Shirley Murphy - Cat Pay the Devil

Max hung up, trying to suppress a smile, and sat looking steadily at Lilly and Violet, studying them until Lilly began to fidget. “I think, for the moment, ladies, our conversation is concluded.” He waited, then, “Unless you have something to add.”

Neither woman spoke.

“I can only tell you there is a formidable prison sentence for withholding information or evidence. In this case, one would be facing both state and federal sentences.” Max watched them for a moment more, then he rose, pushing back his chair.

The sisters looked blankly at him, and stood up. Lilly Jones had gone parchment white. Violet looked even more frightened and uncertain than usual. “There is no need for a driver,” Lilly said stiffly. “We prefer to walk home.”

As the Jones sisters departed, Max shoved his notes across the desk to Dallas. “You want to get on the computer, see what you can find? This is a real long shot, but…Wilma thinks Greeley and Cage might have brought in contraband from Central America-it’s all in my notes.” And Max moved quickly away to the dispatcher’s desk, where he talked with Mabel for a moment, then headed out the front door.

From beneath the credenza, Joe looked up at Dallas, wanting to get a look at the notes. Dulcie whispered, so softly no human could hear, “I’m going home. Come on. We can find out quicker from Wilma!” And Dulcie slipped away, down the hall, the tip of her tabby tail flicking, and out the wide glass door, behind Violet.

Joe didn’t follow. Sauntering out from under the credenza, he rubbed against Dallas’s ankles.

Dallas stroked the tomcat absently as he read Harper’s notes. Joe was crouched to leap to the back of his chair when the detective folded the notes, and slid them in his pocket. “Well, tomcat! Maybe we have some teeth in this case, after all.” Giving Joe an absentminded pet, he hurried down the hall to his own office and flicked on the computer. Joe paused, uncertain whether to follow Dallas and get a look at the notes and see what he brought up on the computer. Or whether to beat it over to Wilma’s, where Dulcie would be getting the full story.

But then he thought about Violet and Lilly. Whatever Wilma had told Harper, he’d soon hear it from Dulcie-but whatever those two women talked about while walking home could be lost forever. And quickly he headed for the front door, racing out when a rookie came swinging in. Belting out onto the hot sidewalk, he raced to catch up with the Jones sisters, then padded along behind them, keeping out of sight among the long morning shadows, dodging behind planters and steps, feeling like Columbo without the trench coat.

The women were slow, they had no interest in striding out swiftly, as Wilma or Charlie would do; there was no joy in their steps. It would be hard to live with such a dour pair. Their voices were without inflection, too, featureless, and so low he had to push close on their heels to hear some of their mutters; Lilly was still coldly angry.

“What nerve, Unless you have something to add! What did he mean, withholding evidence?”

Violet turned to look at her older sister. “Do you know what Cage had, Lilly? What was stolen? Do you know what they were talking about? There had to be something, Cage was so angry…”

Lilly stared at her and didn’t answer; they were silent now as they moved on through the village and started up the long hill.

“And what was that Greeley person doing in our house?” Violet asked at last. “When I came in and saw him…Lilly, why did you let him stay there?”

“He was trying to trade on his friendship with Cage to get a free room. Cheap. And pushy. He kept banging at the door. I got tired of it, and let him in. Then I got tired of his whining, gave in to shut him up, just for the one night.” Climbing the hill, the women had slowed even more, but at last Joe could see the dark old house rising up ahead, smothered by its pine and eucalyptus trees.

“He could have murdered you,” Violet said.

“That little runt? I locked my bedroom door.”

“You could have called the police.”

Lilly looked at her and laughed, a dry, mirthless sound. “Cage would like that. He’d be wild if there were any more cops in the house. Twice was bad enough. Anyway, he’s gone. Guess he’s at the Seaview Bed and Breakfast. He made a call there, this morning. I wish he’d pack up and leave town, him with his ugly gold devil-”

“A gold devil? Cage has…What was it like?”

“Some kind of trinket from South America, had it in his pocket. Ugly as those masks. What about Cage?”

“I…He has a devil thing like that, a dangle on a key chain. Could there be two? Eddie says the one Cage has is real gold and worth a lot.”

Scowling, Lilly looked at Violet for a long moment, then turned and moved quickly up the steps, fishing her house key from her pocket. They disappeared inside, slamming the door nearly in Joe Grey’s face.

Not that he wanted to enter that house and be shut in with those two. Turning away, he galloped down through the neighborhood’s overgrown yards, and scrambled up a cypress tree to the hot rooftops, heading for Dulcie and Wilma’s house-thinking about Greeley in South America, and about Greeley’s little gold devil and that Cage had one like it. Wondering if those trinkets were solid gold, and what they might be worth, and if there were more, and who had them? He had reached Wilma’s block and was about to come down the pine tree beside the stone cottage when Dulcie came flying out her cat door. She stared up at him, her green eyes bright, and clawed her way up the pine between its tangled branches.

“I was coming to find you. Wilma-”

“Come on,” he hissed, “tell me on the way…”

“But-”

“Greeley’s in a motel,” he said. “A bed and breakfast. He has-” Seeing her impatient stare, he stopped. “What did Wilma tell Harper? Come on, tell me on the way!” And before she could answer, he took off across the roofs in the direction of the Seaview Bed and Breakfast, Dulcie close on his tail, bursting with her own news.

“B e still one minute, can’t you!” Racing across the roofs, Dulcie careened against Joe and took his ear in her teeth, pulling him to a halt. “Just listen! Mavity told Wilma about some kind of gold devil Greeley carries, and Wilma got some library books and showed Mavity pictures. They found one the same as Greeley’s, just a tiny figure, among all kinds of idols, some huge. All solid gold, and worth a fortune. Wilma went online and found that a lot of them were stolen, never recovered…some about the time Greeley and Cage were there-and every piece worth enough to keep us in caviar for a lifetime.”

The shingles were too hot to stand still. They moved on again, trotting. “Could they have pulled off a theft like that?” Dulcie said. “Is that what Cage claims went missing, and Greeley was looking for? They stole something worth a fortune, and then someone stole it from them?” She paused in the shadow of a chimney. “Or did Greeley…? Where is Greeley? Which bed and breakfast?”

“Seaview, on Casanova.” And Joe took off again running flat out, Dulcie close behind him. “There,” he hissed, flying along the edge of a steeply shingled slope, “that green roof with white dormers.” And with a wild leap, he dropped down into a shingled valley between the two rising dormers of a rambling old frame building.

Crouching on the scorching shingles between the steep roofs, they looked down into the inn’s tiny patio. A cooler breeze rose up from freshly sprinkled bricks, where a gardener was watering. They were discussing how best to find Greeley’s room when the old man himself appeared out on the sidewalk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, as if he’d just come from breakfast. He had a large, greasy stain on his pants leg. As he headed for a room directly below them, they drew back against a chimney.