SLOAN JONES WASN’T in and he hadn’t seemed to care enough about the contents of the newsroom to lock the door behind him. Pasha appeared to enjoy the dark space with its paper-laden desks and smell of old books. She darted around the large room, apparently looking for prey. Myrtle wondered, a bit uneasily, if there might be a few mice scampering around.
Myrtle looked for a place to sit and wait for Sloan. Sloan’s own desk looked to be the most comfortable. He had a large rolling chair with a high back. The desk in front of the chair was as crammed with papers and old printed photos. Myrtle sat rather primly in the chair, clutching her purse and thinking over what she was going to say to Sloan.
Pasha stopped hunting and leaped up on Sloan’s desk, scattering papers wildly. The black cat s
