her apron. Then, when Rose didn’t turn around to face her, she stopped wiping her hands and spoke again.
“Is something wrong, Miz Rose?” she asked.
“I—I don’t know,” Rose said unsteadily. “Look at this.”
She held out the flea collar, and Mrs. Goodrich reached to take it from her.
“Looks like a flea collar,” the housekeeper said. “Same kind we put on Cecil.” Her eyes caught sight of the stain. “Here, what’s this?”
“I’m not sure,” Rose said, hoping Mrs. Goodrich would offer an alternative.
“Why, it’s blood,” the woman said. “Well, if that don’t beat all. Where’d this come from?”
“Sarah,” Rose said vaguely. “Sarah put it on my ankle.”
“Well, that’s a peculiar thing to do,” the old woman said. “Where do you suppose she got it from?”
“I’m not sure,” Rose said. “I don’t have any idea at all, really.”
“Well, if she got it off that cat, I wish she’d tell us where the cat is.” She sniffed the air. “I smell my pies.” She bustled away, and Rose listened to her footsteps fade down the hall.
“Sarah?” Rose said. The child crept a little way out from under the desk. “Sarah, darling, it’s all right,” Rose said, not knowing if it was all right or not. “Come out from under there.”
She reached down and gently pulled her daughter the rest of the way out, then picked her up and carried her upstairs. She set Sarah on the bed and covered her with a comforter. “Take a little nap,” she said, and bent down to kiss her gently on the forehead. She was behaving with a calm that she did not feel.
She heard Jack’s car coming up the drive as she went back down the stairs, and waited for him at the front door.
“Hi,” he said, but the smile faded from his face when he saw how pale she was. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Has something happened?”
“I don’t know,” Rose said quietly. “Let’s go into the study. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
She stepped into her office and picked up the bracelet and the collar. Then she followed Jack down the hall.
“Why don’t you pour us both a drink,” she said, closing the door behind her. Jack looked at her curiously.
“You sound upset,” he said. “What’s been going on around here?”
She told him what had happened and showed him the two objects. He examined the collar briefly, then turned his attention to the bracelet.
“This looks familiar,” he said slowly. “I’d swear I’ve seen it before, but I can’t remember where.”
“The picture,” Rose said.
“Picture?” Then he looked to where she was pointing, and his eyes found the bracelet on the little girl’s wrist. “Good Lord,” he breathed. “Are you sure it’s the same one?”
“I haven’t compared them yet, but yes, I’m sure,” Rose said. “And the strangest thing is that earlier, before Sarah put it on my ankle, I was looking at the bracelet in the picture. I was almost sure I’d seen it somewhere before, other than in the picture.”
“Has Sarah been wearing it?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know, If she has, I hadn’t noticed it consciously. But I suppose she must have been.”
Jack moved to the picture and held the bracelet up next to its representation in the portrait. It was the same bracelet.
“It’s the collar that worries me more,” Rose said, taking a long swallow from her drink.
“The collar?”
“Well, where do you suppose she got that? And how do you suppose the blood got on it?”
“You mean Cecil?” There was clear disbelief in his voice.
“What else could it be?”
“Oh, now, come on, Rose. Sarah loves that cat.”
“I know,” Rose said miserably. “But put it all together. The cat’s gone, Sarah was apparently trying to get at the knives just this morning, then she got upset at pictures of cats this afternoon. And now that.” She pointed to the bloody collar.
“You think she’s killed Cecil.”
The words hit Rose, and she recoiled almost visibly. She realized that that was exactly what she thought; she had merely refused to put words to it. She nodded dumbly.
“I don’t believe it,” Jack said. “I just don’t believe it.”
“Then where did she get that collar? And the bracelet, too, for that matter.”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “But I don’t believe she killed Cecil. She wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
“How do we know she wouldn’t, Jack? How do we know what she would do or wouldn’t do?” She was on the verge of tears, and Jack reached out to comfort her, but she turned away.
“What do you think we ought