"Yes. Very good. How long does this one take?"
"An hour to be safe. I hope that Mae Rose woman doesn't come snooping."
Adelina raised her dark, expressionless eyes. "Forget Mae Rose. You're fixated with the woman just because she knew Wenona." She gave Renet a long, chill look. "Wenona's dead, Renet. Please forget everything connected with her."
"But Mae Rose-"
"And as for Mae Rose going on about Jane Hubble, that's all talk. What possible connection could she make?"
"I don't like her. I think Mae Rose should-"
"Mae Rose has three daughters. Get your mind off her."
"They never visit her, they live clear across the country. I could easily-"
"She's not a suitable subject. For one thing, she's too small, you know that. Pay attention to the business at hand. If you do just one sloppy presentation, Renet, it's over. You'll have no need to worry about Mae Rose."
Adelina slipped the files back into the drawer, locked it, and put the photographs back in the envelope. "I don't know why these people have to visit the same day as that Pet-a-Pet business. And I don't know whether allowing those animal enthusiasts in here is worth the trouble, for the little PR it affords."
"Well it certainly wasn't my idea."
Adelina sighed. "Have you done all the errands?"
"Of course. What time?"
"Two-thirty. Don't leave half the box in the closet."
"I never do. What about that new nurse, that big slow woman? I don't-"
"I'll see that she's kept busy. Have you made any progress on her? I don't like keeping her when she-"
"So far, nothing. You should have looked deeper before you hired her."
"I didn't have any choice. It isn't easy to get help. Just get on with your job. Everyone has some skeleton in the closet, and you're to keep on until you find it. You've had two weeks, and you don't have a thing. If you'd pay more attention to business-"
"I've checked DMV. Five credit bureaus. Four previous addresses and talked with three of her landlords."
"What about NCI? That was foolish, to allow that Lieutenant Sacks to get married."
"What was I going to do, poison his dearly beloved? There'll be someone else. Max Harper-"
"You'll leave Harper alone; he's not to be approached. I don't trust him for a minute. What about that Lieutenant Brennan?"
Renet did not reply.
"If not Brennan, then you'll have to buy the information in San Francisco-that should be no problem."
"You needn't be sarcastic. And I might have other things to attend to."
"You had better plan your time around matters of first importance." Adelina rose. "Lock the door when you leave. And make sure you have your little party under control." And she disappeared into the hall, her black skirt swishing against her silken thighs.
Renet didn't move from the love seat for some time, but sat tapping her foot irritably. When she did rise, she stepped to the desk and tried the locked drawer. When she couldn't open it, she tucked the brown envelope under her arm and left the room, locking the door as she'd been instructed.
The instant they were alone, Dulcie slid out from between the pillows. Standing on the window seat she shook herself, licked her paw, swiped at her whiskers. "I'm all matted down-those pillows are hot as sin." She watched Joe slide out from under the love seat, pawing dust from his whiskers. He leaped up beside her, and they sat looking out to the drive and the gardens.
They could see no one. The red Bentley and Renet's blue van were parked before the door. When they were certain they were unobserved they slipped out beneath the open window, through the scrolled curves of the burglar grille, and dropped into a bed of marigolds.
Crouched among the sharp-scented flowers, they scanned the gardens. They saw no one.
"The smell of marigolds is supposed to keep away fleas," Dulcie said.
"Old wives' tale. Come on, we're out of here." Close together they raced across the drive away from the manicured grounds, flew down the hill into a tangled wood so wild and unkempt it could never be a part of Casa Capri. At once they felt safe again, and free.
Fallen branches and drifts of rotting leaves lay tangled against the trunks of the ancient, sprawling trees. Together they fled, leaping from log to log, plunging through piles of crackling leaves, shaking off the tight sense of closed rooms and locked doors and under-furniture niches that would hardly let a cat breathe. They were flying down through leafy tangles and branches when a shrill sound stopped them. A strange and muffled cry. They froze still, two statues, listening.
20
The woods angled downward, the old twisted oaks rising among fallen, rotted trees, among dead branches and dry, brittle foliage: a shadowed graveyard of dying trees. The cry came again, a muffled gurgle. Puzzled, the cats trotted down among the shadows, watching, leaping silently over logs, sinking down into drifts and damp hollows. Far below them, between a tangle of dead branches, they glimpsed something bright, a gleam of metal glinting from the dark tangles.
Slowly and warily padding down, they could soon make out the handlebars of a bike. The crying came from there. The rough, gulping sobs sounded more angry than hurt.
The bike leaned against the forked trunk of an ancient oak that had split down the middle, its two halves leaning jagged against their neighbors. At the tree's base, Dillon sat in a pile of dead bracken, her head down on her knees, her arms around her knees, bawling so hard she didn't hear them, heard no rustle of paws crunching leaves.
Dulcie dropped down beside her. Dillon startled, looked up. The child's face was smeared with tears and makeup, black eyeliner and lipstick and powder all run together. Dulcie climbed up into her lap, touched Dillon's cheek with a soft paw. Dillon smiled through her tears, grabbed Dulcie to her, hugging her, burying her face in Dulcie's shoulder-then began bawling again, crying against Dulcie until Dulcie's fur was wet. Joe sat watching, exasperated at the female display of weeping. All this because she'd been booted out of Casa Capri.
When at last Dillon stopped crying, she eased her grip on Dulcie and reached her fingers to Joe, touching his nose. "What are you two doing, way up here in the hills? You're miles from home. This isn't Pet-a-Pet day." She frowned, puzzled. But then she grinned through her streaked makeup. "You were hunting- Wilma said you hunt all over these hills."
She looked hard at them, and her eyes widened. "Did you hear me crying? Did you come down here because you heard me crying?"
Dulcie snuggled against her, but Joe turned nervously to lick his paw. Had they shown more than a normal cat's interest? The kid didn't need to get any ideas about them.
But she was only a kid. All children believed in the sympathy and understanding of animals; most kids thought their dogs understood every word they said. Kids grew up on fairy tales featuring helpful animals, and even on Lassie reruns-a helping animal was no big deal, to some kids as natural as a loving grandmother.
Dillon wiped her tears with the back of her hand, smearing black and red. "I only wanted to see Jane. They acted like I was some kind of criminal." She gave them a deep, confiding stare. "She isn't there. Why else would they be so nasty. And they know that I know she isn't there." She gave them a determined look, her brown eyes blazing with anger. "Well they can go to hell. I'm going to find out what's going on.
"Yesterday I called her trust officer, but the switchboard said to leave a message. Voice mail-big deal. I gave my name and phone number, but now I'm sorry. My folks'll have twenty fits."
Dulcie reached a soft paw again, patting the child's face. Dillon gathered them both into her arms, pulling Joe into her lap with an insistent little hand. She held them against her as if they were rag dolls, pressing her wet face into their fur. The child was warm, and smelled of the perfumed cosmetics.