So Janet's cat had survived, had been in the house-or some cat had. Must have slipped in through the charred hole under the front door. Beverly seemed not to see the prints or was ignoring them, caring nothing about the cat.
Before she left, Charlie thought, she'd put out fresh water, food if she could find any, maybe leave the bowls under the entry deck where Beverly wouldn't notice.
"I'll want her clothes boxed up for charity. She had no valuable jewelry, only junk. Please look through the closet and dresser now, so you will know how many containers you will require. I will want a complete and detailed list for tax purposes." Beverly flipped through each album, left them in an untidy pile, and turned to inspecting the bookshelves, moving books and glancing behind them. It occurred to Charlie to wonder if Beverly Jeannot really ought to be in there. Maybe she hadn't any more right to be in this house than the general public, until the police cordon was removed and the trial was finished.
Opening the dresser drawers, she found them half-empty. Not as if Janet's clothes had been removed, rather as if Janet hadn't had much, as if perhaps the artist saw no need for an abundance of clothing. Her few jeans and sweatshirts lay neatly folded. There was one nice sweater, in a plastic storage bag, a dozen pairs of socks, two pairs of panty hose. Janet had worn plain cotton panties. She didn't seem overly fond of brassieres-she had only one.
Beverly, preoccupied and intent, moved from the bookshelves to the desk, opening drawers, shuffling through the contents. Charlie watched her, then checked the closet It was half-empty, too. Janet must have unpacked from her San Francisco trip before she went to bed. There was a small, empty suitcase on the top shelf beside a folded garment bag. The clothes on the chair must be what she took off that night, as if she'd been too tired to put them away. The closet contained a wide, transparent storage bag with three dress-up outfits: a beige silk suit, a print dress, and a gold, low-cut cocktail dress. Two more pairs of jeans hung neatly beside a second windbreaker and some cotton shirts. This completed the wardrobe. She heard Beverly pick up the phone and punch in a number, listened to her asking for Police Captain Harper.
She could imagine how that imperious tone would go over if she used it on Harper.
She had met Max Harper only once, but she knew enough about him from Clyde to know the dry, lean man didn't tolerate being patronized. What cop did? Listening, she returned to the dresser and pretended to inventory jeans and sweatshirts.
Beverly must have pull, in spite of her rudeness, because within seconds she had Harper on the line.
Though likely it wasn't pull at all but Beverly's connection to Janet. For all she knew, Beverly herself might be suspect in some way.
"Captain Harper, the man you sent up here to search this house has left an unacceptable mess. I can't imagine why he would do this-he has pulled nearly all the books off the shelves for no apparent reason, has, in fact, trashed the entire bedroom."
Charlie didn't see anything trashed. She could imagine the chief of police raising an amused eyebrow, puffing away on a cigarette while Beverly ranted.
"What do you mean, I'm not allowed in the house? This is my house now. Have you forgotten that Janet left the house to me? Surely your police rules apply simply to the general public. I don't…"
Abruptly Beverly stopped talking, was quiet for some minutes, then, "Captain Harper, I came up here on legitimate business. I would remind you that I don't live in Molena Point, and that my time here is limited. I came up here to assess the interior damage and to arrange for much-needed repairs-once you have released the premises. I'm sure you know that much of the damage was caused by your police officers and city firemen. I am, in fact, facing monumental cleaning and repair costs, thanks to you city workers."
There was another long silence, then Beverly gave a sharp huff of exasperation and hung up, banging the receiver. Charlie pretended to be absorbed in noting the number of moving boxes she'd want. She paced off the size of the rooms in preparation for ordering paint, then went down to the Mercedes to retrieve a box of paint chips from her canvas tote. Beverly wanted a perfect match to the existing white walls. This seemed a needless expense, to have the paint specially mixed, when the woman was going to sell the house. Particularly when she was in such a hurry.
But what does a simple cleaning person know?
Returning from the car, she looked up at the house with a stab of longing, dreaming how it would be to have that lovely apartment. The studio above could be rebuilt, with plenty of space for tool storage and building supplies, maybe room left over for a small rental.
Sure, just whip out the checkbook and plunk down half a million or maybe more, and it's mine. Molena Point property was incredibly expensive.
Back in the house again, she sorted through paint chips, India Ivory, Rich Almond, Pagan White, Winter Snow, Narcissus. She chose Pale Bone, matching it to a little patch of wall down behind the couch that seemed to have escaped smoke damage.
But when she checked the color with Beverly, Beverly huffed and had to try a dozen samples. She returned to the Pale Bone as if she had just discovered it. In a few minutes she was back in the bedroom. Charlie could hear her still rummaging, heard her open the closet door, heard the hangers slide, heard her unzip the suitcase, zip it up again. Whatever the woman was looking for, she hadn't found it yet.
Well at least the police knew she was there. If Harper didn't want her nosing around, he'd send a squad car.
In the kitchen cupboard she found a supply of cat kibble and a dozen small cans of gourmet cat food. Reluctant to move the bowls on the floor and generate questions, she dug out an aluminum pie tin and a chipped china bowl. Filling the bowl with water, she carried it all outside, poured kibble into the pie tin, placed it and the kibble box and bowl of water just under the deck. She could see, down the hill, the house she was now working on, just a few blocks south. She could run up to this house easily to replenish the food and water. If the cat did come back, she could see if it was hurt and take care of it.
Returning to the bedroom, she startled Beverly. The woman turned abruptly from the empty bookshelves. Having pulled off all the remaining books, she looked cross and frustrated.
"When you get Janet's clothes packed, get them off at once to the Junior League or the Goodwill, then take these albums and scrapbooks to her agent. It is the Aronson Gallery, on San Carlos."
Charlie nodded and held her tongue.
"Any of Janet's sketches, or sketchbooks-or any journals, are to be given to me. Pack them carefully in a large, suitably flat box. Don't fold the sketches, please. Anything drawn or written by Janet's hand must come to me. Bring them to my motel. Don't leave them in the house while you are working.
"The bedding and towels can go with the clothes and kitchen things. In short, everything to charity except albums, scrapbooks, diaries, or journals, and any remaining artwork. And of course the rugs and furniture, which I will sell."
For a woman whose sister had died so recently, and so horribly, Beverly Jeannot was maintaining a remarkable strength of spirit. Charlie pretended to take notes, but they weren't needed. Beverly's sharp instructions had etched themselves on each individual brain cell.
"You understand that you cannot start any work until the police legally remove the barrier," Beverly said. "I have no idea how long this trial will take. Once it ends, beginning the day it ends, when the premises are released, I want the work started immediately and done with dispatch. The living room cleaned and painted, the outside of the house scrubbed, the windows washed. The remains of the studio fire must be removed and the area swept clean so the builders can start, and the entire yard must be cleaned and raked." She looked Charlie over. "How long will that require? I hope no more than two or three days. Can you assure me that you have sufficient crew to handle the job expeditiously? If you cannot, I would like to know at once."