Oh, right. Harper had been a cop all these years, to do something stupid now?
Still, with the pressure on, and Harper so rudely excluded from the information loop, who knew?
This whole scene, Joe thought miserably, made him feel like he was clinging to a broken branch that was about to fall, hard, on the concrete.
Clyde said,“Lowell Gedding has complete confidence in Garza.”
Joe opened his eyes.“Confidence in him to do what?”
Clyde glared.
“Confidence that Garza will come up with evidence to clear Harper? Or that Garza will stack the evidence to please those guys on the city council who’d like to see Harper out of there? Who’d like a softer brand of law enforcement?”
“You’re letting your imagination run overtime. HarperaskedGedding to call in an investigator. That had to be done, to put Max at arm’s length. Harper knows Garza’s reputation,hehas confidence that Garza will clear him. And if Gedding wanted to dump Harper, why would he call in an outside investigator?”
“Why would henot}Make it look good. Make a solid case against Harper. An investigator who’s in Gedding’s pocket.”
Clyde’s brown eyes blazed with indignation, but then with uncertainty.
“Gedding was mighty quick to suggest Garza,” Joe said. “He had Garza right on the tip of his tongue, primed and ready, when Harper suggested an outside man.”
“How would you know that?”
“I heard him. Dulcie and I heard him.”
Clyde poured soap into the washer and slammed the lid, closing his eyes as if in pain.“I don’t want to know how you two were able to hear Lowell Gedding and Max Harper, in a private conversation, behind a closed door, inside Lowell Gedding’s private office.”
Joe Grey smiled.“What I’m telling you, Clyde, is that Gedding came up too fast with the name of Dallas Garza. As if he had it all planned.” He sat up straighter, studying Clyde. “Your face is awfully red. You really ought to think about the damage that stress does to the human body. How long since you’vehad a checkup? You really shouldn’t get yourself so tied in knots.”
Clyde turned on his heel and left the laundry.
Alone, Joe pawed a nest into Rube’s blanket, and settled down, considering his options.
Despite the dangers and drawbacks, moving in with this new detective was the only thing he knew to do, if he wanted a line into Molena Point PD.
He could make a run every day into the squad room. Spend his time underneath Garza’s desk-until he got caught and pitched out on his furry ear.
And from beneath the desk, what would he learn? He could hear phone calls and conversations, but he’d get no look at department correspondence or at Garza’s notes and reports. And as to interviews, Garza had arranged all his appointments away from the department.
Rolling on his back, he shoved Rube’s blanket aside. Long-term surveillance beneath the detective’s desk would be about as productive as hunting mice in a bathtub.
He was going to have to move in with Garza, give it a try, hope that Garza brought work home at night, away from the department and from the officers who were close buddies with Max Harper.
He imagined Garza, late in the evenings, making his notes and listening to his tapes in private. Quiet evenings in a cozy cottage, perfect to think over the facts, see how they added up; and a good time to place sensitive phone calls.
Particularly if he meant to frame Harper.
Clyde returned with an armful of sheets, tossing them practically on top of Joe.“What are you grinning about?”
He stepped atop the pile of wrinkled bedsheets.“Why would I be grinning? This situation is not a matter for levity.”
Clyde began to sort through his dark shirts, dousing spot remover liberally on shirt fronts and inside collars, forcing Joe to endure a fit of sneezing.
“Tell me something, Joe. I know I’m opening a can of worms here. But what, exactly,isyour take on the Marner murders? What doyouthink happened up there?”
“You’re asking me? You want my opinion? The lowly house cat?”
“Cut it, Joe.”
“You never ask me anything. All you ever do is-”
“Kate and I had dinner last night. I think it’s interesting that she didn’t tell me a thing about the barrette.”
“Maybe the department told her not to. So what’s your point?”
“She told me-this wasn’t in theGazette,only in the San Francisco papers-that Lee Wark escaped from prison three weeks ago, with two other death row inmates.”
Though he knew this, a chill coursed down Joe’s spine. Kneejerk reaction to the mention of Lee Wark.
“Kate said prison authorities thought Wark might be in San Francisco.”
“I hope Harper knows this,” Joe said.
“Harper’s not in the most talkative of moods.” Clyde looked at him deeply, the kind of look that made Joe pay attention. “Kate said there’s been a spate of cat killings in the city.
“She’s terrified it might be Wark. That’s why she came down here, to get away. I don’t have to tell you, Joe, that scares the hell out of me.”
“It doesn’t make me feel like party time.” Joe sat very straight. “Do you remember when Wark was sentenced? His outburst in court, that he swore he’d get Harper?”
Clyde nodded.“That he’d get Harper. And Kate. And anyone else who helped do him.” Clyde fixed Joe with a keen stare. “Wark knows you cats helped.”
He reached to touch Joe’s shoulder, looking at him deeply. “Kate says that for a week before the Marner murders there were no cats killed in city. Two days after the murders, they started again.”
Fear sparked between Joe and Clyde.
The idea of Lee Wark slipping around Molena Point made Joe Grey as shaky as if he’d eaten a poisoned rat.
16 [????????: pic_17.jpg]
LIKE A CAVE in the side of the hill, the Garza family cottage nestled against a steep wooded slope above the north end of the village, its living room windows affording a view of the village rooftops, while its kitchen windows looked up into the back gardens that crowded above it.
The rafters and paneled walls were washed antique white, and the living area divided by a creamy stone fireplace behind which was a small, open study. Beyond the study were Garza’s bedroom and bath. At the other end of the large, airy great room, before a deep bay window, stood a dining table big enough to seat a vast tribe of Garza relatives. A stairway tucked next to the kitchen led down to two additional bedrooms and a bath.
On the shelf of the bay window among a scatter of patchwork pillows, Joe Grey sat eating broiled shrimp and pilaf from a flowered plate. At one end of the long table, Dallas Garza and Kate and Hanni enjoyed larger portions of the same fare, and a green salad in which Joe had shown no interest. The detective glanced up at Joe occasionally, amused possibly by Joe’s excellent appetite, or possibly comparing him unfavorably to members of the canine persuasion. From the photographs on the walls, it was obvious that Garza was a dog man. Joe was surrounded by professional-quality color shots of businesslike hunting dogs. Pointers, setters, two Labradors and aWeimaraner, each picture accompanied by the dog’s extensive pedigree and a list of his field honors.
Some of the photos were not posed portraits but had been taken in the field, the dog carrying a pheasant or quail or duck to Garza or to Hanni; in many instances, Hanni was just a little girl-she’d had black hair then, but you couldn’t miss those dark, laughing eyes.
Joe knew of dog-oriented families where cats came under the heading of vermin-right down there with a cockroach in the kitchen cupboard. He was surprised Garza had let him in the door.
Shortly before supper, Joe and Kate had made their entrance, Kate carrying Joe over her shoulder, asking nicely if the tomcat could stay for a few days. She said cats in the house upset Harper and made him sneeze, and that Clyde and Harper were painting the interior of Clyde’s house, to keep Harper occupied in the evenings while he wasn’t working. She said paint fumes were death on cats. It was true about the paint; Kate’s manipulation of Clyde had been extensive, Joe thought, smiling.