"I think Garza would boot you out on your furry behind."
"Or Kate can grease the wheels. She can say Clyde asked her to keep me for a few days, until the demolition is finished. Say I'm a bundle of nerves from all the noise. That I've gone off my feed. Twitching in my sleep."
Dulcie smiled.
"Once I get inside, I make friends with Garza, and I have free access. I can figure out how to let him in on the Quentin connection, if he doesn't already know."
"And what if he does know? What if he's part of it?"
He only looked at her.
"Joe, this is beginning to scare me."
"Hey, we're only cats. Who's to know any different?"
"Lee Wark would know different."
"Lee Wark isn't here. Wark wouldn't dare show his face in this village."
"So when are you moving in with this high-powered San Francisco detective?"
"Soon as I can set it up with Kate-and with Clyde," Joe said, thinking how unreasonable Clyde could be.
"Clyde's going to pitch a fit. You know how he-"
"I don't need Clyde's permission. I'm a cat, Dulcie. A free spirit. A four-legged unencumbered citizen. I don't need to answer to Clyde Damen. I'll tell him what I'm going to do, and do it. If I want to freeload on Garza, that's my business. It's none of Clyde's affair."
"You're getting very defensive, when you haven't even talked to Clyde yet."
Joe only looked at her. Then he dropped off the desk, beat it through the house and out the cat door.
And Dulcie sat listening to the plastic flap swinging back and forth in its little metal frame. Pretty touchy, she thought, feeling bad for Joe.
It wasn't easy to have his best line of communication dried up-and the source of that information, the man he admired so deeply, the brunt of a plot that would destroy that man. Couldn't the city attorney see this? Couldn't the movers and shakers of the city make a few allowances?
But she guessed that was part of being human-humans ideally had to stay within the law. Once they'd made the rules, the point was to follow them.
15
MID MORNING SUN washed the village with gold, laying warm fingers into Joe Grey's fur as he galloped through the streets, dodging dogs and tourists' feet. Sliding in through his cat door, he heard the washer going. The time was ten-fifteen. Maybe Harper, who had moved in last night, was getting domestic. Strolling into the laundry, he found Clyde was still home, sorting clothes, tossing the whites onto the top bunk, which belonged to the cats, and his colored shirts onto the lower bunk. The fact that the dirty clothes were picking up animal hair was of no importance in this household.
"What're you doing home?" he said softly, glancing in the direction of the spare bedroom. "Harper's not still asleep? You feeling okay? You take the day off?"
"Took the morning off. Harper's riding with one of the search groups."
Joe leaped into the bottom bunk, onto old Rube's blanket, and began to lick dust from his paws. "Has he heard anything more about the case? Anything from his officers?"
Clyde didn't answer. Continued to sort clothes.
"Well? What? You don't need to act like I'm the enemy."
"You know how I feel about your meddling."
"I'm meddling? Harper's career is on the line, his whole life is on the line, and I'm meddling? And what about the evidence we've already found?"
"What evidence? What are you talking about?"
"The barrette, Wilma's barrette. Didn't Harper…" Joe stared at Clyde. "Didn't anyone tell Harper about the barrette? The one that Wilma gave Dillon? We found it up at the Pamillon place-the kit found it."
Clyde looked blank.
"I can't believe Harper wouldn't tell you-that someone in the department wouldn't tell him. His own men…"
Clyde laid down the shirt he was clutching. "How do you know this? How do you know it was the barrette Wilma gave her? And that she was wearing it Saturday? If it was the same barrette, she could have lost it anytime. Where on the Pamillon place? She could have been up there weeks ago, fooling around, she-"
"She was wearing it that day, that was in the paper, Clyde. With a description of it-silver, with turquoise bars. Her mother said she was wearing it that morning when she dropped her at Harper's place. And Dillon had it on when she and the Marners met Harper for lunch. The waitress in the cafe remembered it. That was in the paper."
Clyde looked hard at him. "And you found the barrette. After the detectives went over that place three times."
"So?"
"They need to know that, Joe! What did you do with it? You shouldn't move evidence. Why didn't you call the department? You could at least have told me!"
"We didn't move it. We didn't touch it. The department knows about it. What do you think we are, idiots? Why in the world would we move it? Why would we disturb evidence?"
"Cut to the chase, Joe. Did you call the station? Who did you talk to? An anonymous tip right now could really mess Harper up. When was this?"
Joe glared.
Clyde sat down on the bottom bunk, ducking under the top rail. "You didn't call Garza?" He fixed Joe with a cold glare. "You didn't lay one of your anonymous phone tips on Garza. If you start this stuff with Garza…"
"Start what stuff?"
"Start these insane, unwanted, disruptive, and probably illegal telephone calls. If you start that with Garza-"
"If you really need to know, we found the barrette on Tuesday. Garza wasn't here yet. And it wasn't me who informed the department. Nor was it Dulcie."
Rising abruptly, narrowly missing a crack on the head, Clyde snatched a wad of shorts and socks from the top bunk, flung them in the washer, and turned back to scowl at Joe. "Not the kit! You didn't teach that innocent kitten to use the telephone." His face had begun to flush. "Tell me you have not laid your despicable and alarming habits on that little innocent kitten."
"It wasn't the kit. The kit is afraid of phones. She thinks telephones transmit voices from another world."
Clyde let that one go by. "Who, then? Who called the station? Not Wilma. You haven't laid your dirty work on Wilma."
"If you must know, it was Kate. We found the barrette upstairs in the nursery. Kate pretended she found it, and she reported it- told them where to find it. Do you really want to put those red T-shirts in with the white stuff? You have a sudden yearning for pink Jockey shorts?"
Clyde snatched out the offending shirts. For a long moment, both were silent. Then, "You laid that stuff on Kate?"
"For all intents and purposes, Kate found the barrette. She went directly to Molena Point PD, as any law-abiding citizen would do. I'm surprised no one at the station told you or Harper."
"They're not supposed to tell me. They're working a murder case. This is serious business. The department's not supposed to talk to Harper, either."
"Who made that rule? He ought to be able to step back without being completely cut off."
"Lowell Gedding made that rule."
Joe swallowed. "Harper needs to know about the barrette. He needs to know that Dillon got away-at least for a while."
"And I'm elected to tell him."
"Who else?"
"And how do I explain that I came by such information?"
"Kate told you, of course. Fill her in-but get your stories straight." He studied Clyde a moment, then curled up on Rube's blanket and closed his eyes. Let Clyde sort it out.
He hadn't told Clyde about their spying on Stubby Baker, and about Baker's connection to San Quentin. He had to think about that. If Harper knew, he might be so angry, and so hot to follow up, that he'd do something foolish, maybe blow the case himself.