Kiss Them Goodbye (13 page)

The heat built, the sweet tension. Spike stroked one of her shins, took his hand beneath the full hem of her dress and continued up her thigh. He shifted her, pulled her legs over one arm of the chair and cradled her head on his shoulder.

The hand on her thigh passed over her hip and around to her bottom.

And still he kissed her, sipping at her lips, breathing harshly, adjusting her until her head fell farther back and they attacked each other’s mouths, flesh crushing flesh.

This was all about sex, nothing but sex. They hardly
knew each other. Vivian turned her face from him and when she resisted his efforts to find her mouth again, Spike ran his tongue around the folds of her ear and nuzzled her neck. “Come on, Vivian,” he said. “Loosen up.”

Loosen up and give him what he wanted, and expected to get? She twisted rapidly and scrambled away from him. She’d been the one to follow him to his home and incite him, but they were going much too fast.

What she didn’t expect was exactly what he did. Spike came after her, backed her to a wall. Tearing away had only excited him more. His eyes, the searing fervor there, shook her.

“What is it?” he asked. “You already showed me we’re on the same page. You want me and I want you.”

She couldn’t argue with him because it was true. “I’m nervous,” she said honestly.

“Shh,” he told her. “You don’t have to be nervous when I’m with you.” He leaned against her and his weight felt better than it should. “I like knowing your legs are bare under that dress.” He looked openly at her breasts and she was grateful he didn’t remark on her not wearing a bra. Her nipples stung and she breathed harder, wanting to be naked and to have him touch her all over.

“It’s going to be good with us,” he told her, pressing a heavy thigh between her legs.

He played with the shoulders of her cross-over bodice and pulled them down a little. “Beautiful,” he murmured, settling his mouth on the place where her right breast began its swell. “So beautiful.” And he used his thumbnails and the texture of the yellow fabric to tease her into forcing herself harder against his fingers.

Any restraint she’d felt vanished. Vivian worked buttons free by touch and passed her hands inside his shirt. Warm, supple skin over muscle and bone. She braced
herself on his shoulders and kissed whatever parts of his chest she could reach. Rocking back and forth on his thigh drove her wild. She pressed a hand into his belly and worked down until she could cup the bulge inside his pants and claw a cry from him.

Spike had agile fingers. It took him little effort to reach her nipples inside the dress and pinch just hard enough to bring her back arching away from the wall. She squeezed him and the wildness she felt in him provoked her. For an instant she released him and pushed the dress aside to reveal her breasts, and Spike grabbed her wrists and held them on either side of her head. His kisses were on whatever bare skin he could find. He fastened his mouth on a nipple, grasped both of her wrists in one hand and reached down to pull her skirts up to her waist.

He was almost savage, but Vivian felt just as primitive. Tiny flashes of caution were quickly extinguished. She unzipped his pants and found her way to engorged flesh. Spike removed his leg from hers and stroked over her panties, between her legs, and she didn’t care that he’d know how wet she was, how much she wanted him.

“Spike.” It was Cyrus’s voice that hailed him from outside Madge’s office.

Vivian jumped and clung to Spike. “Not now,” Vivian whispered.

He smiled at her but his teeth were gritted.

“Spike, sorry to interrupt but something’s happened.”

“Yeah,” Spike said. “Coming.”

But he kissed Vivian again and kept his lips on first one breast, then the other, until the very last second before she eased the dress back into place.

Vivian buttoned his shirt, zipped his pants, but kept right on feeling him until he dragged her hand away and gathered her up in his arms.

“Is it enough for you?” she asked. “The heat and the promise, but then nothing, no completion.”

“Real soon I’ll show you the answer to that,” he told her. “In the meantime, if anyone asks why I wanted to talk to you alone, don’t tell ’em the truth. They don’t need to know I’m going to die by inches until I can bury my interested party so deep in you we may both die happy.”

“That’s what I
don’t
tell them,” Vivian said and her skin felt raw all over. The sensitive and hidden parts of her hurt with the wanting.

“Uh-huh.” He helped her up and made sure they were both respectable. “Tell them we had to discuss the terms of my employment as your bodyguard.”

She blinked. “You’re going to do it? You’ll look into the things Bonine isn’t bothering with.”

“Fortunately I just happen to have my P.I. license from a period when Detective Bonine managed to make sure I didn’t have a job with the department. I’ve kept it up.” He settled his hands on the sides of her face. “I’ll keep you safe. And I’ll keep you happy. We’ll have lots of time to make it really good between us.”

“What exactly does that mean?” She’d never been good at stopping her thoughts before they reached her mouth.

Spike shrugged. “Does it need an explanation? We’re going to have accommodations to make and it looks like that’ll be easy.”

Vivian cooled off fast. “It’ll be easy for us to have sex because you’ll be around Rosebank?”

He caught her by the waist. “You pointed out that what we’ve had isn’t enough. We can’t be alone at my place because of Homer and Wendy. I want to be with you, Vivian. We can get lost together at Rosebank.”

“And you’ll guard my body.” She felt sick, and foolish, and cheap.

“Sounds good to me.”

He was
oblivious.
“Casual sex always sounds good to men, doesn’t it? I’ve embarrassed myself.”

Finally some of the confidence went out of his eyes. He frowned and reached for her. “I don’t understand you,
cher
, but I’m not going to lose you now.”

Vivian evaded him and walked out of the room.

V
ivian walked toward Cyrus with an expression he could only describe as desolate. He noted that her hair was mussed.

She nodded at him.

“I’ll only take a few minutes of Spike’s time,” he said.

Vivian shrugged with a surprised look that didn’t quite come off. “Why should that matter to me?”

Something matters to you very much.
“Charlotte called and wants you to call her back. No hurry, she says.” If Spike had hurt Vivian he would be reminded that Cyrus wasn’t always the even-tempered man he appeared. “I had an idea about Louis. I’ll tell you when I’m finished here.”

She mumbled something that could have been, “yes,” but he wasn’t sure.

Spike didn’t appear from Madge’s room so Cyrus stuck his head around the door. With his hands sunk deep in his pockets and his back to Cyrus, Spike evidently found Madge’s bookshelves engrossing.

Cyrus shut the door behind him and Spike looked over his shoulder.

“What did you do to Vivian?” Cyrus asked.

That got him a short, mirthless laugh and the original view of the back of Spike’s head.

“I don’t know her well yet, but she seemed very unhappy to me. I’ll repeat the question. What did you do to Vivian? Or say?”

Spike ran the fingers of both hands into his hair. “I’m hopeless. I don’t know why, but I am. Somehow or other I offended her. Now I don’t want to talk about it. I want to be alone to figure this out, if any man can figure out what goes on in a woman’s mind.”

“Were the two of you…”

Spike swung around. “Are you asking me if we—?” He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t do that.” So what had he been asking? And why couldn’t he just sit the pair of them down and have a civilized conversation about a very sensitive subject?

He couldn’t. That was it.

“Be grateful you don’t have to deal with this garbage,” Spike said. “They’re nuts. Freakin’ nuts. All of ’em. What did I say wrong, that’s what I want to know?”

“Repeat it and I’ll see if I can figure out what annoyed her.”

“Repeat it?” Spike’s voice rose to a squeak. “Are you freakin’ nuts, too? I’m going to tell you what I said to a woman…You think I’ll repeat what I just said to a woman who matters to me?”

“How much does she matter to you?”

Spike squirmed. Yes, Cyrus could definitely describe the movements Spike made as squirming. He drew up his big shoulders. “She matters. Maybe a lot.” He pointed at Cyrus. “But she’s nuts.”

Cyrus didn’t know what to say next. “I had two calls
while you were in here. By the way, the others in the kitchen figured out there was something going on between the two of you. I could see it in their faces.”

“Two calls?” Spike turned red and got pale under his tan by turns.

“Bill Green says he wants to make some suggestions about how to help the Patins out.”

“I thought I heard you say people shouldn’t interfere in their affairs.”

“That was different. Those people who came here talked about getting rid of Charlotte and Vivian just to make sure there wouldn’t be a hotel next door.

“Bill’s talkin’ about helping them get on their feet, get started. I think we should discuss it with him.”

“He’s horny,” Spike said.

Cyrus managed to clean any expression from his face but he laughed inside. Later, when Spike had a chance to go over this conversation alone, he’d wish he could rework a lot of it.

“Did you hear what I said?” Spike asked. “Did you see the way he looked at Reb Girard. She’s married and six months pregnant for crying out loud.”

“She looks lovely. Relaxed, the way a pregnant woman is when she knows her mate is committed.” It wasn’t a real subtle approach, but it was something.

“Marc and Reb have it together,” Spike said. “We’re talkin’ about Bill Green and what we both saw him do. He looked as if he’d like to jump her bones. Sorry.”

Cyrus didn’t even want to think about Bill’s reaction to Reb when they’d all been at Jilly’s. He considered before saying, “You’re seeing things that aren’t there. I’m pretty good at picking up on anything like that and I didn’t notice.” Might he be forgiven for his lie of convenience.

He didn’t like the quizzical way Spike raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Cyrus said. “What is it? Why the look?”

“You pick up on those things easily, do you? You feel that charge of sex in the air? Geez, I don’t know how you do it. Whaddaya do, pack your balls in ice every night?”

Cyrus wasn’t amused. “Bill will be over later. And I want you to remember he’s a good-hearted man who didn’t want a divorce but wasn’t given any choice. Also, he’s only a man, just like all men—except he also knows what it’s like to be in combat and get decorated for valor.”

He wasn’t sure Spike was buying a word. “Am I out of line if I say a man’s mind isn’t always in gear when he looks at an attractive woman? Don’t
you
ever look first, react, and think later?”

“You’re right,” Spike said, spreading his hands and letting them drop to his sides. “Sometimes I get carried away. I can’t believe what I said to you. I apologize. I’m not myself.”

“Forget it. And don’t say a word to Marc about the way Bill looked at Reb. He puts on a good front but he worries about her doing too much while she’s pregnant. A hint that some guy looked his wife over might just give him a focus for the frustration he can’t do a thing about. Marc’s used to being in control and this one is out of his hands. It doesn’t help that he won’t let go of looking for his sister.”

One of society’s dropouts, Amy Girard hadn’t been heard of in a year. “I think he takes that as it comes now. Hey, Cyrus, I want to seriously apologize for talking to you the way I did.”

“We’ve got more important things to discuss. I don’t want to talk about this to anyone who can’t keep their own counsel, but the other call I got was from Charlotte Patin. Gil Mayes, their gardener, didn’t go home last night. The man’s seventy-two and arthritic. He works as long as he can and goes right back to his place. It was
his brother who called. He lives in the other side of a duplex Gil owns in Loreauville.”

Spike passed a hand around the back of his neck. “People change their habits. Happens all the time. Maybe he went to visit friends, or he could have a lady friend somewhere. He doesn’t have to tell his brother everything.”

“Spike,” Cyrus said. “Gil’s pottin’ shed at Rosebank is wide open. He’s very particular about locking it before he leaves because he propagates stuff in there.”

“He forgot,” Spike said. “People do that, too.”

“If you say so. He also forgot to take his car with him.”

“T
hey can’t find Gil Mayes,” Ozaire Dupre told Homer Devol, sliding a tiny, expensive cell phone back into a jeans pocket. “That was Lil. They got a call at the rectory couple hours ago. Lil say Father still shut away with Madge and Spike…and that Vivian Patin.”

Homer had got back to the store by the middle of the afternoon, but Ozaire had stuck around. Having him to help out sometimes eased the load, but of late he had taken to hanging out at the store whenever Spike wasn’t there and Homer didn’t like it much. The other man behaved as if the two of them were friends, which they were not and never would be. Ozaire had his finger in every pie for miles around and considered it his due to skim the cream off the top of anything that made money. Like fish boiling and party barbecuing.

“You don’t got enough help around here,” Ozaire said when Homer failed to pick up on the gossip from Lil. “I got more time to spare. How about I do the bayou traffic for you? I could run those orders out easy and save you all kinds of time.”

The man never quit working the angles. “We got that under control. But thanks for the offer. Ain’t you got duties at the church? One of these days they gonna find someone who really wants that job.”

“Never you mind about that, I got everythin’ under control.” Ozaire’s shaven head gleamed and his black eyes narrowed to slits. “You hear what I say to you before? You better be listenin’ because this could be bad news for you.”

Homer continued slicing meat for tomorrow’s sandwiches. “I’m listening to you.” But he would not be giving Ozaire the satisfaction of hearing him admit that Spike’s involvement with the Patin girl, and with the trouble at Rosebank, had Homer on edge.

“I don’t know what you’re suggestin’,” he said. “Gil Mayes is missing? Can’t imagine how that would be. But if it is, why is it anything to do with Spike? You don’t like my boy and you’re mixin’ things up for no good reason.”

Ozaire looked wounded. “You know better than that. I’ve always liked Spike. All’s I want is to help you out in your time of trouble. The police already suggested Spike had somethin’ to do with what happened to that lawyer. Made himself some sort of after-the-fact alibi. If Gil’s bought the farm now and they figure this is related to the other one, it’ll only get worse for your boy.”

“I don’t know where you get your ideas.” But Homer didn’t like hearing them. “Spike don’t have a thing to do with whatever happens at Rosebank.”

“Spike’s hangin’ out with Vivian Patin.” Ozaire hitched at his jeans. “Or by all accounts, he is. Lil says you could cut the air between ’em with a knife. Wonder she don’t get shocked when she walks near ’em, she says. Some thinks they only just met but me, I know they been circling the landing strip ever since she came here for good.”

“It’s not my place to criticize another man’s wife, but Lil should zip her lip,” Homer said. “A couple of young sparks can take an interest in each other without nosy folks makin’ somethin’ of it.”

The T-shirt Ozaire wore sparkled, it was so white. All but around the neck where his head just about rested on his shoulders and a ring of sweat darkened the fabric. “She might not look like her, but Vivian Patin reminds me of that Precious Depew. Another one of them women with a way of windin’ a man around her little finger.”

Finally too angry to keep quiet, Homer slapped down a block of cheese and leaned toward Ozaire. “You mad? Precious Depew is servin’ time for kidnapping and that husband of hers is away for a long time. Chauncy Depew is a small-time hoodlum who finally did enough to get himself noticed. Never did have no good examples, Precious, with her mother bein’ crazy and all.”

“Yep,” Ozaire said, showing no sign of offense. “Crazy Oribel,” he said of Cyrus’s former housekeeper. “Did she go off the deep end or what? Wouldn’t be surprised to see Precious back in Toussaint and makin’ trouble one of these days, though. Chauncy, too. He’s mean enough to keep popping through his own slime and starting over again.”

”
Ozaire
,” Homer said, blood pounding at his temples. “You just suggested Vivian Patin, who hasn’t done a thing wrong as far as either of us know, is a sex-crazed kidnapper like Precious Depew. Start thinkin’ and keep your mouth shut while you do.”

A sly twitch completely closed Ozaire’s left eye. “If Spike had to go away for a while, you’d have your hands full.”

There was no keeping a conversation on track with Ozaire. But Homer had all the practice he needed in hiding his thoughts. “Now why would Spike go away? He
likes it here and he’s got a job to do—and Wendy to bring up.”

“You not foolin’ me you dumb,” Ozaire said. “You know what I’m talking about and it isn’t takin’ a vacation or movin’ to another town. I’m talkin’ about spending time at a government hotel.”

He paused to check Homer’s reaction before going on. “And speakin’ of Wendy, that’s somethin’ else you might want to think about. Who’s putting that little girl first, apart from you? She’s already had enough bad stuff. Lil says she’s lookin’ after her at the rectory now on account of Spike’s gone off and left her. Someone took a bunch of cash from the office at the ice plant. Now they just about got a riot on their hands out there ’cause everyone blame everyone else.”

A shade of violet gray crept into the early evening sky. The spots were already on outside the garage and over the pumps. Homer switched on the multi-colored lights around the store roof. They glowed inside plastic Chinese lanterns and were Wendy’s favorites.

His instinct was to close up and go get her but Homer knew better than to interfere with Spike’s handling of his daughter. If the little one was at the rectory, she was safe, no matter how much fuss Lil made about being put out.

“Father’s gone to Rosebank with that Vivian. Madge is along, too. Father and Madge spend too much time together, or so Lil thinks, and she’s in a position to know.”

“That’s not respectful talk,” Homer said. “People should learn to mind their own business.”

Ozaire shrugged. “If Wendy’s papa goes off the deep end, too, she’ll need you even more. You’ll have to make sure she gets what she needs. I heard about some child service of some kind what takes kids away if they don’t think they in a good place.”

The bell for the pumps went off and Homer gave silent thanks for the interruption. He wasn’t a violent man but Ozaire pushed too far. In a fistfight Ozaire Dupre would win, but just hitting him would feel good.

Homer leaned to see who was at the pumps. He and Spike ran a pay and pump operation controlled from the store. A motorcycle cop had dismounted and was talking on his radio. From the bike it looked like the man was from Iberia. The officer finished talking and came in the direction of the store.

“Here come trouble,” Ozaire said in a low drone. “You don’t deserve this after all you done for your family.”

“Can it,” Homer said, an instant before the officer came in, his impressive leather boots creaking. He didn’t bother to remove either his wraparound, bug-eyed black sunglasses, or his helmet. His gauntlets were clasped under one arm. “‘Evenin’, Officer. What can I do for you?”

A brawny hand slapped money on the counter. “Gas.”

Homer figured he could compete with Chatty Cathy. He rang up the amount, dealt with the pump and put the receipt beside the man’s fist on the counter.

“Spike Devol’s place.”

It wasn’t a question so Homer just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Obstructin’ the law’s a bad idea,” the officer said. “I asked you a question.”

Homer weighed just how far he wanted to go with making this punk’s life difficult. “I thought you was just remarkin’,” he said. No point in mixing things up when it could make things tougher for Spike. “Homer Devol,” he said, sticking out a hand. “Spike’s my son and this is his place.”

Rather than shake Homer’s hand, Barker, as his nameplate announced, stuck his right thumb in his belt. “Where is he?”

Homer felt Ozaire’s excitement. Maybe he’d hit him anyway. Even if the satisfaction was short-lived, it would be worth it.

“Where—”

“Workin’.” Homer cut Barker off. “Job’s never done for a small-town deputy with one assistant. Call the office. There’s always someone on the switchboard.”

“This is personal.”

“Oh, you’re friends.” Homer could handle a little thin ice.

“Personal,” Barker said. “Between him and another jurisdiction. They want him in for questioning and there’s a pissed-off detective who isn’t takin’ much more from him. If you know where he is—and we both know you do—you’ll do both of you a favor by giving me the information.”

Homer shook his head and caught Ozaire’s eye. Give the man his due, he was loyal enough and managed to look confused and out of it for Barker’s benefit.

“You won’t tell me where he is?” Barker said, creaking louder. Everything from the leather strap across his body to his belt, holster, boots and probably things Homer hadn’t thought about, creaked as if the man was expanding inside his clothes.

“I don’t know where that boy is,” Homer said, trying a smile. “If you got kids you know you can’t keep track of ’em even when they’re young. How am I supposed to figure out where a grown son is? He’s a busy man, I tell you. I’d help you, but I can’t.” He couldn’t on account of he wouldn’t.

Barker shifted very slowly but Homer braced himself to look down the barrel of a gun. The motorcycle cop pulled on his gauntlets. “You better hope I don’t find out you’re deliberately holding back information.” He turned for the door.

“You’ll need your receipt,” Homer said, holding it out.

Barker took it from him gently enough to send a dart of cold up Homer’s back. Damn that kid of his anyway.

With Ozaire at his elbow, Homer watched while the cop filled his cycle then went through his little rituals of checking this and that, hitching this and that and, finally, kicking off the stand.

“Reminds me of a few of them baseball players at the plate,” Ozaire said. “Spit three times, hitch your jock, kick the dirt twice, hitch the jock again and cross yourself.”

Homer smiled at that.

“Look,” Ozaire said. “I know you think I’m only out for myself, but it ain’t true. We gotta stick together, us natives. We gotta look out for one another. You still gonna argue Spike’s not in any trouble? That boy may be white as driven snow, but someone’s out to get him.”

Like that was news? “Spike can handle himself.”

“But he could be set up,” Ozaire said, his face all puckered. “That might get worked out in the end but it’s gonna take time. I reckon that Errol Bonine—he’s a detective Spike worked with in—”

“I know who Errol Bonine is.” Homer didn’t add,
crooked cop taking graft to look the other way.

“Yeah, well, there’s no love lost between those two and word has it Bonine thinks Spike’s interferin’ in the Rosebank case on account of he’s having a thing with the Patin girl. But it’s more than that. Bonine’s workin’ on provin’ she killed the lawyer and Spike’s tryin’ to help her cover.”

Homer finished wrapping a batch of pastrami sandwiches and stacked them in a refrigerated case before saying, “That’s the second time you told me more or less the same thing.”

“I could help you out, Homer. You not so young anymore.”

“You, neither.” Homer wondered how many others
around Toussaint had heard Ozaire and Lil Dupre’s speculations about Spike and the Patin girl. Just about everyone in town he’d guess.

“I’m strong, me,” Ozaire said. “Constitution of an ox, Dr. Reb say. You and me could make a team, my friend. I’d put some money into this place. I got money, me. That’s between you and me. Suits my purpose to have folks think I’m poor. You gonna need help. I feel it in my bones.”

Homer slammed the case shut, washed his hands, reached for his hat—taking his time over every move. “Gotta check around the place. I’ll be lockin’ the store while I do it.”

“Time like this, you shouldn’t be out there on your own,” Ozaire said promptly and fell in with Homer on his evening rounds.

Strolling, Homer looked at the pumps, then slid open the doors to the garage.

“You don’t do no repair work out here anymore,” Ozaire remarked.

“Never have since we’ve had the place. If someone’s in trouble we give ’em a tow to the repair shop in town.” He was wishing he’d had his wits about him enough to stay out of the garage while Ozaire was around.

Too late.

Spike’s truck with the boiler and the big barbecues for catering backyard parties, took up a good portion of the space and Homer could imagine his son’s reaction if he could see Ozaire openly sizing up the rig.

“I gotta admit it’s nice,” Ozaire said. “Nothin’ but the best quality.”

“Spike doesn’t mess around when it comes to business.”

“No, he only messes around—” Ozaire laughed his neighing laugh and slapped his knees. He shook with mirth at his own wit and pointed a finger at Homer. “You know. The other kind of messin’ around.”

“You got any particular point to make before you go?” Homer asked.

“I told you what I heard about Spike for your own good,” Ozaire said, sobering. “You gotta make plans for the future and since he’s not around much now—it’s not too soon to get on with it. I got me plenty of help with the boilin’. Man can’t do everythin’ himself.”

Homer pretended he didn’t get Ozaire’s drift.

“Wouldn’t be no trouble for me to take on your rig, too. I be more’n fair with splittin’ the profits. O’course, you’d deal with maintenance and gas. Only other thing you’d need to do is give me your contact list to work off.”

Maybe he should get himself a pair of those bug-eyed police specs, Homer thought. Might camouflage whatever made him look like a fool to folks like Ozaire Dupre.

“How come you work at the church?” Homer said. “Man of your means and business expertise don’t need to mow between tombs.”

“Contacts,” Ozaire said, sobering. “People trust you when you’re with the Church. And I meet everyone coming and going.”

Settling his hat low on his forehead, Homer raised his head to look at Ozaire from under the brim. “If you’re patient, I can see them new babies comin’ into the world, growin’ up and maybe thinkin’ you’re okay. But I should think the revenue from the ones goin’ the other way would be about as high as anythin’ you’ll ever make trickin’ us out of part of our business.”