What the Cat Saw by Carolyn Hart Page B

unaffected. Beside her, the reporter’s face remained bland and interested and knowledgeable. He would have seen the police report about Friday night’s break-in. Nela had herself looked at a lot of police reports. It had never occurred to her that one day her own name would be included in one.
    Hollis Blair’s frown was intense. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”
    Blythe made a dismissive gesture. “It didn’t occur to me to mention it, Hollis. Friday night the investigating officers believed someone saw the obituary and thought the apartment would be empty. Marian’s desk was searched.”
    “Searched for what?” Grace’s tone was flat.
    Nela shrugged. “I suppose for valuables of some kind. But I wonder if there is a connection to the search of her office.” She tried to block from her mind the heavy gold necklace in the black Coach bag.
    “That makes sense.” Blythe suddenly sounded cheered. “Perhaps the thief went from the apartment to the foundation. This must be attempted robbery.”
    “I hate to throw darts at your trial balloon”—Grace was sardonic—“but there’s still a pesky little question: How did a thiefget into Marian’s apartment and how did a thief get inside the foundation and what the hell was he trying to steal? Or she.”
    “That’s for the police to determine.” Blythe was impervious to her sister’s attack. “Nela probably forgot to lock the apartment door. One officer said old door locks are easy to jiggle open and maybe someone opened it with a credit card.”
    Grace folded her arms. “Not even an American Express Platinum could budge a foundation door.”
    Francis Garth looked thoughtful. “As Grace points out, gaining access to the foundation would be challenging for someone without a key. Does anyone have any ideas?”
    Louise shifted uneasily in her chair. Her hand trembled and she hastily placed her fork on her plate. “I don’t see how any of us can have any information that would help the police.”
    Francis added a packet of sugar to his iced tea. “It may be helpful to determine when the vandalism occurred. Marian’s funeral was Thursday. Friday morning I went into her office. I was looking for a file on the Rumer Co-op. I found the file. At ten forty-five Friday morning, her office was fine. Who has been in her office since that time?” He looked inquiringly around the table.
    Abby Andrews, violet eyes huge, looked terrified but spoke steadily. “Friday afternoon I returned some papers that I’d borrowed the week before. It was probably about two thirty. The office hadn’t been disturbed.”
    Louise twined the red and gray scarf at her throat around one finger. “I was in her office a few minutes before five Friday. I checked to see if she’d finished the direct bank deposits before”—she swallowed—“before she died.” Quick tears misted her eyes. “They were all done. Marian always took care of things on schedule.”
    Francis reached for the legal pad Nela had placed on the table that morning. The big head once again rose like a buffalo surveying the plain. “Anyone else?”
    Silence.
    He made quick notes. “How about this morning?”
    Silence.
    Francis tapped his pen on the legal pad. “Her office was entered after five p.m. Friday and before approximately eleven twenty this morning when Nela”—he nodded toward her—“was sent to look for password information.” His face corrugated in thought. “Marian died a week ago today. Why did the searches occur this past weekend?”
    Blythe was impatient. “You’d have to ask the thief.”
    Nela wasn’t sure it was her place to speak out, but maybe this mattered. “Chloe exchanged e-mails with Miss Grant’s sister. Her sister asked Chloe to stay in Miss Grant’s apartment to take care of Jugs. Chloe was there until she left town Friday. I don’t think anyone knew I was going to be there Friday night.”
    Cole Hamilton’s round face was puzzled. “How would a thief know that your