Let me tell you something. Those hazmat suits or whatever they call them? Not meant for slipping on over a cocktail dress. But I finally wrestled myself into the thing, and the five of us—Deputy Ramirez joined the two detectives—headed onto the porch.

Detective Bae stopped us at the door and turned to me. “So the house was dark when you arrived. What did you do then?”

“Since I know where Ava keeps—kept her key, we decided to drop the kit inside. I’ve done the same before.”

“’She made a habit of forgetting her kit?”

“Not the kit, but other things. Supplies or tools that she asked me to pick up for her.”

“How many times would you say you’ve been here?”

I gnawed on my lip. “Maybe… a dozen?”

Bae turned to PJ. “What about you?”

PJ blinked. “Me? I’ve never been here before. Ava was Tash’s probl—er, friend.”

Bae made a noncommittal sound. “To your knowledge, Ms. Van Buren, did anyone else know where she kept the house key?”

“Well, her daughter, of course. Probably the rest of the scrapbooking circle, since she told me about it in the middle of a session. There could be more, of course. I didn’t know any of her other friends.”

“Assuming she had any,” PJ muttered.

Bae shot PJ a sharp glance. “Could you point out where you found the key?”

“Up there.” I pointed to the jutting trim. “But we didn’t need to use it. The door was ajar.”

“Did you find that odd?”

“Not really. Ava wasn’t particularly good at closing doors.”

“She expected other people to do it for her,” PJ said.

Bae fixed PJ with a bland stare. “People such as you?”

“People such as anybody. She wasn’t picky, as long as she didn’t have to do it herself.”

Bae’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t respond. I tried to give PJ a wordless TMI warning. It seemed to work, because he clamped his lips shut and suddenly got very interested in the hydrangeas.

Huber gestured to the open door. “So you noticed the door was ajar. Then what?”

“I pushed it open and called for Ava, but there was no answer. So we went inside.”

“Why not just set the kit inside and leave?”

PJ snorted although he was still communing with the bushes.

“Do you have something to add, Mr. Purdy?” Huber asked.

He quickly tucked his boa inside his hazmat suit. “Not a thing.”

“What PJ means,” I said quickly, “is that Ava had definite ideas about where her craft supplies should live, and that didn’t include inside her front door. Since we were already there, dropping it in her craft room made the most sense.”

PJ nodded sagely. “It was self-defense.”

Bae’s attention sharpened. “Self-defense?”

“If we left the silly thing for her to carry upstairs herself, Tash would never have heard the end of it.”

I glared at PJ. He’d been beside himself to think we were suspects, but now he seemed determined to make us sound as suspicious as possible. “Anyway, we decided to take the kit to the craft room. When we got upstairs—”

“Oh. Oh!” PJ shook his boa, and the fluff flew as usual. “Don’t forget the alien attack.”

Huber seemed mesmerized by a tiny feather caught on Bae’s left eyebrow, but she didn’t point it out. “Alien attack?”

“He means the cat. It raced downstairs as we were heading up and nearly knocked PJ tail over tin cup.”

“Please.” He sniffed. “My reflexes are excellent. I was totally in control.”

“Yes. Well.” Bae cleared his throat. “Mr. Purdy, I’d like you to stay down here with Deputy Ramirez. Ms. Van Buren, if you’ll follow me.”

It was probably just as well PJ wasn’t part of our little parade up the stairs, since he seemed to be bent on incriminating us. Huber touched my elbow before I mounted the first step.

“Be careful of the handrails. They’ve been dusted for fingerprints and you don’t want to get the residue on your gloves.”

I peered down at the banisters and I couldn’t help it—part of my brain went there and I thought If Ava sees that crap all over her house, she’s gonna die. So by the time I joined Bae outside the craft room door, I was sniffling a little.

The floor was dotted with those little numbered plastic tents, marking where the crime scene team had found some kind of evidence. So many. I tried not to look at the closet door.

“Ms. Van Buren.” Bae’s voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want his words to drift downstairs where PJ was apparently giving Deputy Ramirez fashion advice. “You and Mr. Purdy intended to visit the cocktail lounge this evening, correct?”

“Yes. Martini Blues. It’s one of our favorite places to decompress.”

“Why did you require, er, decompression?”

“Well, we’d had a stressful couple of days, and I have to admit that Ava was part of that stress.” I told them about the craft show and the class. “So we were more than ready for a little reward.”

“Did you get ready for your outing at the same time and place?”

“No. I had the scrapbooking meet-up, so I took my outfit with me and changed in the store’s restroom. When PJ came to meet me, he was already dressed for the club.”

“Including the, er, unusual neckwear?” Huber’s gaze flicked to that errant feather and coughed into her hand. Bae frowned at her, which made the feather flutter.

“Yes. He bought it at the show on Saturday. He’s quite fond of it.”

“Helloooo?” PJ called from downstairs. “Do you need me to come up there yet?”

“No.” Bae’s voice cracked, making the word come out in an odd couple of syllables. He cleared his throat. “No. You’re fine, er, I mean, you can stay where you are.” He caught Huber’s gaze. “What?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. “Tash, could you point out the item that you and Mr. Purdy brought into the house?”

“Yes. That bag next to the closet.” I pointed at the kit, then peered at it more closely. “Wait a moment. I think that might be mine.”

“You brought your own possessions into Ms. Cornell’s home?” Bae had recovered his granite-faced composure.

“Not on purpose. My bag and Ava’s are identical. She purchased hers because she liked mine. I’ve had mine longer, but hers has a little splotch there near the handle”—I pointed—“from when Ava dropped a brush loaded with acrylic paint, then promptly blamed me for the accident.” I rolled my eyes. Ava had claimed I bumped her, but in truth she was so busy critiquing poor Nikki, instead of minding her own project, that she’d missed the table. “PJ must have grabbed the wrong one.”

“Hmmm.” Bae threaded his way through the evidence markers and hunkered down next to the kit. “Can you describe what’s in it?”

Let’s see…” I pictured the contents in my mind and counted off on my fingers. “My favorite paper-cutting scissors, another pair for cutting ribbon, various adhesives, cosmetic sponges for blending, paint brushes, Copic markers, alcohol inks, a work station mat, acid free pens for journaling, a ruler—” Oops. Ran out of fingers. I dropped my hands to my sides. “A paper cutter, an Exacto knife, tweezers, a cloth to wipe fingerprints off of photographs, an apron… You know, just the basics.”

Bae blinked, his eyes a bit glassy. “All that is, er, basic?”

“Of course. Oh! There’s a stitched label with my name and address on the back pocket. I got those fabric labels made for next to nothing to hand-sew on all my bags and aprons.”

Bae checked the pocket and nodded sharply. “Yes, it’s yours.”

I held out my hand. “Could I have it back, please?”

“I’m sorry.” He stood up. “We’ll have to keep this as evidence for the time being.”

“But it wasn’t even here when Ava— When she—” I swallowed, my stomach suddenly turning over. When Ava died.

Huber gripped my elbow as I wobbled. “Doing all right?” I pressed one gloved hand to my mouth and nodded. “Once the investigation is over, we’ll be sure you get it back.”

“Thank you,” I croaked.

Bae dodged a small mound of glitter and crushed crystals on his way over to us. “That will be all for now. The two of you are free to go. We’ll be in touch if we need anything further.”

I tottered down the stairs with Huber at my heels. PJ rushed over to me once I made it to the bottom. “Tash, sweetie, are you okay?”

“Mostly. But I don’t think I can face cocktails tonight.”

“God, me neither. But I could definitely use a stiff drink.”

“Likewise. And I do have a bottle of gin, tonic, and some limes at my apartment.”

He made grabby hands. “Take me to it.”

“You’ll have to leave the boa in your car, though. I don’t want teal feathers all over my apartment.”

He lifted his chin with a pretty good approximation of his usual attitude, but he was still paler than normal. “Really, LaTashia. You above anyone should be willing to sacrifice convenience for style. But I shall bear up manfully under the adversity. What should we— Ack!” PJ staggered back as the cat shot across his blue booties. “Drat that animal. It’s going to kill me.” Pink suffused his face, and he glanced at Huber, who was still standing at the foot of the stairs with her poker face firmly in place. “Not in a, you know, fatal way. I mean, I’m sure the cat isn’t homicidal, at least no more than most cats, although considering she belonged to Ava—” He covered his face with both hands. “I’ll just stop talking now, shall I?”

“You can try,” I said, but knowing PJ as I did, I considered it highly unlikely.

Sure enough, he dropped his hands and whirled to where the cat had taken up the same spot on the table. “Oh my god, Tash. The cat. We can’t just abandon it here. It’ll die.”

I patted PJ’s back. “Maybe Ava’s daughter will want it.”

“But she’s not here now. I’m sure the cat has needs. We can’t leave it in the house where its kitty-mama… well… you know.”

I cut a glance at the staircase where Bae had finally made an appearance—with the feather still stuck to his eyebrow. I wasn’t sure how aware cats were of human mortality, but PJ was right—it would be cruel to leave it here with no caretaker.

Bae cleared his throat again, something he seemed to do a lot. “We’ll contact animal control. They’ll take it into custody.”

“Custody?” PJ’s indignant tone held a hint of outrage. “You’re arresting her?”

“Of course not. But we don’t know when the house will be released as a crime scene. We can’t risk the cat compromising the evidence, and as you pointed out—”

“Evidence?” PJ’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all you’re worried about? She’s a living, breathing—”

“I was about to say,” Bae cut in with a glare, “that we don’t want it to suffer for lack of care.”

“Well.” PJ crossed his arms. “All right then. But you are not allowed to arrest her.”

“Animal control isn’t—”

“It’s okay,” I said, before PJ and Bae could get into a wrestling match over appropriate cat husbandry. “The executive director of the local cat foster care organization belongs to my mixed media and collage meet-up. I can give her a call.”

PJ rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” He leaned over and whispered to Huber out of the corner of his mouth. “Tash is like the Kevin Bacon of Portland crafting.”