branches, then vanished into the highest, thickest foliage.
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J OE PEERED DOWN from the top of the tree, clinging to a frail and precarious branch, his paws sticky with pine sap, the prickly limbs tickling his ears. Scanning the yards below, he could see no one now standing among the bushes, and not the faintest movement of shadows. Off beyond the village, a stretch of sea danced with reflections of light like tiny signal fires.
The lower street was empty, too, and when he looked back along their own street, scanning the two blocks to the Parker house, he could see no car there; Detectives Davis and Garza must have left. He felt gratified that Davis had put enough credence in his anonymous call tonot only work the scene herself but to bring Dallas Garza back for an even more thorough look. Along the sidewalk and around the ragged bushes ran a line of bright yellow crime scene tape. It circled the house and pool in an enticing invitation to nosy neighbors and small children. Just below him, all three were scanning the lower yards. Ryan had taken a pair of binoculars from the glove compartment. Joe thought sheâd search with those, but instead she looked straight up the pine tree, fixing her sights on him.
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T O R YAN, EVEN with the binoculars the gray tomcat was just a shadow among the concealing branches. Only the white smears of his belly and nose and paws were clear, where he hung over a branch peering down to the lower street. When she turned the glasses downward to look where he was looking, she still could see no one. She glanced at Charlie, but Charlie shrugged and shook her head. Beside her, Clyde started the car. She reached over, turned off the engine. âYou werenât going to wait for him?â
Clyde sighed, and settled down to wait for the tomcat, watching the wooded yards below. Nothing stirred below, no movement but the shiver of breeze through the trees and bushes. No car was visible on either street. High above them the tomcat shifted position. What had he seen? Had there been someone watching, or only a passing neighbor?
âHe saw something he didnât like,â Charlie said. âIâve never known him to be wrong.â
âYou donât live with him twenty-four seven,â Clyde told her.
âHe isnât stuck up there?â Ryan said. âYou sure he can get down?â
Clyde laughed. âWouldnât that be a trip, if Joe panicked, forgot how to back down a tree and started yowling like a scared kitten. If we donât get a move on, weâll miss our appointment. Helen Thurwell doesnâtââ
âWait,â Ryan said. âListen.â
A car had started on the lower street, a quiet engine. In a moment they saw a flash of white go by. Clyde reached to turn the key, but Ryan was quicker. âYou wonât get far, tailing a guy in a bright yellow car!â She was out of the car before he could stop her, running downhill, racing away, cutting through the woods as the white car was slowed by the sharp curves. As Charlie ran for her Blazer, Clyde started the roadsterâs smooth-purring engine and moved uphill to the next cross street where he could turn back onto the lower road. Charlie watched him, then peered up at Joe Grey, some forty feet above. She didnât intend to leave him. It was Joe whoâd spotted the eavesdropper; it was Joe whoâd uncovered what could be a murder scene. It would be cruel to leave him behindâto say nothing of the tongue-lashing theyâd receive later. âCome on,â she hissed, digging her keys from her pocket. âHurry up!â
11
A SLAB OF BARK flipped off the tree as Joe backed down. He nearly lost his grip and went slithering down as clumsy as a drunken squirrel. He hit the ground running, leaped into Charlieâs SUV through the open driverâs door, jumped across her, and landed on the seat. He looked up at her smugly, as if heâd planned that acrobatic