Cat Shining Bright

“That may be,” Wilma said, “but I’ve seen her in the village carrying that old shopping bag, moving among the aisles of some small shop in a way that made me wonder.”

“Rich people shoplift, too,” Dulcie said. She and Joe had seen Voletta in the village, slipping along between the counters with her shopping bag. They had never pursued the matter, maybe because Voletta looked so alone and poor—though it was not in their predatory nature to be that forgiving.

Whatever the case, long before the volunteers had arrived at the shelter for duty, Voletta’s dirt-encrusted truck came lumbering home, Lena driving. A white Prius followed them, a shiny, new model. It pulled up in front of the house, to park beside Voletta’s truck. A small, bespectacled driver stepped out. He was neat as a pin, dressed in a pale gray suit and gray tie; he stood waiting for Lena and Voletta. The older woman was slow and stiff getting out of the passenger’s seat and into the walker that Lena pulled out of the truck bed.

“Probation officer,” Scotty said, “come to check out where she lives, to look at the living conditions.”

“How do you . . .?” Kate began.

“I talked with Max, when he called about that box of porcelain. Lena will be on probation, under home confinement. He said Voletta needs someone to care for her until her leg heals.”

“That means Lena can’t go anywhere,” Kate said.

“She can if she calls in—grocery, drugstore, essential trips. I guess, for a while, she’ll be driving Voletta where she needs to go, like to the doctor. Max said he let her out, in part, to take care of the old woman.” Scotty looked at Joe, wondering how much Joe Grey already knew, hanging around MPPD.

Kate said, “She was well enough to drive to the station to bail Lena out.”

Scotty smiled. “Maybe she was embarrassed to ask us, or didn’t want us into her business. You can tell it didn’t do her any good, the way she’s limping, going up the steps.” Scotty sipped his coffee. “I don’t think the department knows, yet, exactly how involved Lena was in the car heists. But Randall is her husband. Max thinks Randall may have run the show.”

Kate looked again at the little, neat man entering the front door behind Voletta and Lena. “Will he be nosing around up here, too, getting in our way?”

Scotty laughed. “He’s not an out-for-blood building inspector, just a county PO doing his job. I guess we’ll see him around every few weeks—until we find a caretaker and move into a place of our own.”

“Well, at least we have the Wilsons to stay for a couple of nights,” Kate said. “They’re a nice couple. I called Ryan’s dad, hoping he and Lindsey would volunteer.” She shook her head. “They’re off on another fishing trip, up in Oregon. Took Rock with them again. I think they mean to kidnap that good dog.”

“I wouldn’t blame them,” Scotty said.

“They were sorry to miss the wedding. They sent their love to us both. But poor Rock will miss a good party, he’ll miss snatching treats. A party does set him off, trying to greet everyone at once and to work them for handouts.”

Scotty put his arm around her. “Just a two-night honeymoon. But we’ll take a longer trip later. The Bahamas? Alaska? And,” he said softly, “our whole life will be a honeymoon.” Kate had never guessed, the years she’d known Scotty as a quiet, no-nonsense friend, a rough-hewn kind of guy, how romantic he could be.

 

The Damens’ driveway and the street were solid with cars. Clyde’s Jaguar and Ryan’s red king cab were trapped in the carport, three rows of cars behind them. Joe, looking down from the roof, thought the scene resembled another gathering of stolen vehicles—except that he knew most of these cars and, cozied in among them, a number of friendly black-and-whites lent a different interpretation. As did the open front door with talk and laughter spilling out and the good smells of the buffet supper. It was the aroma of food that drew Joe from the roof through his tower and onto the rafter, down to Clyde’s desk, scattering papers, and down the stairs—where Dulcie and Kit and Pan were already working the room. Striker and Courtney sat obediently on the mantel, sniffing at the good smells.

Casually Joe finessed a hand-offered snack here, then crab salad on a paper plate, a slice of chicken. A stack of small paper plates stood on the coffee table. The Greenlaws were there, and Wilma, and Max and Charlie; the four senior ladies had arrived, and a dozen officers including detectives Davis and Ray, both with cameras to take wedding pictures. John and Mary Firetti came in, Mary carrying Buffin on her shoulder.