Cat in the Dark (18 page)

Dulcie stared at her, hurt.

Joe didn't wait to hear Clyde's biased accusations. He shot past Wilma through the garden and around the house and up the hill at the back. To hell with humans.

Soon Dulcie came trotting along, looking chastened, and they took off up the hills to hunt—to let the atmosphere cool down.

C
HARLIE WAS
on a ladder painting the downstairs front bedroom when she saw Max Harper's police unit pull up out in front. As he came across the patio, something about his drawn look and the resigned set of his shoulders brought her down the ladder. Wiping her hands, she stepped to the open door.

Lieutenant Brennan had been up earlier looking for Mavity, but he wouldn't tell her why. She'd told him to try Mavity's cottage, that very likely Mavity had slept in, that she did that sometimes, that when she woke up she'd phone the apartments frantic and apologetic. But now, watching Harper, a chill held Charlie. His solemn expression made her stomach lurch.

She hadn't gotten to work herself until ten, had made a run around the coast to Hudson's Building Supply to pick up an order of some special tile and paint, some varnish, five gallons of mud, and some finishing nails. She'd had a cup of coffee with the owner, John Hudson, had helped him load her order then headed back. When she got to work, Mavity's VW
wasn't parked in front, nor had Pearl Ann seen her.

Harper stopped in the open doorway.

“Clyde's not here,” she said, motioning him on in, searching the captain's solemn brown eyes.

“Clyde's at the library,” he said. “Or he was. He left just before I did. I'm looking for Mavity.”

“Didn't Brennan find her? He was here.”

Harper turned from her, wandered the big room, studying the sanded Sheetrock and the half-painted ceiling. The units were being done so piecemeal that sometimes it even confused her, one room finished and painted while the next room was hardly started; but with their crew, it seemed to be working. Max turned to look at her, his back to the windows.

“What is it?” she said softly.

“Mavity's niece and her husband. They were found dead this morning.”

“Dora and Ralph?” She stood a moment trying to take that in. Dora and Ralph Sleuder? “Was—was there an accident? A car accident?”

“We found them in the garden outside the library.”

“The library garden? I don't understand. How could…Why would…?”

“The call came in around eight forty-five this morning.”

She tried to collect herself. “What happened? An accident in the garden? But I didn't see anything—well, but I left around seven.” She knew she wasn't making sense.

“You were in the garden?”

“No. Across the street.”

“Oh, yes, you moved into that apartment above Joan's Antiques.”

She nodded. “I drank my coffee looking out.”

“And you saw nothing unusual?”

“The garden was—I saw no one there. I thought I saw something move inside the window, but it was just those pillows against the glass. Dora and Ralph can't be dead.”

“You thought you saw something moving?”

“I think it was just the pillows—or it could have been the cat, she sleeps in the window sometimes.”

“And you didn't see anyone in the garden? Or on the street?”

“I didn't notice anyone. But I was only at the window long enough to drink my coffee.”

“And you saw nothing different about the garden?”

“No.” She thought a minute. “Yes. There was some kind of shadow in the lilies. As if something had crushed them. They're so thick and tall, it's hard to be sure. But there seemed to be a dark place, as if maybe a dog had slept there and broken the flowers.”

Harper was quiet, watching her. “Did you know the Sleuders well?”

“No. I met them the day after they arrived, they came up to see the apartments—rubbernecking, I guess. Mavity didn't seem too happy about it.”

“Have you any idea if they were into drugs—anything Mavity might have said?”

Charlie stared at him. “Drugs? Those two country people? My God, I wouldn't think so. Are you saying—what? They died of an overdose?”

“We don't know yet. Lab's working on it.”

“Could they have taken—could it be some medication? I can't imagine drugs. Oh, poor Mavity. Have you told her? No, you came to find her. Have you been to the house?”

“I sent Brennan earlier. No one was home.”

She snatched up her purse and keys. “We have to
find her. She could be…” She looked at him imploringly. “I want to find Mavity.”

In the squad car, as Max spun a U-turn and headed down the hill, he described for her the murder scene outside the children's room. It sickened her to think of Dora and Ralph lying there in the garden dead, half-naked as if they might have been on some wild and terrifying high.

“PCP could do that,” Harper said. “Or crack, or one of the designer drugs.” His words made her see Mavity lying dead, too; she couldn't shake her concern.

They found Mavity's VW parked in front of her cottage. Mavity was inside, perfectly safe, just finishing breakfast. Charlie grabbed her and hugged her. The little woman stepped back from Charlie, puzzled.

“I just called the apartments,” she told Charlie. “I know I'm late. I'm sorry, I meant to call earlier but…I went for a walk down the marsh,” she said lamely. “The time got away from me.” She frowned at Charlie and at Harper. “What? What is it?”

Harper glanced toward the sitting room. Mavity motioned them in, past the kitchen. He sat on the couch taking Mavity's hand and easing her down beside him. Her short white hair was rumpled from the sea wind. Her face had gone deadly solemn.

“Mavity, did Dora and Ralph come home last night?”

“No. That's why I went to the beach. I was looking for them.”

She twisted the hem of her white uniform jacket and folded it into a knot. “I thought maybe they got up early, didn't eat breakfast, or went out to eat, and that they were sitting out on the beach. But I…” She looked at him intently. “They've never stayed away overnight. And Greeley's gone, too. But Gree
ley does that. Out at all hours, that's no surprise.”

“Were Dora and Ralph home for dinner last night?”

She smoothed her jacket hem and clasped her hands together. “No. Two nights running, they've gone out alone in the evening. Didn't tell me where, didn't tell Greeley.”

“Sunday night was the first time?”

“Sunday, yes. They left before I got home from work, and they came home around nine-thirty. They were all dressed up. They went right to bed, wouldn't say where they'd been. What is this about? Where are they?”

Charlie sat down beside her, glancing across her to Max.

“Mavity,” Max said gently, “there's been an accident.”

She watched him, said nothing.

“Dora and Ralph were found this morning. They were found together. They're dead, Mavity. I'm so sorry.”

“They can't be dead. I saw them just last night, all dressed up. They were fine last night.” She reached for Charlie's hand. “There must be some mistake. I saw them just last night.”

Charlie took both Mavity's hands in hers, held them tightly.

Mavity looked at them nakedly. “A car accident? Was it the taxi? Was there an accident with the taxi?”

“No,” Harper said. “Where did they go to dinner? Why didn't you and Greeley go?”

“We weren't asked—neither time. They wouldn't say where they were going.” She was squeezing Charlie's hand so hard that Charlie's fingers popped.
“Was there an accident?”

Charlie glanced helplessly at Harper.

Max said, “No. It was not a car accident. You're sure they didn't come home last night?”

“I don't think so. But Dora always makes the bed, so they might have been here. But Greeley—Greeley wasn't home. He does that. Goes walking at night. Walking all night with that cat. Says it calms his nerves.”

“When you got up this morning,” Harper said, “no one was here? No beds had been slept in?”

“The beds were made up. No one was here, no dirty dishes in the sink. Neat as a pin.” She began to shiver.

Charlie lifted a folded blanket from the end of the couch and wrapped it around the little woman.

“Were they upset about anything?” Harper asked her.

Mavity just looked at him.

Charlie squeezed her shoulder. “Mavity?”

“Nothing really. Just—Greeley and Dora had a fight. Greeley left angry, really mad—but Greeley has a short temper. He doesn't stay mad. He gets right over it.”

“What was the fight about?” Harper said patiently.

She shook her head. “No one would say. Wouldn't tell me. That really hurt. All the secrecy. Secrets about where they were going. Secrets about why they fought.

“I can't imagine what they couldn't tell me. I would have driven them if they'd wanted. But no, they didn't want me to bother; they had to have a cab. Was it the cab?” she repeated. “Did it have a wreck?”

“No,” Charlie said, “they weren't in a wreck. They may have gotten sick suddenly.”

“Sick?” She looked at them, puzzled. “Sick from the food? From their dinner?”

“We're not sure what happened,” Harper said. “There will be an autopsy. Were—were they into drugs, do you know?”

“Drugs?”
Her eyes blazed with shock.
“Dora and Ralph? Of course not.
I can't imagine such a thing.” She hugged herself, seemed unable to get warm despite the blanket. “How can I tell this to Greeley?
Drugs?
Oh, you're mistaken.”

“The autopsy will tell us,” Harper said.

“I don't know how to tell Greeley that Dora…She's his only child. She—he didn't see her often, but she's—she was all he had.” Mavity shook her head. “Greeley will think it's his fault.”

“Why?” Harper said.

“Because they fought, because he left the house angry.”

“And you have no idea what they fought about?”

“It was going on when I got home. I guess they didn't hear the car. Greeley was shouting at Dora, that she was making trouble for nothing, that they had no right—then they heard me on the porch and that was the end of it, when I came in. Greeley stomped out with that cat following him, and then Dora and Ralph left all dressed up again, wouldn't say anything more.”

Charlie rose, stepped into the kitchen, rinsed out the coffeepot, and refilled it. Mavity said, “It was only a family tiff. Maybe Dora and Ralph, going out alone, made Greeley mad. Who would they go with? They don't know anyone in Molena Point.”

“And Greeley was out all night,” Harper said.

“I would have heard him come in. He sleeps on the couch right here, and me on the cot. And he always leaves his bed unmade, leaves a mess for me to straighten, sheets half on the floor.”

“Are his clothes still here? His luggage?”

“He only has the one bag.” She rose and peered in between the recliner chair and the television. “It's
here.” She picked up the bag, looked in. “Full of clothes.” She went to check the bathroom.

“Shaving kit's there on the sink.”

Harper said, “Does he always travel so light?”

She nodded. “He never packs much in the way of clothes, says he can buy what he needs. He would have checked the one bag, though, because he carried that cat on board. Right in the cabin, in its cage—one of those carrier things.” She opened the washing machine, which stood in a corner of the kitchen, and peered in.

“Left a shirt to be washed, some socks, and a pair of shorts.” She looked across at Harper. “Greeley wouldn't go away for good—back to Panama—and not tell me.” She pressed her fist to her lips. “Captain Harper, where is Greeley? Greeley has to be all right—Greeley's all I have now.”

“We don't know where he is,” Harper said. “I'm sure he'll turn up. My officers are looking for him.”

They drank their coffee in silence. Max did not light a cigarette but Charlie could tell he wanted one. He asked Mavity if he could search Dora and Ralph's belongings.

“Yes. But what for? Well, it don't matter. They can't complain now,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Maybe I'll find something to tell us where they went last night, maybe some scrap of paper with an address, something to help us understand what happened.”

“Their bags are in the bedroom—their clothes are in the closet and scattered all over.”

Harper rose. “I'd like both of you to come in while I search.”

They made a little procession, carrying their coffee cups into the small bedroom. Harper's lean figure moved neatly among the clutter. Charlie stood in the
bedroom doorway sipping her coffee, watching Max search for drugs as well as for evidence of the Sleuders' dinner destination. She didn't like having to witness this. The necessity for a search, coupled with Mavity's own distress, made her feel frightened and sick.

She watched him examine each item of clothing, going through pockets, sorting carefully through the contents of each of the Sleuders' five bags and examining the bags themselves, the pockets and the lining. It was in the last bag, a big duffle, that he withdrew a thick packet of legal-size papers divided into two stacks, each held by a metal clip.

“Mavity, I'd like to keep these as evidence. I'll give you a receipt for them.”

“Sure you can keep them. What are they?”

Harper looked at her, surprised. “Didn't you know that Dora had your financial statements?” He handed one of the packets to her.

She stared at the papers, at her name and address beneath Winthrop Jergen's letterhead. “These are
my
statements, from Mr. Jergen.” She looked at Harper, puzzled. “Dora took my statements? Why would she do that? These are none of her business. Dora wouldn't…”

She hurried to the front room. They watched her open the bottom desk drawer, removing a similar stack of legal-size papers.

“But my statements are here.”

She looked hard at Harper. Carefully she examined the two stacks.