Kate said later that she wished Clyde didn't have to stir up so many questions for Reedie, when the detective would be talking more than once with Harper and Garza about the case. But it couldn't be helped, if Clyde wanted to look for his Packard-and Clyde loved that Packard.
She did wonder privately sometimes if any woman ever in Clyde's life would stir the possessive emotions generated by those abused and neglected old cars that he made whole and new again.
Dropping Clyde off at the condo, Kate and Lucinda and Pedric, feeling suddenly nervous at carrying all the jewels with them, headed for the Greenlaws' appointment with the appraiser, hoping he would see them though they were nearly an hour late. They agreed to meet for lunch either at Kate's favorite sidewalk cafe, or across the street at I. Magnin where Clyde-after he found the Packard, he said, as if he was certain he'd find it-had a bit of shopping to do. Off Kate and Pedric and Lucinda went, carrying with them what might be a fortune wrapped in Kate's sweater; and Clyde and Joe Grey went to shop, all as if this were a perfectly ordinary morning.
30
The women's accessory department of I. Magnin smelled subtly of expensive perfumes and, if one had a feline's ability to detect fainter scents, of fine leather and silks and velvets and imported wools. Joe Grey was not visible, but the customer looking at cashmere scarves and evening stoles carried a large, apparently heavy backpack, one of those models with netting set into the sides.
Though the subject was clean-shaven and his short dark hair well cut, though he was neatly dressed in sport coat and slacks, a store detective watched him. The unobtrusive observer stood several counters away appearing to be selecting a woman's sweater. His skilled surveillance was hardly noticeable as he waited for the guy to lift a hundred-dollar scarf and slip it in the backpack. If the prospective shoplifter seemed to be talking to himself, he could be a bit strange, or that could be a ploy, a weird but deliberate distraction. The detective watched him lift one scarf from the rack, hold it suspiciously up to the backpack, wait a minute, then lay it back over the rack. The customer had been perusing the merchandise thus for about ten minutes, one scarf or stole after another. The clerk waiting on him was patient, but she was not smiling; the man made her nervous.
But then a woman joined the customer, a striking blonde, and the subject's solitary remarks became part of normal conversation. Now the blonde held up the scarves, one at a time, and she seemed almost to be talking to the backpack. The store dick moved closer.
Just as he decided to approach the pair, two elderly folk joined them. Their behavior, however, was equally bizarre. Sometimes he wished he'd stayed working warehouse security, where life had been simpler. Now the tall wrinkled woman held up scarves, going through the same routine as the other two; and the strange thing was, all four of them seemed to be losing patience. The detective glanced at his watch. This charade was cutting into his lunch hour. Moving away into women's shoes but keeping an eye on the party, he saw to his great relief that the guy with the backpack had finally selected two cashmere stoles. One was ice blue, one amber. Making his purchases, he paid cash. If he was passing counterfeit money he wouldn't have made such a spectacle, would have been in and out fast. Wanting his lunch, the detective turned away-if the backpack contained stolen merchandise, the electronic gate would pick it up and signal an alarm. It was an extremely touchy procedure to confront a customer for shoplifting while that person was still in the store. Abandoning the group, he headed out a side door and up the street for a quick hamburger.
The four people followed him out and headed down the block for their own lunch. Only the passenger in the backpack had paid any attention to the store dick. Watching him through the mesh, Joe was highly amused by the man's frustration.
When the detective had disappeared, Joe nuzzled into the package that Clyde had dropped into the pack, sniffing deeply at the expensive wool. Dulcie would be thrilled; so would the kit. Ice blue for Dulcie, amber for Kit, both stoles softer than bird down. Joe had never before purchased a gift of any kind, certainly not a two-hundred-dollar stole for his lady.
He had, of course, not paid directly for the gifts. But as Clyde had offered a reward for information leading to recovery of the Packard, Joe figured he'd earned that amount, and more.
Swinging back by the condo after chasing Azrael, they had found Consuela and Hollis already removed to the city jail, and the uniforms still searching the apartment. The officers had found the hidden locks on Dorriss's sliding wall panels, and were photographing the stolen items. They had called for, and had posted, a guard of five additional officers, and the street was crawling with police cars. The condo manager, who lived on the premises, had gone around with Clyde and Detective Reedie to open the doors of Dorriss's three single garages.
They had found two empty. The third contained a vehicle lovingly protected by a thick waterproof cover made especially for a 1927 Packard roadster. Clyde might never know whether Dorriss had bought the cover some time before he stole the Packard, fully intending to possess that particular car, or whether he rashly ordered it from an automotive specialty shop after the deed was accomplished.
Leaving the garage and parting from Detective Reedie, Clyde had returned to the Cadillac grinning with success.
Joe Grey had said nothing. But with every line of his body, the angle of his ears and the slant of his whiskers, the look in his eyes, he had given back to Clyde a cool and judgmental I-told-you-so.
Now as Clyde and Kate and the Greenlaws took their seats at the sidewalk table, Clyde carefully set Joe's pack on an empty chair beside him and opened the flap.
Yawning, Joe looked out as Clyde read several items from the menu. With a twitch of his ears at the right moment, he gave Clyde his lunch order, then curled down again on the soft I. Magnin package. He had almost shut out his friends' small talk when Lucinda said, "It makes me feel very much easier with those people in jail, particularly now."
Joe slitted open his eyes. Particularly now, what? What had he missed? The appraisal, he thought, coming up out of the backpack.
Lucinda leaned over to speak softly to Clyde, waiting until the waiter set down their onion rings and beer. Joe had thought the appraiser would keep the pieces for a day or so before returning them with his evaluation, but apparently not.
"They're real," Lucinda said softly to Clyde. "Our seven pieces, and Kate's nine. All of fine quality, the appraiser said. Thank goodness we were able to rent safe deposit boxes, this time with more security we hope than Kate's box had, and with some extra precautions."
The idea of another safe deposit box alarmed Joe. But where else was there that would be more secure? Watching Kate, he expected her to be radiant with the news but she didn't seem to be, she was very quiet as Clyde laid his hand on hers.
"What?" Clyde said.
"Just… reaction, I guess," she said softly. "Yes, it's wonderful, the appraisal, having that treasure to fall back on, to tuck away for some emergency. I just… need to get over all the rest of it." She squeezed Clyde's hand. She looked, Joe thought, deeply introspective. Maybe she'd celebrate her new fortune later, maybe wildly. But right now she needed some downtime, maybe to get used to the idea of what might be a fortune.
Well, he understood that. He had no idea what he would do with a large wad of cash-but then, Joe thought, there wasn't much chance he'd ever need to worry about such matters.
He was surprised Clyde hadn't asked how much the jewels were worth. Clyde hadn't; not then, not there on the street. Joe was burning to know-not that it was any of his business, or Clyde's either.