The Adventures of Hayden and Shelby. . .Welfare Cats: The Yard Sale Mystery

Murder. Just talking about it gave her a chill down her spine, and she looked towards the yawning blackness outside of the large garage screen door. They had been so engrossed in their conversation; they hadn’t realized day was fading fast into the approaching night. As she looked outside, it seemed to be getting darker by the second before her very eyes, as though the sky were on some great dimmer switch. Mom looked at the cats. They were sitting at attention, staring towards the blackness on the other side of the screen too. The night was dotted with warm golden orbs of light cast by the lampposts and coach lights of the houses. Mom wondered what the cats saw that she couldn’t see. They made her uneasy, especially after today. Another chill coursed through her body. She shivered, and her stomach quivered. Mom heard rustling. It could have been the wind blowing through the leaves of the trees and bushes. A breeze had picked up. She thought she heard a raspy exhale of breath that sounded almost like heavy breathing or a low growl. Maybe there were raccoons out there or bobcats or coyotes or a stray cat, or maybe just the wind, and her ears were playing tricks on her. All at once, Mom felt conspicuous sitting there at the table in the lighted garage as if they were on a stage, watched and not knowing who watched them, unseen, out there hidden by the cover of the night. Maybe the person who attacked that woman was still out there, or maybe it was just the conversation that was giving her the willies—like telling ghost stories by the campfire. . . that’s probably all it was, she told herself. After all, why would the culprit stick around? Unless he was a stalker. . . some kind of psychopath? That did it! Mom quickly got up, crossed the room, switched off the inside light, and flipped on the outside driveway coach lights instead. Now the situation was reversed. Mom and Dad could see anyone approaching, but they themselves were hidden in the dimly lit room by the screen and the glare of the coach lights outside. Mom lingered a little longer at the screen hidden by the edge of the wall and peered around the corner out into the night that seemed alive with stealthy movement. In the lamplights, eerie shadows stretched from the trees and bushes and, in the wind, moved like legs and reached out like arms. With the breeze came the faint and distant sound of sinister laughter. “Did you hear that?” Mom asked Dad. The skin on her arm prickled with a tingling sensation, and the fine hairs stood on end with goosebumps. “Hear what?” Mom listened hard for a moment longer. Silence. “Nothing,” Mom answered. Turning away, not trusting her senses and blaming the wind and her vivid imagination, she went back to her seat. She felt a little better, a little safer, but only a little. Mom looked at the cats again. They appeared to have lost interest in whatever held their attention moments earlier. Mom felt relieved and a little foolish. “Well, you don’t have to go on,” Dad was saying, picking up the lost thread of their conversation again. “And all those cases you’re talking about were a long time ago, and they were all solved, right?” ‘Unfortunately, crime never seems to go out of fashion,” Mom replied soberly. “And the home invasion robberies were never solved.” ‘I stand corrected,” Dad acknowledged. “But it was all still a long time ago, and you have to realize in any community there is always going to be crime of all sorts and varieties-- even in our small, sleepy town. But getting back to what happened today, we’re just spinning our wheels sitting here speculating. We don’t have any of the facts.” Dad said, trying to be analytical and cautioned, “You know what that all-time famous sleuth Sherlock Holmes said about the dangers of theorizing without sufficient facts?” At their feet, crouched on the rug like a hen, Shelby pricked his ears at the mention of his idol. Mom nodded. “It is a waste of time,” she answered. “Yes. . . or something like that,” Dad continued. “We just don’t know, so let the police sort it out,” he advised. “In the meanwhile, we’ll be extra careful—be aware of our surroundings and keep all of our doors and windows locked—starting with the screen. I’ll close it up as soon as we are done eating.”