Chase shuddered and returned to the Bar None booth. It was so pleasant and cheerful compared to Harper’s. Mainly because Anna Larson was there and not that awful Harper. She had to let Detective Olson know that the man had important information. She started out of the booth.
“Chase, where are you going?” Anna was finishing up a transaction with a customer who was buying three boxes of Peanut Butter Fudge Bars. “We have to get Quincy ready.”
“Did you hear our conversation just now?”
“What conversation? Come on and help me. We have to get packed up.”
“With the toymaker.”
“No, but we’d better hurry or we’re going to be late.”
Chase didn’t want to take the time to explain. She snagged a Lemon Bar as Anna was beginning to seal the last box.
“You go get Quincy started,” Anna urged. “I’ll take this stuff to the car, then come back and help you.”
“Okay. Be careful.” She gave Anna a quick smooch on her weathered cheek and dashed to the big building. Maybe she’d meet up with Detective Olson somewhere. Maybe he was still with the body. She knew she couldn’t go back there without getting scolded. How long would he be there? Would he come to the contest arena when he finished? Surely, if the woman had been murdered, his best suspects would be there. They would need to detain people, question everyone. She had to find him soon.
Hurrying past the open doors to the large exhibition room, she saw that workers were getting ready for the Fancy Cat Contest in one half of the room. The dog agility trials were still going on in the other half. A ring made of metal supports and sturdy canvas was being set up for the cat show, with three-tier risers flanking it on one side for the judges and spectators. The canvas was printed with cats’ paws in pastel colors. This was supposed to prevent the cats from escaping, but they hadn’t met Quincy yet.
So many people milled about that she couldn’t tell if Olson was there or not. Two policemen stood guard near the door, but neither was Olson. She looked for Inger, too, but didn’t spot her. She didn’t know where else to look for the detective. Surely she’d run into him soon.
Going on, she opened the door to the vet’s office. Betsy, the receptionist, was alone in the outer room.
“I came to get my cat for the show.”
“Everyone else has already gotten theirs. Go ahead.” She waved Chase into the inner room.
Mike wasn’t there. Chase stuck her head out and asked where he was.
The woman shrugged. “He went off with some man. Something about a pet collar. Didn’t say when he’d be back. I might leave in a couple of minutes.”
Chase wondered why he had left. Maybe someone needed help with a pet in the show ring. The dog agility test was finishing up. There may have been some other shows in other corners of the cavernous room, too. Quincy’s Babe the Blue Ox costume was in a bag beneath the cage. The black cat, Shadow, was gone, probably being prepared for the show. Maybe even already dressed. It was still early, though. There was over an hour before the contest was due to start. She hoped Quincy would cooperate and make this relatively easy. She could envision taking an hour to get him costumed.
However, he cooperated fully when she did a test run. He seemed to enjoy the blue jacket she slipped onto him. He wouldn’t tolerate the horns that strapped around his head, though. She tucked them back into the bag. It would be easy enough to put them on at the last minute.
She lifted him into his carrier and picked up the costume bag. Incredibly, his little jacket stayed on.
Anna burst into the room. “Oh, good. You’re ready. Some of the other cats are already beginning to line up.” She grabbed the carryall and headed out the door.
“Really?” Chase followed her into the reception room, then stopped.
“A pet collar,” she said, slowly. “Mike left with someone who was talking about a pet collar.” Betsy had left already. Was there nothing that needed to be locked up here? Surely there were some animal medications. Maybe people didn’t steal those. Or maybe Betsy was as flaky as her daughter.
“I’m sure we’ll see him there,” Anna said. “Come on.”
Chase couldn’t help but think about the missing cat collar. Maybe Mike was finally finding out what had happened and where it was.
TWENTY-SIX
Chase was lost in thought on the way to the contest. Entirely too much was going on and she hardly understood any of it. She was sure that the Bunyan County Fair had never seen two murders back-to-back like this. More police personnel gathered in the midway.
When she and Anna got there, Mike wasn’t in the exhibition room. Chase was starting to get anxious about him. She knew he wanted to see the Fancy Cats.
Anna found the stand with Quincy’s name on it and set the bag containing the rest of his costume on the ground next to it while Chase put Quincy, in his carrier, on the top.
Ivan Aronoff, Chase knew, felt that his son had been done a grave injustice and was angry at the Picky Puss company. He had fixated on the diamond collar as a symbol of that injustice, it seemed. The company hadn’t done right by his son. He had made that abundantly clear. He also seemed a bit unhinged, in Chase’s opinion. Dangerous? She didn’t know. But if the man thought Mike had his treasure, and if Mike had left with the man, Mike could be in danger. Where were they?
She saw Peter, Ivan’s good-looking son, right away, but there was no sign of his father. Where was he?
Ingrid stood not far from Peter on the other side of the room. Chase waved, and Ingrid waved back. Chase wondered where she’d been all day. Ingrid turned and climbed into the bleachers.
“Earth to Chase.” Anna waved her hand up and down in front of Chase’s face. She had gotten Quincy out and held him, still wearing his little blue jacket. “Isn’t he cute? Take his picture.”
“Wait a sec.” Chase patted her jeans pocket, feeling for her phone. She wanted a picture of Quincy as well as some of the other cats with their costumes. Her cell was gone. “Where’s my phone?”
“Ah. I believe it’s in the booth,” Anna said. “I laid it down to wait on the travel agent. You were showing me a text, remember?”
Chase ran to the booth, now full of their boxes. Her cell phone sat on the table, the lone item there. At least no one had taken it. She thumbed it to see if she’d gotten any more cryptic messages from Mike. Two more from Tanner. They were dropping off in frequency. But none from Mike. She ran back and looked around the exhibit space.
“Mike still isn’t here.” She was getting a bad feeling in her stomach. She twisted a few strands of her hair frantically. She flipped through the pictures she had taken in the butter building.
“Oh dear.” Anna’s mouth dropped open. “I just realized. That text? He’s in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was sending you an SOS.”
Of course! That’s what it meant. Chase’s mouth dropped open, too. “You’re right. Mike is in trouble. But I don’t know where he is.”
Detective Olson entered the exhibition room and headed toward the bleachers. She wondered if he was there to see the contest. Or to take another look at some suspects? She knew she needed to tell him to talk to the toymaker and to do something about Mike. There seemed to be time right now. Cat owners were still trickling in.
Something clicked. Those pictures on her phone. She glanced through them.
“I have to show a picture to Niles,” Chase said. She caught him before he reached a seat.
“Detective,” she said. “Niles?”
“What?” It sounded like he meant, Not now.
“I think Michael Ramos is in trouble.”
The detective stopped and listened.
“He texted me ‘SOS’ a couple of times and he’s supposed to be here. I have no idea where he is, but . . .”