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my misadventures with her striped cat.
    â€œPaisley! What a naughty child you were. It’s funny, but I don’t remember anything about that particular incident.”
    â€œThat’s because Granpa Howard hushed it up for me.”
    â€œYou’re kidding?”
    â€œI think the old lady had a crush on him. Anyway, he made me fork over all my allowance. He pitched in the rest and together we bought her a dozen yellow roses. He said she would have misunderstood red ones.”
    â€œI should think so!” agreed Mother.
    â€œAm I missing something here, or is this some old-fashioned thing?”
    â€œYou would do well to learn more about the language of flowers and love, my dear. Young people nowadays have no sense whatsoever of romance. It’s all slam, bam, thank you, m’am!”
    â€œGood grief, Mother. Not in front of the children.”
    Cassie went to her room after lunch to pick out a “visiting your boyfriend in jail where he is being held for a capitol offense” outfit.
    I helped Mother with the dishes. When we were done, we both decided a nap was the only way we would live to see another day. She went to her room and I headed back to the sofa in the library. Poor lonely little Aggie dusted my heels with her long white beard as she tagged along behind me.
    We had just curled up on the big, red chintz-covered sofa when Cassie entered. She was dressed in a soft, full-skirted yellow dress with a tiny pink flower print. Her long hair was tied back with a matching pink ribbon. She looked sweet and innocent and lovely—not at all like a gangster’s moll.
    â€œDo you want me to go with you, sweetie?”
    â€œNo, Mom. I think I need to see Ethan alone.”
    â€œOh, thank God. I’m exhausted.”
    â€œSweet of you to offer, though. Maybe you can come with me tomorrow.”
    â€œCassie, maybe he’ll be out tomorrow. This whole thing is probably one whopper of a mistake. Come home with some good news, okay?”
    â€œSure thing, Mom. May I take Watson, for luck?”
    â€œOf course. And please pay some attention to this canine ragmop when you get home. She’s driving me crazy.”
    Aggie hopped up and traversed my prone body like a mountain goat. She lay down at my feet and started licking my toes, one at a time.

Chapter Six
    I thought I would fall asleep immediately, but my mind kept nagging my body awake. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I stared at the bright red, yellow, and orange leaves as they danced and swirled in the wind outside the French doors. Fall was definitely here. I could already see the squirrels’ nests exposed to predators in the forks of the big old oak on the field side of the back fence.
    Mother had a fierce ongoing battle with each and every squirrel on the farm. She called them fancy rats with delusions of grandeur. She vowed that they were responsible for everything from house fires to the high unemployment rate.
    Last year she placed a wicked, evil-looking squirrel trap in the back yard. When a poor furry soul wandered inside Mother called one of the army of high school students who worked for her to come and carry the cage far away and bring it back empty. I secretly believed that the crafty kid would let the squirrel out before he left the driveway—insuring himself a future phone call and another five bucks.
    Mother forgot to disarm the trap last May when we went to visit Cassie at Emory University. When we returned home we found a poor little dead squirrel huddled up on the bottom of the cage. It had obviously starved to death.
    The trap disappeared the next day. I haven’t seen it since. From the look of the size of the nests, we would be hearing lots of fancy deluded rats playing in the attic this winter. Mother was right about one thing, though. Squirrels carried diseases like all rodents. What was that word Horatio had told us about—vector?
    Squirrels were vectors and so were prairie dogs. Why was