Ширли Мерфи - Cat Chase The Moon

“This one time, Max? It’ll be hours before you can tear yourself away from this mess, with officers all over Saks taking pictures, gathering evidence, lifting prints, and with two cops in the hospital. You’ll be up all night.”

They could see, even from the distance where they stood, that all the interior lights in Saks burned brightly, shining out over the village as MPPD went about its work. “Don’t you think, this once . . . ?” Charlie said. “Don’t you think she’ll be anxious?”

“How would she know this was coming down?”

“You all guessed it would be tonight, or soon. When McFarland and Crowley took her to Kate’s, while DeWayne was still hunting for her, and they saw the gray cars all lined up as if DeWayne was ready to pull a job, and Crowley texted you . . .” Charlie shrugged. “Or maybe she heard it on the police radio,” she said noncommittally.

Joe Grey moved away, smiling. Harper’s favorite snitch hadn’t made the call on this one. But, except for their two young cops getting shot, it was turning out all right. So far.He wanted to ask Max how bad the officers were hurt, but there was no way he could do that.

28

Joe watched Zeb and Mindy move their meager belongings from Thelma’s Volvo into the Harpers’ barn. Zeb still looked shocked. Perhaps not so much that DeWayne was dead, but that the woman DeWayne had run with all those years was his own daughter-in-law. That made Maurita family, and to Zeb Luther, family was important. Maybe, Joe thought, because his own children hadn’t turned out so great?

Would this woman be any different, this female jewel thief?

Thinking more about Maurita and Zeb than about the Saks burglary, Joe watched Max take Thelma’s car on down to the highway, parking it among the limos. Some were shot up, some dented, all under police custody and filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of stolen property. Already officers were starting them up, driving them back to the station to unload. An armored truck stood waiting in the background. The beautiful shoes and wallets and handbags, the designer suits and coats and dresses, would be locked in the heavily reinforced evidence room. The jewelry, each piece, would be photographed, fingerprinted, and locked in the strong iron safe that was bolted to the floor there. Max didn’t like having this kind of wealth stored in the department. As soon as daylight shone, the stolen goods, all inventoried, would be sent by armed guard to the nearest Saks warehouse.

Joe wondered, as he and Mindy and Zeb piled into Charlie’s SUV and headed for the Pamillon estate, how Zeb would respond to Maurita. Would he have only disdain for the battered woman because she had been a thief, like DeWayne?

But why should he, when DeWayne had forced her to follow his orders? When DeWayne tried to kill her when she finally ran—when she was soon too beaten to fight back?

Maurita was still under protection. Even though DeWayne was dead, his scuzzy partners were not. This young woman knew enough about their past records to help convict them, and they could be as mean as DeWayne. Joe Grey hoped they would remain in prison, that they would not be free again—but until sentences were passed, or until some of them died of their wounds, he’d feel edgy for the young woman.

He thought Maurita and Zebulon had a lot in common, losing DeWayne even though they’d hated him. He wanted them to bond, to feel only tenderness for each other.And he was off on the kind of daydream that Dulcie or Kit might imagine, happy thoughts about Zeb and his newly discovered daughter-in-law. He was so involved in hoping they would become a real family that, traveling up the dark highway, they were at the mansion before he knew it. A soft light burned at the cat shelter, in the little office. They parked by the door. Charlie stepped out, Joe leaping past her. She knocked and called out.

The minute Scotty opened the door, bare legged and wearing a short robe, Joe Grey slipped past him into the office where the light burned, where Maurita’s cot was neatly made up. As if she hadn’t slept in it, as if maybe she had paced all night. Joe couldn’t speak to Scotty, with Maurita present and with Zebulon standing in the doorway. She sat on the cot looking up at them, her expression both desolate and hopeful. She looked at Zeb and she knew who he was—and, from his look, she knew what had happened—and there was nothing she could say.

Kate appeared from the bedroom wearing an extra-long shirt of Scotty’s, her short blond hair a tangle. Charlie, her red hair just as ruffled, moved inside past Scotty and into the little office. She sat down on the cot and put her arms around Maurita.

Maurita leaned against her. “It’s come down,” she said. “They took out Saks.” She looked at Charlie. “When we passed their motel, the way the cars and limos were arranged, I knew. I couldn’t sleep, for the scared feeling—scared that a cop would be hurt. I tried the radio but I couldn’t get much but static.” A tiny radio sat on the desk, turned low. It was more squawk than clarity and was, at the moment, occupied with a disgusting melody that no one wanted to hear. “When I called the dispatcher, she would tell me nothing. She said, ‘I am not allowed to give out that information.’”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “EvaJean, the bitch.” Then, in a kinder tone, “I asked Max to let me come out and tell you, though it’s his job to do this.”

Maurita’s eyes looked deep into hers, waiting.

“Maurita, several of the burglars were killed tonight. DeWayne was shot when he charged two officers. He died at once.”

The young woman leaned against her; she was shaking. Charlie didn’t know what else to say. She had a right to cry; after all, he had been her husband.

But when Joe Grey jumped up and pawed at them, when Maurita turned to look at him, the tears in her eyes were a mix of not only shock, but laughter. Her expression was uncertain for a moment but then replaced by a deep and satisfying contentment. Joe wanted to shout, You’re free. He’s dead and you’re done with him, done with those brutes he ran with. They’re either dead themselves, or will be locked away for good. You’re free, Maurita, to do with your life as you please.

Charlie was thinking the same: Maurita was free of her imprisonment, and there was one less scum in the world.

“But two fine young police officers were shot,” Charlie said sickly, and she prayed that they had received only surface wounds, that they wouldn’t go through the hell that some injured officers suffered.

That day at the mansion, and the night to come, turned into a tangle of emotions as cars began to arrive. Only Zeb, Mindy, and Maurita didn’t know what the gathering was about as people began to pull in. Kate said, “I invited a few friends over, they’re bringing takeout breakfast.”

Wilma and Dulcie arrived with tears in their eyes, but they weren’t crying for DeWayne. Lucinda and Pedric and Kit and Pan drew up in the Greenlaws’ Lincoln Town Car, their faces filled with sadness. They all knew that DeWayne Luther was dead and folks looked at Zeb shyly. They got back only a handshake and a nod. Ryan and Clyde slipped in, Ryan snatching up Joe Grey, crying into his fur.

But none of it was about DeWayne Luther.

John and Mary Firetti were right behind them, Buffin and Striker on John’s shoulder. Dulcie mewed at them. Wilma, her gray hair tied back crookedly in its ponytail, put her arm around John. Wilma had helped Dulcie to raise the three kittens, but Dr. Firetti had helped to birth them—this gathering was about the girl kitten.

If Zeb and Maurita and Mindy guessed that the poignant celebration was because Maurita was free, they were right in part, but that was not the cause of the sadness that filled the little office—Maurita was free, but Courtney was not, and Ulrich might never stop looking for her. He and Fay might go to prison for involvement with the Luthers’ crimes, or they might get probation and walk free, and Courtney could always be in danger.