"Wait," Joe said. "Pull the door to and wait, I just want to…"
"Wait, hell. Come out of there now."
"One second," Joe said, and he was across the room rearing up, staring up at the moonlit mantel.
Yes, definitely flawed. Sloppy work that Marianna should never have permitted, or for that matter, Ryan either-though possibly you couldn't see this in the daylight; Joe hadn't seen it then. Only now did the sharply angled light pick out clearly the thin, ragged line that ran diagonally across the black concrete.
Wondering if such a flaw could have gone undetected, he heard Williams stir again and push back the covers. Taking one last look at the rough black concrete, Joe fled for the door. Clawing past Clyde's feet, he was out of there racing ahead of Clyde across the yard into the dark, concealing woods, where they crouched together among the bushes like two thieves.
"What was that about?" Clyde snapped, snatching Joe up in his arms. "Why did you go back? That guy…"
"I… something I needed to look at."
Behind them there wasn't the faintest sound, the front door didn't open. Rising slowly, holding Joe half-concealed under his jacket, Clyde slipped out of the woods and headed fast for the car. Jerking open the driver's door of the Hudson, he tossed Joe on the torn seat, slipped in and locked the door behind them. "You're risking your neck in there and risking mine, you sound like a herd of bulls jumping at the door, but then you just have to go back-for another look at what? Did it occur to you that this guy might snatch up a cat and…"
"It occurred. It occurred. It was something urgent."
Clyde started the engine. "I endanger life and limb playing bodyguard to a demented gum-paw, and something in there is so important you risk both our necks, going back."
"We didn't risk our necks. That guy's a wimp. Ryan beat him up."
Clyde sighed and headed down the hills, turning his lights on the instant he was around the first curve. Watching him, Joe felt almost bad that he wasn't sharing what he'd seen with Clyde.
But for the moment he wanted to keep that puzzling glimpse of the fireplace to himself, wanted to think about it without Clyde's take on the matter, without anyone's input. When something strange nagged at him, he liked to let it fall in place by itself. Let it rattle around with the rest of the mismatched facts and see how they shook out; see what his inner thoughts would do, without outside influence.
He'd had the feeling, when he looked up at that black recess, that this was the moment of truth. That he stood teetering on the brink of one big, momentous discovery.
Beside him, driving down the dark and narrow, twisting streets, Clyde was nearly squirming with curiosity. "So besides whatever you went back for, whatever you're keeping so secret, what else went on in there? Did I hear him talking on the phone? I thought sure he'd find you, I was ready to smash a window." He looked sternly at Joe. "This stuff's hard on a guy's blood pressure, you ever think of that?"
Joe smiled. "He was talking to a woman. I'm guessing it was Marianna, that he's here with her permission, that they're friends."
"That would be a twist. So what was he shouting about?"
"I think the guy's crazy. Kept shouting the name Martie Holland, over and over, wasn't making any sense. You ever hear of a Martie Holland? Harper or Dallas, or Ryan, ever mention that name?"
"Not that I recall."
Joe frowned. He didn't like when the pieces wouldn't add up. Heading home in the Hudson beside Clyde, he thought he'd catch a few hours' sleep until Williams left the Landeau cottage and then, if Ryan or Hanni was to be there early in the morning-and who else would it be?-he'd play friendly kitty with those two, and get a closer look at the flawed mantel.
24
When Ryan left Burger Basher heading for Clyde's place to pick up Rock, she was still steaming with anger; playing back Larn Williams's words about her dad, she was mad enough to chew nails. Clyde had hurried away in his old Hudson on some errand, and just as well. She was in no mood to be civil for long, even to Clyde, though she had greatly appreciated his coming to her rescue-he might have followed her, and that was okay. He might have rescued her from killing Williams, the way she'd felt at that moment.
As she pulled to the curb before Clyde's house, Rock heard the truck and began to paw at the gate. Hurrying back to release him, reaching to open the latch, she stopped. Rock had backed off from her, snarling with a cold, businesslike menace.
"What's wrong?" She reached for him. "Come, Rock." He dodged away growling. She thought of rabies, and shivered; but quietly she moved toward him. He showed his teeth, focused on something she couldn't understand.
Last night he'd been this way. Leaving Lupe's Playa after Williams switched the contents of the envelope on the seat of her truck, following Clyde home, opening this same gate, Rock had been delighted to see her- but when she opened the truck door and told him to load up, he'd pitched a fit, smelling the scent of someone strange in the cab. And when they got home and Rock encountered the stranger's smell there in the apartment, he'd nearly torn the place apart, looking for the intruder.
The smell of the intruder, of Larn Williams. Now that smell was on her. She stared at her hands where she had marched Williams into the alley and shoved him against the wall. And, stepping into the yard past the growling, puzzled weimaraner, she moved around to the outdoor sink and washed thoroughly, scrubbing to her elbows.
Then again she approached Rock.
He cringed low but came to her. He sniffed again at her hands, and he grinned up at her and began to dance around her, all wags and kisses, whining and licking and loving her.
Putting him on the lead and shutting the gate securely behind her, she settled him in the truck and headed home. He watched her seriously, his pale yellow eyes puzzled, as if he couldn't understand about the smells. In the passing lights, his sleek silver coat gleamed like satin. She scratched his ears. "You not only have a very good nose, my dear Rock. Considering the source of your anger, you have superior judgment."
At her lighter tone, Rock grinned and wagged, his long, soft ears thrust eagerly forward. Smiling to herself, she wondered what Rock would do, face-to-face with Williams. And again she saw Williams in the alley, his white, shocked expression as she backed him against the wall. The incident, thanks to Clyde, hadn't turned as nasty as she'd expected. She really wasn't sure how the encounter would have ended if Clyde hadn't appeared so suddenly.
She didn't often lose her temper like that, and tonight was certainly not the time or the place. She would most likely regret later her public display of rage.
What was the source of Larn's remarks about her dad? There could be no source. Sick words from a twisted mind. Williams was riding a loose rail.
Or was it more than that?
And what a bizarre twist, that Clyde's tomcat had been in the restaurant with her and Larn, then had apparently followed them to the alley; she'd caught just a glimpse of him as Clyde snatched him up, heading for his car. "A very peculiar cat," she told Rock. "I don't like to insult present company, but he really does act more like a dog, if you could manage to take that as a compliment."
Rock grinned and wagged, happy for her improved mood. But then as she turned into her drive he stiffened again, watching the stair and her studio windows and glancing at her as if for direction, the hair along his back rising in a harsh ridge.