“He shot a gun at my daddy,” she said, her voice little and thin. “He was my daddy’s friend and he shot him and killed him.” She twisted away from him, hiding her face against Davis, but in an instant she turned back. “He killed my daddy!” she screamed, and she kicked and fought Juana, trying suddenly to get at the man, burning suddenly to strike him and hurt him.
“What is his name?” said Juana.
“James Kuda James Kuda James Kuda,” the child screamed. She stared at him, shivering. Donnie stared back at her, his blue eyes filled with rage, and then the child collapsed against Davis, clutching her and weeping, weeping as if all the tears of her young life-over the death of her mother, the drowning of her siblings, and her father’s grisly murder-were suddenly released. Weeping and shivering in a paroxysm of near hysteria. It was at that moment that Max arrived, his jeans and windbreaker wrinkled and muddy and smelling of seawater.
Charlie didn’t see him, where she stood by the far bookshelves with her arms around Cora Lee-whether to comfort Cora Lee or to hold her from interfering in the killer’s arrest, the cats couldn’t tell. But even as the chief walked in, someone was interfering, loudly. A dervish of green and spangles was jerking at two officers, trying to shoulder between them, hitting and swearing at them.
“Stop it!” Gabrielle screamed, pounding Officer Crowley’s barrel chest. “Stop it! Get away from him!” But as she tried to free her fiancé, Officer Cameron grabbed her and pulled her back. Gabrielle fought Cameron, tried to fight them all. “Leave him alone! He’s my fiancé. He lives here, he’s Cora Lee’s cousin! What is this? What are you doing to him? That child is lying. You can’t arrest a man on some child’s wild lie. Leave him alone, you can’t…”
Cameron jerked her out of the way. “Stop it, Gabrielle. This is police business.” When Gabrielle tried to swing on Cameron, the officer jerked her arm behind her. “Keep it up, lady, if you want to spend the night in a cell.”
“I’m going to the mayor!” Gabrielle shouted. “You can’t arrest an innocent man for some wild children’s tale!” As the officers moved the prisoner away, Gabrielle broke away from Cameron, snatched her keys from her purse, and headed for the door.
35
J AMES KUDA SAT in the back of the squad car behind the wire barrier, highly amused by Gabrielle’s rage. If she followed through with her threats, talked to the mayor and hired a lawyer, that would keep her busy for a while, hopefully keep her from nosing around. The car smelled of new leather. Pretty fancy upholstery for a cop car. These cops had it made, in their upscale tourist town with its big money. Well, he’d gotten a bit of it. Would have walked away with more if he’d played his cards closer. Though that would have been hard, in a little burg like this. He just hoped what he did get, stayed hidden, that Gabrielle didn’t go poking around, that she’d spin her wheels trying to defend him, go to the mayor, keep her mind on that for a while, while he talked his way out of this. He always did. Easy enough to go for accidental death or self-defense.
If they did make him, which wasn’t likely, it would be only a few years, and the money would be there when he got out-and plenty more stashed from past relationships, as the ladies like to call them.
First thing, get a good lawyer. Gabrielle would help him with that if he could keep her blindsided. She’d never believe it was anything but self-defense, and not likely she’d go poking around in her computer for another couple of months, not until it was time to do her taxes or maybe even June when she’d roll over her CDs. His women seldom turned against him; they liked the sweet talk too much, and liked his sweet, loving ways.
Too bad he’d had to do Donnie, but there was no other way. Too much back in Texas that Donnie knew. Had to admit, he’d let his guard down, there. As loyal as Donnie was, in the beginning, that sure went sour. That was one of the reasons Donnie had wanted to come out to the coast. Make a new start, get away from him before the Texas cops came nosing around and caught Donnie up in the loop, too.
He had to hope these village cops were the soft-living type, with their minds on their fancy cars and on socializing, hope they were like New Orleans cops, partying on duty, taxiing big-name civilians around to the fancy restaurants in their squad cars.
Shackled in the backseat like some dangerous ex-con, he squirmed as the unit pulled in between two chain-link fences and parked in back of the station, next to their two-bit jail. How had this happened, that he got caught? Who blew the whistle on him?
It wasn’t that kid, scared all the time-until tonight. No, something had happened before that. He’d kept out of her way, made sure she didn’t see him, so it had to be someone else that made him. He just couldn’t figure out who.
Earlier tonight, when he saw that detective’s lights go out, he could have sworn the woman and kid had gone to bed, that she wasn’t going out again, wasn’t going to the damned party, and that had been his mistake. But it was Gabrielle’s fault, wanting to hit every party, get dressed up fancy, show off her diamond ring and her boobs.
Could that kid have seen him, sometime earlier that he didn’t know about? Seen him, and pointed him out to that detective Davis? And then the detective had set him up, brought the kid there to the opening. Someone had done a number on him, they’d had half the damned force there in civilian clothes. Now, he’d better be thinking what to do about it, how to slip out of this one.
But maybe, after all, Gabrielle had the right idea. One little kid. What kind of witness was that? A good lawyer, knowing the kid’s background, could easily prove that, seeing her mother die, then most of her family drown, she was real screwed up, emotionally unstable, as they called it. If that kid was all the prosecution had to go on, a good lawyer could make Swiss cheese of their case.
Maybe he should have killed the kid when he had the chance. Had he turned soft? But he didn’t want a kid’s death on his record. With an adult, he could go for self-defense. But a kid? No way; they’d send him up good, for a kid.
The uniform swung out of the car, pulled him out, shoving his head down so they wouldn’t crack his brain and face a lawsuit. He should have cut out earlier, before the party. He knew that party was a bad idea. Should have given Gabrielle some excuse that would buy him a few hours, tell her there was another job offer up in the city, that he didn’t want to miss it. At least he’d wiped the account pages off the computer, told her he thought there’d been a power surge. Surge arresters didn’t catch them all; he’d told her enough about that, early on, to leave her comfortable with the explanation.
But now the cops would call Donnie’s sister-in-law. And Cora Lee would, too. Louise was the kid’s only remaining family, outside of Cora Lee. He just hoped Louise hadn’t found Cora Lee’s letters that never reached Donnie, that he should have burned. Why was it he liked to save things? He’d hidden them real well, though-little mementos of past accomplishments.
No, she’d never find those letters where he’d stashed them. Kicking himself for letting his guard down, later he stumbled through the cell door, shoved by the fat cop, stood surveying the filthy bunk as he heard the lock click behind him. He should have run. Should have burned the letters…Should, should, should…All his careful planning down the drain. And, sitting down alone in his cell, James Kuda put his head in his hands, trying to figure how he was going to get out of this one.
I N THE BOOKSTORE, the cats, at the first sign of trouble before the pseudo Donnie French was arrested, had leaped to the top of a bookshelf where they could see what was happening and were out of the way of fast-moving feet. Joe and Dulcie were as surprised as their human friends at what was happening. Only Kit looked smug, watching the action with a cool little smile twitching her whiskers. Dulcie and Joe looked hard at her.