In the wind they heard no sound from up the hill, not Harper's voice or Fulman's. Whether the silence portended good, or signaled that Harper was in trouble, they had no way to know. Hauling the bag into the cave, they tried to gauge twenty feet, then to find, in the blackness, a crevice or niche in which to stash the evidence. Joe didn't like being so far beneath the earth. As they moved deeper still, all sounds from without faded to silence.

23

JOE GREY'S paws began to sweat. He'd rather fight a dozen hounds than creep down into the earth's dark belly. He might be a civilized tomcat, might be well informed on many matters, but he was not without his superstitions, not without some deep feline fears. And he did not like anything about Hellhag Cave.

Behind the cats, wind swirled into the cave, snatching at their backsides like a predatory beast, making the fur along Joe's back stand straight up; his every muscle felt as taut as wire cable.

"This deep enough?" he growled around a mouthful of plastic.

"Not yet," Dulcie said, dragging at the bag, and she pushed deeper, into darkness so profound that even their night vision couldn't penetrate; they had only their whiskers to guide them, and their sensitive pads to feel the way, to keep them from pitching over a ledge into empty space. He said not another word until at last she stopped, dropping her corner of the bag.

"Here. In this crevice. Help me lift the bag. Push it here."

"You seem to know the cave very well."

"I've been down here once or twice," she said casually. "There's a narrow slit here. I'm going to crawl in, push it farther back.

"Wait, Dulcie."

"I'll only be a minute. I know this little niche. When the sun's out, in the afternoons, you can see it well enough."

"You don't know what it's like since the last earthquake."

She paused, was so still he could hear her breathing.

"Oh my God," she said softly. "I could have lost the whole package in there."

"I could have lost you in there. Did you think of that?"

She backed out, pushed close to him, and licked his nose. Turning back, they found a ledge partly concealed behind a rough outcropping, and dragged the package up onto it among scattered rocky debris. Harper should find it there, should see its curve of white between the stones.

Their errand completed, Joe raced for the cave's mouth, unashamed, leaving Dulcie to take her time. His paws were sweating; his fur felt prickly all over. He was soon sucking fresh air again beneath the open sky, reveling in the sky's vast and endless space. Dulcie came out laughing at him and gave him a whisker kiss.

Above them, up the hill, there was no sound from Fulman's trailer. They could see no movement, no shadow within the yellow square of the kitchen window. Had Harper arrested Fulman? Arrested him without any sound of battle reaching them in the night?

"Look," Joe said, rearing up. Beyond Fulman's trailer, a large, dark shape was slipping along between the wheeled houses; soon the cats could make out the pale markings of a squad car: the backup that Joe had called. It stopped behind Fulman's trailer. Two officers emerged, silent and quick.

Down the hill, the first two police units were still parked at the edge of the cliff.

"Brennan mentioned a missing person," Joe said. "Maybe those units are part of the search."

"Wonder who's missing," Dulcie said softly. "I hope not a little child." Beyond the patrol cars, to the south, they could see two officers searching below the road along the lower cliff, appearing and disappearing, their flashlight beams swinging through the shrubs; and where a tiny steep road led down toward the sea, the cats caught the gleam of another car, parked among the scrub oak, and saw a flash of light and hints of other dark figures moving. Dulcie started down the hill, wanting to see more-then she stopped suddenly, staring away where the grass whipped tall and concealing.

Something small and dark lay among the blowing stems. It lay very still, no sign of movement, something blackish brown and limp. Dulcie plunged to reach the still little form, letting out a frightened mewl.

She reached in a tender paw to touch the unmoving lump.

She went limp, too, as if all the starch had gone out of her. Joe sped toward her.

Moving to press against her, he saw that it was not a cat at all, not the little stray that Dulcie had surely imagined; it was only a purse, a woman's purse. An ordinary leather purse with an open top, lying in the tall grass.

"Cara Ray's purse?" Joe said, wondering how it had gotten down here.

"No, not Cara Ray's. It's Lucinda's. I thought-"

"I know what you thought," he said, rubbing his cheek against hers. "It's not the little waif. But, Lucinda's purse?" He stood up on his hind paws, looking around them, searching the windy, empty night for a sign of the thin old lady. "She doesn't come up here at night, Dulcie."

Dulcie stretched tall, scanning the grassy verge. "Well, she wasn't at dinner. But even if she was here somewhere, why would she leave her purse?"

"Are you sure it's hers?"

"Oh yes, it's hers. I recognize it, and that's Lucinda's scent-but there's another smell, too." Puzzled, she pushed deep into the handbag, her rear sticking out, her tail lashing, her voice muffled.

"Musty smell. Like mildew." She nosed around, pawed at something-and backed out with a thin packet of hundred-dollar bills clutched in her teeth. Dropping the musty bundle, she held it down with her paw.

"It was tucked into the side pocket. Smells just like the canvas bag." A reflection of starlight gleamed in her dark eyes. "Is this part of the buried money? Is it Lucinda who's missing? Has she run away, taking the money? Or did someone-?"

"Dulcie, Lucinda's not some baby to run away or be lost."

"Then what is her purse doing here?" She looked at him intently-then glanced up toward the cave, her eyes widening, searching the shadows at the cave's mouth.

"There was no one in there, Dulcie. We'd have caught her scent."

"Would we? Over the reek of damp earth?" She looked down the hill at the searching officers, their fights sweeping and flashing, and at the car parked below the road. "Is that Lucinda's car?" She leaped away, was yards down the hill, making for the half-hidden vehicle, when shouting erupted from the trailer above them; she stopped to look back They heard thudding, as if men were fighting-and the crack of a shot. Dulcie dropped, belly to ground.

"Come on," Joe hissed. She crept to him. They slid behind a boulder as, above them, Fulman burst around the end of the trailer, running, swerving downhill straight at them, dodging between the dark bushes.

They didn't see Harper or the other officers. Fulman fled for the rocks where they were crouched and on past them. He careened into the cave as if he knew exactly where to run. Joe sprang to follow him- if Fulman went deep enough, and if he had a light, even if he only lit a cigarette lighter to find his way, he was sure to see the gleam of white plastic.

But Fulman stopped just inside the cave. Hunkered down, he watched the road below, watching the four officers race up the hill, heading for their cars, summoned by that single shot.

As the two black-and-whites spun U-turns and headed around the hill for the road that led up to the trailer park, Fulman slipped an automatic from his hip pocket.

The cats, crouched six feet from him, had turned to creep away, when Dulcie whispered, "Look"

Down on the road, another car came around the bend from the village, Clyde's yellow convertible, the top up but the rumble seat open, where the pups rode wagging and panting. Before Clyde had stopped, Selig leaped out, tumbled tail over nose, then danced around the car, barking. Clyde parked on the narrow verge above the sea; immediately Hestig jumped out, sniffing at the air, his tail whipping.