The hearse pulled up and the dark-suited pallbearers from Stilton’s Funeral parlor slid out the casket and carried it to the grave. I half expected to see Lavinia’s ghost sitting on top of it, but apparently she had better things to do than attend her own funeral.

Pastor Foley appeared at the head of the grave and started talking about Lavinia. I stood off to the side, trying to gauge people’s reactions. If the killer were here, would they do something that gave them away?

Most everyone had his or her head bent in prayer. I caught the eye of Bing, standing off to the side next to Cordelia, Hattie and Josiah. Apparently, Bing had recovered enough to attend the service. He nodded and bent his head, staring at his hands that were clasped in front of him. I took note of the large trench coat he wore—in tan, not navy blue.

Movement further up the hill caught my attention. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I saw something scurry between gravestones.

A small, furry animal ran out from the woods, making a beeline for one of the large monuments.

I watched in fascination as more furry figures came out of the woods, darting behind gravestones and making their way closer. About fifty feet away they stopped, and I saw the head of a cat peek over the top of one of the stones. I recognized it as the large feral cat Pandora had the run-in with behind the library. Beside it, a tiny face peered around the edge of the stone—the small kitten with the torn-up ear.

The cats were playing in the graveyard, watching us warily, almost as if they were attendees at the funeral.

Pastor Foley rambled on and I noticed Augusta and Striker had pulled up in Augusta’s black pickup. They got out quietly and stood on the other side of the street.

Striker’s eyes scanned the crowd, much like I had been doing and probably for the same reason. My heart jerked when his eyes met mine and then narrowed in suspicion before he nodded slightly and continued scanning.

I tried to keep my attention on the crowd, looking for anything suspicious, but my eyes kept sliding over to Striker, who I almost didn’t recognize in his dark suit. He towered over Augusta, who looked like a midget standing beside him in her black pantsuit. I guess they didn’t want to scare off the crowd by wearing police garb.

Foley finished his eulogy and the crowd started to disperse. Bing turned and made a beeline for his truck. The cats scampered into the woods. I raced over to tell Augusta about Ophelia’s cape and find out why both sheriffs were here before they drove off.

On my way over, I noticed that Ophelia had been conspicuously absent from the service.