Eyewitness. Part 5

He flipped on the turn signal and edged into the slow lane as a Cadillac swerved around them, horn blaring. " " Clogged fuel filter," he muttered, scowling into the rearview mirror. " That's what I get for buying cheap diesel. "

"Cheap diesel? I thought there was no such thing"

MacDougal snorted. "

" Cheap' as in lousy. "

She waited a moment, then said, "Why do you?"

He shook his head and slowly exhaled. "

" Ah. well. It's a long story. "

"So? We've got along way to go." She noticed that he was fidgeting with the steering wheel, s.h.i.+fting uncomfortably in his seat. Once again the notion that a cop might feel embarra.s.sment both delighted and confused her. In fact, there were quite a few things about MacDougal that she was beginning to find confusing. She pulled her leg up and turned halfway around in her seat so she could look at him and said, "Tell me."

"I've got this friend..." He made a throwaway gesture with his hand. "Well, not a friend, exactly. More like ar acquaintance. Actually-" he blurted the rest in a rust "he's an ex-con. I busted him for armed robbery. But tbaq was along time ago, and now he's got this gas station-garagt over on Los Feliz... and, you know, I just like to try and help him out. When I can. No big deal. I just wish he'd get some decent diesel, that's all: '

He indicated that the subject was closed by abruptly turning on the car's stereo. The pipe organ music from Phantom of the Opera blared forth, sending Moki into hiding in the back seat.

Who is this guy? Mary thought, watching him in fascinated silence. He sure wasn't like any cop she'd ever known. He was unexpected. confusing. even nice. Not that he didn't seem capable of being tough as nails if he had to be she 'd spent half the night with his gun pressing into her hip, and she had no doubt whatsoever that he knew how to use it-but she knew firsthand that he was also capable of great gentleness. And kindness. For instance, she could tell he didn't much care for cats, and yet he'd let her wait for Moki to come home. He hadn't had to do that. He could have forced her to go with him right then-he was a cop, he had the authority. But he hadn't. Instead, he'd waited until morning, and held her while she cried.

Remembering the night just past, that strange fit of weeping, the terrible sadness and sense of loss, brought an unantic.i.p.ated reprise of those emotions. She found that she had a terrible lump in her throat. And it didn't help that the stereo began playing Andrew Lloyd Weber's "Memory" just then. Of all the songs in the world. She caught a quick, panicky breath and s.h.i.+fted around to face front, but it didn't help; the haunting and beautiful music from Cats seemed to carry the ache into her chest, into every part of her.

"What did you do that for?" MacDougal asked when she stabbed at the off b.u.t.ton, silencing the song. "Don't like music? "

She cleared her throat and looked out the window so he couldn't see her face. "Not that kind: '

"You used to sing that kind of music, didn't you?" She could hear the change in his voice-the change to on-duty cop. "At the club where you and Belle worked-what was it called? Caesar's Garden?"

"Joy did: She spoke very softly, holding herself rigid. " I don't. Not anymore. "

"You don't sing?" She could feel his head turn, feel his inquisitive cop's eyes on her. "Why not? I heard you were good."

She shut her eyes, trying desperately to hold the memory at bay, but it came, anyway. The caress of soft purple lights the spotlight holding her, like a lover's embrace; the feel o1 the microphone, smooth and warm in her hand; and the music welling up inside her. the ecstasy, the joy MacDougal's voice was soft, an insidious invasion of her emotions. "Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. I can't. It hurts too much. Too many memories.

"You're going to have to, you know," he said gently "Sooner or later: '

She didn't reply. He didn't turn the stereo back on, and after a while Moki came creeping across the back of the sea and over her shoulder like a curl of brown smoke. He didn' settle down in her lap for a snooze, as he usually did, but laq sphinxlike across her legs and watched MacDougal with q ; steady, unblinking gaze.

"It's a brand-new car!" crowed the voice of a famouq gamo-show host, as Doug, Joy and Moki paused on thi landing outside Doug's front door.

Joy said, "You leave your TV on?"

Doug stuck his key in the lock, then turned his back to the door and took a deep breath. "Do me a favor. Make sun you keep a good tight grip on that cat, okay?"

Joy looked puzzled, but nodded. The cat's triangula head was sticking up on that long neck of his 11kc a peri ; scope, ears alert and eyes like pale blue headlamps. " " Okay," Doug muttereq grimly, " "here goes: He pus he open the door.

"It's a raid!" Doug heard a surprised gasp from behind him as h stepped into the living room. Joy followed him, all but tip toeing. " " d.a.m.n cops ! "

"Joy, uh, Mary," said Doug dryly, "meet Maurice."

There was a moment or two of thunderstruck silence Then she crowed,"OmiG.o.d-this is just so great-it's mynah bird!" and advanced upon Maurice's cage, crooning "Aren't you a pretty bird... ?" She turned on Doug suddenly. "You mean, that was all him? It didn't even sound like a bird talking."

"Mynahs don't just imitate words," Doug informed her. "They imitate voices-even sounds." He dropped Joy's suitcase on the floor and his keys on the coffee table and went to check his phone messages, adding absently, "It's enough to drive you crazy sometimes."

"Well, I think he's wonderful." She bent over so she was on the bird's eye level and began to talk baby talk to him the way she did to the cat. Maurice c.o.c.ked his head and studied her with one bright, beady eye.

The light on the message machine was blinking furiously Doug punched the rewind b.u.t.ton and listened to along string of gibberish.

"Oh, baby..." A man's voice filled the room, deep throated and pa.s.sionate. " " Yes. yes. yes. "

Joy gasped and straightened up as if she'd been jabbed, then burst into great peals of laughter. Doug closed his eyes and groaned, "Jeez, Maurice." He went to s.n.a.t.c.h up the cage cover. "Believe me, he did not learn that from me."

"Where did he learn it from?" Joy inquired in a fascinated voice, husky with suppressed mirth. "lord only knows. look, you wretched crow," he muttered darkly as he dropped the cover over the cage, "one more outburst like that and you're cat food, you hear me?"

"You have the right to remain silent" issued mournfully from beneath the shroud.

"He used to belong to a drug dealer," Doug explained to Joy, who was watching him with a solemn expression, but with glistening eyes and a mouth that quivered suspiciously' The guy's currently doing twenty-five to life at Soledad. I suppose I should have warned you about his vocabulary You haven't heard anything yet, believe me. "

"I can't wait," she said demurely.

Then, for some reason, there was a strangely electric little silence while he looked at her and she looked back at him. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he suddenly felt like a starving man beholding a thick, juicy steak. Then they both moved at once, as if someone unseen had pressed the start b.u.t.ton. He scrubbed a hand over his stubbly jaws just as she looked down at the cat in her arms as if she'd momentarily forgotten he was there.

They spoke simultaneously.

"I guess I should-"

"You probably want to-"

She yielded, and Doug gestured with uncharacteristic awkwardness toward the hallway. " " LTh. guest room' sd own there, on the right. Bathroom's just across the hall. You can put the cat in there for now, I guess " He frowned, trying to think what he could be forgetting.

She made a tiny, throat-clearing sound. "I have his littel box. It's in the car."

"Right. I'll get it: He turned to pick up her suitcase, and [ when he looked at her again he saw that she hadn't moved , ! that she was still just standing there looking at him as if there was something else she expected him to say or do, "What?" he said, his frown deepening.

"So... I'm staying here?" Her eyes had suddenly gone wary, and her voice had a brittle, defensive edge. " " With you? "

"You got a better idea , She didn't answer, just went on looking at him in a waq that made him feel as if he were drowning. He set the suitcase down and put his hands on her arms The cat gave a low, warning growl, which he bravely ignored. "Look, this is the safest place I can think of. No body knows you're here but me, and the only way in here i up those stairs: He found that he was rubbing her arm through the fabric of her windbreaker; it occurred to him that, if it hadn't been for the cat, he'd have pulled her intc his arms, and he didn't know if he was glad about that, o sorry.

"Joy," he said, surprised by the huskiness in his voice ; "you're just going to have to trust me."

She started to say something, cleared her throat and, croaked, "

" Why ?

Right-why should she, when he was beginning to think he couldn't even trust himself? He shrugged and managed a half smile. "You gotta trust somebody sometime."

Her voice was hard, angry. "No, I mean, why are you doing this? Isn't this illegal? Why don't you just quit this bull, arrest me, or take me in for questioning, or whatever it is you're supposed to do?"

He hated the way she was looking at him, last night's wariness and suspicion back again in her eyes, that bruised look around her mouth. It gave him a hot, angry feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn't want to a.n.a.lyze, or try to understand.

He gazed at her for a moment, then said flatly, "I don't know. There are some things I have to figure out first. It would make everything a whole lot easier, you know, if you'd just come clean with me. I don't suppose you're ready to do that?"

She stared back at him with a look he recognized. He smiled sardonically and picked up her suitcase once more. "That's what I thought. So for now, you and your cat get to stay here where it's nice and safe, and I can keep an eye on you. Got it?"

He carried the suitcase into his spare bedroom, which was more catchall than guest, showed Joy the bathroom, waited until she and the cat had gone in and shut the door, then went back to the living room and punched the playback b.u.t.ton on his message machine.

The first three were from Jim Shannon, in escalating degrees of impatience, from last night, probably. The fourth was from his lieutenant, left first thing this morning. He winced at the surly note in her voice; Lieutenant Mabry was a bad lady to cross. He'd filled her in before taking off for San Diego, but hadn't reported progress since then, and he was already long overdue to check in. He wasn't too worried about it, though. She'd cool off when he told her he'd just found the key to cracking one of the most notorious cases in the department's active file. Jeez, the Rhinestone Collar Murder. The press would have a field day. And he'd see to it that all the publicity went to Mabry. She'd forgive him in a hurry.

Right now, though, what it meant was that he was going to have to go down to the station and convince her to cu1 him some slack in this situation. He just needed a little more time. If he could just get Joy to trust him. He allowed himself the luxury of along, hot shower and his first shave in three days. When he got a good look at himself in the minor, he thought he could understand why Joy kept giving him that "why should I trust you?" look. He wouldn't trust somebody who looked like him, either. He looked like a skid row b.u.m.

In the bedroom next door, Mary stood gazing down at her bullet-riddled suitcase. She opened it slowly and pulled out a pair of jeans, which she held up to the light. "Yeah, right... trust somebody," she whispered, sticking a finger through the frayed hole just below one hip pocket.

You 're going to have to trust somebody sometime.

She folded the jeans slowly, folded them over and over and then hugged the bundle to her chest, drawing comforl from their familiarity as she looked around her, surveying the room that had so unexpectedly become her refuge. A strange sort of refuge, she thought, though it probably bea1 the h.e.l.l out of a jail cell.

The room was totally masculine, with furnis.h.i.+ngs that ran to weight benches and rowing machines, decorated with higq school football trophies, marksmans.h.i.+p awards, old gym shoes and worn out sweat socks. This was obviously the place where MacDougal put everything he didn't want the whole world to see, the place he tossed things when he tidied up, the things he closed the door on when company showed up unexpectedly. It gave her a strange feeling, being in the midst of so much that was personal and private, almost like having him right there with her.

She closed her eyes and pressed her face into the warm; rough, familiar-smelling denim, suddenly aching with the need to cry and be comforted, as she had the night before. Her life was changing, irrevocably and much too rapidly, There was too much of the past here in L. A. " too many memories, and she couldn't see the future at all. She felt scared and off balance, as if somebody had just pulled the rug out from under her feet.

You have to trust somebody.

And suddenly she knew that it wasn't just any comfort, it was him she wanted. MacDougal's arms around her, his big, strong body to hold on to, a buffer between her and the terrors of the unknown.

The idea terrified her. All at once she wanted nothing so much as to go home, to go back to the way her life had been before the cop from L. A. had walked into Saint Vincent's and blasted it all to smithereens. All right, so it had only been half a life-at least she'd felt safe, and she'd known whom to trust.

Moki stuck his head out from under the dust ruffle near her feet, then jumped up on the bed with a querulous and interrogative yowl and b.u.mped her leg with his nose.

"I know," she whispered as she sat on the edge of the bed and gathered the cat into her arms. "I know... : She held him and her bullet-riddled jeans and rocked herself, back and forth, back and forth.

Oh, how she missed them-she missed them all, Preacher and Daisy and JoJo. She wondered where they were now, whether she was ever going to see them again, and whether they'd think of her at all.

"What'd you find out?" Daisy Pepper snapped at Preacher as he slid onto the bench across from her.

"Yeah," said JoJo. "Is Mary comin' back?"

"I don't know." Preacher spread his hands wide in an exaggerated shrug. "n.o.body knows. She hasn't shown up, and she hasn't called. I found out something, though. That cop? He's from L.A."

Daisy hit the tabletop with her open palm. "I knew it! I told ya, didn't I? You think he took her?"

Preacher shrugged again. "That I don't know. All they'd tell me up there in the office is that the gentleman showed them a badge and asked for her address, they gave it to him and he left. That's it. And today she didn't show up for work."

"We oughtta check on her," said JoJo, looking worried. " " Make sure she' so kay "Wish we knew her address," Daisy muttered, beating a tattoo on the table with her fingertips. "Think the office'd give it to us? If we explained "

Preacher shook his head. "I asked. They don't seem to trust our motives the way Mary did, for some reason. However..." His eyes were gleaming. " " I just happened to notice that her, ah, employee record card was lying there on the desk, and I, ah, was able to create a small diversion . : He reached inside his jacket and drew out a three by -five card with perforated edges, which he slid across the table with a small flourish. "Haven't lost my touch," he purred, rubbing the tips of his fingers across his lapel.

Daisy hissed, "Hot d.a.m.n, you got it!" and whisked the card out of sight beneath the table.

"I would suggest," said Preacher in an undertone, "that we get out of here before somebody notices that card is missing." He gave a surrept.i.tious glance around him and rose.

"Where we going?" JoJo asked, following suit.

Daisy pulled her cap down over her eyes and began to shrug into her a.s.sortment of sweaters and coats. " " To check on Mary, that's where. Ain't that what friends are for? "

Chapter 6.

Lieutenant Mabry was on the phone when Doug walked into the squad room, but if he thought he was going to be able to slip past her and get to his desk without her spotting him, he ought to have known better. There wasn't much that got past the lieutenant. She gestured to him through the gla.s.s and was cradling the receiver as he stuck his head through her office door.

"Come in, Doug," she said pleasantly, "and close the door." She waited until he'd done so, then planted her elbows on her blotter and began to turn a pencil end over end, which Doug knew from experience was not a good sign. He gamely cleared his throat, but before he could launch into his prepared speech, she said in that same even tone, " " I need a phone call, Doug. That's all. Is that too much to ask? We've got a backlog of cases a mile high here, as you well know. Where the h.e.l.l have you been? " " "You know where" " " You told me you had a lead on the Landon case. I gave you leave to go to San Diego to check it out. " There was a pause. The pencil hit the blotter with a soft plop. " So let's hear it. What did you come up with? "

Doug figured it was okay to let his breath out. "An eyewitness I think"

The lieutenant leaned forward, suddenly bright-eyed and eager. " " You think? And where, might I ask, is this witness now? Did you bring him with you, or is it to be a surd.a.m.n , how he hated it when she got sarcastic. It sure wasn't going to make this any easier. He leaned one elbow on the top of a filing cabinet and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Actually, it's a she. And... no, I didn't bring her in for questioning."

"Whynot?"

"I didn't see any point to it. She's not ready to talk: '

"Sergeant, we do have ways of encouraging people to help us in our investigations."

"Look, I just need some time. She's trying to decide whether or not to trust me. Meanwhile"

"Meanwhile.. : The lieutenant's voice had gone quiet again- too quiet. " Meanwhile, we have a couple of drivebys , a parking lot stabbing, and a Jane Doe that turned up in a house fire of suspicious origin, and that's just last night's tally. Do I need to remind you, Detective Sergeant MacDougal, that we need you here, not out somewhere obsessing over a case that's ten years cold? "

"I'm not.. : Doug threw up his hand in a gesture of denial'I'm not obsessing. It was my case, that's all. It's still my case."

He glanced over his shoulder at the wall of gla.s.s that separated him from the busy squad room, then went over and gave the venetian blind cord a yank. He came back and put his hands on the lieutenant's desk and leaned on them.

"Ann," he said, lowering his voice to a rusty growl, "I have to ask you something-don't take this wrong, okay?" He hesitated, taok a breath and dived in. "Who besides you knew about that San Diego lead?"

Lieutenant Ann Mabry was in her mid-forties, of a somewhat exotic mix, ethnically speaking, and as immaculately turned out as a Rodeo Drive saleswoman. She had a flawless oval face and cafe-au-lait skin, and wore her hair sleeked back from her face and bound into a large knot on the back of her head in a manner that in no way made her look frumpy. She looked elegant, intelligent and capable, all oq which she was. Doug respected her a great deal, for all of those reasons, and also because she was a d.a.m.ned good cop. At his question her features had remained perfectly still, except for the slightest twitch of her perfect blackbird's wing eyebrows. But deep in her eyes a light flared.

She said only, "I didn't keep it a secret, Doug. That case is big news: '

"So... ?"

"Probably everybody in the precinct." There was a pause while Doug swore under his breath. "You want to tell me why you'd ask me such a question?"

They traded long, hard looks. Then Doug said in a monotone, "I tracked the witness to the place where she works, a skid row shelter named Saint Vincent's. Before I had a chance to take her into custody, she made me for a police officer and, uh, was able to effect a getaway. I persuaded the shelter management to give me her home address and drove out there immediately. I arrived just in time to observe my witness going down off her front doorstep in a hail of automatic weapon fire. The suspect or suspects left in a hurry upon my amval, and I did not give chase, thinking it more important to determine the condition of the witness. She was shaken up, but uninjured, and I was subsequently able to convince her to put herself in my protective custody. That's where she is now." He let his breath out and straightened, leaving the lieutenant to draw her own conclusions.