"Mavity isn't guilty," she told them. "I was trying to tell Harper that, on the phone."
"How do you know that?" Wilma said softly.
"Pearl Ann Jamison is the one Harper wants. I was trying to tell him that."
They both stared at her.
"Pearl Ann Jamison," Dulcie said, "is a guy in drag. I believe that he's the killer."
Clyde burst out laughing. "Come on, Dulcie. Just because Pearl Ann's strong, and a good carpenter, doesn't mean she's a guy. You…"
"Are you saying I don't know what I'm talking about?"
"Of course not. I just think you and Joe… Joe's never mentioned this. What would make you think…"
"I know the difference between male and female," she said tartly. "Which is more than you and Wilma seem to have figured out. When you get past the Jasmine perfume, Pearl Ann smells like a man. Without the perfume, we'd have known at once."
"She smells different? You're basing this wild accusation on a smell?"
"Of course he smells different. Testosterone, Clyde. He smells totally male. It's not my fault that humans are so-challenged when it comes to the olfactory skills."
Wilma watched the two of them solemnly.
"Pearl Ann smells like a man," Dulcie repeated. "Half the clothes in her closet belong to a man. The IDs hidden in her room-driver's licenses and credit cards, are for several different men."
Clyde sighed.
"One ID is in the name of Troy Hoke. He was…"
That brought Clyde up short. "Where did you hear mat name?"
"I just told you. Pearl Ann has an ID for Troy Hoke. If you don't believe me or Joe, then ask Greeley-Greeley knows all about Pearl Ann. He let us into her room in the Davidson Building. He showed us the driver's licenses and credit cards hidden in the light fixture. He told us where Hoke parks the car he drives, that none of you have seen. An eight-year-old gray Chrysler."
They were both gawking at her, two looks of amazement that quite pleased her.
"That's where Greeley's been all this time," she said patiently. "Camping in a storeroom at the Davidson Building."
"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Wilma said. "It's not like you to keep something…"
This was really too much. "I just did tell you," she hissed angrily. Clyde's skeptical questions were one thing, she was used to Clyde's argumentative attitude. But for Wilma to question her-that hurt. "We just found out tonight," she said shortly and turned her back on Wilma, leaped off the table, and trotted away to the living room. If they didn't want to believe her, that was their problem. She'd call Harper back at once and tell him about Troy Hoke.
Leaping to the desk, she had just taken the phone cord in her teeth when the instrument shrilled, sending her careening off again.
The phone rang three times before Wilma ran in and snatched it from the cradle. She listened, didn't speak. She patted the desk for Dulcie to jump up, but Dulcie turned away.
"What hospital?" Wilma said.
On the floor, Dulcie stopped washing.
"How bad is she?" Wilma said softly. "Can we see her?" And in a moment she hung up the phone and hurried away to dress and find her keys.
26
MAVITY'S hospital room at Salinas Medical was guarded by a thin, young deputy who had been on duty most of the night. His chin was stubbled with pale whiskers, and his uniform was wrinkled. Sitting on a straight-backed chair just outside Mavity's half-open door, he was enjoying an order of waffles and bacon served in a plastic carton. A Styrofoam cup of coffee sat on the floor beside his chair. He was present not only to assure that the suspect did not escape-a most unlikely event, considering Mavity's condition-but to bar intruders and protect the old woman in case she was not Jergen's killer but was a witness to his death.
Mavity's room was not much larger than a closet. The steel furniture was old and scarred, but the white sheets and blanket were snowy fresh. She slept fitfully, her breathing labored, her left hand affixed to an IV tube, her right hand clutching the blanket. A white bandage covered most of her head, as if she were wearing the pristine headgear of some exotic eastern cult. She had been in the hospital since one A.M., when she was transferred there by ambulance from an alley in Salinas where she had been found lying unconscious near her wrecked VW. She had not been able to tell the police or the nurses her name or where she lived. The Salinas police got that information from the registration of her wrecked car. They had notified the Molena Point PD only after an alert was faxed to them that a woman of Mavity's description was missing and was wanted for questioning in last evening's murder.
Salinas Medical was an hour's drive from Molena Point, lying inland where the weather was drier and warmer. The hospital complex consisted of half a dozen Spanish-style buildings surrounded by a circular drive. It was a training facility for medical staff and a bulwark of specialized medical services for the area, including an excellent cardiac unit and a long-term-care wing for patients in need of intensive nursing. Wilma, Clyde, and Charlie arrived at Salinas Medical at five-thirty A.M.
When Wilma had received Max Harper's phone call at four that morning, she and Clyde left her house in her car, making two stops, the first to drop Dulcie off at Clyde's place, an arrangement about which Dulcie was not happy. The last Wilma saw of the little cat, Dulcie was sulking alone on Clyde's steps, her ears down, her head hanging, looking as abandoned as she could possibly manage.
Wilma knew that the instant she drove away Dulcie would bolt inside to Joe, pacing and lashing her tail, complaining about the indignities a cat was subjected to by uncaring humans.
"They won't let you into the hospital," Wilma had told her. "And I don't want you alone here with Bernine."
"I could go in a shopping bag. They'd think I was extra clothes or homemade cookies. Don't you think I care about Mavity? Don't you think I care that that man might have killed her?"
"Or that she might have killed Jergen?"
"Nonsense. You know she didn't. I would fit in that canvas book tote. You could just…"
"Hospital security checks all parcels. They won't let you in. They'd throw you out in the street."
"But…"
"Stay with Joe," Wilma had snapped, and had unceremoniously tossed Dulcie into the car where she hunched miserably on the front seat.
The second stop had been to pick up Charlie, who was waiting in front of her building before the antique shop, sucking on a mug of coffee and snuggled in a fleece-lined denim jacket. She slid into the front seat between Clyde and Wilma, frowning with worry over Mavity.
"Has she remembered her name? Does she know what happened to her?"
"We haven't talked to the hospital," Wilma said. "All I know is what Harper told me when he called, that she was confused and groggy."
"Was she alone in the car?"
Clyde put his arm around her. "As far as we know, she was. They found the VW smashed against a lamppost, outside a pawnshop in the old part of town. Not a likely place for her to be in the middle of the night."
As they sped east on the nearly empty freeway, the dawn air was damp and cool through the open windows, helping to wake them. On either side of the road, the thickly wooded hills rose dark and solid against the dawn sky. Soon they were inland between flat fields, the crops laid out in long green rows, the dawn air smelling of onions. When they arrived at Salinas Medical, Mavity was asleep, an IV tube snaking up her arm to a slowly seeping bottle. In the corner of the room on a hard wooden chair, Max Harper dozed, his long legs splayed out before him. He came fully awake as they entered.
"I've been here about an hour," he replied to Wilma's questioning look. "Haven't gotten much out of her-she's pretty confused."
Clyde went out to the nursing station to get some chairs, and Charlie went to find the coffee machine, returning with four large cups of steaming brew that tasted like rusted metal.
"She has a cerebral contusion," Harper said. "A lot of swelling. They had a shunt in for a while, to relieve the pressure, to drain off so
me of the fluid. And she's had trouble breathing. They thought she'd have to have a tracheotomy, but the breathing has eased off. She's irritable and her memory's dicy, but that's to be expected. Not much luck trying to recall yesterday afternoon. And when she can't put it together, she gets angry. They're waking her every two hours." He sipped his coffee. He looked like he could use a smoke.
Wilma smoothed Mavity's blanket. "Were there any witnesses to the wreck?"
Harper shook his head. "None that we've found. We don't know yet whether another car was involved or if she simply ran off the street into the lamppost."
Mavity woke just after six and lay scowling at them, confused and bleary. Her wrinkled little face seemed very small surrounded by the thick white bandage and snowy bedding. When Wilma spoke to her, she did not respond. She frowned at Charlie's wild red hair and glared angrily at Harper. But soon something began to clear. She grew restless, and she reached up her hand to Wilma, trying to change position, kicking out of the blanket with one white, thin leg.
Wilma looked a question at Harper, and he nodded. She sat down on the edge of the bed, helping Mavity to get settled, holding her hand. "You had a little accident. You're in Salinas Medical. We came over to be with you."
Mavity scowled. Wilma smiled back. "Do you remember cleaning for Mr. Jergen yesterday afternoon?"
Mavity looked at her blankly.
"Mavity?"
"If it was his day, I cleaned for him," she snapped. "Why wouldn't I?" She looked around the room, puzzled. "I was fixing supper for Greeley-sauerkraut and hot dogs." She reached to touch her bandage and the IV tube swung, startling her. She tried to snatch it, but Wilma held her hand. "Leave it, Mavity. It will make you feel better."
Mavity sighed. "We had a terrible argument, Dora and Ralph and me. And the hardware store-I was in the hardware store just a minute ago. I don't understand. How did I get in a hospital?"
"You hit your head," Wilma told her.
Mavity went quiet. "Someone said I wrecked my car." She gave Wilma an angry glare. "I've never in my life had a wreck. I would remember if I wrecked my little car."
"When did you make sauerkraut for Greeley?"
"I-I don't know," she said crossly, as if Wilma was being very rude with her questions.
"When did you and Dora and Ralph argue?" Wilma persisted.
But Mavity turned over, jerking the blankets higher and nearly dislodging the IV, and soon she dropped into sleep. They sat in a tight little group waiting for her to wake.
When she did wake, she jerked up suddenly, trying to sit up. "Caulking," she told Wilma. "Caulking for the shower. Did I buy the caulking? Pearl Ann is waiting for it."
Wilma straightened the bedding and smoothed the sheet. "Pearl Ann sent you to buy caulking? When was this?"
But already she had forgotten. Again she scowled at Wilma, puzzled and disoriented, not remembering anything in its proper order. Perhaps not remembering, at all, Winthrop Jergen's ugly death?
27
IF 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.
Cat in the Dark Page 23
