Candace, meanwhile, was trying to calm Robin down. “I’ll look into this, Robin. But first I need some sleep.”

I was still watching Lucy, and then I saw why she’d been in such a hurry. “What color is Harriett?”

“She’s a black-and-white Jersey,” Robin said.

I pointed down the driveway. “Like that?”

Robin’s hands flew to her lips before she took off running toward the lumbering cow. The poor cow looked as tired as I felt.

We all met up with Harriett in the driveway, and Candace lifted a piece of a rope dangling from the cow’s neck. “This what you use to tie her up?”

Robin shook her head. “She doesn’t need to be tethered. She never wanders farther than the fields.”

“Looks like she escaped from whoever took her, then.” Candace carefully removed the rope remnant from Harriett’s neck with a smile. “And the thief left me a piece of evidence.”

Oh no, I thought, managing to keep myself from groaning. I’d seen that gleam in Candace’s eyes before. Anything that she considers evidence is a treasure. She had a bovine mystery this time, and for some reason, I had a sinking feeling I’d be involved in her quest for answers.

Three

I had never worked the graveyard shift, but I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that there is nothing my three cats like better than my spending the day in bed. Even Merlot, my twenty-pound red Maine coon, had stretched out beside me. He rarely joins me for sleep, so I was surprised he chose to hunker down on the bed. Chablis, the Himalayan, planted herself on my chest, and Syrah, my Abyssinian, used my legs for a bed.

Robin’s cow was back home, and all was well with the world. Okay, her world, not Candace’s. My friend had been extra quiet during the drive to her house, tightly clutching the paper lunch bag where she’d stowed the piece of rope. As my threesome’s purring lulled me to sleep, I wondered whether Police Chief Mike Baca would let her work a case if the stolen “item”-not the best word for a cow, I admit-was no longer stolen. Somehow I didn’t think so.