Cat Cross Their Graves Read Online Free PDF Page A

doors now. Each door opened to a large and comfortable room reserved for members of the hotel staff. The cats, when they prowled the garden behind that wing, always peered in through the wide glass doors at the spacious residences. Dorothy Street had a two-room apartment down at the end. “She should have heard the shots,” Davis said, studying the closed doors.
    Garza shook his head. “She’s in L.A. Flew down last week; her daughter’s having her first baby. Max called the number she gave the staff.” He handed Davis a slip of paper. “First one is the daughter’s home number. No answer. You want to try the hospital?”
    Davis nodded. “You’ve gone over Patty’s suite?”
    â€œNot yet. We’ve secured both doors.”
    Again the cats heard Lucinda calling the kit, her voice harsh with worry. “How long has she been gone?” Dulcie whispered. Joe shrugged, and Dulcie began to fidget. “She can’t have followed the killer?”
    Joe’s yellow eyes burned. “She can’t?” Both cats rose and began to sniff along the concrete, seeking the kit’s scent. The two detectives were discussing the witnesses. “…get their preliminary statements tonight,” Garza was saying. “Bartender and two barmaids, ten customers, four kitchen staff. Dining room closes at ten. No other guest so far has come forward. I’ll take the bar group. You want the kitchen staff?”
    Davis nodded. The officers would, the cats knew, question each witness individually, keep them from talking among themselves. When witnesses started comparing what they remembered—thought they remembered—everything got garbled. With a little imagination, the pop of a beer can opening could turn into the sound of a gunshot.
    â€œMaybe Max will take a few,” Garza said. “We might get a couple hours’ sleep before breakfast.”
    â€œRight now I’d settle for breakfast,” Davis said wistfully.
    â€œFinish questioning your bunch, maybe they’ll fry you an egg.”
    Listening to Garza and Davis, the cats grew increasingly uneasy about Kit. It wasn’t like her not to be on the scene. Prowling the balcony, they picked up no scent of the tortoiseshell. Lucinda was still calling her. They looked at each other and forgot their differences.
    â€œYou want to catch the interviews?” Joe said, knowing she would not. They could read the interview reports on the dispatcher’s desk at the station or in one of the detectives’ offices. A cat lolling on acop’s desk was not unusual at Molena Point PD, Joe and Dulcie had long ago seen to that.
    The urgency of the moment was to find the kit, and neither cat could pick up her scent. Joe was so concerned that he’d almost forgotten his anger with Dulcie; he glanced at her now with speculation.
    Well, he wasn’t asking questions. And he wasn’t sneaking around following her, he wasn’t lowering himself to that. If she wanted privacy, that was her affair—but she couldn’t keep a secret forever.
    It was the possibility of another tomcat that worried him. He had checked for the scent of a strange tom around the village, and had found none, nor had he detected the scent of another cat on Dulcie. But what was so sacrosanct that she couldn’t share it?
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    Uncomfortable beneath Joe’s stare, Dulcie put her nose to the concrete again. She hated keeping secrets from him, she considered that the same as lying, and she wanted to share every aspect of life with Joe. But she couldn’t tell him this. Leaping down from the concrete walk to the steps below, she landed on a spot far beyond the chalk marks where Patty’s body had lain. Moving on down, scenting for the kit, she couldn’t smell much over the sharp stink of death. She was shaky with shock and grief. Now that the harsh strobe lights had been removed, the shadows leading down to the