"Where the hell are you?" Harper's voice was ragged. "If you saw him fall, you know what happened."

Harper didn't ask who this was; he knew the snitch's voice. "How did he fall?"

"His cell phone's lying on the roof where he fell." Joe hit end call and flipped the phone closed. Quickly carrying it back where he'd snatched it, he laid it in the gutter. Cautiously peering over, he smiled.

He returned to Dulcie, still smiling. "He's down there curled up and groaning, holding himself like he hurts bad." He glanced back with longing at the abandoned phone. He'd always wanted his own cell phone; but sensibly he turned away. "Let's get out of here." They headed away fast, before the cops arrived. Maybe the department could trace the numbers Slayter had called; most likely it was Luis's cell number.

"What will happen," Dulcie said, "when the cops see those scratches on his back and face? What will they think? What will Harper and the detectives think?"

"What can they think? Come on, Dulcie, it's getting late." The sun, in its low southerly journey, reflected a last path of flame over the western sea. It would be gone in a minute, and the winter sky would darken fast. And as evening fell, so would Luis's marks fall.

And so will Luis's men, Joe thought, smiling. If our luck holds. But behind him, Dulcie hadn't moved. He turned to look at her. "Come on!"

She stood staring down at the street, her tail lashing. "Chichi! It's Chichi. She's headed for the Gardenview, fast. She…" The tabby's eyes widened. "She knows something happened to Slayter!" She looked up at Joe, wide-eyed. "Was it Chichi he was talking to? Or was she with Luis when Slayter cut out, did Luis send her to find out what happened?"

Paws in the gutter, Joe watched Chichi, torn between following her and hurrying on toward the blasting music and crowded streets where the action would be coming down.

"Go on," Dulcie said. "You know those officers better than I do, you can spot them easier. I'll follow Chichi."

"Too dangerous. You…"

"I'm not a kitten, I'll stay out of the way. Go on." And before he could argue she spun away, heading back for the Gardenview-but when she passed the place where Slayter fell, and looked over, he was gone.

She watched Chichi hurrying in through the front door, and heard the distant whirring of the elevator. Before Chichi could reach the third floor, Dulcie slipped into the rooftop stairwell and flew down-she hadn't reached the bottom when she heard from below a soft banging as someone knocked on a door. Again, harder, a fist pounding. Dulcie paused in the small utility room. Insistent banging, just outside. And Dallas Garza's voice.

"Police. Open up. We need to talk with you, Slayter."

With a shaking paw she pulled the door open a crack. Three uniformed cops stood in the hall with Garza, to either side of Slayter's door. With them was a pale, lean man in a suit, maybe the hotel manager. There was no sign of Chichi. She must have fled the minute she saw the law enter the building. Maybe she doubled back to tell Luis?

Would Luis call off the operation? Oh, that would be too bad, after all Harper's planning, after bringing men in from other districts. If Luis and his men left town and no arrests were made…

Dallas pounded again and shouted. When there was only silence, the hotel man handed him a passkey. Standing against the wall, Dallas unlocked the door and kicked it open.

Crouched between the ice dispenser and a soft drink machine, Dulcie watched the detective and one uniform enter, leaving the other two standing guard. From down the hall, she heard the elevator descend. Someone else would be coming…

The elevator did not return. But suddenly Chichi came hurrying around the corner from the stairs-maybe she rang for it, then ran up, too impatient to wait. She paused at the open door, watching Dallas and the uniforms.

Frightened that she might be armed, Dulcie was about to shout a warning and then run, when she heard Captain Harper's voice coming up the stairs behind Chichi. Dulcie caught her breath, shocked, as the two came along the hall together, talking softly like a couple of old friends.

They entered Slayter's room, pushing the door nearly closed. Now, with the beat of jazz filling the street outside, she could barely hear them. Dallas was saying "… found him lying on the bed, curled up on his side like that, moaning like a stuck pig. He may have broken ribs. The shoulder looks dislocated."

Dulcie crept nearer, peering through the crack into Slayter's room. "Those scratches on his face and back," Dallas said. "Exactly like Hernando." The detective looked at Chichi. But when he said, "You have any idea what could have made them?" Dulcie lost her nerve and fled again, back up the stairs to the roof.

38

On the rooftops, Joe was awash in Tiger Rag and then Tailgate Ramble; if Dulcie were there, her paws would be twitching. He was edgy with worry about her. As he approached the leather shop, he spotted one of Harper's stakeouts, and drew back. But when he saw no action he moved on to the first jewelry store on Harper's list. Molena Point had as many jewelry stores as art galleries, both important elements in the village economy. Tourists loved going home with a painting or a bracelet or necklace to remind them of their bright vacation.

Lingering near the jewelry store was a pair of cops dressed as carefree tourists, mingling with the crowd. No one would notice their sidearms beneath those loose shirts. Most of the officers on loan from other towns had been paired with Harper's men, who knew the streets. He saw Officer Cameron, just up the street, dressed in ragged jeans and a long, loose sweater, her straight blond hair kinked into a curly mop. She limped only slightly from her gunshot wound. Beside her, Officer Crowley tried to ease Cameron's way through the crowd, his big bony hands and the thrust of his muscled shoulders slow and deliberate. His loose denim jacket might hide any sort of weapon, and very likely his camera. The two officers wandered among the crowd, brandishing big paper cups, half dancing to the jazz beat; they paused near two of the selected shops. Above them Joe Grey paced the roof.

He was edgy for the action to begin-and for Dulcie to catch up with him. He missed Kit, too, even though she would be sure to complicate matters. Lucinda was trying to keep her in, said she wanted Kit tucked up safe tonight. Who knew how long that would last? Though in truth, the little cat had seemed worn out, hardly objecting to Lucinda's bullying-grieving over the departure of her clowder. He was thinking hard of the kit, hoping she was all right, when something nudged his shoulder and a dark shape emerged from the shadows, her eyes wide.

"What are you doing, Joe? No one told me! Where's Dulcie? It's happening! Why didn't you tell me! It's coming down," she whispered boldly. "The st…"

Hushing her, Joe shouldered her away from the roof's edge. "Don't even say the word. Come on." He led her into a crevice between two peaks where they could talk. It took him some time to fill her in, twice that to appease her.

"But why didn't you tell me? I could help, I can…"

"That's just it. There's nothing more to do. You've already done more than your share. Without your information, Kit, this would never have happened. If it wasn't for you, the cops wouldn't have a clue! You're already a hero."

"But…"

"We thought you'd like to rest."

She looked at him as if he was crazy; she wasn't buying this. He licked her ear, explaining how worried they'd been about her, how glad that she was safe, that she'd escaped Stone Eye. It took a long time of coddling before she smiled again and made up, and followed him silently across the roofs. They were approaching another of the targeted jewelry stores when they spotted Officer Brennan wandering through the crowd, eating an ice-cream cone.