I rolled my eyes. “What are you trying to say, that I was hallucinating?”
“Dixie, you have to admit, none of this makes sense. And there’s nothing missing.”
I said, “What do you mean, there’s nothing missing?”
“Look around. There’s expensive artwork all over this place and none of it’s been touched. There’s even a jewelry box in the master bedroom full of stuff that no criminal in his right mind would leave behind. I’m sorry, but this just doesn’t look like a burglary.”
“Then how do you explain what happened to me?”
He paused for a moment. “Dixie, how were you feeling before you got here?”
“Huh?”
“You know, how were you feeling? Like, light-headed or dizzy or anything?”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Seriously. You think I fainted?”
“Well, don’t take this personally, but you don’t look too good.”
I raised my finger and wagged it in his face. “Really? You wouldn’t look too good, either, if you’d been knocked out cold and left for dead!”
“Listen, I’m just saying it’s a possibility, that’s all. If you blacked out, that might explain all the, uh … visions.”
“Visions…”
“The fat lady and the red toes and the candles and everything. Maybe you hit your head when you went down.”
I nodded. “So you’re saying the whole thing was a dream.”
“Yeah. Basically.”
I sighed. There was no point arguing with him, and also I had to admit he was right: none of it made any sense.
He came over and gave me a little pat on the shoulder. “Look, if it’ll make you feel better, we can go through the house one more time and look for anything missing, and I can always check for fingerprints.”
“Wait!” I put both hands up like I was stopping traffic. “Barney Feldman!”
Morgan shot Beane a worried look. “Barney Feldman?”
I rushed over to the folding doors and looked outside. “Yeah. The Kellers’ cat. He’s spoiled rotten but if there’s an open door he’ll go busting out like an escapee from a torture chamber. I guarantee you, if these doors were open at any point, he’ll be outside hunting around in the garden and then we’ll know I didn’t make this whole thing up.”
As I ran into the kitchen I heard Morgan say, “What ever happened to names like Whiskers and Tommy?”
I got down on my hands and knees and peered under the cupboard. “Barney?”
All I could see were a few cat hairs and the stubby eraser end of a pencil, so I rushed back into the living room and checked under the couch and both armchairs, but he wasn’t there, either. Morgan and Beane were still standing right where I’d left them, watching me like I was some kind of lunatic.
I said, “Hello? A little help?”
They followed me through the living room, and as soon as I turned the corner down the hallway I saw a flash of something under the antique credenza. I stopped about a foot from its edge, and sure enough a single black paw took a couple of swipes at the tips of my toes. I knelt down and held out one hand like a peace offering, and Barney came squeezing out from under the credenza, as sweet as can be and purring like an electric razor.
Deputy Beane adjusted her belt and said, “Well, mystery solved.”
I stood up and leaned over the credenza while Barney rubbed up against my shins. Maybe Morgan was right, maybe the whole thing was a dream. I must have looked like I was about to burst into tears, because Beane started rocking on her heels while she tried to think of the right thing to say.
Morgan said, “Listen, Dixie, people faint all the time. It happens to the best of us, right?” He looked over at Beane for support, but she just widened her eyes and shook her head slightly. He frowned. “Okay, maybe not Beane here, but it’s definitely happened to me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. You’ve never fainted in your life.”
He glanced down and mumbled, “When my wife was giving birth, she was in labor for sixteen hours. I went down about hour nine.”
“Okay, but that’s not exactly the same thing.”
He shook his head. “Look, the point is it’s no big deal. You came in, you saw all these creepy masks everywhere, you got a little woozy, and then, bam, you hit your—”
“Ha!”
I cut him off. Something about the way he said “creepy masks” had loosened something in the back of my mind. I clapped my hands together triumphantly. “Dick Cheney!”
He frowned. “Now we’re back on Dick Cheney?”
“Yes! I just realized, Mrs. Keller told me that mask cost her a small fortune. It’s rare, and it’s probably worth a hell of a lot more than anything she’s got in that jewelry box. I can’t explain the candles or the curtains or how the guy got in here yet, but I can tell you one thing for certain: I know exactly why he was wearing that mask—he stole it!”
I swooped Barney up in my arms and marched down the hall toward the front door with Morgan and Beane following close behind.
I said, “I guarantee you, with that mask and the right connections somebody could make a killing on the black market. Whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing.”
As I came to a stop in the foyer, my throat made a little squeak, kind of like the sound sneakers make on a hardwood floor. Morgan and Beane said in unison, “What?”
I pointed up at the wall just opposite the front door, directly at the spot where Dick Cheney had been hanging when I first came in.
He was still there.
5
I’ve always loved animals, but pet sitting just sort of fell in my lap. A friend had the cutest tomcat, Rudy, a tiger-striped fellow she’d found under an RV parked behind her apartment building, and she asked if I might be able to stay with him while she went on a business trip to San Francisco. It took my brother Michael about two days to talk me into it. The thought of leaving the house made me sick to my stomach, but I knew he wouldn’t give up, so I packed an overnight bag with the bare essentials—toothbrush, sunglasses, Prozac—and stayed with Rudy in a condo on the bay for five days.
I spent most of my time lying in a chaise lounge on the balcony, gazing out at the water and wondering what in the world I was going to do with the rest of my life, while Rudy stood squarely on my chest and gazed into my eyes, purring like a squeeze-box stuck on the same low, growly note. To this day, I’m completely convinced it was Rudy who planted the idea in my head of starting a pet sitting business. The thought of returning to law enforcement was about as attractive as a root canal, and I remember thinking at the time how much quieter and simpler life would be as a cat sitter.
It hasn’t really turned out that way.
As I rolled my bike down the Kellers’ driveway, I couldn’t stop shaking my head. I like to think I’m not a dainty, delicate flower susceptible to the occasional bout of swooning or case of vapors because of my dainty, delicate composition. I may not exactly look like an Amazonian warrior, but I’m no lightweight. I mean, I’m an ex–sheriff’s deputy, for God’s sake.
I don’t faint.
In fact, I couldn’t think of a single solitary time I’d even come close to fainting … well, except maybe once at church when I was about thirteen years old, but that doesn’t really count. I was in the throes of puberty, plus I’d eaten so many gingerbread cookies I think my body had gone into sugar shock. Still, when I turned south on Island Circle Road and made my way along the sandy edge of the neighbors’ yards, I wondered if maybe something like that hadn’t happened again.
Morgan and Beane had followed me through the whole house looking for any indication that there might have been a robbery, and they’d been right. There was nothing missing. And just like Morgan had said, Mrs. Keller’s jewelry box was sitting on top of her dresser, practically spilling over with what looked to me like some very expensive jewelry, including one ring with a ruby the size of a dimestore gumball. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure it was probably worth more than my entire earthly possessions put together.