Shirley Murphy - Cat Spitting Mad

Quickly up Crystal's drive into the shadows, she moved along the side of the garage until she found the pedestrian entrance, a black rectangle where the door stood open. She could see nothing within. Clutching the hammer that she had pulled from her toolbox, she wondered if she'd be quick enough to use it if someone grabbed her.

A voice from inside made her jump. "She's across the garage," Dulcie said. "Under the stairs. We couldn't slide the bolt-we finally did loosen this one. Hurry. Crystal's gone, you can use your flashlight. Oh, hurry."

Flipping on her flashlight, softly pulling closed the door behind her, she fled across behind Dulcie, her light sweeping across washer and dryer and furnace, pausing on the door beneath the stairs.

She slid the bolt. The door flew open in her face, knocking her backward. Dillon hit her in a tackle that sent her sprawling, the girl's shoulder in her stomach. She couldn't get her breath.

"Get off, Dillon. It's me-it's Charlie." For a thirteen-year-old, the kid was strong. Fighting for her life, she crouched over Charlie, punching, blind with fear. When Charlie grabbed her hands, Dillon kneed her in the stomach, broke her grip, and ran, taking the stairs two at a time. She was halfway across the apartment when Charlie caught her, grabbing Dillon's red hair, upsetting the coffee table, nearly strangling the child before she got her stopped.

"Hold still! Be still! It's all right. I'm getting you out of here. Away from here. I'll hide you."

"That's what she said."

"Stop it! I'm Clyde's friend-Harper's friend-you know that!"

Dillon stared at her, didn't know her well enough to trust her. Charlie wished she'd brought Wilma. "I'll explain when we're out of here. Explain as much as I know. We-I think there's more than one person wanting to kill you." She scanned the apartment, half expecting Crystal to appear.

"Just let me go. Let me go home."

"I can't." Dragging the child, Charlie stepped to the windows.

The drive below was empty. There were no new cars on the street. "Come on."

"Where? I don't want-"

"My place. You can hide at my place."

"Take me to the cops or I won't go! Captain Harper will-"

Charlie held her shoulders, looking down at her. "Harper is under suspicion for your kidnapping. And for the murder of Ruthie and Helen Marner. We know he didn't do it. It gets complicated. You'll have to trust me. If you want to save yourself and help Harper, we need to get out of here."

"Just take me to the station. Is that so hard? Take me to Max Harper." The kid was incredibly stubborn, not nearly as mild-mannered as her parents. Had Harper taught her that, to stand up for what she wanted like that?

"Harper isn't at the station. He's taken administrative leave. He can't hide you. How would it look if you turned up at his place, when some people think he kidnapped you?"

"He didn't! Harper didn't kidnap me! He didn't kill them!"

"I know that. That's why you're in danger. That's why Crystal kidnapped you. Because you're the only witness."

"But Crystal rescued me from that man."

"What man? The killer? Who is he?"

"I didn't know him. It was nearly dark. I thought at first it was Captain Harper. It wasn't. It happened so fast."

A car came up the street. Crystal's black convertible, turning up the steep drive, its lights sweeping across the windows. Charlie pulled her away from the glass.

"Dillon, Crystal's been in touch with the man we think killed them. We think she's using you to blackmail him. That when she's done with you, when you're no use to her, she means to kill you."

"I don't-"

As the garage door rumbled open, Charlie pulled her out the front door, dragged her running down the steps as the overhead door closed again. Charlie couldn't remember whether she'd shut the door under the stairs. They ran, Charlie holding Dillon's arm, racing down the street and around the corner, falling into the van.

She didn't switch on her lights; she hit the overhead for only a second, staring into the back among the ladders and cleaning equipment.

Three pairs of eyes shone back at her. She doused the light and took off, spinning a fast U-turn as Dillon crouched on the seat, her hand on the door handle. Charlie jerked her hand away.

"If you don't trust me, you trust Wilma. I'll take you there."

Something furry brushed by Charlie's cheek and landed in Dillon's lap, purring.

"Dulcie!" She hugged Dulcie, stroking her, nicely distracted. "Why are the cats with you?"

"I'm cat-sitting."

"You brought them with you? Into…?"

"They-followed me when I left, and I couldn't take the time to get them back inside."

Dillon looked at Charlie hard-eyed and skeptical. "How come you're here? What made you come here? How did you know where I was?"

"I-you won't believe this."

"Try."

She glanced over at Dillon. "I had a dream. I dreamed of you and Crystal and a locked door." Charlie looked again at the child, trying for a gaze of wide-eyed innocence.

"No. I don't believe that."

Crystal sighed. Did the kid have to be so tough-minded? Charlie pulled up in front of Wilma's darkened house.

"I'll just get out," Dillon said. "I'll wake her."

"In the dark? Alone?" She reached behind the child, and punched the lock. "With Crystal and the killer looking for you? I don't think so." She gave Dillon a steady look. "We think he's been watching Wilma's house for you. She's seen a strange car cruising."

Dillon hesitated, her eyes questioning, holding Dulcie tight in her arms the way a smaller child would hold a teddy bear.

Charlie looked at the black yard, at the looming bushes and trees. "How about we bring Wilma with us?" Charlie handed her the cell phone. "Call her, wake her up. Tell her we're out here. See if she'll come."

Dillon just looked at her.

Charlie took the phone, dialed Wilma's number.

Dillon's brown eyes searched Charlie's. Her red hair was lank, needed washing.

The phone kept ringing.

Dillon said, "I want to see Harper. That man was dressed like him. And he was riding Bucky. I thought-when he first came up the trail, came over the ridge, I thought-we all thought it was the captain. I waved to him and shouted, and he…"

Dillon stared at Charlie, her eyes wide and expressionless.

"Did he hurt you?"

"I got away. He was… So much blood. And their screams… I-Redwing got me away." Dillon bent over Dulcie, hugging her so hard Dulcie couldn't breathe.

Charlie sat idling the engine, letting the phone ring and ring, watching Wilma's dark windows, and watching ahead and in her rearview mirror for car lights. Or for a car without lights creeping up the street. Why didn't Wilma answer? She never stayed out this late. Charlie wanted to get out and bang on the door, look in the garage to see if her car was gone. But she wasn't leaving Dillon.

She hung up at last. She was redialing when a black Mercedes came around the corner, no lights, heading straight for them.

Crystal was not alone. Beside her in the open car sat a tall man that Charlie didn't know. As the car slid against the van, Crystal's passenger leveled a large-caliber revolver at them, first picking out Dillon, then moving a quarter inch so his sights were on Charlie.

THE GUN aimed at Charlie's face looked as big as a cannon. Had to be a.45 caliber. The man's hands wrapped around it were thin and long. He had a thin face, dark eyes, short dark hair. Aiming at her, he kept both eyes open in the manner of an experienced shooter. Was this Lee Wark? Stubby Baker? Or someone she'd never heard of? She couldn't stop looking at the gun. He waved the barrel, motioning for Dillon to get out. Dillon didn't move. Dulcie had vanished, sliding to the back of the van. Charlie couldn't help looking at the man's long fingers overlapped around the revolver, at his one finger curved tight to the trigger.