“I said, where’s Sophie?”

Betsy felt a sudden chill. The cat!

“Did she follow us down to the shop?” inquired Jill.

Betsy shook her head. “I haven’t seen her for a long time. Days. Since ... since that night. Since Margot.”

“What?” Jill was staring at her.

“I forgot all about her. I’m sorry, but it’s true, I haven’t seen her since I left that evening to pick you up.” She felt stricken.

Jill seemed about to say something, changed her mind, and said instead, “This is very ... odd. You know how she is when it gets to be suppertime and there’s nothing in her dish.”

“Indeed, yes. But maybe—does she go off by herself?”

“No, never. I wonder if—no, if she had somehow gotten locked in the shop, she would have come out as soon as we came down there, crying over being left so long.” Jill, frowning, began opening floor-level cabinets and looking inside. “Maybe she’s scared and hiding because Margot hasn’t come home. Have you heard a cat crying?”

“No. I would have been reminded if I heard her, and gone looking.”

“Yes, of course you would. Well, this is really strange.” Jill closed the last cabinet door, and puffed her cheeks then released the air slowly. “It’s darned odd, in fact.”

“Maybe she is down there, in the store,” Betsy said. “Maybe she got kicked or stepped on or—something.”

They hurried down the stairs and through the back hall into the shop. A thorough search proved fruitless.

“Well, I’ll be dipped,” said Jill.

“Whatever could have happened to her?” Betsy, shying away from worry over Sophie’s fate, began instead to consider this as a piece of the greater puzzle. “She was here Wednesday. Margot was out all day, she went to the museum and then somewhere else, she didn’t get home until after we closed up, and then she was in a hurry to get changed to go do her presentation at City Hall. So that day I fed Sophie both her breakfast and her supper. I remember Sophie followed me downstairs to the shop in the morning, and came back up with me at lunchtime, hoping for a snack. Which I was told I shouldn’t give her, so I didn’t. And she came up with me again when the shop closed at five, and I fed her supper.”

“And she was in the apartment when you left?”

“Yes, she followed me to the door as I was leaving for your place. Margot was still there.” Betsy stooped to pick up the sorted clusters of wool and put them on the table. “Jill, do you know if Margot actually went to City Hall?”

“Yes, that was checked. The council meeting started around seven-fifteen and broke up a little after nine-fifteen. Some members stood around talking with her for half an hour or so, and then Mayor Jamison offered her a ride home; but it had stopped raining and she said she wanted to walk.” Jill went to the white dresser and began carefully lifting out painted canvases, shaking her head over the ones badly bent by being caught in a drawer.