Cat in the Dark (24 page)

I
F WILMA GETZ
hadn't spent thirty years working with federal criminals, Max Harper would not have placed Mavity Flowers in her custody. Two days after Mavity entered Salinas Medical, she was released to Wilma's care. Wilma drove her home, tucked her up in her own bed and moved a cot into the room for herself. Her official duties, besides helping Mavity, were a perfect excuse to evict Bernine Sage from the guest room, to make room for the twenty-four-hour police guard that Max Harper had assigned. The county attorney agreed that Mavity's care by an old friend might ease her fears and help her remember the circumstances of Winthrop Jergen's death; the case was growing in breadth as law enforcement agencies began to uncover links between Jergen/Cumming, Troy Hoke, and several unsolved crimes in Tennessee and Alabama.

No one knew how much of Mavity's memory loss was due to the cerebral contusion and how much resulted from the shock of what she had witnessed. Under Wilma's gentle questioning, she was beginning to
recall more details, to put together the scattered scenes.

But Dulcie's information about Troy Hoke alias Pearl Ann Jamison, which Dulcie passed on to Max Harper during an early-morning phone call, had been—so far as Dulcie and Joe could surmise—totally ignored. Harper felt certain that Troy Hoke had come here to Molena Point to find Warren Cumming; he'd told Clyde that much. So why did he ignore their important and dearly gathered information that Pearl Ann
was
Troy Hoke?

Mavity could remember returning from the hardware store with Pearl Ann's caulking. She could remember crossing the patio and hearing angry shouts from Jergen's apartment. “Two men shouting, and thuds,” she had told Wilma. “Then seems like I was at the top of the stairs standing in the open door.” But always, at this point, she went silent. “I don't remember any more. I can't remember.”

“Did you see the other man?” Wilma would ask. “Did you know him?”

“I can't remember. When I think about it I feel scared and sort of sick.”

Now Wilma glanced out toward the living room where the police guard sat reading the paper. “You were standing in the doorway,” she said gently, “and the two men were shouting. And then…?”

“A red neon sign, that's what I remember next. Red light shining in my face. It was night. I could hear people talking and cars passing.”

“And nothing in between?”

“No. Nothing.”

“The red neon—you were walking somewhere?”

“I was in my car. The lights—the lights hurt. I had to close my eyes.”

“In your own car?”

“In the back, with the mops and buckets.” Mavity looked at her, puzzled, her short gray hair a tangle of kinks, her face drawn into lines of bewilderment. “Why would I be in the back of my own car? I was lying on my extra pair of work shoes. The lights hurt my eyes. Then someone pulling me, dragging me. It was dark. Then a real bright light, and a nurse. I'm in that hospital bed, and my head hurting so bad. I couldn't hear nothing but the pounding in my head.”

Wilma was careful not to prompt Mavity. She wanted her to remember the alley where the Salinas Police had found her and to remember wrecking her car, without being led by her suggestions.

“Greeley…” Mavity said, “I have to get home—Greeley's waiting. Dora and Ralph…They'll be worried. They won't know where I am. I left the meat thawing on the sink, and that cat will…”

“The meat's all right—they put the meat away. And they're not worried, they know where you are,” Wilma lied. But maybe Dora and Ralph did know, from wherever they were beyond the pale. Who was she to say?

Mavity dozed again, her hand relaxed across Dulcie's shoulder where the cat lay curled on the quilt against her. But then in sleep Mavity's hand went rigid and she woke startled. “I have to get up. They won't know…”

“It's all right, Mavity,” Wilma reassured her. “Everything's taken care of. Greeley will be along later.”

“But Dora and…”

Suddenly Mavity stopped speaking.

Her eyes widened. She raised up in bed, staring at Wilma, then her face crumpled. “They're dead,” she whispered. She looked terrified. “Dora and Ralph are dead.”

Wilma sat down on the bed beside her, put her arm around Mavity. They sat quietly until Mavity said, “Greeley—I need Greeley.” She looked nakedly at Wilma. “Is he all right?”

“Greeley's just fine, I promise.”
Rolling drunk,
Wilma thought.
But he's all in one piece.

“I need him.” Mavity looked at her helplessly. “How can I ever tell him? Tell him that Dora's gone?”

“He'll be here soon. You won't need to tell him. Greeley knows about Dora. He knows about Dora and Ralph, and he's taking it very well. He'll be along soon, to be with you.”

The police had picked Greeley up at the Davidson Building and had held him until he sobered up enough for questioning regarding Dora and Ralph's deaths. When they released him, Max Harper said, he went directly back to the Davidson Building—to the companionship of several more cases of rum. Wilma had no intention of bringing him to see Mavity until he was sober and had cleaned himself up. Dulcie said he smelled like a drunk possum, and Harper said much the same.

The police now knew that Dora and Ralph had died of a drug overdose. The forensics report made it clear that, in Harper's words, Dora and Ralph Sleuder were loaded with enough morphine to put down a pair of cart horses.

“The coroner thinks they ingested the drug during dinner. They'd had a big meal, steak, potatoes, salad with French dressing, chocolate pie and coffee,” Max had told them. “We don't know yet who they had dinner with, or where. That was the night after they met for dinner with Bernine.”

Harper had learned about the dinner at Pander's from his mysterious informant during the same phone call in which she identified Pearl Ann as Troy Hoke.
Checking with Pander's, Harper had learned that the threesome arrived at seven-thirty and were seated at a table on the terrace. Their waiter remembered what each of the three guests had ordered for dinner, what they had had to drink, what time they departed, and that Bernine paid the bill by credit card.

The doctors had said Mavity might be bad-tempered until her contusion healed, and she was. The four-inch gash in the back of her head was not the result of the car accident; she had been hit on the head from behind several hours before her car was wrecked—very likely she had been knocked out, loaded into the backseat of the VW, driven to Salinas, and her car deliberately wrecked against the lamppost where it was found. Harper had no intention of allowing Mavity to sustain another attack. Besides the twenty-four-hour guard, patrol units were all over the area.

Now, entering Wilma's pastel bedroom, Max Harper's uniform and solemn, leathery face contrasted in an interesting way with the feminine room, with the flowered chintz and white wicker furniture, putting Wilma in mind of a weathered soldier wandering among the petunias. As she poured coffee for him from the tray on Mavity's bed table, Mavity sat against the pillows, pleased at being fussed over, at being the center of attention. The facts she gave Max, as he questioned her, were the same she had given Wilma. Slowly the jigsaw pieces of her memory were slipping into place.

On the bed beside Mavity, Dulcie lay pretending to sleep as she fitted together Mavity's scenario with what she and Joe already knew.

Winthrop Jergen had left his apartment at about two, telling Mavity and Pearl Ann that he had an appointment up the coast. Charlie arrived at three and left again a few minutes later, headed for the Blackburn
house. Pearl Ann was already upstairs in his rooms repairing the towel rack. As Charlie left, Mavity carried her cleaning things up to his apartment.

“When I came in, Pearl Ann said she was nearly out of shower caulking—that good, plastic kind that she likes. She said if I'd go down to the village for some, she'd start on the refrigerator for me, put the ice trays and shelves in a dishpan to soak. She don't mind working up there when Mr. Jergen's not home…” Mavity jerked her hand, sloshing coffee on the white sheet.

Grabbing a handful of tissues, she tried to mop up the spill. “I can't get used to it—that he's dead. His throat—the blood…”

Wilma took Mavity's cup and wiped the sheets. She handed her more tissues, wiped off the cup, and poured fresh coffee for her. Dulcie rose up from her nest of blankets to rub against Mavity's cheek. Mavity put her arm around the little cat and drew her close.

“Driving back up from the village, I passed Mr. Jergen's car parked three blocks from the apartments, and I thought that was strange. He'd said he was going up the coast. Oh, it was his car, I'd know that Mercedes anywhere, with its two antennas and those fancy hub-caps.

“Well, I thought he must have met his client there and taken their car. Though that did seem odd, that he would park three blocks away. Or maybe he'd had car trouble. I never heard of a Mercedes having car trouble, but I guess they can.

“I parked and hurried in through the patio because Pearl Ann would be waiting for the caulking. Mr. Jergen's windows were open, and I heard him and another man shouting at each other, real angry. It was a strange voice but—something about it seemed familiar.

“And then I heard banging and thuds like furniture being knocked over, and then a gasp. Then silence.

“I ran up the stairs, but I was scared. I was ready to run down again. I listened but I couldn't hear nothing, so I pushed open the door.”

She stared into her coffee cup as if seeing a replay of Jergen's murder. When she looked up at Harper, her voice was hardly a whisper.

“He was on the floor. Lying on the floor beside his desk. The blood…And Pearl Ann—Pearl Ann kneeling over him stabbing and stabbing…Swinging her arm and stabbing into his throat with that terrible ice tray thing.”

Mavity sat hugging herself. “I backed away real quiet, out the door. Pulled it closed, praying she didn't hear me, that she hadn't seen me.

“I didn't know where the other man was. I kept looking around for him. I felt weak as jelly. I took off my shoes so she wouldn't hear me going down the steps. I ran down in my socks, to my car. I never stopped for nothing. Kept seeing Pearl Ann kneeling over him stabbing and stabbing…

“I dug my keys out of my purse. I was trying to jam the key in the door…”

She looked up at Harper. “That's all I remember. Then the red neon sign at night glaring in my eyes, and I was in the backseat lying on my shoes, my face against a dirty shoe. There was a McDonald's wrapper on the floor—it smelled of mustard.

“And then being dragged or something, that's all fuzzy and dark. Then I was in bed in that hospital and you were there, Captain Harper, sitting slumped in the chair.” Mavity pulled the quilt up, careful not to disturb Dulcie.

“When you first entered the apartment,” Harper said, “before you went out again for the caulking, do you remember anything strange, at that time, anything out of order in the room?”

“No. The room was neat, the way he keeps it. His desk was clean and neat, nothing on it except a few files lying in a neat pile on the blotter. Well, I guess you could say that was unusual. Mr. Jergen always put everything away, always left his desk with nothing but the blotter and the pens, the regular desk things, no papers.”

She frowned. “There's one other thing. I'd forgot. I'm sure his computer was off when I first came in. But when I got back with the caulking and saw—saw…Pearl Ann…I think the computer was on.”

Mavity hugged herself. “He shouldn't have been there at all. He had an appointment up the coast. Maybe he forgot to do something at the computer. Maybe he came back to do that.”

She looked hard at Harper. “Why did she kill him? Why did this happen?”

“Besides the files and the computer,” Harper said, “was there anything else out of order?”

“Not that I noticed. Seemed the same as always, neat, everything in order. Pearl Ann had started working in the bathroom, but she stopped to get the refrigerator started. The kitchen was neat and clean, the way he always left it.”

Harper made some notes and rose. There was a tight, hard look about him. Wilma walked him to the door, where he paused, gave her a hug. “You look tired. She'll get through this, Wilma. If we can pick up Hoke, Mavity should be clear, I think we'll have enough to take him to the grand jury.”

“And if you don't find Hoke?”

“Let's wait to see what happens.”

Wilma leaned against him, very thankful for Max Harper. She would hate to face this, to try to help Mavity, without Max there to go the extra mile.

He stood looking down at her. “I didn't tell you this. Some of the blood on Mavity's white uniform was Jergen's.”

She only looked at him, frightened again suddenly.

“The report came in this morning. But from the way the blood was smeared, the lab thinks it was wiped on, possibly by the murder weapon.”

“It wasn't spattered or pooled on.”

“Exactly. And we're not sure, yet, that the ice tray divider
was
the murder weapon.”

He didn't move out the open door, just kept looking at her. “It would strengthen our case considerably, if I knew who our informant was. If I knew who the woman was, who tipped us about Hoke. It might make the case, if she were to testify against Hoke.”

“I'm sure it would,” Wilma said. “Maybe she'll come forward. Let's hope so.” She hated this, hated lying to him.

“She never has. She's helped us on three cases but has never identified herself, never offered to testify.” He continued to watch her. “Same voice, same woman.”

Wilma widened her eyes. “You think it's me, Max? Are you saying I'm your mysterious informant?”