Then the fingerprinting began, the black powder, the lifting tape, the fingerprint cards, all carefully thought out and calming, techniques that were the result of a wonderful human intelligence.

Humans might be sense-challenged, without a cat's balance and keen hearing and superior sense of touch, to say nothing of the cat's night vision, but the human's inventiveness and mental skills made up for those failures-people might be capable of brutality, in a shocking short circuit of the human spirit, but the best of mankind were still wonderful to observe.

And, she thought, what are we-what are Joe and I, that we can understand the achievements of humankind?

By the time the forensics team had finished, night had closed around the apartment, the black windows reflecting the blaze of lights within, turning the room stark and grim. The coroner arrived, completed his examination and bagged the body, and slid it onto a stretcher. As the paramedics carried it out, Officer Ray collected the last bits of evidence from where the corpse had lain. No one had touched the computer, except to lift fingerprints from the keyboard and monitor. The screen still glowed pale green, etching into the delicate glass the image of a financial spreadsheet.

Max Harper had sent Officer Wendell over to Mavity's cottage to take her down to the station, and patrol units were looking for Pearl Ann. Harper sat with Charlie on the couch, questioning her. "Did you see Mavity and Pearl Ann come up here to clean?"

"Pearl Ann was up here. I could see her through Jergen's bathroom window, probably repairing the towel rack. Mavity was headed for the stairs when I left, carrying her cleaning things. But, no, I didn't see Mavity enter the apartment."

"What time was that?"

"Around three-fifteen, I think. I got to the Blackburns' about three-thirty. I usually take Mavity with me; she cleans while I do the repairs. But today-Jergen had asked for some extras, so I sent her up to help Pearl Ann."

"What sort of extras?"

"Clean the refrigerator, fix the towel rack that had pulled out of the bathroom wall, and repair a leak in the shower. He said he had a late afternoon appointment up the coast, wanted the work done while he was out. Mavity was going to do the refrigerator while Pearl Ann took care of the repairs."

"And did you see his car, before you left for the Blackburns'?"

"I wouldn't have; he keeps it in the garage. I thought he was gone. I…"

"What?"

"I think he must have been gone. Or-or already dead. Pearl Ann had the windows open, and he would never have allowed that."

"You didn't see his car when you came back from the Blackburn place?"

"No. Isn't it in the garage?"

"There's a black Mercedes convertible parked down the street. We passed it, coming up. I've sent Brennan to check the registration and to check the garage."

Officer Ray came out of the master suite to say that the towel rod had been reset and that there was fresh caulking around the bottom of the shower and between some of the tile. Soon Lieutenant Brennan returned. The garage was empty. He had run the plates on the black Mercedes parked down the street. It belonged to Jergen. Harper returned his attention to Charlie.

"What time did you get back from the Blackburns'? Were the two women still here?"

"Around six-thirty. They were both gone. I came up to close the windows, and he-I found him."

"You realize I have to consider you a suspect, Charlie, along with Mavity and Pearl Ann."

"That's your job," she said quietly.

"Was anyone else in the building when you left? Clyde or any other workers?"

"No, just Mavity and Pearl Ann. Clyde hadn't planned to come up. He had a busy schedule at the shop."

"Do you have an address for Pearl Ann?"

"It's that old brick office building down on Valley, across from the mission."

"The Davidson Building?"

"Yes. She rents a room above those pokey little offices. But she'll be on her way to San Francisco by now; she planned to spend the weekend."

"How long have you known about her weekend plans?"

"For weeks. She was really excited-she grew up somewhere on the east coast and she's never seen San Francisco."

"How long has she been in Molena Point? How long has she lived at the Davidson Building?"

"Four months, more or less-to both questions. Said she moved in there the day after she arrived."

"She picked a great place to settle."

"She's very frugal with money. I think she doesn't have much."

"How long has she worked for you?"

"The whole four months."

"Married?"

"No, she's single. And she's a good worker."

"What kind of car?"

"She doesn't have a car-she walks to work."

"What brought her to the west coast? Where does she come from?"

"Arkansas maybe, or Tennessee, I'm not sure. She told me she wanted to get as far away from her overbearing family as she could."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-seven."

Harper made some notes. "Did you and Mavity talk about the sheaf of statements we found in Dora Sleuder's luggage? Did she give you any idea why Dora might have them?"

"We didn't talk, no." She looked at him questioningly.

"Did Mavity keep a gun?"

"No. She's afraid of guns." She looked at Harper, frowning. "But that-that terrible wound… Mavity couldn't… A gun couldn't cause that?"

"So far as you know, she did not have a gun?"

"Well, she might. She told me once that her husband kept a gun, that after he died she was afraid to touch it. She asked Greeley to lock it away for her in a strongbox at the back of her closet. She said her husband had always kept a strongbox, a little cash laid by at home in case of some emergency."

Beneath the credenza, the cats tried to follow Harper's line of thought. Was he guessing that Jergen's throat could have been torn after a bullet entered and killed him, perhaps to confuse the police?

The cats remained hidden until Harper had sealed Jergen's apartment and Brennan had secured the stairs with crime scene tape. When everyone had gone, Dulcie leaped to the desk.

Though the officers hadn't touched the computer, Captain Harper had called the FBI in San Francisco, arranging for a computer specialist to examine the files. The file on the screen said BARNER TAX-FREE INCOME FUND and was in Winthrop Jergen's name.

"How much will the Bureau agent find," Dulcie said, "if he doesn't have Jergen's code? And, more important, if he doesn't have Pearl Ann's code?" She sat down beside the phone. Lifting a paw, she knocked the receiver off.

"Hold it," Joe said. "Harper's still down there. The police units are still out front-they must be searching the building."

"I'll call him when he gets back to the station." She lifted the receiver by its cord, biting gently, and used her paw to maneuver it back into the cradle. Turning, she sniffed at the computer. "The keyboard smells of Pearl Ann's perfume."

"Could be an old scent-she cleans around the desk."

"Cheap perfume doesn't last very long." She took another sniff and then leaped down, avoiding the bloodstained rug. Leaving the scene, the cats were soon following Max Harper through the lower apartments, padding along in the shadows beyond where lights had been switched on and well behind the photographer as he made bright strobe shots of the various footprints that had been left in the Sheetrock dust.

Too bad the department would have to labor to identify each set of prints, procuring shoes from everyone involved. Enough fuss to make a cat laugh, when Joe or Dulcie could have done the job in a second.

No amount of sweeping could eradicate the fine white Sheetrock dust that impregnated the plywood subfloor, and the cats, living close to the earth, knew intimately each set of prints left there: Charlie's and Clyde's jogging shoes, Pearl Ann's tennis shoes, the boot marks of the two hired carpenters, the prints of various subcontractors. Their quick identification could have been a great help to the police. How unfair it is, Dulcie thought, that canine officers can gather evidence that would stand up in court, but a cat can't.