Sue Grafton - B Is For Burglar

I told him briefly about her apparent absence, adding that the explanation didn't have to be sinister, but that it was puzzling nevertheless. "Do you remember when you saw her last?"

"Not really. Sometime before she went off. Christmas, I guess. No, I take that back. I did see her New Year's Eve. She said she was staying home."

"Do you happen to know if she had a cat?"

"Oh sure. Gorgeous thing. A massive gray Persian named Mingus. He was actually my cat originally, but I was hardly ever home and I thought he should have company so I gave him to her. He was just a kitten at the time. I had no idea he'd turn out to be such a beauty or I never would have given him up. I mean, I've kicked myself ever since, but what can one do? A deal's a deal."

"What was the deal?"

He shrugged indifferently. "I made her swear she'd never change his name. Charlie Mingus. After the jazz pianist. Also she had to promise not to leave him by himself, or what was the point in giving him away? I might as well have kept him myself."

Wim took a careful drag of his cigarette, resting his elbow on the kitchen table. I could hear the shower running somewhere in the back of the apartment.

"Did she take him with her to Florida every year?"

"Oh sure. Sometimes right up in the cabin if the airline had the space. She said he loved it down there, thought he owned the place." He picked up a napkin and folded it in half.

"Well, it's curious he hasn't shown up someplace."

"He's probably still with her, wherever she is."

"Did you talk to her after that murder next door?"

Wim shook his head, neatly flicking ash into the folded napkin. "I did talk to the police, or rather they talked to me. My living-room windows look right down on that house and they were interested in what I could have seen. Which was nothing, I might add. That detective was the biggest macho asshole I've ever met and I didn't appreciate his antagonistic attitude. Can I warm that up for you?"

He got up and fetched the coffee.

I nodded and he topped off both our mugs, pouring from a thermos. The sound of running water had abruptly ceased and Wim took note of it, just as I did. He went back to the sink and extinguished his cigarette by running it under the tap and then he tossed it in the trash. He got out a frying pan and took a package of bacon from the refrigerator. "I'd offer you breakfast, but I don't have enough unless you want to join me in a protein drink. I'm going to make that up in a minute, disgusting as it is. I'm doing real food for a friend of mine."

"I've got to go shortly anyway," I said, getting up.

He waved at me impatiently. "Sit down, sit down. Finish your coffee at any rate. You might as well ask whatever you want as long as you're here."

"What about a vet for the cat? Did she have someone in the neighborhood?"

Wim peeled off three strips of bacon and laid them in the pan, flipping on the gas. He leaned over, peering at the low blue flame. He had to tug his robe down in back.

He said, "There's a cat clinic around the corner on Serena-ta Street. She used to take Ming over in one of those cat carriers, howling like a coyote. He hated the vet."

"You have any guesses about where Elaine might be?"

"What about her sister? Maybe she's gone down to L.A. to see her."

"The sister was the one who hired me in the first place," I said. "She hasn't seen Elaine in years."

Wim looked up sharply from the bacon pan and laughed. "What a crock of shit! Who told you that? I met her up here myself not six months back."

"You met Beverly?"

"Sure," he said. He took a fork and pushed the bacon strips in the pan. He went back to the refrigerator and got out three eggs. I was starving to death just watching this stuff.

He continued chattily. "She was maybe four years younger than Elaine. Black hair, cut gamin-style, exquisite skin." He looked at me. "Am I right or am I not?"

"Sounds like the woman I met," I said. "But I wonder why she lied to me."

"I can probably guess," he said. He tore off some paper toweling and folded it, putting it near the frying pan. "They had that nasty falling-out, you know, at Christmastime. Beverly probably doesn't want the word to get out. They positively shrieked and threw things, doors slamming. Oh my God! And the language they used. It was obscene. I had no idea Elaine could swear like that, though I must say the other one was worse."

"What was it about?"

"A man, of course. What else do any of us fuss about?"

"You have any idea who it was?"

"Nope. Frankly, I suspect Elaine's one of those women who's secretly thrilled with widowhood. She gets a lot of sympathy, tons of freedom. She has all that money and no one to hassle with. Why cut some guy in on a deal like that? She's better off by herself."

"Why quarrel with Beverly if that's the case?"

"Who knows? Maybe they thought it was fun."

I finished my coffee and got up then. "I better scoot. I don't want to interrupt your breakfast, but I may want to get back to you. Are you listed in the book?"

"Of course. I do work… tending bar at the Edgewood Hotel near the beach. You know the place?"

"I can't afford it, but I know which one you mean."

"Pop in and visit sometime. I'm there from six until closing every night except Monday. I'll buy you a drink."

"Thanks, Wim. I'll do that. I appreciate your help. The coffee was a treat."

"Anytime," he said.

I let myself out, catching a glimpse of Wim's breakfast mate, who looked like something out of Gentlemen's Quarterly: sultry eyes, a perfect jawline, collarless shirt, and an Italian cashmere sweater tossed across his shoulders with the sleeves folded into a knot in front.

In the kitchen, Wim had started to sing a version of "The Man I Love." His singing voice sounded just like Marlene Dietrich's.

When I reached the lobby I ran into Tillie, who was pushing a wire cart in front of her like a stroller. It was loaded with brown paper bags.

"I feel like I go to the market twice a day," she said. "Are you here looking for me?"

"Yes, but when you weren't in, I went up and had a brief chat with Wim instead. I didn't realize Elaine Boldt had a cat."

"Oh, she's had Ming for years. I don't know why I didn't think to mention that. I wonder what she did with him?"

"You said she had some carry-on luggage that night going out to the cab. Could it have been Mingus in the cat carrier?"

"Well, it must have been. It was certainly big enough and she did take the cat with her everywhere she went. I guess he's missing too. Isn't that what you're getting at?"

"I don't know yet, but probably. Too bad he's not suffering from some rare cat disease so I could track him down through a veterinarian someplace," I said.

She shook her head. "Can't help you there. He's in good health, as far as I ever knew. He'd be easy to recognize. Big old gray long-haired thing. He must have weighed almost twenty pounds."

"Was he purebred?"

"No and she'd had him neutered early on, so he wasn't used for breeding purposes or anything like that."

"Well," I said, "I may as well start checking up on him too, since I don't have anything else at this point. Did you talk to the police yesterday?"

"Oh yes, and told 'em we thought the woman might have stolen Elaine's bills when she broke in. The officer looked at me like he thought I was nuts, but he did write it down."

"I'll tell you something else Wim brought up. He swears Elaine's sister Beverly was up here at Christmastime and got into a big fight with her. Were you aware of that?"

"No I wasn't, and Elaine never mentioned anything about it either," she said, shifting restlessly. "I've got to go in, Kinsey. I've got some sherbet that'll leak right out if I don't pop it in the freezer soon."