Shirley Murphy - Cat Seeing Double

"She shot Rupert in there," Ryan said. "A love nest as lethal as the web of a black widow. Luring the male in, to kill him."

Dallas said, "The lab found blood in the rug that was taken from the cottage, the rug Ryan and Hanni gave to the Coldirons. That too was a tip from one of Harper's snitches. The lab came through right away. Since the county allotted more funds, they've been able to do some hiring. We're waiting for an answer on the DNA. If it's Rupert's, we've got a closed case.

"She shot him in front of the fireplace," Dallas said. "Shot into the niche where the right-hand sculpture is placed. Where the concrete had been patched and repainted, Davis and I dug out two spent bullets. I have no idea how the informants knew about the damaged fireplace. Maybe I don't want to know. The important thing is, their information dovetailed in nicely with our investigation."

"We're not sure yet," Harper said, "what else the Landeaus were into. The feds will be dealing with that. Could be, we'll be able to nail them with backing the Fargers' meth labs, we don't know yet. As to the bombing, from the evidence we now have, that was strictly a Farger family project."

"And what about the dog?" Clyde asked. "With all the threads that stretch from San Andreas to Molena Point, everyone's guilty but the dog."

Mike Flannery laughed. "He's the only innocent."

"Maybe," Dallas said, "Rock can help convict Gramps, if he and Ryan can get Curtis to talk." He glanced at his niece. "And maybe Rock's some kind of compensation, for Ryan having to go through this mess."

Ryan grinned, and rubbed Rock's ears, where the big dog leaned against her.

When Ryan left the job at noon with Rock, heading for the PD, she had more stowaways than she'd accommodated coming down from San Andreas. Hidden under the tarp in the truck bed the three cats crouched as warm and cozy as three football fans snuggled under blankets in the bleachers awaiting the big game.

Despite the hard bouncing of the truck, Dulcie and the kit purred and dozed; but Joe crouched tense and excited, ready to scorch out the minute Ryan parked, and slip inside the station. If their luck held, if the timing worked, this might be the game of the season.

He had placed one phone call just after breakfast. Using the extension in Clyde's bedroom to dial Ryan's cell phone, where she worked in the attic above him, he had suggested that today at noon might be the optimum time to have that talk with Curtis Farger, and he had shared with Ryan his take on the matter.

"Have you wondered why Rock pitched a fit, the day you took him to the Landeau cottage?"

"Yes, I have," she'd said softly. She didn't ask how he could know about that. Like Max Harper and Dallas, she kept her answers brief, and she listened.

"Davis and Green will be bringing Marianna in from San Francisco around noon," Joe said. "Would it be instructive to let Rock have a look at her-kill two birds with one… stone?"

She was silent, as if thinking about that.

"Couldn't hurt, could it?" Joe said.

She remained quiet. But then when she spoke, there was a lilt of excitement in her voice. "I'll be there at noon," she said softly. Then in a faintly seductive voice, "You know a lot about this case. I can keep a secret, if you care to tell me who you are."

Joe had hit the disconnect, pushed the headset back on its cradle, and left the house by his cat door. Slipping along beneath the neighbors' bushes, he'd followed a route away from the house that he well knew was invisible from the room above.

And now as he rode into the courthouse parking in Ryan's truck, he was highly impatient, tense to fly out. Ryan found a parking slot just to the right of the glass doors, one of those spaces marked Visitors Only, Ten Minutes, where the cars nosed up to a wide area of decorative plantings. Stepping out of the cab, commanding Rock to heel, she locked the door behind her. While she stood waiting to be buzzed inside, Joe dropped from atop a toolbox into the bushes. Behind him, the kit and Dulcie would take another route. As Ryan moved inside, Joe slipped in behind her and under the booking counter. Rock rolled his eyes at the tomcat, but didn't make a wiggle.

The shelves under the counter were stacked with rolls of fax paper and computer paper, cartons of pens and pencils, and all manner of forms, neatly arranged. Slipping in between boxes of printer cartridges and computer disks, he crouched where he could see both the front entry and the holding cell, but could pull back quickly out of sight. Curtis sat in the cell looking glum. He had apparently been brought up where he could speak freely, out of earshot of Gramps. Joe could hear from above the ceiling the faintest rustle of oak leaves as Dulcie and the kit swarmed up like a pair of commandos to the high, barred window mat looked down into the cell.

But where the sun shone in against the cell wall, silhouetting the oak branch, it silhouetted, as well, two pairs of feline ears, sharply pricked. Joe prayed Dulcie would see the reflection, that she and the kit would back off.

Ryan stood outside the cell with Rock waiting for an officer to unlock the door. Rock stared in at the boy, whining. And beyond the glass doors of the front entry, a police unit pulled into the red zone. Talk about timing! Joe could see, behind the unit's wire barrier, the golden-haired passenger. He watched Detective Juana Davis and Officer Green emerge from the car observing the area around them, then quickly unlock the back door and order Marianna out.

She slid from the car maintaining her grace despite being shackled by handcuffs. Immediately Davis marched her toward the glass doors. The dispatcher hit the admittance button. Joe glanced to the cell's telltale shadow again, and saw that the two pairs of pricked ears had vanished. The officers and Marianna were hardly inside, with the door locked behind them, when all hell broke loose. A roar of anger greeted Marianna, and a leaping gray streak went for her, held back only by Ryan, crouching with the leash across her legs. The dog fought the leash snarling and barking. Joe glimpsed, in Ryan's eyes, a terrible hunger to let the dog loose. She held him as he fought her trying to get at Marianna, ignoring her command to sit.

Marianna did not back away. "Hold! " She snapped at him. The dog froze stone still, his lips drawn up over killer teeth.

"Rock, sit!" Marianna commanded.

Rock sat, but he kept snarling, torn between hatred and what he'd been trained to do. So, Joe thought. So they had indeed found Rock's owner. Ryan stepped to the dog's side, taking hold of his collar.

But a catch of breath made Joe look past the rigid tableau to the holding cell where Curtis Farger stood at the bars, his face white, his dark eyes burning not with anger but with fear. The boy's knuckles were white where he clutched the bars.

Marianna-Martie, drawn by that hush of breath, turned. The look between Marianna and Curtis was so filled with hatred that Joe Grey backed deeper among the boxes, shivering as if their mutual rage were daggers flying or lethal gases ready to explode.

The keys, Joe thought. Curtis did take those keys for Marianna to copy. Somehow he did it and brought them back again. And now… now her look has warned him, Don't talk, Curtis. Don't dare tell them…

At the sound of Rock's barking, Garza and Harper had appeared in the hall with several officers. The whole station seemed to be gathering, crowding down the hall, all the officers watching the dog, Martie, and Curtis. Only Davis and Green remained focused totally on their prisoner. Rock, though still sitting as he'd been commanded, was tensed to leap, his gaze fixed on Marianna's throat.