But what other choice did they have? Once he was on the freeway, the minute he saw the first cop after him, he’d erase everything, Alain’s messages, whatever financial dealings were there. There’d be nothing left, all the proof vanished like smoke sucked away on the wind.
Kit thought later maybe she’d talked so long to Max because, without any explanation at all, their stealing of the laptop and hiding it on the roof, slipping it into that little niche that most humans would never notice, was too far out, too strange. Would create one more uneasy scenario to puzzle Max Harper, make him wonder just what kind of snitch would choose a hiding place that only a pigeon or roof rat might be aware of.
After they’d called Max, and had watched the police deploy after Kraft’s car, they watched Max Harper and Kathleen head for the back stairs, watched Kathleen climb in over the steep roofs and retrieve the laptop. Watched her and Max head for her car, saw them grin at each other as they locked the laptop safely in the trunk. As their car turned up toward the freeway, the cats heard gunfire. One shot, two more, and they seemed very close. They had no way to know what was happening, they could only pray Kraft had been taken without any cops getting hurt. Kit debated whether to race for the station where they could hear the calls coming in, could follow the action via police radio. But there would be cops at the auction with their radios. When Charlie heard sirens and gunshots, wouldn’t she get the news right away? And when Kit thought of the delicious buffet waiting, hunger won, she leaped away across the roofs for the gallery, Pan beside her, Kit worrying about her human friends, and both cats famished for supper.
32
Galloping over the rooftops for the gallery, Kit and Pan could hear the auctioneer’s quick staccato and then in a minute other voices and laughter rising up, as if the auctioning had finished. Kit imagined folks heading for the buffet, and the good smells drew her on, making her lick her whiskers. But running full tilt, Pan stopped suddenly and doubled back, looking down and across the street.
Debbie’s car was parked below, in front of the village Laundromat. The windows were open and little Tessa was looking out, both children were there, but not Debbie. They scanned the street and looked in through the Laundromat windows but didn’t see her, and Kit flattened her ears, lashing her fluffy tail. “What kind of mother leaves her kids alone at night, on the street, in an unlocked car?”
“Debbie does,” Pan said. “She has them sit up in front so if anyone bothers them, they can blow the horn.”
“Fat lot of good that would do.”
Pan crouched over the roof gutter looking down at Tessa, his expression so filled with longing that Kit reached out a paw, touched his paw gently. “You want to go down there?” she said softly. “We could—”
“I can’t let Tessa see me. She’d never stop talking, telling her mother I’d followed them, begging her to look for me. And Vinnie? She catches one glimpse, who knows what trouble she’d make, asking how I got here. That kid won’t leave anything alone, we don’t need that kind of attention. ”
“Maybe, though . . .” Kit said, “maybe at night you could slip into the cottage to see Tessa? Wait until she’s asleep, until they’re all asleep, then talk to her the way you did before?”
“How do you know that?”
“Debbie told the Damens. She laughed at Tessa, made fun of her, said a talking cat was impossible, but Tessa wouldn’t back down. She said that in the night, in the dark, you told her your true name. Joe heard it all, he told me and Dulcie. He said it was all he could do not to claw Debbie. No wonder Tessa never talks, when her mother is so sarcastic.”
“I wish she hadn’t told,” Pan said quietly. “I did whisper to her, how else could she have named me? She’s so small, and . . . dear,” he said, looking embarrassed. “Debbie doesn’t deserve her.” He looked at Kit, flicking his ears. “Maybe . . . Is there some way I could visit her, get her to keep the secret?”
“If you could talk to her at night again, maybe you could help her. Show her how to survive that woman. I could be the lookout,” Kit said. “I could watch Debbie and Vinnie, make sure they don’t wake and hear you, make sure that Debbie, if she’s still up, doesn’t come sneaking in.”
Pan smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe we could do that.” His amber eyes were so deep, his look so close and real it made her tremble. “Late in the night,” he said softly, “when the house is dark, maybe we can help her, maybe together we can.”
Charlie found all five cats in the bookstore, out of the way of the workers who were cleaning up the last of the buffet, folding up the big table and the metal chairs, putting the little café tables back in their usual places. On a bookstore table, Kit and Pan crouched before their empty plates waiting for news, licking the last smears of salmon mousse from their whiskers. Dulcie and Misto sat above them on a bookshelf, as Joe Grey paced back and forth along the shelves, the five cats waiting impatiently to know if Kraft had been caught. They’d heard no more shots, no more sirens, the night was silent, but somewhere out in the dark, officers might still be in danger.
Charlie sat down at the table beside Kit and Pan and flipped open her cell phone, pretending to make a call, to key in a number that never rang at the other end. She said softly, “They got him.” The cats came to full attention, Joe Grey paused on the bookshelf and lay down just above her, and on the table Kit rolled over, handily drawing closer. All ears were up, all tails very still.
“They spotted the Audi headed north just before the off-ramp to the hospital. When he saw two patrol cars coming up fast behind him, and a CHP cutting across the median from the southbound lanes, he swerved up the ramp, doubled back southbound, weaving in and out. Cut a right at Carpenter, grazed two oncoming cars, headed up into the residential. A Realtor must know those little winding streets like the back of his hand, he must have been convinced he could lose them up there. It didn’t work,” she said, grinning. “They forced him over, he fired once at Brennan. McFarland took him down with two shots. He struggled out of the car bleeding, his hands up, and didn’t fight anymore.”
Kit was so pleased she almost laughed out loud.
No wonder we heard the shots, Joe thought. Those hilly streets, they’re only a few blocks from here, just up past the gallery.
“He’s all tucked away in the hospital,” Charlie said. “Private room with a guard, regular VIP treatment. Max has talked with the DA, there’s enough evidence for an arraignment, he was really pleased to have the laptop.” She reached to pet Kit, and shyly to stroke the top of Pan’s head. “Kathleen made copies of everything on it, the fake messages from Alain, all kinds of real estate transactions on a dozen different letterheads. From what they’ve found so far, those are all fake. They searched the condo, got a lock man up there to open the wall safe but of course it was empty. Max has the cash, maybe a hundred thousand and I don’t know how much in gold. They’re still lifting prints in the condo.”
Well, Kit thought, the whole department had been busy. In the time it took the party to break up, and her and Pan to demolish their big plate of seafood, turkey, salmon mousse, and three desserts, everyone at the department had been hard at work, she imagined the computers and phones and fax machine just humming away. Never overly modest, tonight Kit felt pretty smug.