“Emilie,” Gabe interrupted, his voice dropping to a lower warning register.

“Now, Gabriel,” Emilie Crosswhite answered him, a hint of willfulness in her tone, “you know we have to help the girl.”

“This is not your problem,” he insisted.

“Of course it is,” she countered. “Someone tried to kidnap Princess Athabasca. They failed, but only because this girl’s brave cat thwarted their plans by valiantly substituting himself for their intended victim. It could easily be the Princess and not poor Crudley languishing in a cold dark cage somewhere without food or water or a kind voice to cheer him.”

Gabe rolled his eyes theatrically and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Emilie, your whimsical interpretation of events is an almost constant delight to me. But in this case, I think you’re overreacting. This woman is a stranger. She showed up here today unannounced, charmed her way past the staff—” he had the grace to stumble a little over that “—and now she’s trying to sell you this preposterous story, apparently in the hope you’ll feel guilty and agree to pay off some alleged kidnappers for the return of a cat she may or may not even own.”

Cass was prepared to take offense when Emilie Crosswhite took it for her. “Now who’s being ridiculous?” the older woman demanded. “No one would name an imaginary cat ‘Crudley.’ He’s obviously a real cat, and he’s obviously an innocent bystander, caught up in a plot to extort money from me. I cannot simply abandon this poor animal or pretend I bear no responsibility for what happens to him. He would be safe at this moment if I hadn’t taken the Princess to that wretched clinic for her yearly tonic.”

Cass had a fleeting vision of a kitty health spa where overweight and overpampered cats dined on caviar and drank Perrier water while attendants brushed their fur and clipped their unused claws. Then Gabe rejoined the argument. “What if she does own a cat named Crudley? What if he was at Dr. Bellingham’s clinic last night and he’s missing now? How do you know this woman isn’t the extortionist herself? How do you know she didn’t come here today to give you this sob story in person just to convince you to pay the ransom?”

“Very simply,” Cass interrupted, her temper rising at Gabe’s about-face and his attempt to blacken her character. “You know that isn’t true because I didn’t come here to ask Mrs. Crosswhite for any money.”

Emilie Crosswhite beamed at Cass, then threw a smug little smile in Gabe’s direction. “You see?” she scolded him. “I keep telling you not to assume the worst about people.”

Gabriel Preston colored deeply, an unreadable mix of emotions flashing across his face. He wasn’t ready to surrender, however. “Why did you come here, then?” he demanded of Cass.

“To ask Mrs. Crosswhite if she’d help by stalling the kidnappers when they call.” She turned to Emilie. “If you could play along with them, tell them you need time to collect the ransom and most of all not tell them they have the wrong cat, then that will give me a chance to notify the police. They can set up a phone trace or something and catch the people who did this.”

“The police are not going to go to all that trouble because of a missing cat,” Gabe interjected.

“He’s not missing. He was stolen,” Cass corrected hotly.

“Even if he was,” Gabe said wearily, “that isn’t a crime.”

“Of course it’s a crime!”

Gabe shook his head. “Cats are not considered property in this county.”

The two women stared at him, uncomprehending. “What does that mean?” Cass finally demanded.

“It means cats can’t be ‘stolen’ because legally they don’t belong to anyone. They’re like squirrels or raccoons.”

Emilie waved off Gabe’s statement. “They’re not a bit like either of those creatures.”

“Legally speaking, Emilie, cats are considered no different from wild animals. Unless they’re living on a game preserve, protected by state or federal government, their welfare falls outside the scope of the law.”

“But that’s absurd—”

“I never heard of anything—”

Both women had spoken at once. Both broke off at the same time, silently considering the implication of Gabe’s words. Cass found her voice first. “What about the break-in at the clinic? Isn’t that a crime?”

“Of course,” Gabe acknowledged. “And if the doctor notifies the police, they’ll take a report and conduct a routine investigation. They aren’t going to hunt for a missing cat, though.”

Cass’s jaw muscles tightened. “What about the ransom note? What happens when the kidnappers call and demand money from Mrs. Crosswhite? Isn’t that a crime?”

“Yes, that’s a crime, too. If anyone tries to extort money from Emilie, naturally she’ll report it to the police. But once she tells the extortionists they don’t have her cat and she won’t pay them a dime, she won’t have any further contact with them.”

“And what happens to my cat if she tells them that?”

Gabe shrugged. “Whoever took him, if someone really did take him, will probably just let him go.” He grinned wryly. “It isn’t as though the kidnappers have to worry about your cat identifying them to the authorities. There’s no reason for them to hurt Crudley.”

“So they’ll dump him somewhere and I’ll never see him again and then everything will be fine. Is that right?” Cass challenged.

Gabe had no answer. Silence fell on the group until Emilie Crosswhite gradually emerged from the fog of thoughtfulness that had enveloped her. “I cannot believe,” she said, “that the Princess could have been kidnapped and the police would do nothing to save her.” She made a nervous fluttery gesture with one hand.

“That would be a completely different situation, Emilie,” Gabe hastened to assure her. “If the Princess had been taken, there would certainly be an investigation.”

Emilie looked from Gabe’s calm face to Cass’s bewildered one as though afraid she was the only one who didn’t understand. “I thought you said the police wouldn’t consider a cat stolen.”

“The Princess is a show cat, Emilie. She has monetary, not just sentimental value. The law recognizes that.”

“Oh.” Emilie relaxed slightly even as Cass stiffened with anger. “Oh!” Emilie repeated with new distress as the meaning of Gabe’s analysis sunk in. She glanced at Cass’s tight-lipped profile. “Oh, dear. That really isn’t fair at all.”

Gabe quirked up one corner of his mouth and raised his eyebrows as if to say, What else is new?

Cass shot an angry look at him. “I’m sure you believed it when you said money can’t buy everything, Mr. Preston. You forgot to add, though, that a lack of money buys even less.”

Cass rose to go, infuriated that none of the sacrifices she made ever seemed to be enough. Money remained the great unequalizer. The world was run by the rich, for the benefit of the rich. Only they could expect “fair” treatment. Only they had the kind of security she’d worked so desperately to create for herself.

Emilie Crosswhite laid a surprisingly firm hand on Cass’s knee, pressing her to stay seated. She thrust her small but determined chin forward. “Well, Gabriel,” she announced, “if the police won’t help this girl, we certainly must.”

Gabe fixed Emilie with a warning look. “Now, Emilie...”

“Now, Gabriel...”

“What is it you propose to do?”

“I don’t know yet. You’ll have to help me figure that out. But it must be something that brings Crudley home safe to Miss Appleton.” Emilie patted Cass’s knee to emphasize her comforting words.

“You can’t mean you want to cooperate with these alleged kidnappers?” Gabe said incredulously.

“If that’s what it takes.”

Gabe threw up his hands in disgust. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Emilie! Do you seriously believe Mark Gallagher will allow you to write a blank check to pay off some bungling extortionists who can’t even snatch the right cat?”

“He’s a wonderful advisor, but it’s my money,” Emilie insisted serenely. “I don’t see how he can stop me.”