B Is for Burglar

idea Elaine could swear like that, though I must say the other one was worse."
    "What was it about?"
    "A man, of course. What else do any of us fuss about?"
    "You have any idea who it was?"
    "Nope. Frankly, I suspect Elaine's one of those women who's secretly thrilled with widowhood. She gets a lot of sympathy, tons of freedom. She has all that money and no one to hassle with. Why cut some guy in on a deal like that? She's better off by herself."
    "Why quarrel with Beverly if that's the case?"
    "Who knows? Maybe they thought it was fun."
    I finished my coffee and got up then. "I better scoot. I don't want to interrupt your breakfast, but I may want to get back to you. Are you listed in the book?"
    "Of course. I do work... tending bar at the Edgewood Hotel near the beach. You know the place?"
    "I can't afford it, but I know which one you mean."
    "Pop in and visit sometime. I'm there from six until closing every night except Monday. I'll buy you a drink."
    "Thanks, Wim. I'll do that. I appreciate your help. The coffee was a treat."
    "Anytime," he said.
    I let myself out, catching a glimpse of Wim's breakfast mate, who looked like something out of Gentlemen's Quarterly: sultry eyes, a perfect jawline, collarless shirt, and an Italian cashmere sweater tossed across his shoulders with the sleeves folded into a knot in front.
    In the kitchen, Wim had started to sing a version of "The Man I Love." His singing voice sounded just like Marlene Dietrich's.
    When I reached the lobby I ran into Tillie, who was pushing a wire cart in front of her like a stroller. It was loaded with brown paper bags.
    "I feel like I go to the market twice a day," she said. "Are you here looking for me?"
    "Yes, but when you weren't in, I went up and had a brief chat with Wim instead. I didn't realize Elaine Boldt had a cat."
    "Oh, she's had Ming for years. I don't know why I didn't think to mention that. I wonder what she did with him?"
    "You said she had some carry-on luggage that night going out to the cab. Could it have been Mingus in the cat carrier?"
    "Well, it must have been. It was certainly big enough and she did take the cat with her everywhere she went. I guess he's missing too. Isn't that what you're getting at?"
    "I don't know yet, but probably. Too bad he's not suffering from some rare cat disease so I could track him down through a veterinarian someplace," I said.
    She shook her head. "Can't help you there. He's in good health, as far as I ever knew. He'd be easy to recognize. Big old gray long-haired thing. He must have weighed almost twenty pounds."
    "Was he purebred?"
    "No and she'd had him neutered early on, so he wasn't used for breeding purposes or anything like that."
    "Well," I said, "I may as well start checking up on him too, since I don't have anything else at this point. Did you talk to the police yesterday?"
    "Oh yes, and told 'em we thought the woman might have stolen Elaine's bills when she broke in. The officer looked at me like he thought I was nuts, but he did write it down."
    "I'll tell you something else Wim brought up. He swears Elaine's sister Beverly was up here at Christmastime and got into a big fight with her. Were you aware of that?"
    "No I wasn't, and Elaine never mentioned anything about it either," she said, shifting restlessly. "I've got to go in, Kinsey. I've got some sherbet that'll leak right out if I don't pop it in the freezer soon."
    "All fight. I'll get back to you later if I need anything else," I said. "Thanks, Tillie."
    Tillie went on through the lobby, lugging her grocery cart and I went back to my car and unlocked it. I glanced over at the Grices' house as usual, my attention drawn almost irresistibly to that half-charred ruin where the murder had taken place. On impulse, I locked my car again and trotted up to the Snyders' front door. He must have spotted me through the window because the door opened just as I raised my hand to knock. He stepped out on the porch.
    I saw you coming up the walk. You're the one was here yesterday," he said. "I don't remember your name."
    "Kinsey Millhone. I talked to Mr. Grice out at his sister's house yesterday. He said you had a key to his place and would let me in so I could take a look around."
    "Yes, that's right. I got it here somewhere." Mr. Snyder seemed to frisk himself and then fished a key ring out of his pocket. He sorted through the keys.
    "This's it," he said. He wrestled the key off the ring and handed it to me. "That's to the back door. Front's