Sondra listened while Michael caught her up to date on the events of the last few weeks since he had spoken to her about representing him in a trial against Pete Gamble. "And can you verify your whereabouts the night Mr. Gamble was killed, which they say was..." she looked through some papers on her desk, "sometime between one and two o'clock on Tuesday morning, June nineteenth?"

"I was home with my wife. We were home together. We didn't go anywhere that night," he said. He grimaced. "How does someone prove something like that?"

"Good question. But there are many angles to come from-talking to neighbors...if you have a landline, maybe phone records, and so forth."

Michael laughed. "Yeah, our closest neighbors are Savannah's aunt and uncle."

Sondra leaned forward and looked directly at Michael. "Michael did you do it? Did you stab Pete Gamble to death?"

"No," he said scrunching his face up in protest that anyone could even ask him that question. "Absolutely, not. And it's not that I wouldn't want to see him hurt or even dead. He was causing us some serious worry and even expense with his shenanigans. But this is not the way we handle things." He thought for a moment and then looked the attorney straight in the eyes. "No, Sondra. I did not do this."

She leaned back against her chair. "I believe you, Michael." She pulled a folder from a pile and slapped it on the desk, opened it and fumbled through some papers. "So what do you know about Alyce Drummond?"

"What?" Michael asked. "Uh, she's an employee-she's new." He looked over at Savannah and shrugged. "We don't know much about her, really."

"What does she do for you?"

"Cleans and disinfects pens."

"How long has she worked for you?"

Michael looked over at Savannah and asked, "When did we hire her, honey?"

"Last week sometime. I can look it up at the office and let you know."

"Why?" both Michael and Savannah asked at once.

"Craig Sledge called me this afternoon. He thinks she could be somehow involved. But so far, they don't know her connection, if any."

Michael heard Savannah gasp. He looked at her and asked, "Hon, are you all right? You look a little pale."

"Yeah," Savannah said scowling. "It's just that...well, I ran into Cindy today." She looked over at Sondra and explained, "She's our employee who is out on maternity leave. Alyce took her place. Cindy told me something that might be relevant to this case, actually."

"Really?" Michael asked, turning to face his wife.

"How so?" Sondra probed.

"She said that she met Alyce a little over a week ago while she was having lunch with some of the gals from the clinic. Cindy thought it was odd when this stranger came up to her in the parking lot of the restaurant and asked if she worked at our office. Alyce wanted to know what type of work Cindy did. She said the girl quizzed her on some of the details of her job-how often she had to clean the cages, what types of chemicals she used, what was the procedure for preparing a pen for a patient. Cindy said that Alyce must have overheard her and the other gals talking about her maternity leave and was interested in applying for the temporary job."

"And you thought this was strange or significant how?" Sondra asked.

"Well, I realize that jobs are hard to come by these days," Savannah explained. "But Cindy said she was a little creeped out by the way this gal approached her...like maybe she'd been stalking her. I mean, how else would she know where she worked? It struck me as odd, too, when I got to thinking about it. Who chases a stranger down to ask about the job they're leaving?"

Sondra gave Savannah a sideways look and asked, "How did Cindy know it was Alyce you hired in her place?"

"Oh, she came in one day to pick up her last check and saw her there."

Sondra sat back in her plush chair and stared at something behind Savannah for a few moments. And then she leaned forward and asked, "Had Cindy seen this girl...Alyce before?"

"I asked her that," Savannah said. "She didn't think so."

"Well," Sondra said, "she could be a plant."

Savannah shivered-looked over at Michael.

"Who did the hire?"

"Huh?" Savannah asked.

"Which one of you interviewed her?"

"I did," Michael said.

"Any red flags?"

Michael shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "As Savannah and I discussed, it seemed fortuitous that she showed up when she did. I asked how she learned of the job, but don't recall getting a straight answer. She said she had worked as a volunteer in a shelter and knew about disinfecting pens. She even mentioned the chemical solutions we use and indicated that she understood the importance of being thorough." He thought about it for a moment and then said, "But from the sounds of it, this could be because Cindy unknowingly prompted her."

"What was her hire date?" Sondra asked, pencil poised.

"You know, after thinking about it, I'm pretty sure it was a week ago Wednesday."

"Okay, June thirteenth," Sondra said making a note. "Pete Gamble was killed six days later-the morning of June nineteenth." After scribbling more notes, the attorney looked up at Michael and Savannah and said, "Did you know that it was probably her car involved in the dognapping incident last...," she flipped through the pages on her pad and then opened it and continued, "a week ago Monday?"

"What?" the Iveys said in unison.

She rifled through the file and pulled out a piece of typing paper with a photo printed on it. "Detective Sledge faxed this over to me this afternoon. Is this the car you saw that night?" she asked as she showed it to them.

"Yes, sure looks like it," Michael said. "But it is a rather common-looking car." He studied the photo. "That dark back window with the writing on it-that's exactly as I remember it." He handed it to Savannah.

"That could be it," Savannah agreed. "But I'm not totally sure," she said while scrutinizing the photo. "I didn't get as close to it as Michael did."

He grimaced. "So this is Alyce's car?"

Sondra squinted in his direction. "You haven't seen this car parked at the clinic before?"

He shook his head. "I guess I just don't notice those things. Besides, Savannah and I usually park in back. Employees and clients park out in the front area." He thought for a moment and then asked, a bewildered look on his face, "Why would she want to take Lexie? I don't get it?"

Sondra ignored his question. She tapped on the photo with a pencil. "According to forensics, the wheelbase measurements and partial tire print they got at your house after your tires were flattened could have come from this car." She hesitated. "But as you say, it is a common type of vehicle."

Michael leaned forward. "So you think she vandalized our cars, too? But why?"

Sondra looked from one to the other of her clients. "Guys, her involvement could go even deeper. Just so you know, she is our focus right now in this investigation," she said.

Michael looked over at Savannah and noticed that she was crying. "Oh honey. It's all going to be okay."

"Michael," she said through sobs. "I want her out of the clinic. She tried to take Lexie. I'm sure of it. Why else would Rags react so strongly to her?" She took a shallow breath. "Maybe he saw her punching holes in our tires that night, too."

"Rags?" Sondra questioned.

"Our cat," Savannah explained. "Rags saw the dognapper that night when he or she took our dog." She sniffed and then continued, "We think he saw someone or something outside the night our tires were slashed. Then, when he saw Alyce at the clinic yesterday, he went crazy."

Sondra asked flatly, "How so?"

"You have to know Rags. He doesn't flip out. He's a calm cat. But when he saw her, he just lost it-he even scratched me trying to get away from her." She touched her bandaged arm.

Michael said, "We knew something was wrong-that there was a reason for his behavior." He looked down; shook his head. "It never occurred to us that he saw Alyce sneaking around at our home trying to do damage..."

Sondra made some notes. Then, looking in Michael's direction, she said, "I guess you were arrested this morning based partially on the found murder weapon-a knife with the same initials as yours."

"Yeah," Michael nodded.

"Detective Sledge said he talked to the owner of the engraving shop today."

Michael took in a deep breath. "What did he say? Is that where the engraving was done?"

She referred to her notes. "His records show that an intern did engraving on a knife fitting that description on June fifteenth. The kid no longer works there. But the note says 'gift.' Someone named Marjory Madison brought the knife in and had the engraving done. Ring a bell?"

Michael stared at the attorney. "Unbelievable," he said. "Marjory Madison? No. I don't know anyone by that name. Something is way wrong here. Things do not add up."

"Or someone is doing a really clever job of framing you, Michael. Who do you think would want to do that?"

Michael thought for a moment. He then looked Sondra in the eyes. "The only person I know who would be that vindictive or crazy is dead."

Savannah wiped her eyes with a tissue. "I want Alyce out of the clinic, now!"

"Let's don't be hasty," Sondra cautioned. "I believe her purpose has been served. I doubt that she is of any danger to you at this point. But if you feel at risk having her there, by all means, fire her. I'd just like a little more time to see if we can unravel the crime before she runs scared on us. I think Detective Sledge is on board with this. So what do you two think? How do you feel about leaving her where she is for now?"

The couple looked from one to the other and then Savannah asked, "How long?"

"Do you mean how long will it take authorities to discover what her involvement in all this is and find out who her accomplice or accomplices are?" The attorney frowned. "It's hard to say." Sondra looked into Savannah's eyes. "We have a few possible leads. I don't expect it to drag out-as long as we don't spook Alyce. She's our focus right now. As I said, she'll lead us to any others who might be involved. And the detective is still looking into motive."

"Honey," Michael said, "I'm willing to let her stay for a little longer as long as we know the authorities are making progress in their investigation. How do you feel?"

"It's unnerving to think that we may have a murderer working for us. And it seems to me that whatever her motive, it doesn't involve us-except to implicate us." She turned toward Sondra. "Isn't that right?"

"That's how it looks to us."

Michael let out a sigh. "Okay, I guess we'll play along as long as it seems safe for us to do so. Okay, Savannah?"

She nodded, not at all sure she was making the right decision.

The following morning, Michael and Savannah walked into the diner. As they glanced around, they spotted someone waving at them from a booth toward the back. "It's Craig," Michael said. "Looks like he wants us to join him. What do you say, hon?"

She wrinkled up her nose and said, "I guess." But what she really wanted was to run far away from the reality of the last two weeks. It seemed that everywhere she went and every waking moment focused on Pete Gamble. Even her dreams revolved around the ugliness of the tragedy; and the uncertainty of it all kept her awake at night. She just wanted it to be over.

Craig greeted them cheerfully, "Good morning, guys. Won't you join me?"

"Hi Craig," Michael said, standing back and allowing Savannah to scoot into the booth. She smiled weakly at the detective and slid across the seat.

Craig looked over at Michael and then Savannah. "Aren't you out early this morning?"

"Decided to have breakfast here before going to work," Michael explained. "It's early for you, too, isn't it?"

"Not really. I don't get much sleep when I'm working a case."

"Just coffee and oatmeal with blueberries," Savannah said when Frank approached their booth.

Michael hesitated and then said, "How about scrambled eggs and a biscuit. Oh yes, and coffee."

"Anything new to report, Craig?" Michael asked. "We could use some good news."

"Well, I can't tell you everything we're working on," Craig said as he looked from one to the other of his tablemates. But I can tell you that we have a lead on the kid who did the engraving on that knife. I want to have a little talk with him-see if he can give us a description of this Marjorie Madison."

"Well, let me know what you find out, will you?" Michael said.

"Sure." Craig took a swig of coffee and then asked, "So did your attorney tell you that we suspect Alyce of being a part of this?"

"Yes," Michael said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What are you going to do about her? I mean in light of what we suspect about her so far?"

Michael took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "I guess we're going to let her ride it out and see what happens. I mean, if her mission is complete, she will just leave. If she doesn't leave, maybe she wasn't actually involved."

"Oh, by the way, guys, did Alyce sign anything or fill out a job application with you? I'd like to get a sample of her writing."

"Sure, we can provide that for you. Just come by the office. I'll leave a copy in an envelope at Scarlet's desk."

Craig looked intently at Michael. "This case seems to have a lot of angles. It's taking us in unexpected directions."

Suddenly Savannah jumped. "Oh my gosh, I almost forgot." She grabbed her purse and opened it. "It's been so darned crazy," she said shaking her head a little. She pulled something out of her purse. "Keys," she said, holding them up and dangling them in front of Craig.

"Keys?" he asked.

"Yes, I found them in the dirt in the parking lot at the clinic the day...well, when the body was discovered."

"Oh really?" Craig's eyes lit up.

"Yes, and it looks like the key to our clinic right here."

"Well, I'll be. A key to your clinic, huh?" While examining it, he asked, "Do you know which of your employees is most likely to carry a key ring with a skull and crossbones on it?"

"Alyce?" the three of them said in unison.

That morning just before noon, Craig Sledge walked up to the front door of the veterinary clinic with the set of keys in his hand. He stuck one of the keys into the lock and tried to turn it. It wouldn't budge. He tried a second key. It wouldn't go in. He looked at the three other keys on the ring-one was obviously a car key and one looked like it might go to a post office box. The last one, he thought, probably went to the lock in a storage s.p.a.ce-a padlock. He opened the door and walked into the lobby. "Good morning, Scarlett."