Chapter 38

“Okay, so either I put my job on the line and go along with this scheme of yours, or I’ll lose the friendship of some people I really like.” Spike was beaten. The day hadn’t exactly been relaxing, and things had only gotten more strenuous later. He glanced at Vivian who was sitting with Wazoo, Cyrus and Madge in the upstairs sitting room at the rectory, and suffered a perverse hard-on.

The group mumbled what came out as, “S’right.”

The face Vivian turned to him didn’t help. A sleepy, tense, beautiful face that begged to rest on his pillow in the aftermath of making love again.

She smiled at him and he sank deeper in one of Cyrus’s comfortable old chairs.

He’d called Homer and, after discovering that Gary Legrain had packed up and taken off for New Orleans right after he learned he’d just come into his own law firm, asked his dad to remain at Rosebank till he could get there. Wendy was being put into Vivian’s bed and, so he was told, had suggested he not come for her until after tomorrow’s fete.

Spike sighed. “Wazoo, I think if you’re going to seek asylum with Father Cyrus until the morning, then hotfoot it over to Rosebank to make sure the fete’s underway before you speak to Detective Bonine, I’d better be tied up and locked in a cupboard to stop me from doing my duty and taking you in now.”

Vivian gave an explosive little laugh. “Just what I’ve always wanted to do to you. Promise you won’t fight me?”

He met her eyes. “Would I fight you, cher?” His smile was for her alone. She felt its power and made herself look away.

“All the right notes,” Wazoo announced, staring into space. “The torn note. That’s what Mr. Patin wrote there. All the right notes.”

Uncle Guy had been a wonderful but an eccentric man. Vivian had loved him since she was old enough to know she loved anyone, but tonight she wished he hadn’t had quite such a thing for riddles. “I’ll think about that,” she told Wazoo.

“There is something I think we’ve all forgotten,” Madge said. She’d been quiet since they’d arrived, quiet and watchful. “Did anyone clear this fete with Detective Bonine? Are they going to want dozens of people tramping around the grounds at Rosebank?”

“I thought of that, me,” Wazoo said. “I talk to that rude man but maybe I was wrong about him. He real nice to me this time and say the search at the house is over. Everythin’ happen on the same day, they reckon—Louis and Gil—and now there ain’t nothin’ left to find.”

Vivian wished she felt as sure of that.

“I guess that’s good news then,” Madge said. She shared a couch with Cyrus and he watched every word she spoke.

“Could have been random,” Cyrus said, looking directly into her face. “A robbery gone bad. Someone passing through—apparently two of them working together—could have seen an opportunity to rob Louis but been interrupted by Gil—all without knowing Wazoo was watching. Now they’re long gone.”

“That would mean it’s all over,” Vivian said. “I’d be more than glad but it doesn’t mean they don’t have to find out what happened.”

Spike raised a single eyebrow. “I’m still gettin’ over the idea that there’s nothing left to find at Rosebank. That’s a crock and it won’t wash.”

The door opened and Lil, in curlers, stood there, panting from the exertion of climbing the stairs.

“You should have gone home hours ago,” Cyrus said and Vivian figured he wasn’t pleased that Lil knew exactly who was gathered there.

“Someone has to keep this place runnin’,” Lil said with a pointed glare at Madge. “There’s someone wants to see you, Father. A lady with a question. She come in one of them big, fancy cars with a man drivin’ and wearing’ one of them caps. Never saw her before and she says it’s confidential. Wouldn’t let me help her, that’s for sure. Can I show her up?”

Cyrus got to his feet. “I’ll go down.”

The sight of Wally Hibbs with a large, lumpy sack over his shoulder silenced everyone. He went directly to Cyrus and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

“Okay,” Cyrus said when the boy had finished talking. “Sit down and wait till I get back.” He strode out with Lil behind him and his footsteps pounded down the stairs.

Wally took one look at Spike and immediately dropped his gaze.

The silence stretched.

At last Spike said, “So, what’s in the sack, Wally?”

“Evidence,” Wally said. Nolan Two hadn’t made this trip and Wally, in a baggy brown T-shirt and cutoffs, looked wan, nervous, but at home in the rectory. He said, “Father Cyrus knows the right way to deal with these things.”

Cyrus surprised them all by returning in only minutes. He went directly to a bar he kept locked and took out a bottle of brandy. He poured a measure into enough glasses for everyone present, except Wally. Wally got a glass of lemonade poured from a jug kept in a small refrigerator.

Madge helped Cyrus pass the drinks around.

“Take a good swallow,” Cyrus ordered. “Our waters are muddied even more but this could be a good thing. I’d never have thought of this in a million years but it explains a lot. We just have to stop ourselves from jumping to conclusions.”

Vivian shifted to the front of her seat, almost jumpy with wanting to know what he was talking about—now.

“It would be a mistake to start laying blame where it’s very unlikely to belong,” Cyrus said.

“Stop leading the audience and say what you’ve got to say,” Spike said. “What’s happened?”

“Have some more brandy,” Cyrus said.

”Cyrus.”

“Very well, but remember my warnings. The lady wanted directions. She had two business cards and said it was fine for me to keep one. I told her I wanted it in case someone asked for a referral. I know what you’re going to think but don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Argh!” Madge said. “You’ve already told us that. Cyrus, give us that card or I’ll take it from you.”

That brought a round of chuckles.

Cyrus gave the card to Vivian, who was closest to him. She read, turned cold, and passed the card on.

It finished in Spike’s hands and he whistled. “And you don’t want us jumping to conclusions?” he said.

Madge fell against the back of the couch and blew into a fist. Her dark eyes fixed on some distant picture only she saw.

“I don’t believe it, me,” Wazoo said. “Not that man. Women, yes. Murder, no. There’s a whole lot of woman trouble in this town, but not the other.”

“What does that mean?” Vivian said. Her nerves sent up white flags. She’d had enough intrigue.

“Women,” Wazoo said, unfazed. “We got sexy men. We got sexy women. What you think that means? And we got one mess what nobody wants to know about.”

“Okay,” Spike said. “What’s all this about?”

“Uh-uh,” Wazoo said. “I’m not tellin’, me. I’m in enough trouble. Someone else in this town needs to talk about a married woman who likes to share her tail. Not me. I ain’t talkin’.”

”What?” Vivian left her seat to stand over Wazoo. “That’s it. Please. Who are you talkin’ about?”

“Spike told me not to gossip. God man told me not to gossip. I ain’t gonna gossip. We found ourselves a killer, anyway.”

Cyrus groaned. “What did I say about not jumping to conclusions?”

“What about my stuff?” Wally said in a loud voice. He hadn’t seen the business card. “It stinks. I reckon it’s got compost on it. I think someone dug it up from the heap at Rosebank. Whoever put it there thought it would burn up in the fire, but someone else took it away first. They put it where the bonfire dirt was dumped. Back of the pool.” With that, he reached into the sack and pulled out several pieces of jagged wood. He fitted two lengths together. “See, it says Detour. I got another says Dead End. Somebody wanted them to burn up. Someone else wanted them to be found.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Madge said. “But it’s a clever idea.”

“He more than clever,” Wazoo said. “They the signs that bad man stuck in them big tubs with laurel in them, the ones he dragged around.”

Wally got up and marched in front of her. He turned one piece of the broken board over. “See,” he said. “It was starting to burn.”

Spike said, “Wally may be on to something. Is it okay if I take what you’ve found and have some tests run?”

“Yes,” Wally said slowly. “Don’t it make sense there’s two of ’em. One who tried to get rid of the signs and one who wants to make sure we catch the first one? And the signs must’ve been put there after the cops searched or they’d have found ’em. It’s one of them setups.”

“Sign up that boy, Spike,” Madge said. “Deputy Wally is ready for duty and you’re shorthanded.”

Wally blushed but looked pleased.

Spike held up the card Cyrus had taken from the woman. “So, what do we seem to have here?” He looked at Wally as if he might ask him to leave but Vivian saw him decide against sending the boy away. “Don’t all speak at once.”

Vivian immediately said, “A plastic surgery clinic for people who want the best and don’t want to go home until everything’s healed. Secretive people.”

“Rich people,” Madge said. “Probably famous.”

Cyrus nodded. “The kind of people who don’t expect murders to happen almost under their windows and draw attention.”

“I thought Morgan Link might be a psychologist,” Cyrus said. “Now we’ve really got a fresh mess on our hands.”

“And Link lives right next door,” Vivian said. “He wanders all over Rosebank whenever he likes. He probably knows it as well as we do. And neither he nor Susan ever said a word about opening an elite clinic. They must be desperate to get their hands on our place and make sure it never opens.”

“Morgan Link wouldn’t kill people at Rosebank if he were trying to avoid drawing attention,” Cyrus said.

“Unless he just wanted an excuse to make trouble and make sure Charlotte and Vivian couldn’t go on.” Madge spread a hand. “Who said killers are smart?”

“Wazoo,” Spike said, “could the man you saw with Louis have been Morgan Link?”

She closed her eyes and hummed quietly. “Just a man in a mask.” Her eyes opened wide. “Could be him. About the same size. Might be someone else.”

Vivian didn’t have time for the headache she fought. “A plastic surgeon has to be really good with knives.”

A muffled scream, Wazoo’s, stopped as abruptly as it started.

Spike stared thoughtfully at Wazoo, then said, “You can’t go to Bonine and tell him anything yet. You understand me?”

Wazoo shrugged. “Never can tell what a man will do next. One minute he say if I don’t give myself up, he could be in big trouble. Next minute, he orderin’ me not to do what he said he wanted me to do before.” She threw up her arms and swayed. “Sad, sad, a good-looking man, sexy as they come, and he losin’ his mind. Maybe a devil or two in your brain, sexy man. Maybe we gotta call up some spirits to chase them devils out.”

Spike bent and brought his nose close to Wazoo’s. “And maybe you should start thinkin’ about the possibility that someone could think you know too much. If it should happen that the wrong pair of ears hears about you bein’ a witness to murder, someone with a lot to lose could find out what you know and decide to do some-thin’ about that. So, until our man—or woman—is in custody, you probably won’t be saying a word to a soul.”