Kiss Them Goodbye. Stella Cameron
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Wazoo descended to sit cross-legged on the floor with her many-layered dress floating about her. “I feel evil in the house,” she said. “I must stay to protect the innocent.”
“Shee-it,” Errol said with great feeling. “Devol, make yourself useful and call the station for more backup. Wiley’s got his hands full.”
“Dial on the way to the scene,” Spike said, walking out of the door. “You’ll have seen lights being set up when you arrived so you know where it is.”
“I told you to make a call.”
Spike smiled engagingly. “You know the number, I’ve forgotten it.”
He glanced back at Vivian who gave him a pretty encouraging smile for a woman who had a right to feel she’d joined the circus, and he warmed up around the knots of anger that were eating him up.
Chapter 5
Cyrus had pinned Errol Bonine’s partner as a man who would do whatever he was told, but he’d been wrong. As soon as Spike left with Bonine the younger detective withdrew a distance from everyone else. And Wiley, a lithe brown-haired man with a thoughtful face, showed no intention of continuing Bonine’s badgering ways.
Evidently Charlotte had come to a similar conclusion. She said, “There’s hot coffee in the kitchen. Would anyone like some? You, Detective Wiley?”
A smile turned him into a pleasant and engaging man. “I would be forever in your debt, ma’am.” When Charlotte turned away, Wiley said, “Why don’t we all go into the kitchen?”
Everyone, including Wazoo, did as he suggested and Cyrus doubted any one of them resented Wiley tipping his hat to his partner’s instructions to watch over all of them.
Cyrus walked behind Wazoo and when he saw the opportunity, caught her by the arm and turned her gently toward him.
She looked at his hand on her arm. “You don’t wanna do that, God man. Your magic not strong enough to fight with mine. Could be, I hurt you without meaning to.” She looked directly into his face and he realized again that she couldn’t be more than thirty-five or so and without the bizarre getup, she’d be a pretty woman. For an instant her eyes were unfocused, then she said, “Kisses of blood,” and dropped her head back to send up thin moans, “the devil’s work.”
With his free hand, Cyrus moved her tangled hair, revealing a wire running from an earpiece, undoubtedly to a radio hidden somewhere on her person. “Get pretty good reception on that thing, do you? It’s probably a big help to your magic and invaluable when you need to see the exact location of bad news.”
“You don’ know what you sayin’. L’Oiseau de Nuit jest helpin’ out, me. People are grateful for that.”
Cyrus waved her ahead of him to the kitchen thinking, and there goes voodoo’s answer to an ambulance chaser.
Chapter 6
Spitting tacks without moving your face took talent. On the other hand, Spike thought his face might crack if he twitched a muscle, that and he’d start spilling what he thought of Errol Bonine.
“Never saw such a screw-up,” Errol told the gathering in the kitchen.
Spike caught Frank Wiley’s eye and did his best to ease up on the rage when the man winked at him.
“Crime scene folks are out there now. Reckon it’ll take ’em forever and it don’t help that just about every-thin’s been handled.” He eyeballed not Charlotte, but Vivian, and said, “I’m gonna be talkin’ to you and everyone else here for a few hours, then I’ll give you a break tonight but things are gonna get hot and heavy in the mornin’—late mornin’ on account of I got other duties first.”
Drinking and sleeping, Spike thought.
Vivian nodded but didn’t speak to Bonine.
“I don’t want any of you gettin’ the idea I’m thinkin’ you’re a suspect. Reckon all we got here is a random situation and we’ll never find out who did it.”
Spike chewed his tongue. He’d heard Errol spout the same advance excuses for his own incompetence before. A man who just wanted to pose and draw a paycheck didn’t cotton to the kind of hard work that went into successful investigations.
“Could be somethin’ else, but I doubt it. But you—” Errol pointed at Vivian “—you made a lot of work out there with your messin’. Don’t keep me hangin’ around when I get back tomorrow, y’hear? Be here when I need you and say your prayers I don’t have to take you in—”
“Can it, Bonine,” Spike said. Enough was enough. “She’s an innocent bystander who happened on a corpse. Leave her alone.”
“You’re forgettin’ your place, sonny,” Bonine said, smiling in a way that let Spike know the man enjoyed baiting an old enemy he’d decided was powerless. “Keep it zipped or I’ll have to speak to someone in Toussaint. And pour me some of that coffee.”
“Wipe your own ass,” Spike said through his teeth and instantly rubbed a hand over his face. Of all the things to say in front of Vivian and her mother—and Cyrus.
He needn’t have worried about Cyrus, who laughed like he’d bust a gut and said, “Never heard such language before. Your penance is to call for senior bingo next month.”
Chapter 7
The second day
Vivian had debated whether she should tell her mother she’d decided to go to Spike’s place, even if it was two in the morning, and take him the dinner he never got to eat. She needn’t have worried about Charlotte’s reaction because she behaved as if the mission were all her own idea.
A deputy stood guard at the entrance to Rosebank, the driveway was lined with official vehicles and there were floodlights in the area where she’d found Louis. Only the police and the experts were allowed in or out of the main driveway. Since no one paid any attention to the second gate that led from the back of the property to a side road and Vivian’s green van was parked in the yard of the old stable where it couldn’t be seen from the front of the house, leaving hadn’t been a problem.
After five hours during which his partner and a female officer made sure Vivian and Charlotte, Spike and Cyrus didn’t have a chance to talk to one another in private, the hateful Detective Bonine had abruptly stopped his round of interviewing them, one by one. Spike and Cyrus had been dismissed with warnings to “be available.” Vivian and Charlotte were told, “It’s in your best interests not to plan any trips.” Bonine had pulled Vivian aside and said, “I’ll be back,” before scuffing from the house.
Spike had left about an hour earlier so he could only have been home half an hour at most. He was probably looking for something to eat right now.
The rain had stopped and the moon shone clear, even if it was banded with cloud. Driving north into St. Martin’s Parish Vivian tried to concentrate on how much she’d grown to like this quiet place. Visions of Louis, dead in his car, pushed their way in but she moved them aside quickly and found that thinking about Spike’s face took her in a whole new direction.
If she hadn’t been distracted she’d have made sure he took the food with him.
Yeah, and who was she fooling? Seeing the leek pie in the refrigerator and the color-frosted sugar cookies shaped like Raggedy Ann and Andy baked by her mother for Wendy had lifted Vivian’s spirits and made her hands shake with anticipation. That was one convenient excuse to do what she wanted to do: see Spike again. She couldn’t wait to see him.
Up ahead she could already see the black and white sign in front of Devol’s, St. Martin’s First Gas Stop. Store Out Back. The Bayou Provisioners. You Want It, We Got It. We deliver anywhere. And Eats. On the other side of the board,