Cat Spitting Mad

by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

  The kit's trail led to a neglected duplex built over a pair of double garages, a property unusual in the village for its shabbiness, the yard overgrown with weeds, the clapboard walls badly in need of paint. The stairs led up to a deck that ran the length of the building, dark at the far end but light beneath the windows of the nearer unit; she could see a lamp burning within, but no movement. The kit's scent led up the stairs to the deck, where an unlatched screen had been pulled out a few inches; Dulcie spotted a hunk of dark fur clinging. She was about to leap up when Joe Grey appeared from the shadows.

  She turned a slow green gaze on him. "You following me or the kit?"

  "Both of you." He was all claws and nerves. "I have a bad feeling about Wark."

  Above them, the sky was the color of Joe's coat, heavy gray without any promise of sun, though the time must be nearly seven.

  Joe looked the building over. "Shoddy. Why would the kit come here?"

  "Who knows what's in that wild little head?"

  Leaping to the sill, he tried to see through the muslin curtains. There was a screen, but the glass was open a few inches. Dulcie followed, the two cats balancing awkwardly on the slanted, narrow ledge. They were looking into the kitchen and could see one big room to their right, apparently a studio apartment. It was sparsely and cheaply furnished. Pushing in under the screen, they stepped onto the old, cracked tiles of the counter, icy beneath their paws. Dropping silently down, they followed the kit's scent across the battered linoleum, beneath the scarred breakfast table and into the studio. They heard the courthouse clock striking seven. The room contained a decrepit metal chair meant for outdoors, a scarred coffee table littered with clothes, and a pullout couch made up into a bed. The bed was occupied, the woman's tawny hair spilling over the pillow. Crystal slept soundly.

  And in the rusty metal chair, the kit slept, curled up tight and so deep under that she was not aware of them.

  "What the hell?" Joe said softly.

  "Beats me."

  "Has she been slipping away to visit Crystal? Why would she do that?"

  Crystal's sandals and riding boots were tossed in the corner beside a pair of high heels. Her purse lay on the coffee table among the tangle of clothes, beside a blue folder. Joe reared up to have a look, front paws on the coffee table.

  "Sarden Realty," he said softly. The folder bore the familiar tree-in-a-circle logo of the local real estate firm. As he reached a paw to flip it open, the kit woke.

  She gazed from one to the other with eyes like yellow moons. "How did you find me?"

  "Shhh," Dulcie said. "She'll hear you."

  Joe pawed open the folder. He was silent for a few moments, then looked at Dulcie. "It's a sales contract and closing statement. Escrow papers. For this address, Dulcie. Crystal has bought this place."

  "Crystal? This dump? Why?"

  "The previous owner was Helen Marner," Joe said. "The escrow closed two weeks before Helen was murdered. Crystal paid four hundred and eighty thou, with forty thousand down."

  Dulcie looked at him wide-eyed, trying to process this. "What does this mean? Can we get this to Garza? Can you slip the papers out?"

  "Oh, right. Crystal finds the papers gone, knows someone's been in here."

  "But…"

  Creeping toward the bed, Joe studied Crystal for signs of waking. She seemed deep under.

  Something wasn't right here. Something was making his fur crawl. He felt as edgy as a mouse in a glass bowl. "Peninsula Escrow," he whispered, leaping onto the table. "Garza can get a copy from them." Standing among Crystal's wrinkled clothes, he looked intently at the kit. "What are you doing here, Kit? What made you come here?"

  "I followed a man. He was in Wilma's garden. And then I followed Crystal."

  "You're not making sense."

  "Yes, I am. A man came in Wilma's garden and looked in the window."

  "What man? When was this?" Joe felt his fur going stiff. "What did he look like?" He stared into the shadowed hall that led, apparently, to a bathroom and closet, but saw no one, could scent no other human in the apartment.

  "What did he look like, Kit?"

  "Muddy eyes. Bent over, like his shoulders wouldn't hold him real straight."

  Every hair on Joe's back went rigid.

  "When he looked in the window, I dropped off Wilma's desk and hid. When he went away, I followed him."

  "I thought you hated that cat door."

  "I hate it, but I wanted out. I followed him to where that oak tree grows through the middle of the street and there are pictures of a blue dog in the window and that place where Wilma likes to eat breakfast."

  "The Swiss Cafe. Then what?"

  "She was standing by the oak tree."

  "Crystal?"

  "They argued. They got so mad-mad as raccoons fighting over garbage. The man said that someone named Mel owed him money. Crystal said, 'You think I'm stupid? How could he owe you money when you didn't do anyone. You think he pays for nothing?' "

  The kit looked from Joe to Dulcie, her round yellow eyes darkening. "What did that mean? How could he do someone? Do what?"

  Joe dropped off the coffee table, nudging the kit out of the chair and toward the kitchen. "Did she call the man by name?"

  The kit mewed a laugh, then hushed, staring back at Crystal's sleeping form. "She called him 'you stupid bastard.' She said, 'The deal wasn't with you, you dumb Welsh bastard. What makes you think…?' Then he interrupted her."

  The three cats leaped to the kitchen counter. "How can you remember all that?" Dulcie said. "How can you repeat all that, word for word?"

  "The big cats taught me-the cats I lived with. Well, then the man said, 'Don't be such a bitch. Who do you think did them? They're dead, ain't they?'

  "Was he talking about those women? Is that what it means- to make them dead?"

  "Yes, Kit," Joe said gently. "What else did they say?"

  "She said, 'We'll see about that, you no-good deadbeat,' and she left. Walked away real fast and mad, and I followed her."

  "Did Wark see you?" Dulcie said. "Did he know you were there?"

  "I stayed way deep in the shadows. I followed her up and up the hill past the shops and saw her come in here. The light came on inside. I found where the screen was loose. I watched her until she went to bed, then I slipped under just like you would. And here I am," she said proudly.

  Joe and Dulcie exchanged a look. Dulcie sighed. She wanted to cuff the kit's inquisitive little nose-and wanted to hug her. Across the room, Crystal stirred but didn't wake. Beside the cats, the kitchen window was brightening with dawn.

  "Before she turned the light off," the kit said, "the phone rang."

  "And?" Joe said impatiently.

  "She listened but didn't say anyone's name. She said, 'Of course I met him. What do you think?' Then a pause. Then, 'No. I haven't the faintest. I'm still looking for her, you know that.' She was real angry. She shouted into the phone, 'Oh, right. And let them hang me, too? You think I want to spend the rest of my life in T.I.?'

  "What's XL?" said the kit.

  "It's a prison," Dulcie said shortly. "Go on, Kit."

  "She hung up. And she opened up the phone and took out something. Like a little box. She put it in that drawer and put another like it in the phone. Then she poured a drink of that sharp-smelling stuff, there by the refrigerator. She drank it down and went to bed. And I came inside to see what I could see.

  "What was that box?" the kit said. "What was she doing? After she went to bed I curled up in the chair to watch her, but I guess I went to sleep. Then you were here." The kit looked deeply at Dulcie, the tip of her tail twitching. "It's scary."

  "What's scary?" Joe said. "Being in here with Crystal? Then why did you go to sleep here?"

  She looked bright-eyed at Joe. "It's scary spying on humans. Coming into their den to spy on them."

  "Then why did you do it?" Joe growled.

  "Because you would have. Because humans do bad things, and you know how to make them s
top. Because if you know enough about them, you can make them pay for being bad-like you did before, when that man was killed on Hellhag Hill. I followed her because she's a mean person."

  Joe Grey sighed, and hid a grin, and pawed open the drawer beneath the counter.

  Two reels of miniature tape lay inside, the kind used in answering machines. They were tucked down among some packages of plastic spoons and forks. Joe picked them up in his teeth and dropped them on the counter.

  "Those paper towels behind you, Dulcie. To keep the drool off."

  Nipping at the towels, Dulcie managed to pull one free. She was wrapping the tapes, folding the towel with her paw, when Crystal rolled over and pushed back the covers.

  Joe glanced back at the escrow papers, then snatched up the package of tapes. Dulcie pushed out the window behind him, nosing the kit along, and they fled down the stairs and underneath.

  Crouched in the damp shadows, they heard Crystal moving around in the kitchen above them, heard water running, then the sucking of a coffeemaker. A lone car passed, its tires hissing along the fog-damp street. Above in the apartment, a door slammed; the pipes rumbled as if Crystal was taking a shower.

  Joe dropped the paper packet between his paws. "Now we're getting somewhere."

  "Now," Dulcie said softly, reaching to pat at the packet of tapes, "one of us will have to phone Garza."

  "Maybe," Joe said. "Maybe not. I can leave the tapes tucked into the morning Gazette."

  "But what about the escrow papers? If she bought the house from Helen and didn't tell anyone… And if that was Wark she met last night…" She looked deeply at Joe, her green eyes burning. "What does this all add up to? Did Crystal pay someone to kill the Marners? How does this apartment sale fit in?"

  Carefully, Joe Grey washed his front paw. "I guess, if Garza got a phone call from an escrow officer, that wouldn't be the same as an anonymous call."

  "Except," Dulcie said, "he'd check it out with the escrow company. When there's no one there by that name-"

  "So I get the name of the escrow officers. I think most of them are women-and you've been dying to call Garza. You can ask him to keep it confidential."

  Dulcie purred. "You did very well, Kit. I can't believe you remembered that long conversation."

  "I told you. The clowder cats. They tried to do magic, but they never could. I learned to say the spells the way they did. But they never worked, never made anything different. I was still cold and hungry."

  Joe Grey licked the kit's ear. "You're fine now, Kit. You're just fine." And he picked up the packet of tapes and led the ladies away from Crystal's, through the bright, chill dawn.

  18

  THE GARZA COTTAGE smelled of spaghetti sauce laced with marsala. Beyond the windows, the February sky was dark but clear. A thin sliver of moon shone above the treetops. The ringing of the phone mingled with the chiming of the courthouse clock from down in the village. When Garza answered, Joe Grey was already stretched out along the back of the mantel, his eyes closed, his studied breathing deep and slow, feigning sleep. The time was 7 P.M. He could just hear the crackle of Dulcie's voice from the other end of the line.

  Garza listened. "Peninsula Tide Company?" Then a long pause. Then, "Yes, of course I'm interested. Can you tell me your name?"

  He listened again attentively, making notes on a pad. Dulcie's voice would have, Joe knew, that soft, insinuating tone that so annoyed Max Harper. The name Garza jotted down was Caroline Jacobs. Joe wondered why Dulcie had chosen that name, from the list of four woman officers he'd given her. Maybe because it had a nice rhythm.

  Duplex, Dolores above First. Helen Marner to Crystal Ryder. $480,000. Closed February 9.

  "Oh, yes, this is very helpful information. Any information we receive about Helen Marner is of course of departmental interest. Can you get me a copy of the escrow papers?

  "I see. Yes, of course I understand. I will simply make an inquiry. If Miss Powers wants to furnish us with a copy, I'll send a man over." Garza paused. Joe cocked his head, straining toward that faintest murmur from the other end of the line. Dulcie, at this moment, was most likely stretched out on Wilma's desk blotter, taking her ease beside the handset, and feeling smug. These little tips to the law really brought out the ham in his lady. Maybe she should have her own talk show.

  "Tell me," Garza said, "were you responsible for making a delivery to my home this morning?"

  Whatever Dulcie's response, Garza grunted as if unconvinced. "Do you know anything about such a delivery? Whatever you say will be strictly confidential.

  "I see. But you do know where I live," Garza said. "You did have my phone number."

  The premise didn't necessarily follow, but it was a good try. Joe heard a faint click from the other end.

  Garza stared at the phone until the canned recording came on, then hung up. Joe settled back into his relaxed sprawl and shut his eyes, waiting for Garza to play the tapes that the detective had found inside his morning Gazette. Garza had unwrapped and examined them and dropped them in his pocket.

  And he did not play them now. He rinsed out his coffee cup, slipped on his jacket, and left the house for an appointment.

  Joe spent a restless night pacing the cottage. Kate and Hanni were at a play, and Garza had not returned when he grew too impatient to stay inside, and went to hunt, slipping out a loose downstairs window, through the burglar bars. He did not look for Dulcie and the kit; they had promised to stay inside. Keeping to the local gardens, he contented himself with house mice. He ended up at home in time for breakfast.

  Slipping in through his cat door, past a tuft of tortoiseshell fur, he stopped in the living room, laughing. The kit had learned very quickly to taunt Clyde.

  "Why can't I sit on the table? Joe Grey sits on the table! And I don't want scrambled eggs. We had breakfast. We dined in Jolly's alley," the kit said grandly.

  "Hush," said Dulcie. "Let me finish."

  "It's a really shabby duplex," Dulcie was saying. "But a lovely location and view. Charlie would love it."

  Clyde said. "Would you like a scrambled egg, Dulcie?"

  "I would," Dulcie said softly. "The kit ate all the blintzes."

  Joe shouldered into the kitchen, to see the kit, looking hurt, jump onto the table. He watched Clyde pick up Dulcie and set her beside the kit, apparently in the interest of fairness. Leaping up beside Dulcie, Joe stretched out across the open newspaper. Clyde, scowling at him, added two more eggs to the skillet.

  "It was Wark that the kit saw," Dulcie said. "It had to be. And it was Wark Joe saw snooping around the Garza cottage."

  Clyde looked at Joe. "Did Garza catch him?"

  Joe flicked a whisker. "None of them saw him; they slept right through, even our big-time detective."

  "You sure it was Wark?"

  "I'm not sure. Could have been Baker. But the kit saw Wark talking with Crystal."

  Clyde sighed. "Did the man at the cottage see you, Joe?"

  "Of course he didn't see me."

  Clyde dished up the eggs, setting the cats' three plates on the table. Having nowhere to put his own plate, he stood at the stove to eat. "If you were looking out the window, those white markings would shine like neon."

  "You think I don't have sense enough to keep away from the glass? That is so insulting."

  "You think he was looking for Kate?"

  "I have no idea. Maybe looking for Kate. Maybe checking on Garza. If he was involved in the murders-"

  "He could have been looking for you and Dulcie. You'd better come home where you're safe."

  "Why would I be safe at home? Wark knows where I live. He was all around this house, if you remember, after Beckwhite was murdered. Looking in the windows-right in my face. Scared the spit out of me."

  "Then you can move in with Wilma. No, you can't do that. He knows where Dulcie lives."

  Joe said, "Dulcie and the kit can stay with Charlie. Not likely Wark knows about her."

  "And you can stay there, too. You don't
need to be hanging around Garza's."

  "Where do you think Garza makes his sensitive phone calls and tapes his notes? Kate set that up for me, and you helped her- I'm not tossing that away."

  Clyde just looked at him. That ever-patient, put-upon expression of a defeated human."

  "I'll keep of sight," Joe said.

  Clyde said, "I'll talk to Charlie about Dulcie and the kit."

  Joe dropped to the floor. "Even Charlie's apartment isn't the safest. There's only one way out, just the front door, down the stairs and through that little foyer to the street. Wark breaks in, you're cornered. No back door, no side windows. And that window over the street-you can't reach anything from there, not a rooftop, not so much as a vine. It's only one floor down, but all concrete. Splatter a cat like-"

  "Hush," Dulcie said. "It's a perfect setup. Charlie can fix a way for us to slip out to the roofs-through a vent or something. You know how clever she is. Wark would have to bring a ladder to get up on the roofs. And he can't jump from roof to roof, or run across a branch, or leap six feet between buildings."

  Joe was unconvinced.

  "Anyway, he's after Kate," Dulcie said. "This time, Joe, he's not after us. He followed Kate in San Francisco. It's Kate you should worry about."

  "Kate knows he's here," Joe snapped. "Besides, with a warrant out for him, the department will pick him up-haul him back to Quentin."

  Clyde poured a fresh cup of coffee. What he appeared to need, Joe thought, was a double Prozac. With his coffee cup so full it sloshed, he sat down at the table, looking deeply at the cats.

  "However this turns out, you two have opened a whole can of worms with Garza. The guy comes here to do a legitimate piece of police work and-"

  "That's a matter of opinion," Joe said darkly.

  "To do a straightforward investigation, and he starts getting anonymous phone tips."

  "One phone call," Dulcie said, "from a legitimate employee of Peninsula Escrow."

  "And unexplained tapes are left at his door that might be evidence and might not. That might be a plant. Don't you think Garza-"