"'Specially if it rains." Ryan returned his laugh shakily, sounding close to tears.
Chair legs scraped as if he had risen. "Hang in there, honey. We'll get it sorted out. We'll do our work, and you do yours, and it'll come out all right."
The cats heard him leave, and watched Ryan at the window following the detective's progress as his car headed down the hill. Beyond the windows the setting sun hung like a third-degree spotlight blazing in at her, and forcing the cats' pupils to the size of pinpricks. The sun would be gone soon, pressed into the sea by the dark clouds that hung heavy above it.
Ryan worked at her desk for some time. The cats napped lightly. So did the weimaraner, who must be very full indeed, of sugar doughnuts. As the sky dimmed, only the desk lamp and the light of the computer brightened the darkening room. Ryan didn't pull the curtains. When her phone rang she answered abruptly, as if irritated at being disturbed.
"R. Flannery."
As she listened, a smile touched her face. "Yes, I'm about ready, I just want to finish up some billing. We need to go over the time schedule too and rethink a few details."
The call had waked Rock. Sniffing the scent of cat, and not preoccupied with sugar doughnuts, the big weimaraner trotted across the studio to where Joe and Dulcie were hidden, and poked his nose under the daybed.
"Get back!" Joe hissed in the faintest voice. "Get back!"
The silver dog, having no experience with obedience commands from a cat, flashed him a look of disbelief and hastily backed away.
"Sit," Joe breathed.
Rock, his yellow eyes wide with amazement, sat down on the hand-woven rug.
Ryan, still talking to Clyde, was punching in a program. "They're open on Sunday? Mexican food sounds like heaven. See you in a few minutes."
As she hung up the phone, behind her the big dog was trying, from a sitting position, to scoot closer to the daybed for a better look at the amazing talking cats.
"Stay," Joe told Rock. "Stay!"
Frowning and perplexed, Rock settled back on his haunches. Ryan did some final addition, hit the print button, and headed for the bathroom. The cats could hear her brushing her teeth, then the little crackling sounds, barely audible, as she brushed her hair. She appeared again when the phone rang, smelling of dusting powder and mouthwash. She was wearing lipstick.
Standing by the desk she lifted the papers from the printer and picked up the phone. "Flannery," she said shortly. "Oh… Hi, Larn." She didn't sound pleased. As she listened, she glanced over the printed sheets, then laid them on top of what was probably a stack of bills. "You did? No, I haven't run my messages. I left San Andreas very late. Did your remodel client get in touch?"
Balancing the phone between shoulder and cheek, she tamped the papers to align them. "Looks like I'm booked for a few months, picked up another couple of jobs. And as for tonight, I'm sorry but I have a date. I was just going out the door."
She hung up and turned, looking relieved that she had a ready excuse. She looked at Rock, frowning. He was still in the sitting position, hunched down staring fixedly under her daybed. As she started forward, the cats tensed to run.
"What are you staring at?"
The big dog turned to look at her.
"What?" she said softly. She looked at him and at the daybed which had only five inches of space underneath, not enough to accommodate any prowler. She glanced toward the closet and bath, and toward the door that led to the inside stairs, and silently she moved to try its bolt.
"What is it?" she asked Rock. "What's the matter? Come, Rock," she whispered. Again she glanced toward the closet and bath. But she had just come from there. She turned, looking into the empty kitchen. "Come, Rock."
Rock seemed torn between the two commands. When Ryan knelt, the cats backed out from beneath the daybed on the far side.
But she wasn't looking underneath. She reached out to Rock from his level as if she thought he needed that face-to-face reassurance. Rock went to her at once.
"You want to go for a romp with Rube, in Clyde's yard?" At the word go, Rock began to dance. Ryan endured several minutes of wagging, leaping delight before she got him settled down.
Turning on the copier, she made a second set of bills, addressed a large brown envelope and tucked the copies inside with her printout. Weighing the envelope, she slapped on some stamps, picked up her purse, spoke to Rock again and they headed out, Ryan carrying the envelope and key-locking the door behind her.
The minute they heard her descend the stairs, the cats leaped to her desk. In the darkening evening, they watched her truck lights come on. Waiting to be sure she wouldn't forget something and come rushing back, Joe nosed at the San Andreas bills for lumber, electrical and plumbing supplies, and miscellaneous hardware. Dulcie sat admiring Ryan's business cards. "R. Flannery, Construction. Very nice. Home phone and cell phone." Quickly she memorized the numbers.
But Joe, reaching a paw to the phone, stared out through the window hissing with surprise, watching a gray hatchback pull out without lights, following Ryan's car; and before Dulcie could say a word Joe was pawing in the number of Ryan's cell phone. The cats caught one glimpse of the driver as the car moved under a streetlight.
Ryan answered at once.
"This is a friend. It appears that a car is following you, a block back, without lights. A gray hatchback."
"Who is this?"
"A neighbor, just happened to look out and see you leave in your red truck, saw this guy pull out from up the hill and take off following you. You might want to see if you can lose him. I didn't see the plate number."
"How many people in the car?"
"One man," Joe said. "Tall and appeared to be thin. Seemed to have a relatively short haircut. That's all I could see."
"Where do you live? A neighbor? How did you-"
Joe hit the disconnect, then punched in another number, accessing Max Harper's cell phone. Dulcie sat quietly listening, washing her paws and whiskers. She liked watching Joe at work. He'd told her about the first time he had ever used a phone, how scared he was. In the village drugstore, crouching behind the counter, he had used their business phone to call Clyde. That had been a big-time emotional trip, a milestone trauma for both the tomcat and Clyde.
It was different now. Joe had developed a really professional telephone presence.
When Dulcie heard a woman answer, she put her face close to Joe's, to listen. He'd gotten Charlie. Dulcie gave him a stern sideways glare, a don't you dare play games look. Don't you dare draw Charlie into a conversation in front of Harper-if indeed the captain was present. Knowing Joe, the temptation had to be great, and she watched him with a warning gleam.
"Captain Harper's number," Charlie repeated.
"Charlie? It's… This is…" Joe swallowed. "I have information for Captain Harper."
"May I take a message?" The cats could hear in Charlie's voice a desperate attempt to hide a guffaw of laughter. This was a first for her, taking a call from Joe Grey for the captain. Passing on a secret feline communication that, if Harper knew the identity of the caller, would send him right over the edge. "I… he's driving," she told Joe shakily. "Wait, I'll turn on the speaker."
There was a pause as if she was looking for the speaker button. "Go ahead."