Cat Raise the Dead (20 page)

“She's not well,” Mary Nell told her. “She misses you. She said—she said, if I saw Mae Rose, to give her love.” Her voice was weak and shaky. The effect on
Mae Rose was to bring tears; Mae Rose's face crumpled. And at the same moment, Adelina appeared.

Adelina paid no attention to Mae Rose's weeping; she dispatched the tearful old lady back to her own wing, and Eula with her; sent them both away, escorted by two nurses.

The two cousins had sat scowling and silent through the little episode. Seated firmly, their feet planted, they gave each other a meaningful look, then rose as one. Moving slowly, with a measured precision, Roberta clutched her flowered handbag. Gustel turned away from her sister only long enough to deposit her vanilla pudding on the dresser beside the books.

As the two cousins made their good-byes to Mary Nell, Dulcie studied the hall and the glass door, weighing her chances. She could likely unlatch the glass door, but she didn't want Dillon to see her do that. She was assessing the traffic in the hall when she saw the foot.

The nurses had wheeled the empty gurney back into the room. Even as the cousins departed, clumping away, they prepared to lift Mary Nell onto the rolling cart. Wrapping Mary Nell's blanket around her, and one nurse lifting her shoulders while the other supported her hips, they set Mary Nell on the cart for her return to Nursing. But as they slid her acquiescent body off the bed and onto the gurney, her blanket caught and was pulled awry, pulling her off-balance. She kicked out against the bed, to right herself.

Dulcie, looking up from beneath the bed, saw Mary Nell's bare foot kick out beyond the edge of the cart. A slim, smooth foot, without the blue veins and knobby joints of an old woman. A lightly tanned foot that might easily run and dance.

She paused, frozen with amazement, then reared up beneath the blanket for a closer look. Staring at that healthy, slim foot, she was so fascinated that she forgot herself and let her whiskers brush Mary Nell's skin, catching a whiff of disinfectant from the blanket. At the
tickle of her whiskers, Mary Nell grunted, startled, and reached to scratch her instep. Dulcie dropped down, crouching deep beneath the bed, in the far corner. Mary Nell scratched her foot vigorously with a white-gloved hand, drew her foot back beneath the covers, and pulled the blanket closer around herself. And she was wheeled away.

Dulcie remained hidden until they had gone, her mind fixed on that slim, smooth foot with its neat, professional pedicure of bright red toenails, and on the sudden, vigorous movements of that frail old lady.

It was getting dark in the grove. Susan knew she should head back, should turn her wheelchair around. She had only to speak to Lamb, and he would circle back toward Casa Capri. Bonnie would be wanting to leave; she had scheduled this afternoon an hour later than usual, having had to work later, and now it looked like rain, the clouds so dark and low overhead they seemed to cling in among the oak trees. Beyond the grove, the lights of the dining room and the long line of bedrooms shone brightly, the big squares of the glass doors marching along behind the wrought-iron fence. She could see, down at the end, a portion of Teddy's wheelchair behind his open drapery, saw movement as if perhaps he sat reading. He didn't stay long at the Pet-A-Pet sessions. Mae Rose thought the proximity of so many animals annoyed Teddy, irritated him.

The wind was picking up. Speaking to Lamb and stroking him, she gave him the command to turn back. Willingly he led her around, pulling her chair in a circle off the path and back again. It was at that moment, as they turned, that she saw Teddy rise from his wheelchair, stand tall, move away from it.

She spoke to Lamb, and he stopped in his tracks, stood still.

She watched Teddy walk across the room to the other side of the glass doors. No mistaking him, his hanging stomach forming a pear-shaped torso.

She watched him reach to pull the draperies, saw him pause a moment, looking out—then step back suddenly against the wall, out of sight.

Saw the draperies slide closed as if by an invisible hand, from where he had concealed himself.

He had seen her, despite the gathering dark. Had seen some glint, maybe her white blouse, seen her here in the grove. Seen her watching him.

She shivered deeply, unaccountably frightened.

Now the draperies obscured the room. Those drapes on the outside windows were not like the thinner casement curtains that faced into the patio. These window coverings, facing away from Casa Capri, were opaque, totally concealing.

She sat still, watching the obscured glass door, still shaken, chilled.

Teddy couldn't walk. Not at all. His spine had been crushed. He was completely incapacitated from his waist down, could use only his arms. Drove his car with special hand equipment.

That is what they had been told. That is what Adelina Prior told them.

Ice filled her.

And in her fear she made some movement, some little body language that made Lamb whine and nose at her. Stroking him, hugging the big poodle to her, she felt very alone suddenly, the two of them, too vulnerable alone here in the gathering night.

But Bonnie would be waiting. She spoke to the poodle, urging him on, and headed fast for the social room. Wanting Bonnie, wanting company, wanting to be around other people.

The cats read the newspaper article while standing on the front page, on the Damen kitchen table. They were not amused at the evening
Gazette's
treatment of Max Harper. Behind them at the stove, Clyde and Wilma were cooking lasagna, boiling pasta and making sauce, Wilma's silver hair tied back under a cloth, Clyde wearing an ancient, stained barbecue apron. The steamy kitchen smelled deliriously of herbs and tomato sauce and sautéed meat; and the room reverberated with banging from the roof above, where Charlie was at work replacing shingles. Working for her supper. There was, Joe thought, nothing
very
cheap about Clyde.

Dulcie sat down on the paper and read the article again, her tail lashing with annoyance. “This is really a cheap shot,” she said softly.

Joe agreed. He might make fun of Harper, but when the
Gazette
put Harper down, that made him mad.

“Not only bad for law enforcement,” Clyde said, chopping cilantro, “but bad politics.”

“And poor taste,” Wilma said, glancing up toward the roof. Further banging told them Charlie was still out of hearing. “Max Harper is a fine man. He keeps this town clean, and that's more than I can say for some city officials.”

There was a big difference, Joe thought, rolling over on the newspaper, between his own good-natured and
secret harassment of Max Harper, and the
Gazette's
caustic misinformation.

Joe rolled over and began to wash. Above their heads, Charlie's pounding came steady and loud as she fitted in new shingles. Last night's rain had flooded Clyde's hall closet, drenching half a dozen jackets, Clyde's suitcase, and an old forgotten cat bed. It was about time Clyde got around to some repairs. Typical, of course, to get the work for free, if he could manage it.

But better free than not at all. In this household, it was a big deal if he remembered to buy lightbulbs before the old ones burned out.

Joe felt eternally thankful that cats didn't have to replace lightbulbs, repair shingles, and paint walls. And, of course, no cat would write such a misleading newspaper article. This display of bad taste was beneath even the scroungiest feline. The
Gazette
had no reason for their caustic slant; it was obvious to any idiot that the grave had been dug up after Harper's men searched the Prior estate. Probably someone at the paper had a grudge against Harper, not uncommon in the politics of a small town.

He could see that regardless of the slant, the story of the open grave fascinated Dulcie. You could bet your whiskers they'd be up there digging before you could shake a paw. And he had to admit, whatever scoffing he'd done about missing patients, the fact that a skeleton had turned up, and that maybe the finger bone belonged to that body and maybe it didn't, shed a new light. His interest had suddenly shifted into high gear. His feline curiosity sat up and took note.

Glancing at Dulcie, he knew they were of one mind: investigate the grave. Maybe, as well, they could get into the Prior house. Who knew what they'd find, maybe more photographs like the ones of Mary Nell Hook that Renet had put on Adelina's desk yesterday morning.

There was no doubt the pictures were of Mary Nell—Dulcie had seen them clearly, and she had seen Mary Nell clearly. They had no idea what use Adelina had for such pictures. She hadn't given them to the two black-robed cousins; they had left empty-handed except for Roberta's flowered handbag. He supposed Adelina could have given them the pictures as they stepped out the front door, but when Adelina appeared in the hall earlier, she hadn't been carrying them.

Dulcie hadn't dared follow the cousins; there had been nurses all over. Besides, she'd been too busy watching young Dillon. The minute the room was empty, Dillon had slipped in through the glass doors, making directly for the closet. And as Joe and Dulcie watched, Joe from the orange tree and Dulcie from under the bed, Dillon had removed from the crowded shelves one item. She had known exactly what she wanted.

Dillon had only an instant alone, before two nurses returned and began straightening the room, opening drawers, and putting Mary Nell's clothes into cardboard boxes. In that instant she had removed a wide, flat oak box with metal corners. Carefully lifting it out, watching the door to the hall, she had opened the lid—and caught her breath.

From the tree, Joe could see into the box clearly. It was like a little portable desk, with a slanted top for writing, and with small compartments inside. He could see that some of the spaces still held stamps, a pen, some white envelopes. But in the largest compartment, which was probably meant for writing paper, lay a doll.

Her porcelain face looked dusty, her pale hair matted,
her blue-and-white crinoline dress wrinkled and limp with neglect. Dillon lifted it out quickly and tucked it inside her shirt, where it made a large lump.

She closed the box, looked undecided for a moment, then shoved it back into the cupboard. As she slipped out through the glass door, Dulcie had nipped out behind her, crowding against Dillon's heels. They were hardly out when two nurses entered. Just as Joe slipped down from the tree, the rain hit. By the time the three of them reached the social room, racing across the garden, they were soaked. The cats had sat behind the couch, dripping onto the carpet, washing themselves, as Dillon squinched across the carpet to Mae Rose and laid the doll in the old lady's lap. She had kept her back to the room, and her voice low.

“Is this the doll you gave Jane Hubble? The one you told me about?”

“Oh yes.” Mae Rose's smile shone bright with surprise. “This is my little Becky. Where did you find her?” She cuddled the doll, staring up at Dillon, then immediately slipped the doll out of sight beneath the pink afghan, tucking the cover around her. “Where did you find her? Did you see Jane? I gave her to Jane before she was moved to Nursing. Where…?”

“She had a little writing desk, a lap desk.”

“Of course. It's one of the few things Jane asked her trust officer to bring from home.” She looked up at Dillon, her blue eyes alarmed. “Jane wouldn't give up her little desk and give up Becky. She wouldn't give her up if she…No matter how sick she was. How did you know about the desk?”

“We were neighbors; she kept it on a table by the living-room window. She'd carry it to her easy chair before the fire to write letters. Fix herself a cup of coffee and sit by the fire to pay her bills, or write a letter to the editor of the
Gazette
—she loved doing that. She didn't have any close friends to write to.”

Dillon looked down at Mae Rose, touching the arm
of Mae's wheelchair. “I found the doll in the desk, and the desk was in the cupboard of that room—the room where you went, where Mary Nell was. But why would they take Jane's desk away from her?”

Mae Rose stroked the afghan where the doll was hidden. She didn't reply.

Dulcie and Joe glanced at each other. Dulcie shivered. She told Joe later that it was Dillon's finding the doll and the desk that made Wilma decide to go to Max Harper.