Page 23 of The Case of the Vanishing Valuables

Benedict’s expression faltered slightly, but he kept his cool, smiling politely. “Did you figure out who the thief is?”

Ray smirked. “We’re close to solving the case. Very close.”

I hopped up onto a nearby table, watching the exchange with interest.Oh boy. Here we go.

Benedict looked genuinely confused, his eyebrows drawing together. “Really? Well, I’m sure we’re all eager to hear the resolution.”

Ray didn’t waste a second. “Benedict, where were you the night Sally’s bracelet went missing?”

Benedict blinked then chuckled lightly. “I was... at dinner. With everyone else. You were there, too, if I recall correctly.”

Ray wasn’t backing down. “Right. But you also know about the secret door in the dining room, don’t you?”

Benedict’s smile wavered. “Secret door? Oh, you mean the old servants’ passage? Yes, I use it sometimes during my shows. Adds a bit of flair, you see.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Flair? Or access to the residents’ rooms?”

Benedict’s smile finally disappeared, replaced by another look of genuine confusion. “I beg your pardon? Are you suggesting I’ve been sneaking into people’s rooms?”

“Yes,” Ray said, crossing his arms triumphantly. “I think you’ve been using your magician skills to break into the rooms and steal from the residents. You know lock-picking, don’t you, Benedict? You use it in your escape acts.”

Benedict looked increasingly flustered. “Well, yes, I know how to pick locks. It’s part of my act. But I certainly haven’t?—”

Something in Benedict’s open bag of tricks had caught my eye—a small set of tools that looked suspiciously like... lock picks.

Ray, I nudged telepathically, trying to get his attention.Look in his bag.

Ray was too caught up in his interrogation, so I tried again, louder this time.RAY! Look in the bag!

Suddenly, Ray’s eyes flicked toward Martha, who was knitting a sweater, needles clacking together and a bag filledwith yarn on the floor next to her. His face lit up like a detective who had just found the smoking gun.

No. No, not that one. The magician’s bag!

But Ray was already proceeding toward Martha. He crouched down and peeked inside the knitting bag, where a tangle of yarn and knitting needles sat harmlessly.

Martha’s needles stopped, and she watched Ray, her brow creasing in confusion. “Mr. Leonard? What on earth are you doing?”

Not that bag!I telepathed as hard as I could.

Ray straightened up quickly, laughing awkwardly. “Uh, just… admiring your knitting. Very impressive.”

Benedict’s bag, I meowed and flicked my tail toward it for emphasis.

Ray, still oblivious, glanced around again and spotted the trash bin by the door. “Maybe…?” he muttered to himself as he walked over and peeked inside.

Everyone watched in disbelief as Ray rummaged through the trash bag. He pulled out an old magazine and a crumpled tissue before shaking his head.

Oh, this is painful. You’re really doing this. Stop looking for clues in the garbage, Ray. It’s not there. Move your eyes three feet to the left!

I hopped up on the nearby chair, trying to get Ray to refocus. I shot another telepathic push.The bag, Ray. Benedict’s bag!

Ray looked at me, and his gaze drifted toward a random tote bag on the floor next to one of the residents. “Hmm…”

Not the tote bag! For the love of catnip, it’s the magician’s bag! THE MAGICIAN’S BAG!

Finally—finally—Ray’s eyes flicked back to Benedict’s prop bag. He knelt and peeked inside. His brows shot up when he caught sight of the lock-picking tools nestled among the scarves and fake coins.

I let out a satisfied purr.There you go, Sherlock. Now, we’re getting somewhere.

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