Free Cat Raise the Dead by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

locked up when you’re old, maybe sick…”
    He narrowed his eyes at her.
    â€œMaybe we shouldn’t tell Captain Harper. Maybe not just yet.”
    â€œDulcie…”
    â€œThey wouldn’t keep her in jail until she’s feeble? Maybe in a wheelchair, like the old folks at Casa Capri?”
    â€œI have no idea what the court would do. I don’t see what difference.” He looked at her a long time, then turned his back and crept out of the bushes. Of course they were going to tell Harper.
    He heard Dulcie crawl out behind him. They crouched together, not speaking, looking down the hill where the blue Honda had driven away. Just belowthem, the little family was still planting their trees and bushes. Neither the two adults nor the children seemed to have any notion that their house had been burglarized. That made him smile in spite of himself. The old girl was pretty slick.
    But slick or not, she was still a thief.
    Dulcie didn’t speak for a long time, but at last she gave him a sideways look. “I guess, with the number of burglaries that old lady has pulled off, and all the valuable things she’s stolen, I guess maybe jail will be the last home she ever has.”
    â€œCan it, Dulcie. Let it rest. One look at the old lady mooning over that glittery little dress, and you sell out.”
    He looked her over. “Sisters under the skin, is that it? You and that old lady, two of a kind, two avaricious, thieving females.”
    Her look was icy. “It was a lovely gold dress.” Her green eyes stared him down, her glare as righteous as if he were the criminal.

8
    Dulcie wasn’t much into cars, but she had a keen eye for luxury. The sleek red convertible that slipped by, moving like a whisper down the westbound lane of Ocean, left her gawking, her green eyes wide. The tip of her pink tongue came out, ears and whiskers thrust forward, and she took a little step along the sidewalk, twitching her tail, staring after the car’s beautifully molded rear and sleek black convertible top.
    â€œIt’s a Bentley Azure,” Joe whispered against her ear He twitched a whisker and pretended to lick his paw; there were people around them on the sidewalk, pedestrians, shoppers. “To quote the publicity, ‘the newest, fastest model in the Rolls Royce line’ ”
    They watched it turn at the corner and head back up the eastbound lane of Ocean. Joe’s yellow eyes widened. “That’s Clyde driving. Clyde . Driving that silky beauty. Look at him tooling along—as if he owned the world.” Passing them, Clyde turned into the covered drive of the automotive shop, beneath the wide tile roof of the Mediterranean building that housed Beckwhite’s Foreign Car agency.
    Near the cats, several pedestrians had paused, gawking, as the lovely red car slid by. Joe ducked his head, pretending to nibble another flea. “That color’s called pearl red. That’s Adelina Prior’s new car. Three hundred and forty thousand bucks, paid for by the old folks up at Casa Capri.”
    Dulcie’s eyes blazed in disbelief.
    He gave her a narrow leer. “You hadn’t thought of that, had you? You don’t know anything about how rich Adelina Prior is. That car just arrived from the factory. White leather upholstery, CD changer, inlaid walnut dash, a bar in the back, the works. Clyde was supposed to install her phone; that’s probably why he has it.” He led her toward the shop, adroitly dodging pedestrians, then, crossing Ocean, dodging slow-moving cars.
    But as they trotted into the covered drive, a Molena Point police car turned in, parking just behind Clyde. The static of the police radio made their ears twitch.
    Max Harper stepped out of his patrol unit, leaned into the Bentley’s open window. Neither man saw the cats. The engine of the red Bentley Azure idled as softly and luxuriously as the purr of a jungle cat.
    â€œNice