And in my opinion, it wasn’t clear that she shouldn’t get her cat back. With plenty of hired help hanging around that mansion, how hard could it be to make sure one black cat got the attention she required? Added to that, Ritaestelle might be missing Isis this minute. A beloved pet can help the healing process.

The minute I disengaged the alarm at my back door and walked inside my house, I was reminded of this. Three gorgeous friends sat waiting, Syrah and Merlot on the floor, and Chablis stretched out on the granite countertop.

I knelt to give the two boys on the floor a scratch on the head, and Chablis jumped down for her share of affection a second later. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease almost immediately.

“What do I do, kids?” I said.

Merlot answered with a deep trill of a meow.

“Should I tell Shawn what happened or think of another way to see Miss Ritaestelle Longworth?”

Syrah cocked his head and twitched his ears, while Chablis lay at my feet and rolled onto her back for a tummy scratch. I obliged her.

The sight of them, plus the fact that Isis the cat had both a name tag and a microchip, convinced me that Ritaestelle cared about her cat and shouldn’t suffer from missing her. Maybe I should try to talk to her again before I reported back to Shawn. Isis’s safety had obviously been important at some point. But how could I get back inside that house? I’d burned several bridges today already. Perhaps I had no choice but to come clean to Shawn.

A familiar rappity-rap-rap on the back door that could belong only to my friend Deputy Candace Carson of the Mercy PD made me rise. Candace is in her twenties, while I am in my forties, but she’s still my best friend. Maybe she could help.