Shirley Murphy - Cat Seeing Double

Larn looked totally apologetic, really crushed. Joe was so fascinated he had to remind himself to stop staring. Turning away, he began to wash again, watching Williams with occasional sideways glances.

"I don't know where I heard it. Everywhere. And then just this week I heard it in conjunction with the murder," Larn said embarrassedly. "The implication was that… that maybe Rupert had been talking about one of Flannery's affairs, spreading around names and details, and Flannery had-"

Ryan gaped at him then was out of her chair jerking Larn up-he came up under her grip as limp as a doll, looking shocked but making no effort to resist her. She spun him around with surprising strength, forced him between the tables and out through the patio to the street, his arm bent behind him. Forced him down the sidewalk away from the restaurant. As Joe leaped to follow them the thought did cross his mind that someone ought to pay the bill. Well, he sure couldn't. One of the perks of being a cat, you never got stuck with the bill.

Half a block down, she shoved Williams into an alley. Joe glanced across the street where Clyde sat in the Hudson, poised as if ready to move. Joe peered around into the brick alley where Ryan had Williams backed against the building. The man was totally submissive. Was he enjoying himself? Getting it on with this woman's rage? Torn between disgust and amusement, Joe settled down between the trash cans to watch.

Ryan looked like she was about to pound Williams when the scuff of shoes made Joe spin around. Clyde stood with his fists clenched as if he wanted to pile into Williams. But Ryan's display of anger held him frozen.

The hint of a grin ticked at the corner of Clyde's mouth as he studied Williams's pallor and Ryan's businesslike grip on the man's collar. She glanced at Clyde, her face coloring.

"What was he doing?" Clyde said, amused.

She said nothing, but turned back to Williams. "If I ever hear that kind of talk anywhere, I'll know it came from you. I swear I'll pound you, Williams, then sue your pants off for slander. I have four top attorneys in the city, and I would like nothing better than to see them take you down."

Jerking Williams away from the wall, she shoved him hard. He stumbled and half fell out onto the sidewalk. "Go home, Larn. Go back to San Andreas. I don't know what your purpose is. But you pull anything more- anything, and you'll be cooling your ass in the slammer."

Larn rose from an off-balance crouch, stared at Ryan and at Clyde, his face unreadable, and headed away fast. Ryan watched until he reached his car and had driven off, then she collapsed against Clyde, her face buried against him. Her shoulders were shaking, whether shivering with nerves, or rocking with laughter, Joe couldn't tell. The gray tomcat, sitting among the garbage cans in the dark alley, was sorry that Dulcie had missed this one.

A week earlier, Joe Grey would have sworn that this would never happen, that he and Clyde would never go undercover together running surveillance, tooling along in Clyde's old Hudson behind Larn Williams's Jeep like a pair of buddy cops. But here they were, slipping up the hills through the night behind Williams's white SUV.

Clyde had waited, in front of Burger Basher, as patiently for Joe as Holmes waiting for Watson while Joe played electronic bug underneath Ryan's table. Then that little affair in the alley that had left Joe weak with laughter, and left Clyde wired for action, ready to move as Ryan headed for Clyde's place to pick up Rock. Clyde had told her, in the alley, that he was just passing, that he had an errand. Whatever she believed, she'd grinned at him and thanked him nicely for coming to her rescue; no harsh word for following her. Gave him a buss on the cheek and said she'd see him in the morning.

So here they were following Williams, Clyde dawdling in traffic so not to be noticed, then panicked when Williams turned a corner for fear they'd lose him.

Joe did his best not to laugh. Watching Clyde practice his surveillance skills was an absolute and entertaining first.

And it was, as well, an occasion that Joe suspected he would deeply regret. First thing he knew, Clyde would be telling him exactly how to conduct every smallest detail of his private business.

"Where's he headed?" Clyde said, frowning.

"I could be wrong. I'm guessing the Landeau cottage. Watch the road," Joe hissed as Clyde turned to look at him.

"Why would he go there?"

Joe himself was surprised. But maybe he shouldn't be. There was nothing to show a connection between Williams and the Landeaus, but they did live in the same small town of San Andreas, they could know each other.

Or, Joe thought, maybe this was the meaning of Gramps Farger's remark, Them San Andreas people.

The Fargers and the Landeaus? Talk about an unlikely mix.

Once they were above the village the residential streets were black, where the moon had dissolved above pale clouds. Joe glanced at Clyde. "Better turn off your lights."

"I'm not driving with my lights off. And hit some animal?"

"He'll make you, otherwise. There's not a car per square mile moving up here."

Clyde cut his lights. The street went black.

"Drive slower. I can see the street, I can see if there's an animal. Maybe he'll think you turned off. He's not moving very fast."

"Why would he trash her father? Why would he go to the Landeau place? What's the connection? What's this guy up to?"

"Slow down, he's turning in."

Easing to the curb a block before the cottage, Clyde cut the engine. Williams had pulled onto the parking close to the cottage door, making no effort to hide his car. On the dark granite paving, the white Jeep stood out like snow on tar. "Roll down your window," Joe said softly. "You'll stay in the car like you promised?"

"Didn't I promise?"

"That's not an answer." Joe glanced at Clyde. "He sees you, you could blow everything-and could put me in danger." Before Clyde could answer, he leaped across Clyde's legs, dropped out the window, and beat it up the street. He had no idea how long Clyde would remain patiently behind the wheel or, in his new investigative enthusiasm, come sneaking along the street like some two-bit private eye. Surveillance was easier with Dulcie. No human in their right mind would suspect a pair of cats.

He was just in time to see Williams let himself in with a key. Swiftly Joe slipped into the house behind his heels, just making it through as Williams slammed the door, and sliding behind the Mexican chest.

Williams didn't pause as if getting his bearings, nor did he turn on the light. He headed straight for the bedroom, knowing his way. Moving up the four steps he sat down on the bed and pulled off his shoes. The bed was unmade, the brightly patterned designer sheets and spread tangled half on the floor. Dropping his shoes, Williams picked up the phone. As he dialed, Joe crept past through the shadows, and hightailed it into the kitchen.

Leaping to the dark granite counter, slick as black ice beneath his paws, he searched frantically for the extension. The counters were nearly empty. A set of modern canisters. Nothing behind them. Bread box, but no phone inside. Did they keep the phone in a cupboard?

Or was there only one phone, and Williams had moved it to the bedroom at some earlier time?

Yes, behind the bread box he found the empty jack. Was the guy staying here with the Landeaus permission? Or without their knowledge? Why else would he not turn on the lights?

Dropping to the floor as silently as he could manage, he slipped into the bedroom in time to hear Williams say, "Yes, but I don't see the point. So the Jakeses sue her. So what does…?"