone until she went to Chloe’s job Monday. The job…There probably wouldn’t be anyone at the foundation on a Saturday but she could take a drive, find the way, make Monday morning easier. She grabbed her purse and Chloe’s coat.
    She was almost to the door when she paused. The Coach purse now seemed huge to her because she knew that it contained a large sum of cash and an obviously expensive necklace. She yanked wool gloves from Chloe’s pockets. She put them on and picked up the Coach bag.
    In the kitchen, she knelt by the cabinet that held Jugs’s canned food. In only a moment, the purse rested snugly behind cans stacked four high. Maybe a thief would head unerringly for the cat food cabinet. But she felt better. Monday at work, she’d find out how to contact Marian Grant’s sister and suggest that the purse, bank books, and other obvious valuables be removed from the apartment. She didn’t have to admit she knew the purse’s contents to suggest that it be put away for safekeeping.
    She was considerably cheered as she stepped out on the high porch. The wind had died down. The day was cold, possibly in the thirties, but brilliant sunshine and a pale winter blue sky were exhilarating.
    As she started down the steep steps, a streak of dark blue on the second baluster caught her gaze. She stopped and stared. An oblique line marred the white paint about sixteen inches above the step. The scrape on the wood indicated that something had struck the baluster, leaving an uneven mark on the paint.
    Nela pictured early-morning darkness and a woman in a hurry, moving fast, not thinking about a familiar stairway. Likely her right foot would have come down on the first step, her left on the second.A skateboard could have flipped up to strike the baluster while flinging her sideways to tumble over the railing.
    The police had searched the area and found nothing, certainly not a skateboard.
    The streak looked new and fresh. Nela was abruptly irritated with herself. Since when was she an expert on a marred surface on a white post? Since