looked at each other with perfect understanding; but they glanced up when Clyde and Wilma approached their table.
Wilma was wrapped in a blue cashmere stole over her pale gown, against the nightâs chill. She carried a woven shopping bag that bulged and wriggled.
Clyde carried two paper plates heaped with canapés and salads and sliced meats. As he set one in the center of the table and the other underneath, Joe and Dulcie slipped beneath the table; and from Wilmaâs shopping bag the kit hopped out, strolling purposefully under the table to claim her share.
âCora Leeâs fine,â Wilma said. âApparently something hit her in the head, but no concussion. They want her overnight, though.â When, early in the spring, Cora Lee had walked into the middle of a robbery and murder, she had been hit by such a blow to her middle that her spleen had ruptured and had to be removed. The dusky-skinned actress told them later she was terrified she would never sing again. But she had sung, the lead in the villageâs little theater production of Thorns of Gold. With the kit as impromptu costar during the entire run, the play had sold out every night.
âDallas is trying to get Curtis Farger remanded over to juvenile,â Clyde said. âBut since the fire, with their building gone, theyâre not eager to take any kids. Kids scattered all over, in temporary quarters, and not great security.â He looked at Charlie. âMax would be smart to get a move on, before you decide to enjoy the cruise without him.â
âMaybe weâll just do a few days in San Francisco, and book the cruise for next spring.â Their reservation at the St. Francis gave them three days in the city before boarding their liner for the inland passage. At the moment, that sounded pretty good to Charlie.
âCan you cancel a cruise like that?â Wilma said. âEven Maxâ¦â She watched Charlie, frowning. Shewanted her niece and Max to get on that ship and be gone, to be away from the Farger family.
âMax knows someone,â Charlie said. âWhen he made the reservations, that was part of the package, that if something urgent came up, we could cancel.â She glanced beneath the table where the cats feasted, Joe and Dulcie eating fastidiously, the kit slurping so loudly that Ryan looked under too, and laughed.
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When the cats had demolished their quiche, seafood salads, rare roast beef, curried lamb, and wedding cake, they stretched out between the feet of their friends for a leisurely wash, grooming thoroughly from whiskers to tail. They could have trotted over to the jail and had a look at Curtis Farger, but they were too full and comfortable. And Joe didnât think theyâd hear much. Very likely Curtis had already been questioned as much as he could be, until a juvenile officer arrived in the morning to protect the kidâs rights. Sleeking his whiskers with a damp paw, Joe Grey thought about the legal rights of young boys who set bombs to kill people.
No one liked to believe that a ten-year-old child had intended, and nearly succeeded in, mass murder. In the eyes of the law, Curtis and his grandfather were innocent until proven guilty. But in Joe Greyâs view they were both guilty until proven otherwise. If you attacked innocent people with all claws raking, you should know that your opponent would retaliate.
Charlie said, âThis afternoon at the churchâbefore the bombâI felt like I was nineteen again, so scared and giddy. And then after the bomb went off, itwasâ¦I wasnât nineteen anymore, couldnât remember ever having been so young.â She chafed her hands together.
âThere was some reason,â Ryan said, âsome profound reason, why that bomb went off prematurely. What made the kid turn and run? What made him trip and fall? You couldnât see much under those overhanging trees. He was lucky he didnât break
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