Julia sat down suddenly on the carpeted step that ran the length of the bookmobile. I gripped my upper arms, holding myself tight. “You mean . . .”

He nodded. “A dead body. No identification, which is kind of strange. And you want to know what’s even stranger? The hikers were on a footpath, but right next to her, they found a bicycle.”

*   *   *

The rest of that day and all of Sunday, I thought about the poor woman who’d died out in the state forest. From the limited information Abe had given us—which of course was questionable since it was at least secondhand, and maybe third or fourth—it sounded as if the hikers had first seen the bike propped up against a tree, and the woman next to it, her back to the tree trunk, eyes closed as if she were sleeping.

“Like she’d reached her limit,” he’d said, “sat down to rest, and never got up again.”

It sounded a little Rip Van Winkle–ish, but with a worse ending. Abe had also said the hikers had guessed the woman’s age as around sixty, so everyone’s assumption was a heart attack.

“Women get heart attacks, too,” I told Eddie on Monday morning. “They’re harder to detect, though, from what I’ve read.”

Eddie looked remarkably unconcerned about my health. He was perched atop his carrier and glaring at me. “Mrr!”

“Sorry, buddy. Yes, it’s a bookmobile day, but only for the morning. I have to be in the library this afternoon and I won’t have time to drop you off down here.”

“Mrr!”

“I know, I’m the worst Cat Mom ever and I’m not your real mom anyway, am I, and I have no doubt you’ll make me pay for abandoning you like this, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

Babbling away, I slipped out the door before Eddie made his move. It was a small victory and a hollow one, because as I walked down the dock, I saw Eddie jump on the kitchen counter, where he knew he wasn’t allowed, and continue his glaring.

I stopped, opened my mouth to scold him, but gave up the effort before I started. I’d lived with Eddie long enough to know that The Cat Always Wins, especially if that cat was Eddie.

Four hours later, my new helper was stumbling out of the bookmobile and into the library’s parking lot, white-faced and groaning, her hands held to her tummy. “How do you do it?” Holly moaned. “Day after day, riding around in that thing, I can’t believe you’re still alive.” She sat on a handy rock and leaned forward, putting her head in her hands.

I crouched next to her. “Holly, I am so sorry. Can I get you anything? Water? Crackers?”