"Did you hear about Mrs. Henderson's cat going missing?" "Rosemary's gone? Oh, poor Mrs. Henderson. She must be beside herself." "She's offering a reward for anyone who finds her. Five hundred dollars!" "Five hundred? That cat must've learned how to print money behind our backs!" "Don't joke. She's been a wreck. It’s not like Rosemary to wander off. Always sticks to the garden, as far as I know." "Strange, indeed. Did she say when Rosemary went missing?" "Last night, around dusk. Just vanished while she was out watering the petunias." "Dusik's Bakery closes around that time. Did anyone see anything unusual last evening?" "Funny you should ask. Old Mr. Beasley mentioned seeing a shadow scoot by the alley when he was locking up." "A shadow? That’s rather vague. Could be anyone." "True, but Beasley swears it had the shape of a large cat. Think someone could’ve snatched her?" "Wouldn't surprise me. Remember Mrs. Thorpe’s Persian last summer? Found tied to a lamppost two blocks away." "Oh, heavens. Who would do such a thing? These are our pets, our family!" "Either someone equally broken or just plain cruel. Have you checked the shelter yet?" "First thing this morning. No sign of Rosemary, but I’m hopeful. Cats have a way of coming back when we least expect it." "Let’s hope you’re right. In the meantime, I’ll keep my ears open. This town's small, secrets don’t stay hidden for long." "Thanks. Stop by Mrs. Henderson's later, would you? A little company might brighten her spirits." "Absolutely. I'll bring some fresh scones. If conversation won't help, maybe some sugar will."