She held out her glass. "You never even suspected the old woman."
He slopped vodka into her glass. "Why would I? Her acting like she was about out of it, like she didn't know nothing about what Shamas did."
He sat down at the table. "Maybe she didn't know- until that old fool Pedric told her."
"That why you tried to do him, Sam?"
"I never thought he'd tell her about the money."
"So why did you-"
"The Seattle stuff, Cara Ray. He knows about that, from Shamas. I don't need her prying into that."
"And now, the old man can still tell her. Thanks to your messing up." She sucked at her drink. "And probably he will."
"Well, he doesn't know about the other."
"Unless Newlon told-"
"Newlon can't testify now. And what did he know? Newlon was the one who searched for Shamas, who went down in the sea for him. Newlon was the one who found him, hanging there with his foot tangled in the line-Newlon didn't have a clue."
Cara Ray's face colored with a blush of guilt.
"What the hell? What did you tell him, Cara Ray?"
"I didn't tell him. He knew there was something, all that scuffling before you shouted that Shamas was overboard. Newlon looked right at me, said, 'No one would trip over them dogs, Cara Ray. Not Shamas. Shamas was sure on his feet.'"
Fulman shrugged. "Well, he can't say nothing now."
Cara Ray's heart-shaped face fell into a pouting scowl. "I still don't see why you made all that fuss, hustling those dogs off the boat before you called Harbor Patrol. Seems to me-"
"Because, Cara Ray, they were driving me crazy. I didn't think I could stand the damn dogs another minute, jumping all over me-cops all over the place, and them dogs underfoot every time you turned around."
"All the more reason for the cops to believe Shamas fell over them. I still don't see why you changed your story at the last minute, why you were in such a hurry suddenly to get the dogs out of there."
"Because, Cara Ray, the cops might think we were all drunk or crazy on drugs, letting those dogs run on deck at a time like that. Who knows, cops might try to slap a manslaughter charge or something on us, for carelessness."
"That's a crock, Sam. You don't believe that."
But then her eyes widened. She fixed a cold look on him. "Did Shamas have a stash with him? Big money, hidden on the boat somewhere? Is that why you left before the cops got aboard? Is that why you took the dogs off-used them for an excuse? So you could get into Seattle and hide the money before we called the cops?"
She stared hard at him. "Is that it, Sam? The dogs covered for you, while you took the money off?''
Dulcie cut a look at Joe, mirroring his disgust. These people were beyond sick. No matter how big a womanizer Shamas Greenlaw had been, he hadn't deserved being pushed overboard by these scum.
"Here it is," Joe whispered, "the whole scene laid out for us, and what are we going to do with it?" He sat up tall on the closet shelf, his yellow eyes burning with frustration.
"Shamas was stupid anyway," Cara Ray said. "Dogs don't belong on shipboard. I told him…"
"Well, Cara Ray, they-"
"Filthy beasts, doing their mess all over. I told Shamas I wasn't cleaning it up." She widened her eyes at Fulman. "You cleaned up plenty of dog crap. Cleaned it up all the way from Seattle back to San Francisco."
She looked puzzled. "You get all the way back here with those mutts, then you turn 'em loose. Why did you do that, Sam?"
"Getting too big to handle. Got loose the morning I-the morning Torres wrecked his car. They were wild, jumped out of my car, ran down the road. I figured to hell with 'em, let 'em go. They'd make their way, someone down in the village 'ud feed 'em-and someone did," he said. "Anyway, I decided I didn't want to be hauling them around, right in Newlon's face. Keep reminding him, keep him all shook up. Not too swift, was Newlon."
"And that old couple, Sam. That George Chambers. You botched that one, too. Don't you think the cops-"
"Someone was coming, Cara Ray. Right up the street headed right for me. I thought-Chambers didn't move. Went limp as a rag. I thought he was dead, Cara Ray."
"Trouble with you, you try to do someone, and you panic. Decide they're dead when they're not. Why do you do that, Sam? We could've just skipped. Now you've got two men dead and two wounded, and don't you think the cops-?"
"You do one man, Cara Ray, you might as well go for it. The ones after that don't count. Besides, the Fulmans and Greenlaws never get caught. Well, caught maybe once in a while, but we always walk. Worst that can happen, the family goes bail and we skip, lose the bail money."
Fulman smiled. "It's in the family, Cara Ray. Luck. Plain Irish luck"
Cara Ray watched him nervously. Her scrubbed face was not glowing now; she looked pale, as if she was having doubts about Fulman, as if she was losing her nerve.
But then her eyes narrowed. "I want my share of the money, Sam. I don't need all this grief for nothing." Her gaze widened. "Are you sure there ever was any money in that bag? Or was the old woman making an ass of you?"
"Shamas always buried money, Cara Ray. Everywhere he lived. The other women never knew- you're the first he told."
"Maybe he was getting senile," she said, laughing. "I would have sworn Lucinda never knew."
Cara Ray rose, poured herself another drink, found a box of sugar, and stirred two heaping teaspoons into the vodka-laced orange juice. "You never make it sweet enough."
She turned on him suddenly. "Maybe Shamas took it all with him on shipboard. Maybe you have it all, Sam." Leaning over the table, she pushed her face close to his. "How much money did you get, Sam? How much of Shamas's tax-free stash, as he called it?"
"Don't be stupid, Cara Ray, you know I wouldn't cut you out."
She sat down again, ran her hand down her leg, smoothing her Mickey Mouse tights. "Far as that goes, maybe Pedric and the old woman and their sweet little early-morning walks, maybe they carried the money away then, a little at a time."
"And hid it where, Cara Ray? In Pedric's trailer? He's not that stupid."
She shrugged. "Maybe buried it, maybe down the hill somewhere, under those rocks."
She lifted an eyebrow. "And why not his trailer? Brought it right on up here and hid it somewhere in there that even you wouldn't think to look-maybe inside a wheel? In the water tank or something."
"I don't know, Cara Ray, that's-"
"And now with the old man in the hospital, and his trailer empty, I'd think you'd-"
Fulman rose. "He wouldn't hide it there, Cara Ray. He'd know we'd all look there. Me, Dirken, Newlon…"
He stood watching her. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to smoke it over-now, while he's out of the way."
Snatching his jacket from the chair, he headed out the door. Cara Ray gulped her drink and followed him.
And Joe and Dulcie abandoned the closet, intent on their own hurried agenda.
22
FULMAN HAD left the kitchen light burning; it cast a greasy yellow glow across the gold-and-black decor and the fake mahogany paneling. The plastic bag was no longer on the table; only wet rings remained where Fulman and Cara Ray had set their glasses. Sniffing at the glasses, Dulcie lifted her lip in disgust. "Take the paint off a fire truck.''
"It's here," Joe said from beneath the table. He backed out, pulling the bag. Peering inside to be sure the papers were still there, he left it in the middle of the floor and galloped to the bedroom, where he had seen a cell phone on a shelf beside the bed.