“But,” Mavity said, “if Greeley stole something so valuable, even from a private collection…” She shook her head. “My brother’s just a petty thief. I don’t think he’d know how to go about that kind of sophisticated theft.”
“Maybe Greeley and Cage together?” Wilma said. “Cage might be capable of that, if he planned carefully.”
Mavity sat back, marking her place in the book that lay open on her lap. But then, leaning forward again, caught almost beyond her will by those riches, she read aloud the description of a golden garden in ancient Peru, a garden paved in gold, with life-size gold corn growing on gold stalks, life-size gold sheep and their lambs, huge gold jars filled with emeralds, full-size gold women; she read of gold fountains with running water where gold birds bathed, and there were even gold spiders, other gold insects, and gold lizards.
“Like a fairy tale,” she said. “Such wealth seems impossible. To even imagine…Oh my, how valuable even that little devil must be, if it’s real. And how many centuries old?”
“Maybe five centuries,” Wilma said, “or less. Some were made later.”
“I don’t think,” Charlie said, “the Indian cultures had devils. They had underworld men, but I think the idea of the devil came with the Spaniards, with the Christian religion.”
Wilma nodded. “And the native religions incorporated the Christian devil into their own beliefs-but those underworld figures looked like devils. Dulcie said Cage has masks with devil faces hanging on the living room wall. I think those are more common. After Christianity was introduced, the Mexicans and many other cultures made devil masks of…Oh, painted papier-mâché or wood. Masks for festivals and holidays.”
Charlie said, “Would that be why Cage kidnapped you, because he did have such a treasure, and someone stole it while he was in prison?”
Mavity said, “And Greeley has at least one.”
Wilma put her arm around Mavity. “If Greeley stole from Cage, why would he search the Jones house? We don’t know that Greeley stole even that one little figure.”
“So heavy,” Mavity repeated, her little wrinkled face pulled into lines of concern. “So very heavy when I picked it up. And the way the metal felt…Warm and heavy, not like some bit of cheap jewelry…”
It was not until Mavity had left, she and the two younger women driving off in the blue van with Charlie’s logo on the side, that Charlie said, “How much of this do Dulcie and Joe know? And where is Dulcie? I haven’t seen her all morning. Clyde said that when you didn’t come home last night, Dulcie was a basket case. So where is she now? I’d think she’d be staying close.”
“She was snuggled up with me all night, as close as she could get. We woke up early, I had coffee in bed, and then we had a nice breakfast.” Wilma frowned. “Maybe the cats are at the station.”
“Maybe,” Charlie said. “Max and Dallas were going to bring in Lilly and Violet Jones for questioning. If the cats knew, they wouldn’t miss that.” She hugged her aunt, then rose. “I’m going back home for a quiet nap with the dogs. Maybe, if Max can get away, a nice evening ride. Will you rest, too?”
“Of course I will,” Wilma said, and she got up to see Charlie out the door-but the minute Charlie’s car pulled away from the curb, Wilma was at the computer and online, searching for references to reported thefts of pre-Columbian gold. She spent nearly two hours reading and printing out pages; then, wondering if this information was indeed relevant to the case, or if she had wasted her time, she reached for the phone to call Max.
35
L illy and Violet Jones, sitting stiffly side by side in Max Harper’s office, looked so rigid they might have just been formally charged and their rights read instead of simply invited down to the station for a few questions. Perched on the edge of Max’s leather couch, the two dry, pale women looked Harper over as if his invitation to stop by and have a chat had been a summons from hell itself.
The courteous young rookie who had knocked at their door and then chauffeured them to the station had been meticulously polite; Harper had offered the sisters coffee and a plate of George Jolly’s homemade cookies, both of which Lilly and Violet refused. Max had made it clear that neither sister was suspected of wrongdoing, but that didn’t stop their scowls at Harper and at Detective Garza, who sat in the leather armchair. The only observers the two women didn’t frown at were the two they didn’t see.
They sure don’t like being hauled into the station, Joe thought, watching from beneath the credenza. Well, Lilly doesn’t like much of anything. Mad at the world. And it isn’t only anger-there’s fear in that woman’s eyes, the tomcat thought with interest. Harper sees it. So does Dallas. Does Lilly fear for Cage, lying so close to death? Or is it something more?
“Cage is better,” Lilly was saying stiffly in response to Harper’s question about her brother’s condition. “It’s a wonder, the way that woman shot him-to shoot him in the face like a-”
“If my wife hadn’t shot him,” Max said coldly, “he would very likely have killed her, and might have killed me, too. That woman saved her own life and possibly her aunt’s life, and mine.”
“And since when,” Dallas asked Lilly, “have you grown so concerned about the welfare of your brother? When we talked a few days ago, you said that if he went to jail that was what he deserved.”
“Jail and that terrible shooting are two different fates,” Lilly said pitifully. “The one what the law dictates. The other so unnecessarily gruesome.”
“Is there,” Max said, “a more humane way to stop a killer who has a gun pointed at you and his finger tight on the trigger?”
Dallas looked at Violet. “Do you feel the same, Mrs. Sears?”
Violet looked down at her lap and said nothing, and the cats glanced at each other. Was she silenced by the proximity of her older sister, or by her inability to give an honest answer? If Joe read Violet Jones correctly, she would find happiness only if both Cage and Eddie were to disappear from the face of the earth.
“As soon as Cage is well enough to be released,” Max said, “he’ll be in jail, here, with follow-up medical visits. We asked you to come in today hoping you could help us understand why Cage and Eddie kidnapped Mrs. Harper and Ms. Getz, and why Cage shot Mandell Bennett.” Max’s voice was softer again, quietly friendly.
“Cage is fortunate,” Max said, “that Mandell Bennett is recovering. He could be facing first-degree murder charges.” He studied Lilly. “He seems to think Ms. Getz stole something from your home. Do you have any idea what that might be?”
Lilly pressed her lips together. “I don’t know what Cage ever left in that house worth stealing. I have seen nothing worth the trouble. Those masks he brought from South America, I can’t imagine who would want those. Anyway, they’re right in plain sight for any thief to take. I wish someone would take them.” She fixed cold eyes on Max. “If there was something in the house I don’t know about, it’s surely gone now, or Cage wouldn’t be so upset. Someone took it,” she said accusingly.
Max remained patient, sternly reining himself in. Dulcie put out her paw, wanting to touch him, then hastily drew it back before it might be seen under the credenza. She had longed to comfort Max when he thought Charlie might have been murdered, he’d been so alone and hurting.