They were talking in low voices.
That was unusual enough that Boneh paused on the stairs. Normally Gran and Uncle Cawley’s conversations were loud enough to waft right up the stairs.
Their voices became normal when they realized he was coming downstairs. It was Saturday and they were in the kitchen. Uncle Cawley had made French toast for breakfast. Then he had a big day ahead of him with the weekend newspapers.
After breakfast, Boneh expected Gran to take a cat out for a walk.
But instead, as soon as her coffee and plate of food was finished, she returned to her bedroom. Passing by her room, Boneh could see her at the computer, tapping away.
“Uh, isn’t it Cookie’s turn for a walk?” he asked.
“Not today, dear,” said Gran absently, not pausing in her typing.
He hurried along to his room before she could decide that he would be a good candidate for a cat walk.
Even Uncle Cawley was acting strange. When Boneh came back downstairs, his uncle wasn’t cutting and pasting. He was