No such luck today.
Under the bed I discovered two stray stuffed animals, a cat toy, and several years' worth of dust. Nothing hidden between the mattress and box spring. Nothing behind the Nagel print.
I returned to the phone and hit Redial, copying down the last number called and disconnecting before it went through. Then I copied down all of the numbers on the caller ID.
'Jack!'
I've been partners with Herb for over a decade, but had never heard such raw panic in his voice before. I rushed out of the bedroom, gun drawn.
Herb stood in the living room, stock-still. Tears ran down his cheeks.
Perched on Herb's head was Mr. Friskers, claws dug in tight.
'He leaped off the curtains. His claws are like fishhooks.'
I took a step closer. Mr. Friskers hissed and arched his back.
Herb screamed.
'Get it off before he scalps me, Jack!'
'You can't pull him off?'
'His claws are stuck in my skull bone.'
Only years of training and consummate professionalism prevented me from breaking down in hysterical laughter.
'You want me to call Animal Control?' I tried to say it straight, but a giggle escaped.
'No. I want you to shoot him.'
'Herb . . .'
'Shoot the cat, Jack. Please. I'm begging you. It's not just the pain. There's gotta be several days' worth of cat mess in that diaper. The smell is making my eyes water.'
I'd never owned a cat and had zero experience with the species. But I did recall an old TV commercial where the cat came running when it got fed. Couldn't hurt to try.
'I'll be right back.'
'Don't leave me, Jack.'
'I'm just going to get my camera.'
'That's not even close to being funny.'
I located the canned cat food in a cabinet. When I opened one of the tins, Herb screamed again. Mr. Friskers appeared in the kitchen a heartbeat later.
'You were just hungry, weren't you, kitty?'
The cat yowled at me. I set the can on the floor and watched him inhale the food.
Herb came through the doorway. His gun was out, pointing at Mr. Friskers.
'Herb, put that away.'
'It's evil, Jack. It has to die.'
Mr. Friskers looked at Herb, hissed, then bolted out of the room. Herb holstered his weapon.
'Am I bleeding?'
'A little.' I handed him some paper towels. 'Find anything?'
'Bank and credit card statements, phone bills, a few personal letters. You?'
'A few grams of cocaine.'
'Give it to the cat. Maybe it will calm him down.'
I gave Herb a fake smile. 'Funny, for someone bleeding to death. Want to stop by the ER on the way back for your rabies shot?'
Herb narrowed his eyes, then looked past me, through the kitchen.
'The crime scene unit will be here soon.'
'So?'
A yowl pierced the room, and Mr. Friskers shot past us and pounced his diaper-clad ass onto the counter. He sat there, hissing. His tail, which poked out through the center of the diaper, swished back and forth like a cobra.
'I'll try Animal Control.' I took out my cell.
The news wasn't good.
'Sorry, Lieutenant. The heat wave has all of us doing triple time. Soonest we could pick it up is Monday.'
'We might all be eaten by then.'
