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that
whoever killed Cassandra left the gate open.”
    Sergeant
Millay rested his elbows on the small rectangular table between us and drew his
face closer to mine. “Yet you just got through saying how Shogun wouldn’t have
run off anyway.”
    “True, but
that’s not to say he wouldn’t ever run into the street, for example.”
    “Thing is,
Officer Sweitzer said the gate was closed when he arrived. You must’ve closed
the gate behind you when you came into the yard. Why?”
    My pulse
started to race at Sergeant Millay’s insinuation that he considered my closing
Edith’s gate suspicious. I already regretted my action. At the very least, I’d
probably overlaid any fingerprints on the gate latch with my own.
    “It was
just...force of habit. I’d read the note that Edith left, telling me she and
the dog were in the back, and since I was there to observe the dog, it was only
natural for me to have shut the gate so the dog wouldn’t run off in the
process.”
    “That’s
another thing.” He paused and slowly read over his notes, dropping his chin in
the process. I could see a bald spot on the top of his head. “You said before
that you left the note exactly where it was, in plain sight on the front door.
Didn’t as much as touch it.”
    “That’s
right.”
    He stared at
me, his expression blank. “When we arrived at the Cunningham residence, Miss
Babcock, there was no note.”
    This was a
shock. “There wasn’t?” I had to stop myself from demanding whether or not he
was sure about this. “It must have ...blown off the door in a wind gust,” I
said, growing tense and detecting a desperate tone creeping into my voice.
    “I
considered that possibility myself, Miss Babcock.” The gray irises beneath the
hooded eyes seemed to be looking straight through me.
    He leaned
even closer, and I could smell onions on his breath. “So I called Officer
Sweitzer a couple minutes ago and had him ask Mrs. Cunningham. She says she
never wrote you a note.”

Chapter 3
    I gave
myself a moment for Sergeant Millay’s chilling words to set in, my mind reeling
at the incomprehensibility of this. The thought that the sergeant didn’t
believe me, might even suspect me of being the murderer, put me into a panic.
    What could
this mean? Could Edith have killed Cassandra, then, by lying about the note,
sought to set me up somehow? No, because she arrived after the police did, so
she couldn’t have retrieved the note.
    “But Edith had to have written the note. Unless...unless whoever killed her wrote that
note to lure me into the backyard, then took it down after I read it. Maybe to
keep you from being able to analyze the handwriting or get fingerprints off of
the notepaper.”
    Sergeant
Millay said nothing, his face as motionless as the rest of him as he sat and
watched me. I, however, seemed incapable of controlling my nervous gestures as
I combed the fingers of both hands through my short hair, only succeeding in
making it stand on end with static electricity.
    “Wait,’’ I said,
realizing that I might have made an incorrect assumption about the note. I
couldn’t remember the exact wording and tried to picture the note in my mind’s
eye. “The note wasn’t signed and wasn’t addressed specifically to me.” My
thoughts raced ahead of my words. The note might never have been intended for
me. Trevor could well have full access to his former residence. He might have
called Cassandra and asked her to come over. “Maybe the killer wrote that note
to Cassandra, in order to coax her into the backyard, where she was ambushed.”
    “Unfortunately,
we can’t check with Cassandra to ask about that possibility.”
    I gritted my
teeth to keep from objecting to this cutting remark. I was already all but
jumping out of my skin. I didn’t need him sniping at me, as well.
    “The thing
is, Miss Babcock, you told me earlier it was less than fifteen minutes from the
time you got there and read the note till we arrived. True?”
    I