Catch as Cat Can (25 page)

51

Pulling into Don Clatterbuck's, they grabbed their guns and opened the car doors, crouching behind them. Coop dearly wished she weren't in a ball gown.

Rick moved away from the door, running low. He stood outside the shop door, reached over, and opened it. He flattened himself against the building. Nothing.

Coop, keeping as low as her dress would allow, joined him on the other side of the door.

Rick reached in, flicking on the light switch.

No sound. No movement. He ran inside, diving for the workbench. Nothing.

“Coop, come on.” He scrambled to his feet, brushing off his tuxedo.

The door to the safe hung wide open. It was empty.

“Our birdie can't be too far away.” Coop grabbed a chair, placing it under the camera. She turned off the camera, removing the tape inside.

Yancy had set it up, locking the tiny TV playback box in Don's broom closet. Coop hiked her long skirt up, stepped down as Rick opened the closet. They quickly plugged in the small monitor.

“Dammit!” Rick exploded.

A masked figure. A black cloth covering the face, slits for eyes and mouth, wrapped in what could be a black bedsheet or long cloak, it stopped in front of the camera after emptying out the safe to give them the finger.

“I'd like to see his face when he discovers the money's no good.”

“Won't discover that until he gets it in a bright light.” Rick slipped his gun back in his chest holster. “Whoever did this knew we'd be at the ball tonight.”

“Boss, that's no surprise. Everyone's at the ball tonight.”

“Maybe, but we know this—he knows that we're here. I think we've just been suckered.” He sprinted for the car, Coop right behind him. She turned out the lights as she ran out.

“Boss, Boss, I can't run as fast as you.”

He waited the extra twenty seconds it took for her to fold herself into the car. “Coop, I wouldn't give you a nickel right now for Sean's life or Lottie's.”

“We'll nab them.”

“That's not what I mean. One of them is going to be dead.” He peeled out, spewing stones everywhere.

52

Mrs. Murphy stretched herself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Pope Rat, scurrying from the direction of the caboose, carrying a bag of popcorn toward the garage.
“Hey, Tucker, there's the rat.”

Tucker vaulted off the Volvo, racing toward the large, glossy rat.

“She can move,”
Pewter admiringly said.

“Yeah, maybe we'd better provide backup.”
The tiger paused.
“Here come Rick and Coop.”

“You cover Lottie. I'll cover Sean,” Rick ordered as they raced back to the ball.

“H-m-m, Mom's in there.”
Murphy gazed after the dog, who ran after the rat, unwilling to part with the popcorn. Instead, Pope Rat turned and scooted back into the caboose. He had cleverly gnawed an entrance right over the coupling and just to the right of the human-sized door.

Tucker had hit this impasse before, so she ran around and with great effort pulled herself up on the first step and was at the caboose door in the rear, the last thing one sees as the train rides by. But this time it wasn't locked. She pushed it in, surprising the foulmouthed creature who was sitting in front of the wood-burning stove.

Pope Rat bared his fangs. He picked up the popcorn bag, slowly backing away toward his hole.

Tucker stopped for a moment. A gunnysack of money sat in the middle of the floor. Much as she wanted to break Pope Rat's neck she turned and bounced down the steps, running flat-out for the Volvo.
“Murphy, Pewter, the play money is in the caboose!”

“We'd better get Mom.”
Murphy moved toward the main building, great purpose in her stride. They had noticed cars coming and a few going while lounging in the back of the Volvo but nothing had captured their attention as out of the ordinary. Now all three animals wished they had climbed on the roof of the car to see exactly who was driving in and driving out.

The band played old tunes, new tunes. The dance floor was crowded. Rick and Cooper entered the building a few moments apart. Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker followed Cooper in.

Harry, sitting this one out to drink a cup of tea, saw her three pets. “Oh, no.” She got up but noticed Cooper's face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, you never told me about the matchbook.”

“Diego told you the truth.” She scanned the room for Lottie, out on the dance floor with the Marine, much to Aunt Tally's disgust.

“I'm so glad.” Harry exhaled in relief. “All right, you varmints, we're going back to the car.”

She walked out, the three following her much too obediently. As she reached the car all three took off toward the caboose.

“Dammit.” Harry felt the cool night air, wishing she had a wrap. She trudged in her high-heeled shoes, those instruments of torture, to the caboose.

Tucker and the cats pushed open the door, driving Pope Rat back into his hole one more time.

“Nipshits,”
he taunted.

“Who cares about you?”
Tucker's voice carried great self-importance.

Harry slowly climbed the steps, walked into the caboose. Her eyes took a moment to focus, adjusting to the dim light. She then saw the opened sack. Kneeling down, her knees cracked. She winced, reached in, retrieving a neatly bound stack of one-hundred-dollar bills.

Holding them close to her eyes, she whistled. “The fakes? Jesus.”

Slipping one fake bill into her cleavage, she hurried back to the ball. She had sense enough not to burst in. A few people called to her, she smiled and called back. Her entourage followed behind her, Murphy in the lead.

Fair came up. “I've been looking for you.”

“Fair, Cooper is on the dance floor. You can push through that throng better than I can. Will you bring her to me? It's important.” She lifted the hundred-dollar bill from her cleavage.

“I guess it is.” His long strides carried him to the dance floor in a second, although he had to dodge an amorous nymph.

Cynthia Cooper, dancing with the Reverend Herb Jones, kept Lottie in her field of vision. Rick, dancing with his wife, did the same with Sean.

Fair whispered in Coop's ear, she hesitated, he whispered again, she thanked Herb for the dance, disengaged as subtly as possible, then joined Harry, who showed her the money.

Coop tried to catch Rick's eye but he was glued to Sean. “Fair, ask Lottie to dance. Keep her tied up,” Cooper ordered the vet. “Tell Rick I'm going to the caboose.”

“I'll go with you,” Harry happily volunteered.

“You keep Lottie tied up.” Fair didn't want Harry in danger. “Coop, I'd better go with you.”

“I'm not asking her to dance,” Harry stubbornly said as she pushed a none-too-compliant Fair toward the dance floor.

The two women hurried out, the animals again going with them, but before Fair could reach Lottie she had quietly disengaged from the Marine, walked behind the band, and walked out the back door. She saw the animals and humans going to the caboose. Looking over her shoulder, Lottie walked to her car.

“Over here.”
Tucker excitedly circled around the gunnysack in the caboose.

“What is this, Grand Central?”
the rat complained from his quarters. As he had finished the popcorn his mood was improving considerably. The only reason he was taking the popcorn to the caboose in the first place was that he was tired of the music, of hearing the humans. He had resigned himself to staying in the caboose until the obnoxious pet threesome left him in peace.

Harry, a step behind Coop, knelt down beside her. Neither one had a flashlight but Coop fished a lighter from a small hidden pocket on the side of her dress. She clicked it on and the cheap plastic light shot out a long flame.

“It's our little bag of tricks all right.”

“You think he knows it's fake?” Harry asked.

“I don't know but whoever threw it in here didn't lock the door, either because they knew this money was worthless or because they didn't have the key.”

Moving at a slow trot, Fair came out of the main building. He scoured the parking lot, finding Lottie as she opened the door to her car.

“Lottie.”

“Fair, you getting your exercise?” She smiled.

“I was hoping you'd dance the next dance with me.”

“Of course.” She put a fresh pack of cigarettes in her evening purse, closed the door, and walked back with him.

Back at the ball they started to dance when the band stopped. Jim Sanburne strode up to the raised dais, taking the offered microphone from the lead singer.

Thomas groaned in BoomBoom's ear, “Spare us a long-winded speech. I hear enough of them.”

“As mayor, I will say a few words. I'm never too talky. Now if Little Mim, as vice-mayor, gets the mike we might be here for a while.” He winked at Little Mim as everyone laughed.

“I'm going to slip out for a smoke.” Thomas kissed her on the cheek, stood up, then adroitly moved along the edges of the crowd until he walked out front. He inhaled the cooling night air and reached in his pocket, pulling out an aromatic Portages cigar.

He could hear Jim laud the charity's director, then continue. “I am grateful for so many of you coming to support Building for Life. Those of you who have attended the Wrecker's Ball in the past know that anything is possible . . .”

“Footsteps,”
Mrs. Murphy warned.

“Come on.”
Tucker nipped Harry's ankle.

Harry opened her mouth to chastise the corgi when she, too, heard the crunch of footsteps on the pea gravel. Putting her finger to her lips she motioned for Cooper to follow her. They quickly opened the door on the coupling side of the caboose, grabbed the long iron handrails, cold now as the temperature continued in its plunge, and swung themselves out, Harry flat against the caboose on the right side, Coop on the left.

The footsteps passed them, the metallic steps vibrating as the individual stepped up onto the back platform, then opened the door to enter the caboose.

Mrs. Murphy and Pewter jumped down with ease. Tucker hit the ground with an
oomph,
rolled over, scratched to her feet, and followed the cats under the caboose as Harry and Coop dropped to the ground. The two women quietly crept along the side of the caboose opposite from the main building. It was even darker on that side.

They heard someone else walk toward the caboose, coming from the direction of the party.

Both women looked at each other. They hoped their feet wouldn't show.

Mrs. Murphy peeped out from under the caboose.
“Sean.”

“I knew it,”
Pewter crowed.

Not a moment later, Lottie's voice called out, “Sean, where are you going?”

Whoever was in the caboose froze.

“For a smoke. Thought I'd walk around the yard.”

Fair walked out trying to shadow Lottie, but it's difficult for a six-foot five-inch man to be unobtrusive.

Lottie turned toward him, “Fair, what's going on?”

“We never had our dance.”

“Oh.” She faced Sean. “For some inexplicable reason I've become attractive to Fair.” This was said with irony.

“May I have this dance then?” Fair persisted.

“Let me smoke a cigarette with Sean and I'll be right back in.”

Fair beat a retreat toward the ball, all the while racking his brain for a place to hide so he could spy on Lottie. Rick, meanwhile, leaned against his car for a smoke, his eyes darting back to Sean from time to time. Diego came out, asked Fair where Harry was. Fair shrugged. He had no intention of helping Diego. Diego returned inside.

“Would you like to walk with me?” Sean evenly asked Lottie. “My first stop is the caboose. I don't believe I've ever showed it to you.”

“That would be lovely.” She raised her voice in that falsely feminine way.

Cooper and Harry heard whoever was in the caboose tiptoe to the coupling door in the back, the same one they used. The door opened and closed but no footfall followed. Whoever it was was hanging on the handrail. The two women looked at one another. Cooper silently cursed herself for leaving her evening purse in Rick's car. A small pistol was in it.

Just as Sean and Lottie reached the caboose steps, Lottie said, “Sean, I'm just freezing. Let me run back to the car for my wrap.”

“I can go faster than you can. High heels.” He smiled, pointing to her feet, then headed toward Lottie's car about one hundred yards away.

No need for her to describe her car. In Crozet everyone knew everyone else's wheels.

With lightning speed, Lottie climbed up the steps, pushed open the door, grabbed the sack, and walked back out again, the sack over her shoulder. She shoved it under the caboose and as she did, she saw Harry's and Cooper's shoes. She started running for her car.

Whoever was hanging on the caboose dropped.

“Thomas!”
Pewter exclaimed.

“No, you don't.” He tackled Lottie just as Sean opened Lottie's car door, unaware of the drama at the caboose.

“The money's under the caboose.” She hissed a whisper, hoping that Cooper would nail him. He let her go. She hurried for her car, Tucker right behind.

Thomas bent down and grabbed the sack just as Coop stepped out from behind the caboose.

“Hands up, you're under arrest.”

He saw Cooper was unarmed, hit her in the midriff with the sack, and tore after Lottie, who pushed Sean out of the way as she was plucking the keys out of her bag.

“Stop.”
Tucker bit her on the ankle.

Lottie howled but managed to shake the dog off, hitting Tucker in the head with her purse. She slipped in the car, slamming the door shut while Tucker barked for all she was worth.

“You okay?” Harry bent over Cooper.

“Stop them,” the tall woman gasped.

They could hear more running footsteps and hoped some of them belonged to Rick and Fair.

Harry, unarmed, heard a gun fire, felt wind by her temple, and hit the ground.

The cats were right with her. A sensible person would have rolled under cars for cover. Not Harry. She ran for all she was worth to the front of the main building.

“What's she doing?”
Pewter kept up with the human. As humans aren't that fast, the cat didn't have to overexert herself, but she was out of shape.

“There's only one way out. She's going to block it.”
Mrs. Murphy knew how her human thought.

“They'll blow through that chain-link gate.”
The gray cat was really worried now. She had visions of Harry being run over and then realized that same fate could apply to her as well.

At the gate Harry rolled it shut, then climbed up on the crane. She sat high in the cab. She could see Sean crawl out of the way, Tucker helping by tugging at Sean's collar, as Lottie started her engine. She was ready to run them both over.

Thomas had sprinted to his car, a Mercedes sports car. He shook his fist as Lottie roared by him.

They would have to drive around the full car lot, around the side of the building, and then out the front drive to the gate.

Rick figured that out. He ran through the cars toward the front gate.

“Push over flowerpots, Pewter, anything to slow them,”
Mrs. Murphy hollered.

Tucker, rounding the corner at warp speed, heard the tiger, and started slamming into the wooden trellis, whiskey kegs, empty, old wooden milk cartons.
“I bit her on the ankle!”
the mighty little dog barked.

Fair Haristeen also figured out where the crisis would be. He, too, was running through the parked cars as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Got it.” Harry fired up the crane, the heavy diesel motor rumbling.

People, hearing the commotion, began to pour out of the building. A few were unsteady on their feet. Those might have thought it was the ghost of Roger O'Bannon, loaded again, creating another memorable drunken scene.

Harry, nervous, forgot exactly which calipers controlled what. She swung the ball over the festooned building, causing those outside to scream and hit the dirt.