Immediately after supper, the three cats broke into a wild chase out across the pasture, where they could talk, heading for the tallest spring grass, where only the grazing horses could hear them. Rock didn't follow them, he'd been scolded too many times for chasing the cats, both by Ryan and by the cats themselves. Rock meant only to play, but a big dog's playful enthusiasm could get out of hand.
Crouched in a forest of grass, Dulcie and Kit told Joe about the caged cat up in the hills that Charlie had freed. "Charlie thinks Hernando was trapping cats. The cat wouldn't speak, but clearly he understood her."
Kit said, "He is the leader of the clowder that I ran with. Stone Eye. He's mean as snakes. Charlie should have left him to rot."
Joe looked at her, surprised. Dulcie said, "Question is, did Hernando know what kind of cats? Charlie thinks he did, and that he's trapped others."
"And he died for it," Kit said darkly.
"If he did trap others," Joe said, "where are they?" His yellow eyes narrowed. "And does his brother Luis know? Could Luis have them, hidden somewhere?" The tomcat sat considering. "I think I've seen Luis and that Tommie McCord, next door in Chichi's room."
"Chichi?" Dulcie said.
Joe smiled. "Little Chichi Barbi, sitting in her room with those two hoods, going over a map of the village."
Dulcie's and Kit's eyes widened; they were considering the ramifications of this when Clyde started calling them.
"He's getting ready to leave," Dulcie said, rearing up to look over the tops of the tall grass. "Hurry up, Joe. You know how impatient he gets." Joe was reluctant to head home, but the cats took off for the house. Dulcie and Kit would stay with the Harpers, settling in with Wilma in Charlie's studio. The minute they hit the patio, Clyde scooped Joe up and headed for his car.
Ryan walked beside them for a moment. "I'll be by, then, first thing in the morning."
Clyde nodded, and tossed Joe onto the leather seat. He was silent starting the car, silent heading away up the drive. Then, "The water faucets were delivered. Ryan's going to install one, to see how it works."
"To see if I can work it." Clyde glanced at him, and shrugged. When Ryan was working on Clyde's extensive remodel, adding the second-story study and master bedroom, Clyde had asked if she could get faucets that a cat could turn on, but that would turn off by themselves. He'd spent a lot of time explaining how he planned to train Joe and the other three cats to turn the faucets on for a drink of fresh water. "I can train them to turn the water on," Clyde had explained. "But you can't expect a cat to turn the water off. A cat doesn't pay the water bill. He would see no reason to do that."
"I think you're crazy," Ryan said. But she'd searched until she found the proper faucet, in the catalog of a North Carolina specialty shop. She had ordered five.
Joe said, "She coming for breakfast? She does like your ham and cheese scramble."
Clyde shook his head. "She said she'd have a quick bite somewhere before she picks up Dillon and Lori so they can ride. Lori's taken really well to that pony." He glanced at Joe. "It's a teacher's day or something, kids'll be out of school. No wonder kids don't get an education."
Joe had his own thoughts about childhood education. But at the moment, his mind was on the Rivas brothers and Tommie McCord, and on that band of feral cats. Had some of those cats been captured? Were there speaking cats somewhere, shut miserably in a cage? And that night, he lay awake worrying about the feral cats. About cats like himself and Dulcie and Kit locked up in cages. Why? What did Luis mean to do with them? Sell them? Force them into some kind of animal act? He didn't want to consider clearly what those crooks might attempt. The thought of animal prisoners and how they might be treated made him shaky.
But one thing sure. If Luis knew those cats could speak, he wouldn't hurt them; they were too valuable to be harmed.
And if there were captive cats, and if Chichi knew about them… He sat straight up on the bed. If Chichi knew what those cats were, knew they could speak, had she guessed that he was the same?
Was that why she had looked at him so strangely, the night he "happened to wander" into her bedroom? He sat shivering and terrified, and he did not sleep anymore that night.
16
Ryan Flannery loved the dawn. The world seemed cleanest then, before people cluttered it up with roaring engines, exhaust fumes and shouting voices. Waking in her high-ceilinged studio apartment, as the first pale glow touched the white walls and rafters, she gave Rock a good-morning hug and let him out into the fenced backyard. Plugging in the coffeepot, which she had set up the night before, she showered quickly, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, let Rock in again.
Outside, a gull landed on the railing, peered in through the wide windows, then flew off again. Since Rock had come to live with her, she hadn't bothered to draw the draperies at night. Rock would let her know if anyone came up the stairs onto the deck, in the small hours. The duplex studio belonged to Charlie Harper. Ryan paid her rent, in part, with carpentry and maintenance work, a nice arrangement all around-except perhaps in the eyes of the IRS, a governmental leviathan which, in Ryan's opinion, was badly in need of a severe overhaul.
While Rock was crunching his kibble, she took her coffee out on the front deck to enjoy the brightening sky and sea. High, creamy clouds floated above the village rooftops, catching reflections of the sun's first gleam from the hills behind her. The world, at dawn, seemed to belong only to her and Rock, and to the screaming gulls and the seals that were barking happily out on the rocks.
But while Ryan sat relaxed enjoying the fresh beginning of a new day, Rock pushed the door open and paced the deck looking up at her, wanting to start the day, hungering for action. He was so insistent that soon she gave it up, grabbed her gloves and battered briefcase that was jammed with house plans and receipts and work orders, snatched up her car keys, and they hit the road for a quick breakfast.
As she and Rock entered the patio of the Swiss Cafe, the big dog wagged his tail madly and surged ahead toward the back wall. Bringing him quickly to heel with a sharp command, she looked across the brick terrace to a small table where Lucinda and Pedric Greenlaw waved at her. Grinning, she moved to join them, keeping Rock close. Making her way between the tables, she took the one empty chair. "You don't mind company? This isn't a private tete-a-tete?"
Lucinda laughed. "We're celebrating-or almost celebrating. We think… we may have found the right house. We haven't seen it yet, but from the brochure… We're meeting the Realtor first thing this morning." The old couple was just finishing their pancakes and bacon and coffee. "It's just a stone's throw from Wilma's," Lucinda said. "You can see her roof from the deck."
"That'll be handy. You can walk right over."
Lucinda nodded. She had an almost secretive smile, and Pedric's blue eyes twinkled-both looked as if this house included something very special. "Tell me what it's like," Ryan said, intrigued. The Greenlaws were such a lively couple; their venerable age had not dimmed the intellectual sharpness and enthusiasm that made their friends treasure them.
"Everything we'll want is on the main level," Lucinda said. "Huge living room with a freestanding fireplace you can see from the dining room. High rafters, much like your studio. All one side is tall windows looking down on the village. One nice big bedroom on the main floor, with a big dressing room and bath, and two closets. It even has a double garage!" Garages, in the heart of the village among the crowded cottages, were at a premium, a big selling point for any house. As they talked, the waitress appeared and Ryan gave her order.