Page 2 of The Case of the Vanishing Valuables

Ray grabbed his notebook from the glove box, like that was going to help. “Ready, Earl?”

I gave him a look that said,I’ve been ready since you woke up this morning, Ray. Try to keep up.

We headed inside, where the smell of stale air and Lysol greeted us. The lobby was quiet, too quiet. A single resident in a wheelchair was dozing by a potted plant, which I was almost certain had seen more action than him.

“Hello?” Ray called out in a voice that bounced off the beige walls. “Mrs. Hargrove?”

“Coming!” a voice chirped from somewhere in the distance, followed by the rapid click-click of heels on linoleum. In swept Mrs. Hargrove, the manager of Tranquility Terrace, looking like she was late for a PTA meeting. Hair perfectly in place, clipboard clutched to her chest, a smile that was one part friendly, two parts “please don’t sue us.”

“You must be Mr. Leonard!” She shook Ray’s hand with the enthusiasm of someone clinging to their last shred of patience. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. We’re in quite the pickle here.”

Ray flashed his usual easygoing smile and gestured toward me. “This is Earl,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world to bring a cat along on an investigation. Sure, Ray—nothing strange about having a feline sidekick for a job like this, right?

“Great to meet you.” Mrs. Hargrove nodded in my direction.

“Why don’t you tell us a bit about the situation?” Ray said.

Mrs. Hargrove’s smile faltered slightly as she shook Ray’s hand. “I’m just... very worried about this, Mr. Leonard.” She glanced toward the rows of quiet rooms. “Tranquility Terrace is a sanctuary for these people, and if word gets out that valuables are going missing…” Her voice trailed off, and for the first time, I noticed the lines of stress creasing her brow. She wasn’t just afraid for the residents—she was afraid for the home itself.

“Any sign of break-ins?” Ray flipped open his notebook.

Mrs. Hargrove shook her head. “No, that’s the strange part. The rooms are always locked, and there’s no sign of forced entry. It’s as if the items just vanish.”

“Have you noticed anything unusual?” Ray asked. “Strange visitors, staff behaving oddly, anything like that?”

She glanced around like someone might be listening. “Not exactly… but there’s the cat.”

Cat? Now we were talking.

“The cat?” he repeated.

“Yes, our resident cat, Mortimer,” she said, lowering her voice as if speaking his name would summon him. “He’s, uh, become somewhat of a legend around here.”

Great. A legend. That was all I needed.

Mrs. Hargrove leaned in, looking conspiratorial. “The residents believe he can… predict when someone is about to die.”

I blinked, trying not to roll my eyes. Of course, it had to be something like that. Humans and their superstitions.

Ray’s eyebrows shot up, and he flicked a glance my way, trying not to laugh. But I was already intrigued.

“Whenever Mortimer spends time in someone’s room,” she continued, “well… it’s usually not long before…” She made a vague hand gesture that I guessed meant “curtains.”

Again, I blinked.Are you kidding me?

To his credit, Ray nodded thoughtfully. “So you think Mortimer might have something to do with the thefts?”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Hargrove admitted, wringing her hands. “Doesn’t seem likely, but I thought I would mention him just in case.” She glanced at me and asked, “Does Earl have the same ability?”

I stared at her. I couldn’t decide whether to be offended or flattered.

Ray cleared his throat, trying to stay professional, though amusement danced in his eyes. “Well, Earl is definitely talented, but, uh, predicting death isn’t really his specialty.”

Yet, I thought dryly.Give me time.

Mrs. Hargrove offered a weak smile. “In any case, we need to get to the bottom of this. The residents are anxious. I’d hate for any more valuables to disappear.”

“Don’t worry.” Ray slid his notebook into his back pocket. “We’ll take it from here.”

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