Joe felt eternally thankful that cats didn’t have to replace lightbulbs, repair shingles, and paint walls. And, of course, no cat would write such a misleading newspaper article. This display of bad taste was beneath even the scroungiest feline. TheGazettehad no reason for their caustic slant; it was obvious to any idiot that the grave had been dug up after Harper’s men searched the Prior estate. Probably someone at the paper had a grudge against Harper, not uncommon in the politics of a small town.
He could see that regardless of the slant, the story of the open grave fascinated Dulcie. You could bet your whiskers they’d be up there digging before you could shake a paw. And he had to admit, whatever scoffing he’d done about missing patients, the fact that a skeleton had turned up, and that maybe the finger bone belonged to that body and maybe it didn’t, shed a new light. His interest had suddenly shifted into high gear. His feline curiosity sat up and took note.
Glancing at Dulcie, he knew they were of one mind: investigate the grave. Maybe, as well, they could get into the Prior house. Who knew what they’d find, maybe more photographs like the ones of Mary Nell Hook that Renet had put on Adelina’s desk yesterday morning.
There was no doubt the pictures were of Mary Nell-Dulcie had seen them clearly, and she had seen Mary Nell clearly. They had no idea what use Adelina had for such pictures. She hadn’t given them to the two black-robed cousins; they had left empty-handed except for Roberta’s flowered handbag. He supposed Adelina could have given them the pictures as they stepped out the front door, but when Adelina appeared in the hall earlier, she hadn’t been carrying them.
Dulcie hadn’t dared follow the cousins; there had been nurses all over. Besides, she’d been too busy watching young Dillon. The minute the room was empty, Dillon had slipped in through the glass doors, making directly for the closet. And as Joe and Dulcie watched, Joe from the orange tree and Dulcie from under the bed, Dillon had removed from the crowded shelves one item. She had known exactly what she wanted.
Dillon had only an instant alone, before two nurses returned and began straightening the room, opening drawers, and putting Mary Nell’s clothes into cardboard boxes. In that instant she had removed a wide, flat oak box with metal corners. Carefully lifting it out, watching the door to the hall, she had opened the lid-and caught her breath.
From the tree, Joe could see into the box clearly. It was like a little portable desk, with a slanted top for writing, and with small compartments inside. He could see that some of the spaces still held stamps, a pen, some white envelopes. But in the largest compartment, which was probably meant for writing paper, lay a doll.
Her porcelain face looked dusty, her pale hair matted, her blue-and-white crinoline dress wrinkled and limp with neglect. Dillon lifted it out quickly and tucked it inside her shirt, where it made a large lump.
She closed the box, looked undecided for a moment, then shoved it back into the cupboard. As she slipped out through the glass door, Dulcie had nipped out behind her, crowding against Dillon’s heels. They were hardly out when two nurses entered. Just as Joe slipped down from the tree, the rain hit. By the time the three of them reached the social room, racing across the garden, they were soaked. The cats had sat behind the couch, dripping onto the carpet, washing themselves, as Dillon squinched across the carpet to Mae Rose and laid the doll in the old lady’s lap. She had kept her back to the room, and her voice low.
“Is this the doll you gave Jane Hubble? The one you told me about?”
“Oh yes.” Mae Rose’s smile shone bright with surprise. “This is my little Becky. Where did you find her?” She cuddled the doll, staring up at Dillon, then immediately slipped the doll out of sight beneath the pink afghan, tucking the cover around her. “Where did you find her? Did you see Jane? I gave her to Jane before she was moved to Nursing. Where??”
“She had a little writing desk, a lap desk.”
“Of course. It’s one of the few things Jane asked her trust officer to bring from home.” She looked up at Dillon, her blue eyes alarmed. “Jane wouldn’t give up her little desk and give up Becky. She wouldn’t give her up if she? No matter how sick she was. How did you know about the desk?”
“We were neighbors; she kept it on a table by the living-room window. She’d carry it to her easy chair before the fire to write letters. Fix herself a cup of coffee and sit by the fire to pay her bills, or write a letter to the editor of theGazette-she loved doing that. She didn’t have any close friends to write to.”
Dillon looked down at Mae Rose, touching the arm of Mae’s wheelchair. “I found the doll in the desk, and the desk was in the cupboard of that room-the room where you went, where Mary Nell was. But why would they take Jane’s desk away from her?”
Mae Rose stroked the afghan where the doll was hidden. She didn’t reply.
Dulcie and Joe glanced at each other. Dulcie shivered. She told Joe later that it was Dillon’s finding the doll and the desk that made Wilma decide to go to Max Harper.
26 [????????: pic_26.jpg]
She had a sudden change of mind about stealing from one of the oceanfront houses. After what happened Thursday afternoon, she decided to give it a shot; how could she resist. The conversation she overheard in the drugstore, the exchange between this Mrs. Bonniface and the pharmacist seemed destined specifically for her enlightenment. And Friday morning, when she woke and saw the fog thick outside her windows, fog heavy enough to give her total cover approaching and leaving the Bonniface house, there was no decision to make. She was on her way. Not only would the fog conceal her, but the beach would be virtually empty, the tourists all in bed, warm in their motel rooms, or bundled up drinking hot coffee in the little restaurants. And the cops, with minimal beach attendance, wouldn’t put out a full patrol.
In the drugstore, Mrs. Bonniface, whom she had seen around town, of course, had been standing at the pharmacy counter waiting for a prescription. Bonniface was a big name in Molena Point-he was the founding partner of Bonniface, Storker, and Kline. Dorothy Bonniface was thirtysomething, one of those beautifully groomed blondes, perfect haircut and professional makeup, one of those women who could walk into the Ritz Carleton wearing out-of-style jeans and a worn-out sweatshirt and still have the entire staff falling over themselves to serve her.
Mrs. Bonniface, standing at the pharmacy counter, had told the druggist conversationally that Donald was in Japan wrapping up a sales contract with some Sony subsidiary, that he would be home a week from Friday. They talked about little Jamie’s cough, which was not bad enough to keep her out of school. The prescription was for Jamie. She said the other two children were just fine, she was on her way to pick them up from school and drop them at a birthday party. Her shopping list, lying on the counter beside her, included a flat of pansies and a flat of petunias and six flats of ajuga ground cover, presumably from the local nursery. This meant, with any luck, that Dorothy Bonniface might be spending the next morning in her garden, putting in the tender plants, leaving her house unattended.
She had left the pharmacy, walking out behind Mrs. Bonniface, feeling high, a delicious surge of excitement. She had stopped in at the Coffee Mill two doors away to look up the Bonniface address in the Molena Point phone book.
There were three Bonnifaces; she knew they were related. The Donald Bonnifaces lived at 892 Shore Drive. Leaving the Coffee Mill, she got her car and took a swing by the Bonniface house, cruising slowly.
The nicely kept two-story blue frame featured a huge patio in front, with expensive wrought-iron furniture. The handsome outdoor sitting area, walled in by glass to cut the sharp sea wind, reached to within ten feet of the sidewalk, and was given privacy by a row of pyracanthas. The entry walk, the lawn, and the flower beds were to the right of this, with a wide expanse of bare earth where some kind of bedding plants had recently been removed.