Cat Spitting Mad by Murphy Shirley Rousseau

Author:Murphy, Shirley Rousseau [Murphy, Shirley Rousseau]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-09-01T08:35:50+00:00

MID MORNING SUN washed the village with gold, laying warm fingers into Joe Grey's fur as he galloped through the streets, dodging dogs and tourists' feet. Sliding in through his cat door, he heard the washer going. The time was ten-fifteen. Maybe Harper, who had moved in last night, was getting domestic. Strolling into the laundry, he found Clyde was still home, sorting clothes, tossing the whites onto the top bunk, which belonged to the cats, and his colored shirts onto the lower bunk. The fact that the dirty clothes were picking up animal hair was of no importance in this household.

"What're you doing home?" he said softly, glancing in the direction of the spare bedroom. "Harper's not still asleep? You feeling okay? You take the day off?"

"Took the morning off. Harper's riding with one of the search groups."

Joe leaped into the bottom bunk, onto old Rube's blanket, and began to lick dust from his paws. "Has he heard anything more about the case? Anything from his officers?"

Clyde didn't answer. Continued to sort clothes.

"Well? What? You don't need to act like I'm the enemy."

"You know how I feel about your meddling."

"I'm meddling? Harper's career is on the line, his whole life is on the line, and I'm meddling? And what about the evidence we've already found?"

"What evidence? What are you talking about?"

"The barrette, Wilma's barrette. Didn't Harper.. ." Joe stared at Clyde. "Didn't anyone tell Harper about the barrette? The one that Wilma gave Dillon? We found it up at the Pamillon place—the kit found it."

Clyde looked blank.

"I can't believe Harper wouldn't tell you—that someone in the department wouldn't tell him. His own men ..."

Clyde laid down the shirt he was clutching. "How do you know this? How do you know it was the barrette Wilma gave her? And that she was wearing it Saturday? If it was the same barrette, she could have lost it anytime. Where on the Pamillon place? She could have been up there weeks ago, fooling around, she—"

"She was wearing it that day, that was in the paper, Clyde. With a description of it—silver, with turquoise bars. Her mother said she was wearing it that morning when she dropped her at Harper's place. And Dillon had it on when she and the Marners met Harper for lunch. The waitress in the cafe remembered it. That was in the paper."

Clyde looked hard at him. "And you found the barrette. After the detectives went over that place three times."

"So?"

"They need to know that, Joe! What did you do with it? You shouldn't move evidence. Why didn't you call the department? You could at least have told me!"

"We didn't move it. We didn't touch it. The department knows about it. What do you think we are, idiots? Why in the world would we move it? Why would we disturb evidence?"

"Cut to the chase, Joe. Did you call the station? Who did you talk to? An anonymous tip right now could really mess Harper up. When was this?"

Joe glared.

Clyde sat down on the bottom bunk, ducking under the top rail.

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