Dulcie leaped into Wilma’s arms, nearly choking as she tried to get out the words. “Go back. Fulman’s in there. He has a pistol. He shot-he shot at Harper.”
Wilma dropped behind the nearest bush and slid downhill, rolled twice, and fetched up behind a boulder out of the line of fire-her reactions as sharp as when she had worked parole cases; Dulcie supposed the body didn’t forget; like snatching a fast mouse, the habit was with you forever.
The cats crowded close to Wilma. Shielded by the rocks, they could barely see the cave; but they could see, high above it, Fulman’s trailer, where Harper and an officer were easing Cara Ray into the backseat of a squad car, Cara Ray fighting and swearing.
“What happened?” Dulcie whispered to Wilma. “Where’s Lucinda?”
“She hasn’t been home since just after the quake, when the Greenlaws hauled her furniture out of the house.”
“Mightn’t she have gone out to eat by herself, because she was angry? Why did they call the police?”
“She and I had an appointment with the priest-she was upset about Dirken’s plans for the funeral. When she was an hour late, I went by the house.”
Above them, Harper and two officers moved down the hill on foot, keeping low, were soon lost among the dark bushes.
“With all that’s happened,” Wilma whispered, “with the Greenlaws knowing that Lucinda had found the money, Harper thought it best to look for her. Probably she just got in her car and left for a while, left them to their haggling.”
The three officers crouched above the cave among the granite boulders; they would not be able to see into the cave, as Wilma and the cats could. Fulman had moved deeper in, hidden among the inky shadows.
“Fulman,” Harper said, “you’re trapped. You’d do best to come on out.”
Fulman appeared suddenly at the mouth of the cave, his pistol drawn, facing uphill in a shooter’s stance.
“Look out,” Wilma yelled.
The officers dropped. Fulman fired. Three shots flashed in the darkness. The officers rose and circled fast, down either side of the cave, returning fire. Fulman had disappeared. Wilma and the cats lay flattened, Joe wondering if this was the last night in his and Dulcie’s lives-and if they had any lives left, for future use. Watching Lieutenant Wendell slip down beside the cave, Joe’s eyes widened at the metal canister in Wendell’s hand.
“Come out, Fulman,” Harper shouted. “Hands on your head. You have ten seconds, or that cave’s so full of tear gas, you’ll sell your soul for air.”
“My god,” Dulcie said, staring at the canister.
“It could save a life,” Wilma snapped at her. “Run-get down the hill. If the wind picks up a whiff of that stuff?”
But before Wendell could throw the canister they heard a scuffle in the cave, heard a woman scream and Fulman swearing. Another scream, and Fulman loomed in the entrance, pushing Lucinda before him.
“See what I have, Harper. Go on, throw your little bomb.”
The officers drew back. Fulman dragged Lucinda out of the cave, staying behind the thin old woman, moving down the hill using her as a shield. Lucinda was limp and obedient.
“She was in the cave all along,” Dulcie whispered. “She was there when we went in. Why did she let him see her?”
Fulman had backed a third of the way down toward the highway, dragging Lucinda, when the pups raced up at them, barking, half in play, half with confused anger. Fulman spun, kicking at them, the old lady stumbling. Selig and Hestig leaped and snapped at him. He kicked them again, and forced Lucinda across the road to the edge of the cliff, where it sheared away to the breakers. Lucinda made no effort to fight him; caught between the sea crashing below and the gun he held against her, she was very still.
Clutching her arm, he faced the ring of officers that had followed them.“Get the hell away, Harper. Get your men away-the whole mess of you. Or you’ll be picking her out of the ocean.”
The officers drew back But at the rage in Fulman’s voice, the pups went wild. They charged him, Hestig low and snarling, grabbing his ankle as Selig leaped at his chest, hitting him hard; at the same instant Lucinda came alive. Clutched against Fulman, she twisted violently, biting his arm. He hit her in the face. She kneed him where it had tohurt, and when Fulman doubled over, she clawed his face and jerked free. Maybe all the anger she had stored, unspent for so many years, went into that desperate bid for freedom. Certainly the violence enraged the pups. They tore at Fulman. Fighting the dogs and fighting Lucinda, Fulman lost his balance. He fell, dragging Lucinda. They were over the cliff, the pups falling with them clawing at Fulman-humans and pups falling?
Officers surged to the edge, and began to ease themselves down. Fulman was sprawled on a ledge some ten feet below, lying across Lucinda, tangled with the pups. Lucinda had his gun. As Fulman lunged for it, she twisted away. He hit Lucinda hard, snatched the gun, took aim at the officers crowding down the cliff.“I told-”
Joe Grey leaped.
He didn’t think about getting shot or about falling a hundred feet into the sea or about how Max Harper would view his unnatural response or about Dulcie following him, he was just claw-raking, snarling mad: he didn’t like Fulman harming Lucinda; he didn’t like Fulman’s gun pointed up at all of them. Only as he clung to Fulman’s face, digging in, did he realize that Dulcie was beside him, raking Fulman’s throat.
Their weight and the shock of their attack sent Fulman sprawling on the crumbling edge. They felt Lucinda struggle free, saw her grab a rock. Crouching, she swung, her face filled with rage. She hit Fulman in the stomach, pounding him, pounding.
Only then did Joe Grey face the fact that he and Dulcie might have been blown to shreds by one shot from Fulman, exploded into little bits of cat meat. He watched Officer Wendell swing down onto the ledge, his weapon drawn, covering Fulman-the sight of Wendell’s automatic was mighty welcome.
Fulman drew back against the cliff. Lucinda huddled at the edge, staring down at the heaving sea.
As Wendell cuffed Fulman, the cats scrambled up the cliff, past him. From above, they watched Wendell put a leg chain on Fulman, then tie a rope around Lucinda, making a harness, preparing for the officers above to hoist her to the road.
Clyde and two officers lifted her to safety. Her face was very white, her pale hair clinging in damp curls. She said no word. She kept her eyes closed until she was again on solid ground.
The next moments, as the paramedics took over, examining Lucinda and Fulman, Joe and Dulcie fled into the tall, concealing grass.
Pity,Joe thought,that Fulman didn’t crash on the rocks and die. Pity Lucinda didn’t shoot him, be deserved shooting;she would have saved the state of California a good deal of trouble, to say nothing of the money they’d spend prosecuting this scum.
“What is it with humans?” he asked Dulcie, watching Clyde clip leashes on the chastened pups-chastened not from any scolding Clyde had given them. How could he scold them for their wild behavior, when they had helped to capture Fulman? But chastened from the fall; the two dogs were very quiet, the whites around their eyes showing. It was an amazement to Joe that no one, in that ten-foot slide and fall down the cliff, had any broken bones.
What Max Harper would have to say about his and Dulcie’s part in Fulman’s capture did not bear considering. Joe guessed he’d better come up with a good story-coach Clyde on it, and fill Wilma in. Set up a scenario about how these two cats got along so well with the pups, that when the pups got excited, the silly cats got excited, too, went kind of crazy-feline hysteria.
Sitting hidden in the grass, out of the way of the police, Joe and Dulcie watched the first rescue unit pull away, transporting Sam Fulman to the hospital. Two police guards rode with him.