Chapter 27

“I guess I never thought it was a real possibility,” Jaye said. She was sitting on the edge of one of the love seats wearing a dazed, deer-in-the-headlights expression. “I heard what you said and I read the lab results, but it’s still hard to believe.”

Daniel was sitting beside her holding the envelope that had brought them the extraordinary and troubling news. “Well, it’s not every day you find out that your new house pet is not like any known animal on Earth.”

Jaye looked across the room at the other love seat where Raffles had stretched out for her afternoon nap. “Where could she have come from?” she murmured. “How did she get here?” She turned to Daniel, anxiety rising in her voice. “Are you sure the guy who ran the tests won’t talk to anyone about it? I mean, if he’s on the up-and-up, he’d definitely have to report this to the FBI, CIA, NSA or some other alphabet soup agency. And if he’s a sleaze, he could make a bundle selling the story to one of the tabloids.”

Daniel shook his head. “Like I told you, he has friends in low places who can’t afford to be associated with someone making headlines or consorting with the government. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

“Okay. I guess it’s okay,” Jaye said, taking a deep breath and speaking slowly in an effort to slow down her heart rate. “Raffles might not be from here, but she’s certainly not a newcomer. Either she or one of her ancestors was around during your great-grandmother’s time.”

“It certainly seems that way.”

She glanced again at the lab report in her hand. “No known matches” was typed without boldface lettering, underscoring or exclamation points, as if it were an everyday finding. “When you got this, did you call the guy to see if he was absolutely sure about the results?”

“It’s the first thing I did, and he wasn’t any too happy to hear from me at his place of work. I apologized and swore it wouldn’t happen again. Then I asked him how confident he was about the report. He said, ‘One hundred percent,’ and hung up on me.”

“He never showed any interest in finding out more about the animal the sample was taken from? No curiosity at all?”

“None.”

“Don’t you find that a little peculiar?”

“I find it as disturbing as you do. But my sense of the guy is that money is his only interest. For now, I think we should be grateful for that. Otherwise, I suspect Miss Raffles over there wouldn’t be living the good life she’s so thoroughly embraced.”

Jaye was silent for a couple of minutes. “As tough as it is to accept this,” she said finally, “I think in some little corner of my head I actually expected it. How else can you explain all the weird stuff about her?”

“Are you worried about having her stay here now that you know?” Daniel asked, adding a sobering dose of reality to a discussion that more rightly belonged in the pages of a science fiction novel.

Jaye shook her head. “Nothing’s changed in my relationship with her.” Daniel had no idea about the cotton swab incident, and this didn’t seem like the best time to bring it up. Especially since the idea of losing the not-a-cat brought with it a surprisingly deep wave of sadness. “Do you think I should be concerned?”

“To be completely honest, I don’t know. You’re going to have to depend on your gut for this one. And if your instincts start sending up flares, don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

Jaye managed a weak smile. “That should make for one interesting 911 call.”

***

When Sierra heard the news, she grinned. “No way. You’re kidding, right?” She studied Jaye’s face for signs that it was all a joke.

Jaye shook her head. She’d driven over to her friend’s house after closing the shop for the night. It was the kind of news she felt she had to deliver in person. When she arrived, Sierra was in the middle of eating the fried chicken and mashed potatoes she’d picked up on her way home. Frosty was sitting as close to her chair as he could, watching each forkful make the journey from the plate to her mouth.

“Come on. Daniel put you up to this, didn’t he?” Sierra asked with somewhat less conviction.

“No.”

Sierra put down her fork. “If it’s true, show me the report.” Frosty issued a frustrated whimper now that she’d stopped eating. He looked at Jaye and barked sharply, as if to say, “We were doing fine here until you showed up.”

“I owe you one, pal,” Jaye told him. She pulled the lab report out of her bag and handed it to Sierra.

“Holy . . .,” she said, her voice trailing off as she read it. They spent the next hour going back and forth over the same questions that Jaye had already debated with Daniel. At first Frosty remained at his post, still hoping more chicken would be forthcoming, but he eventually gave up and ambled over to his bowl to eat kibble.

Sierra was still going hot and heavy with her questions and speculation when Jaye stood up. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice edgy with stress and fatigue. “At least not tonight. We keep going around in circles, getting nowhere. Raffles is the same animal she was this morning. We just know a little more about her now. And I’m beginning to wish we’d never had her tested. We can’t afford to be distracted like this while Peggy’s killer is still on the loose.”

Sierra stood and caught her up in a hug. “I’m sorry; you’re right. Go home and get some rest.” Jaye pulled her keys from the pocket of her Windbreaker and headed for the door. “No, wait!” Sierra called after her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here tonight?”

***

Jaye was at the little table in her kitchen drinking her morning coffee and staring at the photo of Adam Grayson. Although she’d fallen asleep easily enough, her eyes had popped open at four A.M. with every intention of staying that way. At five she gave up and crawled out of bed, leaving Raffles asleep in a muddle of sheets and blankets. When Jaye had told Sierra they needed to tighten their focus on the murder investigation, she’d realized it was time to heed her own advice. So after she’d set the coffee to brew, she’d pulled the picture out of the drawer in her nightstand where she’d been keeping it. Peggy had gone to a lot of trouble to stash the evidence in a safe place, and having found it, they owed it to her to spend more time and energy trying to decipher it.

Jaye ticked off what she already knew about Adam. He owned an art gallery that was netting him a good-sized profit, given the quality of his clothing, the silver BMW convertible that matched his hair and the size of his house, which she’d driven by one day purely as research. She’d never heard anyone speak poorly of him, and she herself could attest to the fact that he could be charming and witty, not to mention crazy cute in spite of the age difference between them. She gave herself a mental slap. Focus. She and her friends had already agreed that the picture showed him working at home. But what had Peggy been trying to capture when she’d snapped the image? It had to be something big, something that would ruin his reputation, maybe even send him off to prison. There could only be a finite number of activities that fit that description. She just had to figure out which one it was. Could he be using the gallery as a front for drug trafficking? Was he keeping double records to cheat on his taxes or . . . or . . .? That’s when it hit her. She studied the photo again. Yes, there was Adam surrounded by rolls of unframed art, so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t seem to realize that Peggy had crept into the doorway of the room. Jaye was willing to bet the farm, even though she never bet and didn’t own a farm, that Adam was hard at work forging signatures on unsigned prints, which he could then sell for a lot more money. The answer was suddenly so clear and simple that she couldn’t understand why no one in her merry band of amateur detectives had come up with it before now. She set down her coffee mug and reached for the phone. Her first call was to Sierra, the second to Daniel. She was going to have to wait a few hours to place a third call to the Phoenix Art Museum. She needed them to recommend an art expert.