The Theatre Beckons.
Vicky came out to the theatre today to look around and check for her roommate's cat, Mr. Engels (a calico, one of several). The cat was mostly an indoors cat, in her experience. He would hop around the room and bother Vicky and her roommate, Alice, while they studied for long hours in the evenings and weekends. It was always "Get off my textbooks, Mister." and "No, get off the keyboard!" and "No, that's my ramen, not yours!" Not that Vicky would ever complain, mind--she loved that damn cat, and Alice's two other cats, Cat and Franklin D. Roosevelt. It's just that Cat and FDR didn't intervene in studying.
They had heard about all the cats going missing and later turning up dead, in fact--someone warned Alice to keep her cats inside, although Vicky couldn't remember who. They had even mentioned this part of town specifically, but because cats are free-spirited it was best to just keep them cooped up. Mr. Engels was usually given freedom of movement all around town, and he was smart enough to dodge animal control, unfriendly dogs and neighbors, and other such nasties. But over the weekend, Mr. Engels darted out.
Despite how annoying Mr. Engels was always, it was lonely studying without him. So she found herself here, and approaching a cop near the theatre. "Uh, hi. I hear a bunch of cats died. I was looking for my friend's cat, it's a kind of petite shorthair with a tortoiseshell coat?"
She was glad--he looked young, and she didn't recognize him. So he probably didn't know her, and her dad and uncle probably didn't know him.