"If I was that old and wrinkled," Consuela said, "I'd kill myself."
The three younger girls doubled up with merriment, their giggles self-conscious and loud.
"The dead guy's your mother's partner," said the blonde.
"I guess," Dillon snapped. "It stinks here, let's go."
"And that was her lover." Leah giggled. "That tall guy who left a while ago, that was your mother's squeeze."
"You have a big mouth," Dillon told her. "A big cesspool mouth."
"So isn't he her lover? You said…"
Dillon slapped the girl. Hit her so hard that Leah reeled. Catching herself Leah swung at Dillon.
Consuela stood leaning smugly against the side of the building, watching them, grinning slyly when Leah grabbed Dillon's hair. As Dillon swung to hit her again, she was grabbed from behind.
Max Harper was quick and silent, holding Dillon's arm. The captain's thin sun-creased face was drawn into an unforgiving scowl. He stood, thin and muscled and tall, staring down at Dillon. "Go home, Dillon. Go home now. And go alone."
"You can't make me," Dillon said tremulously, her face flushing.
Harper looked hard at her, and at the other three. "Leah and Candy, you get on to your own homes. Do it now.'"
Leah and Candy backed away from him, and left. Redheaded Dillon stood still, defying him. Consuela stood watching, still smirking.
Ignoring Dillon, Harper fixed on Consuela. "Miss Benton, I don't want to see you around Dillon anymore. You have no business with these girls."
"What I do is not your business!"
"It is my business if you are arrested for a crime."
Consuela flipped Harper the bird, turned away, and sauntered insolently up the street. Max Harper stood looking after her, then looked down at Dillon. All the closeness between them, all the easy companionship, was gone. "Go now, Dillon."
At last Dillon headed away in the direction of her own house, sullenly scuffing her feet like a young child. Harper, watching her, looked so sad that Dulcie wanted to reach out a paw and comfort him. He looked as if his own child had fallen in front of him and refused to get up.
The kit watched the captain, too, very still and frightened. Was there nothing she could do to make him feel better? She knew how to tease the captain, but she didn't know what to do about his hurt. She watched the girls fade away through the village wondering why Dillon ran with those others. Did you call a group of human girls a clowder, like cats? Why were those girls so angry? Why had Dillon turned so mean? The kit was so full of questions she began to shiver-but part of her shivers were hunger, too. The deep-down belly-empty hunger she always felt when her head was too full of fear and questions.
Behind them, an officer had come into the house and started closing windows; soon the house would be secured and additional crime tape strung around it. Dulcie and Kit looked at each other, slipped through the drapery, leaped out the window and up the nearest tree-and they raced away across the rooftops and along sprawling oak branches until they reached Jolly's alley.
On the roof of Jolly's Deli they paused with their paws in the gutter, their pads sinking down into the mat of wet leaves, looking down into the pretty brick paved lane with its flowers and benches, anticipating the usual nice plate of treats that Mr. Jolly put out for the village cats; after the stressful morning, a cat needed comfort food.
Mr. Jolly himself was just coming out the back door, dressed in his white pants and white shirt, white shoes and white apron. Bending over with a grunt because his stomach got in the way, he set down a paper plate loaded with smoked salmon and shrimp salad and roast beef, all smelling so good the kit drooled. The cats were ready to scorch down the jasmine vine and enjoy the feast, when Dulcie nipped the kit's shoulder and pulled her back quickly onto the shingles where they would not be seen.
Below them, Consuela was entering the alley pushing irritably past the flowering trees in their big clay pots. The black tomcat swaggered in beside her. Consuela, swiveling her hips, sat down on the little wooden bench. Azrael, glancing the length of the alley, crouched before the plate of deli scraps, and in seconds the food was gone. He scarfed it all, the smoked salmon and roast beef and the nice shrimp salad. The kit wanted to fly down there and cuff him away but he was pretty big. His purrs of gluttony filled the alley as loud and ragged as another cat's growls. Behind the rudely slurping beast, Consuela sat impatiently waiting, tapping her booted toe and tossing a key in her hand. Each time she flipped the key, it clinked against its dangling metal fob. With her frowzy black hair and black lipstick and black-lined eyes, the two were as alike as human and cat could be. Watching them, the kit looked up when Dulcie nudged her; and she looked where Dulcie was looking.
Across the chasm of the alley on the opposite roof, among the leafy shadows of an acacia tree, Joe Grey stood so still that he seemed at first glance no more than a smear of gray shadows among the dark leaves.
Had he been there all the time? His yellow eyes gleamed intently, telling the kit to be still. Then his gaze dropped to the alley where the black tomcat was cleaning the paper plate with a rasping tongue, holding it down with his paw.
As the black tom turned and sauntered across the bricks and leaped onto the bench beside Consuela, Joe Grey came to the edge of the roof, listening.
"Well?" the black tom said, watching her.
Coldly Consuela studied him. "What do I get? What's in it for me?"
"You'll greatly impress our friend, I can guarantee that. I expect he'll split with you."
Jingling the key, she looked unconvinced.
"A blond wig, a little practice with the signature, you're in and out and no one the wiser. Banks don't bother to see if you have your checkbook or if you remember your account number. They just want you in there with your money. In this case they want you in and out fast. Opening the vault makes them edgy."
"You're an authority, you've cased a lot of banks." She whipped out a little mirror and applied another layer of dark lipstick, then spit on her little finger and smoothed a perfect black eyebrow. "What if she misses the key?"
"What if she does? She'll think she misplaced it. Who would come into her room there at the Getz house and know to look for a safe deposit key?"
"You did," she said fluffing her hair.
The cat shrugged. "She'd never think of that."
The two continued in this vein for nearly half an hour before Consuela agreed to pack a bag, gas up her car, and head for the city while Kate was still in the village. The three cats listened in amazement to Azrael's persistent and artful barrage; but only Joe Grey had the full story. Dulcie and Kit glanced across at him, impatient for him to fill in the blanks. As Azrael painted for Consuela visions of her wearing mink and driving a Jaguar escorted around San Francisco by any man of her choosing, both Dulcie and Kit had to clench their teeth to keep from collapsing in fits of giggles. Whatever scam Azrael was pushing, they thought he ought to stick to robbing antique stores and stealing the savings of little old ladies. Banks were big time, out of his and Consuela's league.
Or were they? By the time the two left the alley, Azrael was strutting beside Consuela lashing his tail with triumph.
10
Late September rains had turned the hills above Molena Point from summer gold to the clear bright green of winter. To visitors from the East Coast, where the summer hills are green and the winter hills brown, the reverse in color seems strange. Gold rules the California summers, green paints the colder months. High above the village rooftops the Harper pastures glowed as green as emerald.
Charlie stood at her kitchen window looking down the verdant slopes past their neat white pasture fences to the village and the far sea, waiting beside the bubbling coffeepot for Ryan Flannery's red pickup to turn into the long drive, waiting to go over the blueprints so that Ryan could start the new addition.