The brick-paved patio of Burger Basher was lit by lanterns placed along the perimeter and by shifting washes of moonlight beneath fast-running clouds. Though the sea wind was brisk, the forty-by-forty-foot space was comfortably warm, heated by six outdoor gas burners suspended on poles overhead. Joe Grey, sitting beneath Ryan's table, tried not to lick his whiskers at the scent of broiling burgers. Though he'd had filet for supper, who could resist a Basher's double? Encouraged by Ryan's petting, he stood up on his hind paws, looking as plaintive as a begging beagle into her amused eyes.
"Come on, Joe Grey. You want to sit up here? We have an empty chair."
Larn Williams looked disgusted. But Joe was aware of other diners watching him and smiling. Beneath a nearby table, a springer spaniel whined with interest. Leaping into the chair, Joe watched appalled as Williams slopped on mustard, ruining a fine piece of meat. Ryan, sensibly waving away the condiments, cut off a quarter of her burger and dissected it carefully into cat-sized bites. Placing these on a folded paper napkin, she set the offering on the chair before him. "There you go, big boy. See what you can do with that."
Rewarding Ryan with a purr and a finger-lick, Joe sampled the char-grilled confection. This was the way surveillance should be conducted, in plain sight of the subjects while one enjoyed life's finer pleasures. He tried to eat slowly but he didn't come up for air until every morsel had vanished. Yawning and stretching, again he fixed his gaze on Ryan, licking his whiskers.
She cut her eyes at him as she devoured her own burger. "No more. You'll get fat, lose your handsome tomcat figure."
Williams watched this exchange coldly. "I didn't ask you out to dinner-such as it is-to watch you feed some alley cat."
"He's not an alley cat, I know him very well."
"When did you get home? I swung by the Jakeses' place up there but you'd already left. I didn't know you were leaving. One of your carpenters was still there, that old redheaded guy with the beard."
"I don't consider Scotty old. I consider him handsome and capable. I got home Saturday night, in time to go to a wedding on Sunday, and start a new job this morning."
Williams nodded more amiably, seeming actually aware of his surliness. "Seems like, if you're gone a few weeks, everything piles up, the laundry, the junk mail."
When she didn't respond, he began asking questions about the new job she had started. Her answers were as vague as she could politely make them; Joe hid a pleased smile. Somewhere in the conversation, Williams edged his way back to his primary interest.
"It's that backlog of paperwork I really hate. Every real-estate sale-a landslide of forms to be filed. I don't have to tell you, the paperwork gets worse every year. That, and the billing. And then it's time for taxes."
If, Joe thought, the evening was to be filled with such gems as this, he might as well be home eradicating the front lawn of gophers. Stretched out across the chair, he yawned so deeply that he almost dislocated his jaw; and he lay observing Williams. The guy had a face as bland as yogurt, his pale brown eyes soft-looking and seeming without guile. Gentle, submissive eyes-as if there was no way this good soul could bear to swat a fly. The kind of expression that made any sensible cat uneasy.
And when Joe glanced at Ryan, she was watching Larn with the same distaste, her dislike thinly veiled- though she appeared to take the bait. "At least," she said, sipping her beer, "I caught up with my billing, and got it in the mail. Didn't have any choice. No money coming in, the creditors will be at my throat."
Williams didn't turn a hair. "The building-supply people in San Andreas are pretty good about letting a contractor ride over a month or two."
"That's nice, but I don't do that, I don't work that way. And the Jakeses are good about paying, they were very prompt on the two San Francisco jobs that Dannizer Construction did for them. I expect I'll see their check before the end of the week."
No change of expression from Williams. "I never quite trust people who always pay all their bills on time. Makes me wonder why they're so careful."
Ryan made no reply. Was he trying to be funny? Joe had never heard any of Clyde's friends talk that way.
Certainly not Clyde himself, Clyde valued his prompt-paying customers, and he let them know it.
"Did you say your father was on the East Coast? I imagine you miss him just now, with this unfortunate murder to deal with. I was sorry to hear about your husband's death, in that ugly way. I hope things have-not been too rocky."
"He's on the East Coast, yes," Ryan said, smiling. "I'm doing fine. Thanks for asking." She was trying hard to be nice to Larn. Joe wondered that Williams didn't detect her veiled effort-or didn't seem to.
"Hot weather back there just now. I hope he took something light. Cotton's best, in the humidity. But I suppose he knows all about that."
Joe narrowed his eyes, studying Williams. This guy was strange.
"Do the police have any line on a suspect? On who would do such a thing?"
Ryan just looked at him.
"I don't understand much about the circumstances, but I hope they've made some progress in locating the killer. What a terrible shock, to find… Well, I am sorry."
And you are going on about it, Joe thought, curling up with his back to Williams.
"I hope they have enough evidence so you are no longer a suspect. I would hate to be suspected of a murder, even though everyone knows better. It would be so… demeaning." Williams was not keeping his voice down. People at the nearby tables had begun to watch them. Ryan looked increasingly uncomfortable.
"Do they have fingerprints, or anything on the weapon? That would certainly make you feel easier."
"I really can't discuss these matters, Larn. And we're attracting attention."
"I only meant…" He looked suitably stricken. "I only thought… You know, hoping there was something to ease your mind, to take the pressure off," he said, lowering his voice. "Hoping you're able to feel more comfortable about this ugly mess."
"I was told not to discuss it."
"Well, if there's anything I can do to be of help, I just want you to know you can call on me."
"Nothing that I know of."
"When will your father be home?"
This guy was so damned nosy Joe wanted to claw him. Or, he wasn't quite steady in the attic.
"1 really don't know, Larn." Her voice was decidedly cooler, as if she were sorry she had come tonight.
But Larn didn't seem to get the drift. "He has a good reputation in the city. I don't know many folks in law enforcement, but people say he does a good job. I certainly don't believe the gossip, I don't pay attention to that kind of thing."
Ryan had stopped eating. "What gossip?" she said softly. "What are you talking about?"
People at the surrounding tables had turned away making an effort not to stare. Williams lifted his hand in embarrassment, as if he realized he'd made a blunder. But Joe could see under the table Williams's left fist on his knee beating a soft, energetic rhythm, his body language laying out all too clearly his cold deliberation.
"What gossip?" Ryan repeated, her eyes never leaving Williams. "You'd better explain what you're talking about."
"Well, I am sorry. I thought of course you'd heard it like everyone else… It's common… Oh, hell, I thought… Can we just drop it? Forget I said anything?"
"Of course we can't drop it," she said raising her voice, not caring if people turned to look. "What is this about? What have you heard about my father?"
"It's only gossip, it doesn't mean anything. Let's forget it."
Joe didn't need to look up into Ryan's face to see her rage. Every angle of her body was tense and rigid. She waited unmoving for Williams to explain.
"Well," he said reluctantly. "It's just-the women… you have to know about the women."
Her silence was like thunder, so volatile that Joe thought the air around her might explode. "What women? What exactly are you talking about! And where did you hear such a thing!"
Larn sighed, his pale eyes shifting. "Don't be so loud. People are staring." This guy was far more than a nut case.
"Well?"
"It's common gossip in the city, Ryan. I can't believe you never heard it."
"What, exactly, is common gossip? You'll have to spell it out."
He sighed again, implying that this was all very painful. "You have to know that Flannery had plenty of women."
Ryan only looked at him.
"And that… Well, call it gossip, that Flannery had affairs with more than a few of his female parolees. Most of that, the way I hear it, was before he was appointed chief. I thought of course you'd heard this. But gossip doesn't make…"
Ryan was white. "That is so patently a lie. I have never heard a hint of such a story. I certainly would have heard that from Rupert, he'd have been the first to pass on such a tale, would have been delighted to repeat that." She was almost shouting at Williams. "This is not a story that anyone in San Francisco has ever heard. Why are you telling me this?" People around them were growing uncomfortable. Two couples, hurrying through their meals, rose to leave. "Where did this come from? What is your purpose in saying such a thing?"
Larn looked totally apologetic, really crushed. Joe was so fascinated he had to remind himself to stop staring. Turning away, he began to wash again, watching Williams with occasional sideways glances.
"I don't know where I heard it. Everywhere. And then just this week I heard it in conjunction with the murder," Larn said embarrassedly. "The implication was that… that maybe Rupert had been talking about one of Flannery's affairs, spreading around names and details, and Flannery had-"
Ryan gaped at him then was out of her chair jerking Larn up-he came up under her grip as limp as a doll, looking shocked but making no effort to resist her. She spun him around with surprising strength, forced him between the tables and out through the patio to the street, his arm bent behind him. Forced him down the sidewalk away from the restaurant. As Joe leaped to follow them the thought did cross his mind that someone ought to pay the bill. Well, he sure couldn't. One of the perks of being a cat, you never got stuck with the bill.
Half a block down, she shoved Williams into an alley. Joe glanced across the street where Clyde sat in the Hudson, poised as if ready to move. Joe peered around into the brick alley where Ryan had Williams backed against the building. The man was totally submissive. Was he enjoying himself? Getting it on with this woman's rage? Torn between disgust and amusement, Joe settled down between the trash cans to watch.
Ryan looked like she was about to pound Williams when the scuff of shoes made Joe spin around. Clyde stood with his fists clenched as if he wanted to pile into Williams. But Ryan's display of anger held him frozen.
The hint of a grin ticked at the corner of Clyde's mouth as he studied Williams's pallor and Ryan's businesslike grip on the man's collar. She glanced at Clyde, her face coloring.
"What was he doing?" Clyde said, amused.
She said nothing, but turned back to Williams. "If I ever hear that kind of talk anywhere, I'll know it came from you. I swear I'll pound you, Williams, then sue your pants off for slander. I have four top attorneys in the city, and I would like nothing better than to see them take you down."
Jerking Williams away from the wall, she shoved him hard. He stumbled and half fell out onto the sidewalk. "Go home, Larn. Go back to San Andreas. I don't know what your purpose is. But you pull anything more-anything, and you'll be cooling your ass in the slammer."
Larn rose from an off-balance crouch, stared at Ryan and at Clyde, his face unreadable, and headed away fast. Ryan watched until he reached his car and had driven off, then she collapsed against Clyde, her face buried against him. Her shoulders were shaking, whether shivering with nerves, or rocking with laughter, Joe couldn't tell. The gray tomcat, sitting among the garbage cans in the dark alley, was sorry that Dulcie had missed this one.