Chapter Twenty-four

We made it to the first cedar, a tall, wide pyramid of deeper dark in the night shadows. There we paused a second and breathed hard before dashing to the next giant cone, then the third. We paused behind each cedar briefly and listened.

“Fifty more to go,” Malinda said, and sprinted on with me behind.

That was when I thought I heard a shot. Something cracked in the dark. Then silence.

We zigzagged from cedar to cedar now and didn’t pause. I could barely make out Malinda in front of me, and once Malinda stepped on a limb and said, “Damn,” under her breath. My legs felt wobbly, and weak, as though they’d melt under me. I’d fall, have to crawl. But I’d do it if I had to. Crawl on my hands and knees to get away from this place.

Weeds and briars beat at my legs and I stepped into a wild rabbit’s nest. The rabbit let out a surprised squeal that sliced the silence and scared me so I started shaking. I felt hot and cold at the same time. My chest felt huge, hollow as a balloon. Yet I ran.

The end of the road didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. But it had to be close. We had been running continually downhill. The backs of my legs ached. They felt knotted and tight, being pulled tighter. I’d get a cramp and go down if we didn’t get to the cars soon.

Almost as if Malinda read my mind, she called back, “There. We’re almost there!”

I saw the spiked iron of the gates. The gates were still open, thank God, and beyond them waited the cars, safety and escape. Cramp or no cramp, I could crawl the rest of the way if I had to.

We were going to make it.

I heard Malinda’s footsteps hit the road first, soft thuds, steady … getting there. Getting away.

I climbed the ditch and started around my own car when I ran into someone solid as a brick wall. “Ummpf,” I said, then almost screamed, except the body started to feel warm and familiar and comforting. “Scott. Oh, Scott.”

“Get in the truck,” he said. “Quick.” He hugged me for a moment, then held me around the waist and nudged me forward toward the truck door.

“But … Malinda, where’s Malinda?” I grabbed the cool metal of the door handle.

“In,” Scott said. “Now. She’ll meet us back at the house.”

He turned and headed out the way we’d come.

Scott drove the quiet streets where old trees made sinister shapes around the streetlights. I hugged myself and shook. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Scott pulled me close. He drove with one hand, rubbed my arm with the other. “You’re all right.” He felt so warm and I felt so safe.

I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see me. I said, “Just scared.” The truck felt good, so good, like salt and skin and a sweetness from leather and oiled tools. I sighed and leaned back.

“Relax,” he said, and turned the corner.

In the houses we passed, I saw lighted rooms that looked so ordinary. Comfortable. Safe. Houses that sat in the middle of green yards and looked quiet and normal. Normal, ordinary; good people going about their lives.

I hated Miss Tempie and Rolfe, for the evil they lived in. The ugly evil that had killed Lavinia Lovingood, Father Roderick and had tried to kill me.

Malinda waited at the curb in her Jeep in front of the Dixie Dew while Scott parked in back.

“So what do we do now?” She stood in the drive.

“We get some of Miss Margaret Alice’s blackberry wine in us and pull ourselves together.” He held the door for me and kept his arm around me up the steps and into the hall. I hadn’t even locked my own door. Old habits die hard, or had I locked it and someone had unlocked it?

Scott steered me toward a wing chair and went into the dining room. Malinda took the sofa and dropped hard like something with weight had been suddenly let go. She sank into it, leaned back her head and closed her eyes.

I heard Scott open the sideboard. There was a thunk of bottles and then glasses clinking on a tray.

“When you guys didn’t get back”—he came into the room—“I unlocked the house and waited inside. It started to get dark and I decided your tea party must have included something more unexpected.”

He set the tray on a low table in front of us, poured three glasses, handed one to Malinda and one to me.

Malinda took a deep swallow, the wine staining her lips dark as ink. “Lord, that’s good. Heat it up and I’ll drink a quart, curl up here on this sofa and not go home till next week.”

“You’re not going home tonight, anyway,” I said. “He’s still out there and he may have a gun.”

“Gun?” Scott asked. “Who?”

“Rolfe,” I said. “Miss Tempie’s hired man, hired gun and number one killer. I thought I heard a shot as we ran. I heard metal hit glass. But I was so scared I could have heard anything. Limbs breaking, twigs cracking.”

“Back up,” Scott said. He finished his cordial, poured another and refilled Malinda’s and my glass, too. “Tell me from the beginning.”

Malinda took off her shoes and rubbed her feet. Her skirt was torn and she had scratches on her arms and legs. Her hair looked tangled and wild.

My skin stung from scratches, but I didn’t care. It felt too good to be home. Here with Scott and Malinda, having a normal conversation. Except it wasn’t normal. It was about a murder. Or two. Or three?

“Miss Tempie killed Miss Lavinia,” I said. “She and Verna sat at the table talking about it like last week’s bingo game.”

“It was absolutely unreal,” Malinda said. “Hard to believe. Those two little old ladies … killers.”

“Like something out of Alice in Wonderland,” I said. “The two queens battling back and forth and Miss Tempie lecturing on manners, pouring this god-awful tea.”

“Yik,” Malinda said, and poured more blackberry wine. “And Rolfe was the one who shut Beth into the mausoleum.”

“His hand,” I said. “His hand was bandaged. The one I cut with the X-ACTO knife.”

“Sounds like Ossie DelGardo needs to pick up some people,” Scott said. “That’s the least he can do. You two have done the rest of the work for him.”

Scott left to call Ossie. “He’s probably in bed, but I don’t think this ought to go on a minute longer.”

“And whose bed might he be in?” Malinda started to giggle and couldn’t stop. She bent in the middle, shook her head and laughed.

I laughed, too. The idea of the portly, saintly, sanctimonious Ossie DelGardo jostled from a tryst was too much. “You know something you haven’t told?” I asked.

“Juanita.” Malinda wiped her eyes and lay back limp on the sofa. “He was always checking her locks.”

“Sure he was,” I said. “Just doing his duty.”

“Overtime,” Malinda said, and started laughing all over again. “She makes his lunch on a hot plate in her upstairs apartment.”

“Oyster stew,” I howled.

“Only in the r months.” Malinda screamed with laughter. “Won’t get any next month, will he? Maybe we better leave town, not have to be around with all his nastiness. Bet you been thinking he was just born naturally mean. We don’t know the half of it.”

“Okay.” Scott returned from the hall. “I couldn’t get Ossie, but I got Bruce and he said what you two got would have to be considered hearsay evidence. He said he can’t go around arresting somebody just because somebody said they murdered somebody. He’ll consider Miss Tempie and Rolfe persons of interest and bring them in tomorrow morning, question them, get everything on tape, nice and legal. Meanwhile, he wants you two to mind your own business.” Scott sighed. “And quit bothering the trained ‘professionals’ in this town.”

“Trained professionals! My ass. Underneath he’s really implying who is going to believe a woman crazy enough to start a bread-and-breakfast in a little Podunk town and a pharmacist who trips and falls in slime pits.” I was mad. Mad at myself for even going to Tempie’s tea. Mad at getting involved. Why did I ever think I could come home again? Could anybody, ever?

“Didn’t trip,” Malinda said. “And who told him? Barbershop gab. Blah.”

“That’s Bruce with his hip holster for you,” I said. “And his billy.”

“He’s always got his billy. It’s monogrammed.” Malinda slapped the arm of the sofa. “Carved with snakes to scare the bad guys away.”

“Miss Tempie will go peacefully,” I said. “But they’ll have to wait while she packs her cosmetics bag.”

“Then they’ll be waiting until next week,” Malinda said. “If she puts on her makeup. Oh, that woman and her vanity. Poor old thing.”

“Poor old thing had us next on her little death list,” I said, suddenly sober. “And she was checking us off.”

“I called your mama.” Scott turned to Malinda. “Told her you were staying here overnight.”

“Thanks!” Malinda called back from the hall where she was headed toward the bathroom. “You can make up my bed.”

“There’s four empty bedrooms upstairs!” I called. “Take your pick!”

“Three,” Scott said. “Rupert Murchison came.”

“Oh.” I cupped my hands over my mouth. “I forgot all about him.”

“No problem. I was here when he came. I signed him in and so on.”

“I’m sacking out on this sofa.” Malinda came back yawning. “Right there.” She pointed. “It’s me, my pillow and Miss Margaret Alice’s granny afghan.” She stretched her arms toward the ceiling and yawned. “Go. You two are keeping me awake.”

“And you’ve had a haaard day,” I said. “You mean running for your life just wears you out?”

“I’d rather be worn-out than laid out.” Malinda wiggled her toes, pulled the afghan around her shoulders and curled into the sofa. “Good night.”

I started to get the tray and glasses, but Scott motioned to leave it, come on. Malinda was already asleep.

“I don’t think I can go to sleep that easily,” I said.

“Take a hot bath,” Scott said. “I’ll check your locks.”

I gave a half giggle. “You and Ossie DelGardo.”

“What?” Scott said. “I missed something.”

“Never mind,” I said.

Later in the tub I felt myself smiling. Ossie and Juanita. Funny. I was glad I could laugh about something; that I could be that relaxed. The last few weeks had been tense and unreal, and if I were reading this in a book I wouldn’t believe it. But all this had happened in my little town. I stretched, splashed and unwound, then lay back, closed my eyes and felt myself getting drowsy. The water had cooled, so I ran more hot water and soaked, letting every bad moment of the afternoon slough off. The whole nightmare of me and Malinda running through that decayed castle of a house with that henchman after us, then the drop from the balcony and the mad chase down the driveway with him right behind us. I slid deeper in the soothing water. I was relaxed now.

I was in bed with my light off when Scott cracked my door and leaned his head in. “Sleep well,” he said.

“Wait,” I said quickly. “Wait.”

“Good night.” Scott had one hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t go.”

“Even upstairs?”

“Here.” I sat up, pulled back the sheet and slid over. “Sleep here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

He eased off his jeans and started to unbutton his shirt when he stopped and said suddenly, “I’ll be right back.” He shot out the door wearing a shirt, shorts and socks. Red socks. Were they warning flags? Where was he going and what had he heard?

In a few minutes he was back, under the sheet next to me, kissing me and more. I felt as if he’d always been right there. So right.

He kissed the back of my neck and moved down to nuzzle my shoulder.

“Oh God,” I said.

“Yes,” he answered, his breath warm and moist on my breast.

I pulled him close, closer, until his breath was my breath, his chest my chest, and then he was me.

“Oh my,” I said suddenly. “Oh my goodness.”

“Yes.” He nibbled my ear. “Goodness gracious yes.”