“Mine!”

“No, mine!”

Katie and Sophie were standing in the living room, their faces pushed together. They were each holding one arm of a teddy bear I’d never seen before, they were yelling at the top of their lungs.

“Girls,” I said helplessly. “How about taking turns?” I had no idea which one of them might be the real owner.

“It’s mine,” confided Margaret, coming up behind me. “I mean, it was mine when I was a baby. I just found it at the bottom of my toy box. They think it’s a new toy, and they both want it.”

“Mine!” said Sophie.

“Mine!” shrieked Katie.

I sighed. “I think it’s time to put Teddy away for a while,” I said, as I gently pried it loose from their fingers. Sometimes that’s the only solution in cases like these. At least, it’s Step One of the solution.

Sophie’s jaw dropped. “Hey —” she said.

Katie’s eyes grew round. She opened her mouth wide, as if she were getting ready to scream. It was time for Step Two of the solution I was using. Guess what Step Two is. Right. Distraction.

“Hey, let’s go visit Ghost Cat, okay?” I said. I started off in the direction of the laundry room, hoping the girls would follow me. I turned to check. Katie was still standing there, trying to decide whether or not to have a tantrum.

“It’s his last day here, you know,” I added. Katie closed her mouth and started to trot after me.

“Dost tat!” she said.

“His name’s Rasputin,” said Margaret. “That’s what the man said, right?” she asked me.

“Right,” I said. “Funny name for a cat, isn’t it?”

“I guess. But we really couldn’t have called him Ghost Cat anymore anyway. Dawn proved that he isn’t a ghost.”

“That’s true,” I said. And it was true. Dawn’s tests had been pretty foolproof. But something funny was still going on at the Craines’, something that made me feel that the Ghost Cat mystery wasn’t over quite yet.

“Hi, Rasputin,” said Margaret, opening the laundry room door. “Hi, kitty!”

The white cat jumped down from the dryer and rubbed himself against Margaret’s legs.

“Wow,” I said. “He’s gotten friendlier, hasn’t he?”

“He started doing that as soon as I called him by his right name,” said Margaret. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Hi, tat,” said Katie, bending to pat him.

“Mine!” said Sophie. She seemed to be in a very possessive mood that day.

“No, Sophie,” I said. “He’s not yours, or Katie’s, or Margaret’s. He belongs to someone else, and he’s coming to get him today.”

Sophie looked like she was about to cry. “I want Rasputin to stay,” she said.

“I know,” I replied. “But his owner loves him and he wants him back.” I wished I could tell Sophie what I had found out the day before when Mrs. Craine called during our meeting. She told me that Mr. Craine would be coming home in time to be there when the man showed up at five-thirty to pick up his cat. But she’d also told me that, since the girls seemed to love the cat so much, she and Mr. Craine were thinking about getting them their very own cat.

If only I could have told Sophie! I knew the news would cheer her up. But Mrs. Craine had asked me not to tell, not until she and Mr. Craine were sure about their decision.

“That was fun, doing those ghost tests with Dawn,” said Margaret, as she patted the cat.

“I know,” I said. “Hey! Let’s do some other tests on the cat, okay?” I wanted to make the girls forget that the cat would be gone by the end of the day. “Let’s see,” I said. “How about a cat I.Q. test?”

“What’s an I.Q. test?” asked Sophie. I’d caught her interest.

“It measures how smart you are,” I said. “Usually it’s for people, but we can make up one for a cat. What kinds of things do smart cats do?”

“Catch mice!” shouted Margaret.

“Come when you call them,” said Sophie.

“Tat!” yelled Katie.

“Okay,” I said. “So let’s make a test. Where’s that toy mouse your father brought home for the cat?”

Margaret ran to find it. “Here it is!” she said.

“All right, now, we’ll put the mouse behind this closet door,” I went on, “and time how long it takes the cat to find it. We’ll give him three chances.”

I hid the mouse, making sure the cat saw me do it, and then checked my watch. It only took him twenty seconds to “catch” the mouse! I hid it two more times. He had no trouble finding it.

“He’s fast!” said Sophie. “That means he has a lot of I.Q., right?”

I laughed. “Right. But let’s try the next test. We’ll go outside the door and call him by different names, to find out which one he answers to.”

Leaving the door open, I herded the girls outside the room. Then I started to call out all kinds of made-up names. “Um … Snowflake!” I called. “Chalky!” I was trying to think of names for white cats. “Pearl!”

I peeked around the door to look at the cat. The girls looked over my shoulder. He was just sitting there, washing his face with his paw.

“Let me try!” said Margaret. “Milky!” she cried. The cat didn’t move.

Sophie pushed her way to the front of our little crowd. “Ghost Cat?” she called cautiously. I wondered if he’d respond to that, but he didn’t.

Then it was Katie’s turn. “Jennifer!” she said, decisively.

We all cracked up. What a name for a cat! Especially a male cat. Of course, the cat didn’t answer to that one, either. It was time for the final test.

I said the name quietly. “Rasputin?”

He was out of that room like a shot, and he rubbed himself around my ankles, purring, until I bent to pick him up. “Boy, I guess you do know your name, don’t you?” I asked him. “You’re a pretty smart cat.”

“He’d have to be smart,” said Margaret, “to find his way into our attic the way he did.”

I agreed. “I wonder why he ran away from his owner in the first place?” I mused. “And why he came to your house?”

“Yeah,” said Margaret. “And why didn’t his owner come to get him right away?”

“Maybe the man doesn’t really want him,” said Sophie. “Then we can keep him.”

Uh-oh. “No, he definitely wants him back,” I said. “Your mom told me that he has called two more times. He didn’t say any more about who he was or where he lived, but he said he was coming to get the cat. Today.”

Sophie stuck her lower lip out.

“How about if we give the cat one last meal while he’s living here?” I asked quickly. “We’ll give him something special, so he’ll remember us.” I led the way into the kitchen.

Margaret burrowed into one of the cabinets and came up with a jar of olives. “These are a special kind,” she said. “My dad loves them.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think the cat would appreciate them,” I said.

Sophie pulled out a box of Alpha-Bits cereal. “My favorite,” she said. “Let’s give him a bowlful.”

“Well, he might like the milk we put on them, but I don’t really think he’d eat those little ABC’s,” I said. “You should save them for yourself.”

I pulled the milk out of the fridge and poured some in a small bowl. I also found a half-empty can of tuna, and somehow didn’t think Mrs. Craine would mind if I gave it to the cat. I put the food down on the floor in the spot where he always ate, and called the cat. “Rasputin!” I called. “Come, kittykittykitty!”

Rasputin trotted in, heading straight for the tuna. As soon as he’d finished it, he turned to the milk and lapped that up.

“He really loves it,” said Margaret. “I wonder what his owner usually feeds him.”

“Well, probably nothing this special all the time,” I said. “But I hope he gets a treat once in a while.”

“I would give him milk every single day if he lived with us,” said Sophie wistfully. She gazed at the cat. “Look! It’s on his whiskers, and he’s licking it off.”

Rasputin finished off the milk, shook himself, and sat down to wash his face. The girls watched his every move. The kitchen was silent — and then I heard it. A meowing noise! It was coming from upstairs. I almost jumped out of my seat, but the girls didn’t seem to notice the sound. I held my breath and listened. Maybe I’d been thinking about this Ghost Cat business too much.

Then I heard the noise again. This time I got up and walked toward the stairs, trying to pin down exactly where the noise was coming from. The girls, engrossed in watching Rasputin wash himself, ignored me completely. I listened again. The sound was coming from the attic.

I went back to the kitchen and sat down to think. How could I hear meowing from the attic when Rasputin was sitting right in front of me? It didn’t seem likely that another cat had found its way up there, and anyway, we’d looked around up there so many times we would have seen it if it had. I thought about lonely old Kennedy Graham. I thought about his little white cat named Tinker. The cat that died and left him all alone. Could the ghost of Tinker be here, looking for its master?

I was really getting spooked.

Luckily, Mr. Craine came home before the girls noticed anything. “Hi, Mallory,” he said, tossing his coat onto a chair. “I hope I’m on time.”

“Daddy!” yelled all three girls at once. They scrambled to be the first on his lap.

“You’re right on time,” I said. “Rasputin’s owner is due any minute.” I glanced at the clock over the stove. It said five twenty-five.

“Guess what? We tested Rasputin’s Q.I.!” said Sophie. “And he has a lot of it, too.”

Mr. Craine looked confused.

“She means I.Q.,” explained Margaret. “We gave him a cat I.Q. test, and he did really well.”

“He did, did he?” asked Mr. Craine, raising his eyebrows at me and trying to hide his smile. “I always knew he was an especially smart cat.”

“Muk!” cried Katie.

“Milk?” asked Mr. Craine. “You want some milk?” He started to get up.

“No,” said Katie. “Tat!”

“She’s trying to tell you we gave the cat some milk,” I explained. “For his last meal. I hope that was okay.”

“Oh, sure,” said Mr. Craine. “We want him to remember us, don’t we?”

“That’s what Mallory said,” said Margaret.

Just then, the doorbell rang. “That must be him,” I said. “Rasputin’s owner.”

Mr. Craine answered the door, and the girls and I followed him. I guess I should have left as soon as Mr. Craine came home, but I was dying to see what this mystery man looked like.

Mr. Craine opened the door. I took one look at the man standing there and felt like I was going to pass out. “Oh, my lord!” I said, under my breath.

Margaret tugged at my hand. “He looks just like the man in the picture,” she whispered to me.

She was right. This man was the spitting image of Kennedy Graham! Same white hair and rugged face. He even had a little scar under his eye, in exactly the same place as the man in the picture!

I’m sure my mouth was hanging open. I must have looked like an idiot. But Mr. Craine didn’t seem to notice. He’d invited the man in, and the man had refused his offer, so now Mr. Craine asked me to get the cat.

I ran to find Rasputin, and when I did, I carried him gently to the front door and put him into the man’s arms. “Thank you,” said the stranger. He handed me something. “And thank you, little girls, for taking such good care of my cat,” he added, handing something to each girl. Then he put Rasputin into the carrying case he’d brought, said good-bye, and left.

I looked down at my hand and saw a five-dollar bill. Margaret held up another one, and Sophie and Katie examined theirs. “Wow!” I said, getting my breath back. “He sure was generous!”

“He was,” said Mr. Craine. “And that reminds me, I’ve still got to pay you.” He headed back to the kitchen to find his wallet.

The girls and I looked at each other. “Who was that?” asked Sophie.

“I think he was a ghost!” said Margaret. “I think the cat and the man are both ghosts.”

You know what? I couldn’t argue with her. But I didn’t want to scare her, either. “Well,” I said, “the main thing is that Rasputin seemed happy to see him. I think they belong together. The Ghost Cat mystery is over.”

I sounded sure of myself. But I wasn’t. Not at all.