apartment. Did this sweet ball of fur live up here--without its owner--and no one knew it? And if not, how did it get inside a locked apartment?
Through the arched doorway leading to the sleeping area, Nell could see Angie's bed, made up neatly with colorful silk pillows lined up against the headboard. A book sat on the night table, and alongside it, a bottle of water, as if any minute, Angie would walk in from the bathroom, slip beneath the cool white sheets, and read herself to sleep. Beyond the bed, a closet door was slightly ajar, and Nell could see shoes lined up neatly on the floor and some outfits hanging side by side on the rack above them. Only the shelf above the clothes rack was in disarray, with boxes pulled out as if Angie had been in a hurry the last time she looked for a bag or a pair of shoes. The tops of several boxes had fallen to the floor and tissue paper cluttered the shelf.
There were certainly places for the kitten to hide--but it was so friendly, it seemed unlikely that the lure of people wouldn't have drawn it out from some secret spot. It hadn't been a bit timid when three women rushed in on it today.
"If Angie had a cat, there'd be food," Nell said abruptly, pushing aside the discomforting thoughts and walking into the kitchen. Angie having a kitten no one knew about was a far better option than finding another explanation for how the kitten got into the apartment.
The galley kitchen--with a small refrigerator, two-burner stove, and butcher-block counter--was built into the small alcove at the end of the sitting area. Nell opened the cupboard just above the sink, but it was nearly empty. A couple cans of soup, some granola bars, but nothing that would feed the kitten. The refrigerator held two cups of yogurt and an apple.
"Izzy, you're right," Nell said, a sense of unease taking root. "There's nothing that says a kitten has been hiding here. If this kitten had been alone since last Thursday, there'd certainly be tell-tale stains and odors."
"So someone has been up here since the police were here," Izzy said, putting words to Cass's and Nell's thoughts. She held the kitten close.
"And the kitten slipped in when someone opened the door," Cass said.
"Angie and I had the only keys," Izzy said.
"Would she have given a key to someone else?" Nell asked.
"I don't think Pete had one," Cass said. "And even if he did, why would he have come up here after she died?" Her tone was defensive.
Nell could think of lots of reasons why Pete might want to come up into Angie's apartment, not the least of which was to simply sit and breathe in the smell of the young woman who was lost to him. Aloud, she said, "I think Izzy is right--someone must have been up here in the past day or so, and the kitten slipped through the open door without being noticed. When that person left, she was left behind."
"Gideon?" Cass asked. "He may have felt it was his security-man duty to check it out. And I'm sure he knows a way to get past locked doors."
Izzy shook her head. "We outlined his duties clearly, what he should and shouldn't do. And the apartment was off-limits, even from his flashlight. I didn't want him scaring Angie in the middle of the night."
Nell bit down on her bottom lip. Sea Harbor was a small town. And everyone knew the apartment belonged to Izzy. And everyone also knew that Angie lived there, and that she'd died.
Cass cupped the kitten's face in her hand. "This looks like one of the kittens Harry Garozzo had in his deli. He had a basketful that he was trying to give away. Maybe she wandered off."
"When was that, Cass?" Nell asked.
"Monday, Tuesday, maybe? It happens every spring and summer, Harry said. People leave them at his back door. I guess word has spread that the big, goofy Italian has a soft spot for finding kittens good homes. It could easily have strayed up here."
"But the more mysterious part is how it got inside." When Nell looked around the apartment again, she saw things she hadn't
Through the arched doorway leading to the sleeping area, Nell could see Angie's bed, made up neatly with colorful silk pillows lined up against the headboard. A book sat on the night table, and alongside it, a bottle of water, as if any minute, Angie would walk in from the bathroom, slip beneath the cool white sheets, and read herself to sleep. Beyond the bed, a closet door was slightly ajar, and Nell could see shoes lined up neatly on the floor and some outfits hanging side by side on the rack above them. Only the shelf above the clothes rack was in disarray, with boxes pulled out as if Angie had been in a hurry the last time she looked for a bag or a pair of shoes. The tops of several boxes had fallen to the floor and tissue paper cluttered the shelf.
There were certainly places for the kitten to hide--but it was so friendly, it seemed unlikely that the lure of people wouldn't have drawn it out from some secret spot. It hadn't been a bit timid when three women rushed in on it today.
"If Angie had a cat, there'd be food," Nell said abruptly, pushing aside the discomforting thoughts and walking into the kitchen. Angie having a kitten no one knew about was a far better option than finding another explanation for how the kitten got into the apartment.
The galley kitchen--with a small refrigerator, two-burner stove, and butcher-block counter--was built into the small alcove at the end of the sitting area. Nell opened the cupboard just above the sink, but it was nearly empty. A couple cans of soup, some granola bars, but nothing that would feed the kitten. The refrigerator held two cups of yogurt and an apple.
"Izzy, you're right," Nell said, a sense of unease taking root. "There's nothing that says a kitten has been hiding here. If this kitten had been alone since last Thursday, there'd certainly be tell-tale stains and odors."
"So someone has been up here since the police were here," Izzy said, putting words to Cass's and Nell's thoughts. She held the kitten close.
"And the kitten slipped in when someone opened the door," Cass said.
"Angie and I had the only keys," Izzy said.
"Would she have given a key to someone else?" Nell asked.
"I don't think Pete had one," Cass said. "And even if he did, why would he have come up here after she died?" Her tone was defensive.
Nell could think of lots of reasons why Pete might want to come up into Angie's apartment, not the least of which was to simply sit and breathe in the smell of the young woman who was lost to him. Aloud, she said, "I think Izzy is right--someone must have been up here in the past day or so, and the kitten slipped through the open door without being noticed. When that person left, she was left behind."
"Gideon?" Cass asked. "He may have felt it was his security-man duty to check it out. And I'm sure he knows a way to get past locked doors."
Izzy shook her head. "We outlined his duties clearly, what he should and shouldn't do. And the apartment was off-limits, even from his flashlight. I didn't want him scaring Angie in the middle of the night."
Nell bit down on her bottom lip. Sea Harbor was a small town. And everyone knew the apartment belonged to Izzy. And everyone also knew that Angie lived there, and that she'd died.
Cass cupped the kitten's face in her hand. "This looks like one of the kittens Harry Garozzo had in his deli. He had a basketful that he was trying to give away. Maybe she wandered off."
"When was that, Cass?" Nell asked.
"Monday, Tuesday, maybe? It happens every spring and summer, Harry said. People leave them at his back door. I guess word has spread that the big, goofy Italian has a soft spot for finding kittens good homes. It could easily have strayed up here."
"But the more mysterious part is how it got inside." When Nell looked around the apartment again, she saw things she hadn't
Similar Books
