Rock seemed torn between the two commands. When Ryan knelt, the cats backed out from beneath the daybed on the far side.
But she wasn't looking underneath. She reached out to Rock from his level as if she thought he needed that face-to-face reassurance. Rock went to her at once.
"You want to go for a romp with Rube, in Clyde's yard?" At the word go, Rock began to dance. Ryan endured several minutes of wagging, leaping delight before she got him settled down.
Turning on the copier, she made a second set of bills, addressed a large brown envelope and tucked the copies inside with her printout. Weighing the envelope, she slapped on some stamps, picked up her purse, spoke to Rock again and they headed out, Ryan carrying the envelope and key-locking the door behind her.
The minute they heard her descend the stairs, the cats leaped to her desk. In the darkening evening, they watched her truck lights come on. Waiting to be sure she wouldn't forget something and come rushing back, Joe nosed at the San Andreas bills for lumber, electrical and plumbing supplies, and miscellaneous hardware. Dulcie sat admiring Ryan's business cards. "R. Flannery, Construction. Very nice. Home phone and cell phone." Quickly she memorized the numbers.
But Joe, reaching a paw to the phone, stared out through the window hissing with surprise, watching a gray hatchback pull out without lights, following Ryan's car; and before Dulcie could say a word Joe was pawing in the number of Ryan's cell phone. The cats caught one glimpse of the driver as the car moved under a streetlight.
Ryan answered at once.
"This is a friend. It appears that a car is following you, a block back, without lights. A gray hatchback."
"Who is this?"
"A neighbor, just happened to look out and see you leave in your red truck, saw this guy pull out from up the hill and take off following you. You might want to see if you can lose him. I didn't see the plate number."
"How many people in the car?"
"One man," Joe said. "Tall and appeared to be thin. Seemed to have a relatively short haircut. That's all I could see."
"Where do you live? A neighbor? How did you-"
Joe hit the disconnect, then punched in another number, accessing Max Harper's cell phone. Dulcie sat quietly listening, washing her paws and whiskers. She liked watching Joe at work. He'd told her about the first time he had ever used a phone, how scared he was. In the village drugstore, crouching behind the counter, he had used their business phone to call Clyde. That had been a big-time emotional trip, a milestone trauma for both the tomcat and Clyde.
It was different now. Joe had developed a really professional telephone presence.
When Dulcie heard a woman answer, she put her face close to Joe's, to listen. He'd gotten Charlie. Dulcie gave him a stern sideways glare, a don't you dare play games look. Don't you dare draw Charlie into a conversation in front of Harper-if indeed the captain was present. Knowing Joe, the temptation had to be great, and she watched him with a warning gleam.
"Captain Harper's number," Charlie repeated.
"Charlie? It's… This is…" Joe swallowed. "I have information for Captain Harper."
"May I take a message?" The cats could hear in Charlie's voice a desperate attempt to hide a guffaw of laughter. This was a first for her, taking a call from Joe Grey for the captain. Passing on a secret feline communication that, if Harper knew the identity of the caller, would send him right over the edge. "I… he's driving," she told Joe shakily. "Wait, I'll turn on the speaker."
There was a pause as if she was looking for the speaker button. "Go ahead."
"Captain Harper? That boy, Curtis Farger-I think he gave you a no-good address in San Andreas."
"Wait a minute, you're cutting out," Harper said. There was a long pause. Then, "Okay, go ahead."
"Apparently Curtis was staying with his uncle up there, a Hurlie Farger. I think Hurlie is Gerrard's brother. I don't know where he lives. I get that the Fargers have friends or a contact of some sort in San Andreas, maybe friends of Hurlie's."
"Do you have something more specific?"
"At the moment, that's all I have, that was all I could pick up, and you'll have to run with that."
"Where did you hear this?"
"I… a discussion between the boy and the old man."
"A discussion where?"
"The old man was talking through the kid's cell window. I'm sure Detective Garza will want to know that the old man is still in the village. Will you fill him in?"
"I'll do that." Was Harper laughing? Joe didn't know how to take that. Laughing at what? He turned an alarmed look on Dulcie.
But maybe Harper was only laughing because the snitch was telling the captain what to do.
"Maybe someday," Harper said, still with a smile in his voice, "you'll have sufficient trust in me-as I've learned to trust you-to share your sources with me, and share your identity."
Joe hit the disconnect, his paws tingling with nerves, his whiskers twitching. He looked at Dulcie, frowning. "I think I'll tell Garza myself."
She shrugged, amused at him because Harper had made him nervous.
Dialing a third number, he looked at Dulcie's grin and pushed the headset across the blotter. "It's your turn, miss smarty. You talk to Garza."
"I can't. What…" Taken off guard, she was silent when Garza came on the line.
"Detective Garza," he repeated.
She swallowed. "That old man," she said in the sultry voice that she saved for these special calls, "that old man that bombed the church. Are you looking for him?"
"We are," Garza said, dispensing with unnecessary questions.
"He's in the village, or he was around noon today. He's driving a black Jaguar convertible…" She allowed herself a little laugh. "Done up real classy with zebra seat covers. California license two-Z-J-Z-nine-one-seven.
"He talked with the boy, through that high little window into the holding cell. He climbed up that leaning oak trunk, and nearly fell. He's pretty crippled. They have-the boy has an uncle in San Andreas. Hurlie Farger, apparently Gerrard's brother. That's where the boy was staying. We've already informed Captain Harper. He was in his car, so they may already be on their way to San Andreas." And before Garza could ask any questions, Dulcie hit the disconnect and collapsed on the blotter.
Joe watched her, grinning. "That should shake things up. Let's hit for Lupe's Playa, before we miss the action-and miss supper."
16
The aromas of garlic and chilies drew Ryan like a benediction. The enticement of a spicy, delicious meal, the hot Mexican music, the soft light cast by the swinging lanterns, all the rich setting of Lupe's Playa seemed to cosset and comfort her. On the brick patio beneath the gently blowing oaks, they had their favorite table in the far corner beside the brick wall. This was where she and Clyde had first met, when she first arrived in the village and Dallas brought her here for dinner. Now, seated beside Clyde, ordering a beer, she took his hand, comforted by his strong presence. Ever since taking the call on her cell phone she had felt even more uncertain, even more raw and exposed.
She hadn't told Clyde about the call, hadn't wanted to spoil their evening. Now, she tried not to keep glancing out through the pieced-brick patio wall, to the street, to see if she had been followed. Yet she couldn't help watching the host's desk, through the patio doors, studying each new arrival, wondering… a thin man, the caller had said. She had no idea whether she would know the person-if she'd been followed, if this wasn't some hoax, someone wanting to harass her. Who could have made such a call?