Jared’s presence in the house was a help, too, and her nephew seemed to have taken a real interest in Benny. That morning, after they’d moved everything into the studio, Jared made sandwiches, packed a lunch, and took Benny with him to run errands, and for an impromptu picnic. She was sorry Jared couldn’t join them at the Damens’. He’d said, making a face, that his mother made it clear she had special plans.
Maudie, enjoying a little break and a moment of solitude, was sitting at the kitchen table with her own lunch and a cup of tea when Ryan came down the hill, pulling her truck into the drive. She had to smile as Ryan stepped out, and not only the big silver Weimaraner jumped out, but the gray tomcat, too, behaving almost like a small dog. She didn’t know what it was about that particular cat and his two friends, but Benny surely had taken to them.
Benny had never had a pet. Pearl didn’t like animals; she said they were dirty and that people simply wasted their money on useless beasts. Caroline and Martin had planned to get the three children a puppy for Christmas—another simple joy taken from them. She rose to let Ryan in. “Have you had lunch? Jared made chicken sandwiches, and there’s a pot of tea.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Ryan laid the final bill and the studio keys on the table. “I meant to go home and warm up a bowl of soup, but this is much nicer. You sure you want company?”
“I’d love the company. Bring Rock in, please.” She needn’t invite Joe Grey in, the tomcat was already stretched out on the stairs. “Rock’s such a lovely dog,” she said, stroking his sleek head. “We had Dobermans when the boys were growing up. Martin …” Her voice caught. “Martin was very good at training them, they had lovely manners. As does Rock,” she added. “Would you prefer coffee to tea?”
“The tea smells good,” Ryan said, glancing at the steaming ceramic teapot. “You are coming for dinner tomorrow? It will be casual, and there’ll be other children in and out, the younger officers’ children. Just a potluck buffet, and we’ll eat in relays when officers take their breaks or go off duty. The Harpers usually have it at the ranch, but with everyone on extra patrol, it makes more sense to have it at our place, where the men can move out faster.” She watched Maudie pour the tea. “You’re moving into the studio today?”
Maudie smiled. “The cartons are all moved. I’ve sent Jared and Benny on errands. Sometimes it’s easier to work alone, for unpacking and organizing.”
“And more satisfying,” Ryan said. “Organizing a creative work space should be a solitary occupation.” She studied Maudie, her green eyes questioning. “You’re upset about something?”
“I didn’t think it showed,” Maudie said. “This morning, I found a couple of boxes missing from the garage, Caroline’s things that I’d saved for Benny. I thought he might have taken them up to his room, but I’d already been through the room, cleaning. I expect they’ll turn up, but it’s puzzling. I … didn’t mention this to Jared,” she cautioned. She didn’t know why she’d mentioned it to Ryan. The moment she did, she was sorry. “Nothing else is missing,” she said quickly.
Ryan looked at her sternly. “You haven’t reported it to the police?”
“I would have,” she said quickly, “if I’d found anything else missing, or found where someone had broken in. I examined the garage door, all the doors and windows. There’s no sign of damage.”
“The police wouldn’t have to send out a patrol car. If you reported it, it would be on record. That would help in case anything more happens.” Ryan tried not to scold, but this was worrisome. Why this distaste for the police? “The department does have its hands full,” she said, “with these invasions, but certainly they’d take a report.”
“You’re not thinking there’s some connection?”
“Probably not,” Ryan said shortly. On the floor by her feet, Rock rolled over, sighing. But on the third step, Joe Grey watched Maudie with such keen interest that Ryan gave him a warning scowl.
Maudie said, “That’s why I didn’t call the police, because they are busy. I saw this morning’s Gazette … I wouldn’t have started taking it if I’d realized just how one-sided the paper is.” She passed the sandwich plate, seemed pleased when Ryan took another quarter-cut morsel. “I don’t remember this newspaper being that way, all the summers our family spent in the village when the boys were small.”
“The paper was sold recently. No one I know likes this new approach—though I haven’t heard of anyone canceling their subscription,” Ryan said wryly. Glancing around the big kitchen with its glass door into the studio, she was acutely aware of how open the house was, kitchen, living room, and entry open to one another with no way to shut any room off, open stairway leading to the bedrooms, no way to secure the second floor. “You haven’t considered an alarm system?”
“I thought about it, but they’re such a bother, always having to remember to arm and disarm them, and then sometimes they go off for no reason, throwing everyone into a panic. I keep the doors locked, the windows locked except when I’m right in the room. Unfortunately,” she said, “I’ve misplaced my second set of keys, and that’s worrisome, but they’ll show up.”
Ryan remained quiet. She couldn’t understand, as vulnerable as Maudie was here alone, and with the shooting so recent and raw in her emotions, how she could be so unconcerned. She had started to speak, to ask more about the missing keys, when she caught Joe Grey’s eye, the tomcat’s look so intense that she had to look away.
What was he telling her? But then almost as if he’d spoken, Ryan knew. It was the one question Joe had asked her about the shooting, the one element of that double murder that Maudie had never made clear, that she seemed to have carefully skirted, the few times the subject was mentioned.
On that black night, on that dark mountain road, with only the thin flicker of moonlight Maudie had described, had she seen the face of the killer?
If she’d seen the shooter and had told the police, wouldn’t she have been encouraged to stay in L.A., maybe with a guard, until the shooter was arrested and she could identify him? If she was the only witness, surely the LAPD wouldn’t have wanted her to move away. Ryan could conclude only that, most likely, Maudie hadn’t seen the shooter. And yet the woman’s unease when she talked about the shooting, something apart from the horror and pain of the murder, made both Ryan and Joe Grey wonder.
“That night,” Ryan said, “the night of the shooting—did you see the killer? See anything you could tell the police?”
“Nothing,” Maudie said quickly. “The sheriff questioned me while I was in the hospital. Later when I got out, when David took me home, the L.A. police questioned me. I guess they were doing some kind of …” Maudie paused, searching for the word.
“Collateral investigation?” Ryan asked.
Maudie nodded. “But no, that night—so black … Hardly any moon at all. It had been a hot day, was still hot and we had the top down. Suddenly the pickup loomed beside us, seemed to come out of nowhere, racing along next to us, and the next instant the gunshots, the noise, and those three explosions of light blinding me, the car spinning out of control and going over …” Maudie said, telling more than she’d been asked, more than was needed.
Ryan said no more. She glanced at Joe Grey, feeling the same uncertainty that gleamed in the tomcat’s eyes. At that moment, woman and cat were caught in the same sure sense that Maudie wanted only to divert Ryan, that she was surely holding something back.