alarm systems and noticed that Hope was silently repeating them after me. “If you need anything or you have any questions, I’m going right home. You can call me.”
The smile she gave me this time was a little more genuine. “Thanks,” she said. She tipped her head toward the building. “I’m sorry about this.”
I sighed softly. “Me too. Margo didn’t deserve this.”
Hope went back into the building. I turned just as Marcus put his phone back into his pocket. I knew that part of his mind was already turning over the details of the case, and I didn’t want to keep him from his job any longer.
“I’m going to go,” I said.
“Okay.” He raked his hand back through his hair again. “I don’t know how late this is going to go, but I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Tell Everett I’ll be up if he needs to talk to me.”
• • •
Hercules was waiting for me on the porch, sitting on the bench by the window, when I got home. I sat down beside him, leaned my head back against the window frame and closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again Hercules was standing on his back legs, front paws on my chest, looking at me with his head tipped to one side.
“Margo Walsh is dead,” I said. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
“Merow?” he said.
I thought I heard an inquiry in the sound.
“Do you remember the woman who was here a couple of nights ago?” I asked. “She told you how handsome you looked, like you were wearing a tuxedo.”
Hercules ducked his head. “Mrrr,” he said softly. He’d liked Margo.
It had turned out she was a cat person. She’d been intrigued by my story of how I’d found Owen and Hercules out at Wisteria Hill when they were just kittens, or, to be more exact, how they had found me. She’d spent several minutes talking to each of them and they’d both stayed around once Margo and I had gotten down to work.
I slipped my bag up onto my shoulder again, picked up Hercules and stood up. He leaned in and licked my chin, his way of being sympathetic.
There was no sign of Owen in the kitchen. I set Hercules down and put my things away. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. I turned around to see the cat staring at the toaster sitting on the counter.
“That’s a good idea,” I said. I put bread in the toaster and got the milk from the refrigerator. By the time I sat down at the table with a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of peanut butter toast, Owen had appeared, peering around the basement door, whiskers twitching. He walked all the way around the table to get to my left side since Hercules was already sitting on my right.
I pulled a tiny piece for each of them from the toast. I knew Roma would lecture me about feeding them people food, but I rationalized it as being just a bite.
I told the boys what had happened at the library and they both seemed to listen intently. For all I knew it could have been the cat version of listening politely while they were daydreaming about grackles or catnip chickens.
“It has to have something to do with the Weston drawing,” I said.
Owen seemed to frown, as though he disagreed. Then he bent his head and licked a tiny dab of peanut butter from one paw.
Okay, so I didn’t have his full attention. I looked at Hercules. “If the drawing isn’t in the case, where is it?” I asked. “It was the only thing missing. Neither one of the alarms was set. Margo is dead and the drawing is gone. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”
“Merow,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “Me neither.”
Everett called at about nine thirty. He was on his way home and asked if we could get together to decide how to handle things.
“Of course,” I said.
“I appreciate this, Kathleen,” he said. “Rebecca said to tell you she has some of the Jam Lady’s marshmallows.”
I laughed grimly. “Rebecca knows me well.”
I changed out of my tai chi clothes into jeans and a white shirt. I gave the boys fresh water
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