Beside her, Joe was nearly choking with laughter, his ears and whiskers twitching, his mouth open in a wide grin.
Soon Danny, having taken enough quotes from Freda for a scathing article, smiled sweetly at her, turned away, and approached three other mothers and their children. He was deep into conversation with them, writing down their comments, when another squad car pulled to the curb and an officer hurried up the path looking for Captain Harper, who stood just inside the door talking to the photographer.
"We didn't find Mavity Flowers," he told Harper. "She wasn't at home or at work up at Damen's apartments. And we haven't found Greeley Urzey."
Joe and Dulcie looked at each other. Dulcie whispered, "Has Greeley skipped? Did he do it?"
"No way, Dulcie. He…"Joe paused, scowling. "Here comes Clyde. He doesn't look too happy."
Hurrying up the walk, stepping over the yellow ribbon barrier and past the police guard, Clyde, like Danny, was disheveled and red-faced. Rushing in, nodding to Harper, he spotted Joe atop the book stack.
Sprinting across the room, he snatched Joe by the scruff of the neck and swung him down onto his shoulder, giving Joe a glare that would turn a Doberman to stone.
"Claws in," he hissed. "Put your claws in. And stay right there. Not a move. Not a snarl out of you."
Joe was shocked and hurt. What had he done? And he could say nothing. In public, he had no chance to defend himself.
Clyde looked up at Dulcie more gently. "Would you two like some breakfast?" He reached up for her. She gave him an innocent green gaze and slipped down willingly into his arms, soft and innocent, her claws hidden, her little cat smile so beatific Joe thought he'd throw up; he turned away from her, disgusted.
"It's time you two were out of here," Clyde said softly, meaning: Stay away from this! Leave it alone! Forget it. Carrying them out, Joe on his shoulder and Dulcie in his arms, he hurried around the block to his car and plunked them down in the ragged front seat. He was driving his latest acquisition, a battered '32 Ford that sounded like a spavined lawnmower. Starting the engine with a deafening clatter, he headed for Wilma's house.
When Clyde had sold his antique red Packard touring car to help pay for the apartment building, he'd started driving an old Mercedes he'd fixed up. The car was all right except for its color. Joe had refused to ride in the baby pink Mercedes. Clyde himself had taken all the ribbing he could stand, then sold the Mercedes and finished up the last details on the yellow '29 Chevy convertible in which he had escorted Charlie to the gallery opening. But then he'd picked up this Ford; he always had to have some old clunker to refurbish. Eventually he would turn it into a beauty, but meantime a ride in the heap was like being transported in a bucket of rattling tin cans. Driving to Wilma's, Clyde didn't speak to them. They crouched together hunched and cross as he parked at Wilma's curb.
She was on her hands and knees in the garden, transplanting gazanias, thinning out the low yellow flowers. As Clyde killed the rattling engine, the cats leaped out.
Wilma sat back on her heels, looking them over, her eyes widening with suspicion. "What?" she said. "What have they done now?"
Dulcie stared at her, hurt.
Joe didn't wait to hear Clyde's biased accusations. He shot past Wilma through the garden and around the house and up the hill at the back. To hell with humans.
Soon Dulcie came trotting along, looking chastened, and they took off up the hills to hunt-to let the atmosphere cool down.
19
CHARLIE WAS on a ladder painting the downstairs front bedroom when she saw Max Harper's police unit pull up out in front. As he came across the patio, something about his drawn look and the resigned set of his shoulders brought her down the ladder. Wiping her hands, she stepped to the open door.
Lieutenant Brennan had been up earlier looking for Mavity, but he wouldn't tell her why. She'd told him to try Mavity's cottage, that very likely Mavity had slept in, that she did that sometimes, that when she woke up she'd phone the apartments frantic and apologetic. But now, watching Harper, a chill held Charlie. His solemn expression made her stomach lurch.
She hadn't gotten to work herself until ten, had made a run around the coast to Hudson's Building Supply to pick up an order of some special tile and paint, some varnish, five gallons of mud, and some finishing nails. She'd had a cup of coffee with the owner, John Hudson, had helped him load her order then headed back. When she got to work, Mavity's VW wasn't parked in front, nor had Pearl Ann seen her.
Harper stopped in the open doorway.
"Clyde's not here," she said, motioning him on in, searching the captain's solemn brown eyes.
"Clyde's at the library," he said. "Or he was. He left just before I did. I'm looking for Mavity."
"Didn't Brennan find her? He was here."
Harper turned from her, wandered the big room, studying the sanded Sheetrock and the half-painted ceiling. The units were being done so piecemeal that sometimes it even confused her, one room finished and painted while the next room was hardly started; but with their crew, it seemed to be working. Max turned to look at her, his back to the windows.
"What is it?" she said softly.
"Mavity's niece and her husband. They were found dead this morning."
"Dora and Ralph?" She stood a moment trying to take that in. Dora and Ralph Sleuder? "Was-was there an accident? A car accident?"
"We found them in the garden outside the library."
"The library garden? I don't understand. How could… Why would…?"
"The call came in around eight forty-five this morning."
She tried to collect herself. "What happened? An accident in the garden? But I didn't see anything-well, but I left around seven." She knew she wasn't making sense.
"You were in the garden?"
"No. Across the street."
"Oh, yes, you moved into that apartment above Joan's Antiques."
She nodded. "I drank my coffee looking out."
"And you saw nothing unusual?"
"The garden was-I saw no one there. I thought I saw something move inside the window, but it was just those pillows against the glass. Dora and Ralph can't be dead."
"You thought you saw something moving?"
"I think it was just the pillows-or it could have been the cat, she sleeps in the window sometimes."
"And you didn't see anyone in the garden? Or on the street?"
"I didn't notice anyone. But I was only at the window long enough to drink my coffee."
"And you saw nothing different about the garden?"
"No." She thought a minute. "Yes. There was some kind of shadow in the lilies. As if something had crushed them. They're so thick and tall, it's hard to be sure. But there seemed to be a dark place, as if maybe a dog had slept there and broken the flowers."
Harper was quiet, watching her. "Did you know the Sleuders well?"
"No. I met them the day after they arrived, they came up to see the apartments-rubbernecking, I guess. Mavity didn't seem too happy about it."
"Have you any idea if they were into drugs-anything Mavity might have said?"
Charlie stared at him. "Drugs? Those two country people? My God, I wouldn't think so. Are you saying-what? They died of an overdose?"
"We don't know yet. Lab's working on it."
"Could they have taken-could it be some medication? I can't imagine drugs. Oh, poor Mavity. Have you told her? No, you came to find her. Have you been to the house?"
"I sent Brennan earlier. No one was home."
She snatched up her purse and keys. "We have to find her. She could be…" She looked at him imploringly. "I want to find Mavity."
In the squad car, as Max spun a U-turn and headed down the hill, he described for her the murder scene outside the children's room. It sickened her to think of Dora and Ralph lying there in the garden dead, half-naked as if they might have been on some wild and terrifying high.