"I don't think the killer's name is there. No one comes in my place, Lowell, except friends I trust fully."
"That include Crystal Ryder?"
"She…" Max hesitated. "She's been up at my place three times, uninvited. She didn't go in the house any time-that I know of."
"Could she have gone in?"
"Yes, I suppose she could have. While I was feeding or working with the horses. I didn't like her coming up there. When she showed up, I went on with my work."
"That's why she isn't on the list." Gedding's tone was cool.
"Exactly why. Because she wasn't inside, to my knowledge."
"That's not the way I heard the story. Talk in the village has you two pretty close."
"Put her on the list," Harper said. "Make a notation that I never saw her go inside, never saw her inside the house."
Gedding leaned back in his chair. "I've received two anonymous phone calls that when you left the restaurant, the day of the murder, you were seen riding your buckskin up the mountain following Helen and Ruthie and Dillon. Riding up the mountain, Max, away from your place, not down the hills toward home as you said in your statement."
"There's nothing I can say to that, Lowell. It isn't true. I didn't do that. I went directly home, took care of Bucky and the other animals. Answered the phone-that tip about Baker. I showered and dressed, and headed for Baker's place. You've read my statement."
Gedding sighed. "And you have no changes to make to that statement?"
"None."
"It's turning into a tangle. The best bet-not that I think your people can't handle it, but to get them off the hot seat-would be to call in an outside detective."
Harper nodded. "I think you have to do that. Someone on loan from another district."
"I can talk to San Francisco. I have a friend in the department there. Good detective-Dallas Garza. The family has a weekend cottage down here. I'm sure he'd welcome a change of scene."
Behind the Chinese planter, narrowed yellow eyes met blazing green eyes. Neither Joe nor Dulcie had thought of an outside investigator.
And how had Gedding come up with a candidate so fast?
The cats had thought there was mutual trust here. Joe had heard Harper tell Clyde, more than once, how Gedding had stood by him when the mayor or city council meddled in police business.
What bothered Joe was, one council member had pushed hard to hire Gedding. And that man wanted Harper out of the department. So where did Gedding's loyalties lie?
"Garza's brother-in-law," Gedding said, "is chief U.S. probation officer in San Francisco. I believe Wilma Getz worked with him before she retired. Garza's niece-she's the interior designer that Kate Osborne works for. But you know the family-they have a weekend cottage in the village. Kate and Hanni, when they were small, used to play together."
"I know who they are," Harper said stiffly. "Should I say, small world," he added dryly.
Gedding shrugged and straightened the papers on his desk. "Have you made any other arrangements?"
"When your man arrives, Ray and Davis are prepared to step off the case, if he so chooses. I've put Lieutenant Brennan in charge of the department.
"As for my personal life, I don't plan to stay at home. I've taken my horses up to Campbell Ranch, they'll keep them ridden. As long as I live alone and isolated, there'll be a shadow on my activities. I'm locking up my place and moving in with Clyde. Unless," Harper said with a twisted smile, "unless you plan to put a leg bracelet on me."
Joe Grey felt his belly lurch. Though Harper was joking, the thought of an the electronic monitor made him twitch. If Harper had to phone the station for permission to walk out his front door, he might as well be locked in a steel kennel.
It was noon when Clyde left Gedding's office, now on official leave. The cats were about to slip out through the window when Gedding made a long-distance call; they subsided again, beneath the potted fern.
Gedding was apparently talking with the chief of police in San Francisco. It was all very low-key. Gedding was as nice as pie; apparently he and Chief Barron went back to college days. Barron seemed to be telling him that Garza was busy on a case and suggesting he send another man. Gedding was gently insistent. He wanted Garza, badly needed Garza. It was a long and oblique discussion that left the cats fidgeting. It ended, apparently, with San Francisco's assurance that Garza was on his way.
"Most informative," Joe muttered as they hurried out along the parking lot.
"Informative, and confusing. Look. Harper's still here."
In the parking lot shared by the courthouse and police headquarters, Harper was putting some cardboard boxes in his king cab pickup; the cats could see a pair of field boots sticking out from the top and a gray sweatshirt.
"He's cleaned out his desk," Dulcie whispered.
"Dulcie, don't be concerned about Harper. No creeping lowlife is going to get the best of Max Harper."
He wished he believed that.
Dropping the box and the boots in the truck bed, Harper closed the canvas cover. He looked more than tired. The minute he drove off, the cats trotted down to Ocean and over to Moreno's Bar and Grill where Harper was headed.
Padding down the narrow alley past Moreno's front door, they slipped in through the screened kitchen door, pawing it open behind the backs of a cook and two busboys. Past the bar into the restaurant, and through the shadows to the far corner, to Clyde and Harper's usual booth. Sliding beneath the table unseen, they cringed away from Clyde's size tens. The carpet smelled like stale French fries.
"The horseshoes," Clyde was saying. "Your men didn't find any more tracks made with the cut shoe? Didn't find anything on the trail that could have cut the shoes like that?"
"Ray and Davis have been over every inch."
"There have to be two shoes. And you said on the phone that your boot prints were at the scene. But you were up there searching. Of course your prints would be-"
"The prints were under the victim's prints. And partial prints under their bodies. The only time I got off Bucky was when I first arrived, to check the bodies. That set of prints was clear. There were other prints like them, underneath."
"Some son of a bitch has gone to a lot of trouble. How would he get your boots? Could he replicate them?"
"They're Justin's. I buy them up the valley, at the Boot Barn. Those soles were the same shape, same size. No problem there. But they had the same worn places on the left heel and right sole."
"So the guy stole your boots, then put them back. Or he took a cast of your boots somewhere. Fixed up an identical pair. Same with the horseshoes. Somewhere, that night, was there another horse wearing the same shape of shoe with the same scar?"
"I think the guy took Bucky. Came in the house, took my boots and the knife, then returned with them."
"Did he have time to do that?"
"Yes, he would have. I left about three forty-five. Helen and Ruthie were killed around five o'clock. And when I came back to change cars, I didn't go in the house or the stable. He could still have had Bucky.
"And later, when we got the missing report and I went home to get Bucky, he was nervous-irritable and tired. The horse was tired, Clyde. And Bucky is in top shape.
"I'd ridden him for some four hours, then put him up. He'd had plenty of rest-or should have-before I took him out again on the search.
"I was irritated at myself, when I saddled him to go look for the Marners, for not rubbing him down very well, after lunch. He had saddle marks, though I could have sworn I cleaned him up. Had what looked like quirt marks on his side and rump. I thought he'd been rubbing himself again. And his bridle was hung up differently than I hang it. I thought that strange, thought I'd been preoccupied." Harper paused, then, "Pretty unobservant, for a cop."