Kiss Them Goodbye (30 page)

“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m stickin’ to you, Spike. I need you. I think it’s a good idea to bring in Cyrus—and Madge—but first we should go over a few things on our own.”

He barely stopped himself from saying
Oh, yeah.
Wendy arrived, her cheeks pink and her eyes filled with light. “Boa’s still asleep. He just wants to be a baby. Vivian said how it’s difficult for kids to be all on their own so she’s gonna see what she can do about it.”

Spike held his breath.

“She’s gonna talk to someone and see about getting a boy doll brother for Rosebud.”

O
lympia Hurst, Ellie decided, needed to be set free from her mother’s ambitions. Ellie glanced at her from behind the counter and caught her, once again, lost in thought. When Olympia wasn’t trying to either shock or impress, her expression became vulnerable.

When he’d dropped in earlier, poor Bill had made the mistake of sitting with her again and trying to make conversation, but whatever he’d said hadn’t pleased Olympia and she had moved to another table. He’d shrugged at Ellie and grinned before making a fast getaway into the square.

Ellie couldn’t help but wonder if an unhealthy rivalry between Susan Hurst and her daughter, at least on Olympia’s side, accounted for Olympia’s petulance around Bill. Susan and Bill seemed comfortable together—some said too comfortable although Ellie didn’t see anything wrong with their friendship. But it could be that Olympia had a girlish crush on him and felt her mother was in the way.

For more than an hour Olympia had sat alone, staring. No other customers remained in the shop.

“Can I top up your coffee?” Ellie asked.

Olympia breathed deep through her nose and slowly focused. Before she had time to slap on another pout, an absent smile turned a beautiful face into pure sunshine.

Ellie took a coffeepot to Olympia’s table. “Little more?” she said.

“Oh, no, thanks.” Olympia checked her watch. “It’s past closing time anyway. I’d better let you lock up.”

Digging, she produced some bills from the pocket of her shorts and got up. “I need to pay for these, too.” She had picked up several magazines, all of them on interiors and furniture.

“You’re interested in houses?” Ellie said.

“I want to be an interior designer,” she said. “If I ever get to do anything
I
want.” The pout reappeared and the girl fiddled with the ends of her hair while she waited for her change.

Ellie locked the shop door behind Olympia and sighed at the prospect of another evening alone. Recently her old fear of the dark had come back and she dreaded the hours awake in her bed, straining to hear noises. During the day, logic told her the rustling, the sounds of breathing, were only in her head. Logic lost its comforting power once night fell and the time came to turn out the lights.

All day, since the discovery she’d made that morning, Ellie had kept busy and tried not to think about the sick way she’d been threatened. The memory of the defaced photo brought her fist to her chest. Muscles in her thighs ached.

Even before she became a teenager, Ellie had decided marriage wasn’t for her but lately she’d wondered if it would be nice to have someone special in her life.
Maybe. As long as special meant good. Ellie had seen too much of the other.

She pushed her hair away from her damp forehead. The shop was cool, but waking up bad feelings and breaking into a sweat went together.

Balanced on a shelf between jars of loose candies, a little radio filled some of the silence with Dr. John singing “Such A Night.” Ellie sang along while she washed Olympia’s mug and moved food into the refrigerator.

Outside, a deep quiet had fallen on the deserted square as businesses closed. Joe Gable’s army-green Jeep still stood under a twisted sycamore tree growing from a space in the sidewalk. Dust coated the vehicle.

Ellie liked Joe. He came in for coffee each day and she found she looked for him and his friendly banter. Joe went home to the place he shared with Jilly, but one day, and probably soon, he was bound to marry someone and move out.

Every female head turned at the sight of him. He would never look at her in that way, even if she wanted him to.

She didn’t want him to, not really, he was just a convenient man to daydream about.

Her final duty before going up to the apartment was to replace unshelved books left on the table and chairs at the back of the store.

One day she’d have proper sliding ladders in the shop, but until she could afford them, a sturdy aluminum stepladder did the job and got plenty of use each day.

A slow, pinching roll in the pit of her stomach restarted the sweating. “Silly, silly,” she told herself aloud. How long should it take a grown woman to bring baseless fears under control? Would she ever stop being scared of dark places where she couldn’t see all the cor
ners clearly? Places like the cupboard she’d been into many hundreds of times for the ladder?

Spike told her she’d done the right thing in reporting about the books and the photo. He’d kept them to see if any fingerprints could be what he called “lifted” and told her to be “aware” at all times.

Aware? Every muscle in her body hurt from tension. She was never comfortable unless her back was where no one could get behind her.

The unshelved books could wait until the morning. And why not consider taking Ozaire up on his offer to find her a puppy? He said he had connections and could get her a good price on a German shepherd.

Under other circumstances she’d get a mutt, a stray, but a well-trained guard dog was what she had in mind. She smiled, thinking she felt more enthusiastic about most dogs than she did about almost all men.

Joe’s Jeep passed the shop. Ellie had neither seen nor heard it until she glanced out and saw the rear of the vehicle passing out of sight.

The buildings at this end of the square emptied out entirely at night, except for when Bill was in the cottage behind the shop—which didn’t change a thing for Ellie—or Samie Machin came home to her apartment upstairs. Samie had a friend in town, another service wife and often spent nights with her.

Ozaire would be at the Rosebank fete tomorrow and Ellie would give him the go-ahead on the dog at once.

She had no place to go, no one to go to.

Self-pity wasted good time.

A door at the back of the café led to a vestibule with an exit to the yard that separated the main building from the cottage. Stairs to the upstairs apartments rose from the same area. Ellie went into the vestibule and locked the shop behind her. Bill and Samie used an entry from an alley beside the building when they were late.

Halfway up the stairs she heard the phone ring in her apartment and ran the rest of the way. She dashed in and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

A dial tone sounded. It shouldn’t disappoint her so to miss a phone call. She waited, giving the caller time to leave a message on the machine. The red light started to flash and Ellie punched the button.

“Hi there, Ellie,” a cheerful male voice said, “sorry to miss you. I was hoping you were free to spend the night with me.”

The night? He must mean the evening.

The familiar voice wasn’t completely clear and she couldn’t think who it was, darn it.

“Call me back and let me know if you’re in the mood for some fun.”

How could she call him back if she didn’t know who he was?

“You know the kind of fun I mean, but maybe I can help you make up your mind.”

Ellie prickled all over.

“Don’t turn chicken on me now. I can see your face and you’re getting scared. You never have to be scared of me. All I want is to spend time with you and show you all the things you’ve been missing. Stop shaking now. There’s no one but me to see you, so why bother?”

She shook her head. He couldn’t see her, he’d just anticipated her reactions to what he said. “Don’t listen. Turn it off,” she said aloud.

But she couldn’t follow her own orders.

“Energy is what it’s all about,” the voice went on. “Energy and pain—now don’t go all shocked on me again. I’m going to help you make up for all the sex you haven’t been getting. A woman with tits and an ass like yours can’t be allowed to waste herself.”

Ellie trembled. She had hurried into the apartment
and grabbed the phone without turning on the lights or closing the front door.

“Relax. Call me. I’ll be right over to fuck you to heaven. One thing, Ellie, if you tell anyone about this call, you’ll suffer. I won’t be half as gentle with you. This call can’t be traced. I’m near you, Ellie. Do you like knives as much as I do?”

She tried to scream but couldn’t make a noise. The message was over but the phone rang again and she picked up, praying it would be someone else.

Dead air. Silence, then the faint click of someone hanging up.

She dropped the handset. “Call Spike.” The sound of her own voice, even though she panted, helped fill the silence.

“Number. What’s his number?” This wasn’t an emergency so she couldn’t dial 911. “Where’s my telephone book? Where is it?” She kept her leather-bound book on the table beside the phone but it wasn’t there. “Put the light on, idiot. You’re overreacting.”

“Is this what you’re looking for, Ellie?” A man spoke from close behind her, and thrust her leather-bound book in front of her face. “Ah ah ah, don’t turn around.”

At last the swallowed scream let loose. Her eyes closed and she shuddered with the force of the terrible sound through her throat.

He was here with her; standing behind her in the semidarkness. He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her neck and forced her head forward, twisted the hair until she dragged in sobbing breaths.

“Shut up, bitch.”

The voice blurred.
He’s speaking through something.

Still using her hair, he pulled her upright and wrapped an arm around her waist. His breath was hot on her neck. “Forget calling the law. They already have suspicions about you.”

“Let me go.”

Again he tightened his grip on her hair, and again he shoved her head forward, shaking her while she cried out.

He walked with her doubled over, trod on her heels with each step until she yelped and hopped, trying to avoid the crushing sting in her ankles. With a final shove he cracked her shins into the couch, toppled her to kneel on the seat and landed her face on the back.

“Now listen to me carefully.” He slid one knee on either side of hers, trapping her with his weight. “If you make the mistake of doubting what I say, you won’t get a second chance to do as you’re told. Understand?”

She gave a muffled “Yes.”

“I won’t forget what I promised you.” He was erect and pressed himself into her bottom. “Mmm, mmm, a sweet ass. No, I won’t forget.”

Ellie retched. Her stomach heaved and her throat constricted.

The man laughed. “Getting overexcited? Don’t vomit unless you want to drown. Tomorrow you’ll go to the Rosebank fete and you’ll smile. You will be happy, the life of the party. And you’ll wait for a signal. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“You will know when the signal comes. You will feel it and act at once. Spike will be near and you’ll ask him, privately, to go with you because you have something to show him.”

He wasn’t going to kill her. No, he wanted her to do something for him. Laughter bubbled in her throat.

“Tell him things got out of hand. Take him to the pool. That’s all you have to do.” Tugging on her hair, he raised her face from the couch. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, but what will I say when we get there?”

“Nothing. You won’t need to say a word.”

Ellie sweated. The sickness would not pass. “Then what should I do?”

“You’ll know what to do. You’ll remember that I’ll be watching you, even though you don’t know who I am. You’ll know that you must not mention me or this cozy meeting.”

“But—”

He thumped her face on the couch again. “Do as you’re told,” he hissed in her ear. “Nothing more and nothing less. If you make contact with Spike Devol before the fete, I will have to make sure it’s the last time you disobey me—or anyone.”

“D
oes Homer always go out at night?” Vivian asked.

“Nope.”
Like just about never.
“He does get together with his buddies now and then. He’s probably like the dead man at the feast. What I don’t understand is why he decided to stop by and see your mother—and take Wendy with him.”

“Don’t you?” Vivian raised her chin. “I think you do. I think Homer’s decided I’m not so bad and he’s figured out how close we are. He’s giving us time on our own.”

After supper Vivian had insisted on shooing Homer and Wendy away and doing the dishes. She stood at the sink, rinsing glasses and turning them upside down in a drainer.

“Homer doesn’t believe in newfangled gadgets,” Spike said. “Like dishwashers.”

She felt his eyes on her back. “I’ll have to make sure he sees a commercial one when we get it put in at Rose-bank.” The conversation might be light, but Vivian grew more tense with every word. Spike could as well be running his hands over her body.

“Stop that for a minute, will you?” he said. “I’ll finish it up later.”

Vivian looked at him and wiped her hands dry. “What’s up?” He wasn’t just being polite and she took her seat at the kitchen table again. When she crossed her legs, he watched, his lips pressed together.

From her ankles to her hips, hovering too long on her breasts and finally arriving at her eyes, he made a visual tour that dissolved her insides. “There’s so much it’s hard to know where to start,” he said. “I’ve still got a connection or two in Iberia. I managed to find out something that was bugging me. The kisses.”

“Gil didn’t have one.”

“He could have. Maybe it got messed up and faded is all. The mark on Louis wasn’t made with blood. The murderer used a stamp—probably carved in a piece of cork—and shiny red lipstick.”

“Why bother?” Vivian said. She locked eyes with Spike and saw a reflection of her own revelation. “More theatrics. The rose, the so-called kiss.”

“Like he’s trying to pretend he’s something he’s not,” Spike said. “Making a profile to hide behind.”

“The flower and the kiss are hokey,” Vivian said. “Amateurish.”

“Uh-huh, but the way the perp uses a knife is surgical. He’s a pro. I think we’re dealing with someone who’s had a lot of practice…or a lot of training. Could be he’s well-known in the business but hopes he’ll be mistaken for a nonprofessional.”

This was stuff Vivian expected to read about in the paper, not encounter in rural Louisiana. “Training makes it sound like you could be talking about someone from…I don’t know, special forces? I can’t imagine some guy covered in mud and wearing camouflage crawling around Rosebank.”

He gave her a grim smile. “Have you seen anyone
crawling around? No. But two people have died there, apparently in daylight. And there’s no suspect in custody. Would it be so way out to think this was a professional job?”

“Like a hit?” Vivian said softly.

Spike rubbed his jaw. “Hell, I don’t know, but anything’s possible. What I wouldn’t give to find that stamp.”

“I bet.” Hashing over the details sickened her. “I doubt if he’s going to make that easy for you.”

Spike looked sideways at her and his gaze flickered again. The atmosphere between them, still and tinder-dry, smoldered. “I have to make sure this guy doesn’t kill again, Vivian. I only hope I can. It would be easy to decide both murders were part of an isolated incident and start to relax. But why only them? Why any of this? There could be another killing at any time.” He shook his head. “And you and I didn’t imagine being pushed into Bayou Lafourche. Then there’s the Martin boys. They won’t just go away.
Hell.
”

She pushed her hands across the table and Spike held her wrists tightly. “Ellie Byron had a nasty shock early this morning,” he said.

Vivian sat straighter. “I was going to talk to you about Ellie and what Detective Bonine said about her. He warned me to stay away from her but didn’t tell me why.”

“Bastard,” Spike said. “He was snoopin’ around at the station, supposedly waiting for me, when Ellie turned up. I wasn’t there so she poured out her story to Lori. He doesn’t have a clue what it means but if Errol can keep all of us away from her, he will.”

“What happened?” Vivian asked, with the too familiar scrunching in her stomach again.

Spike’s eyes were narrowed and he stroked his thumbs absently back and forth on her wrists. She
jumped at the sensation. He gave her a lopsided smile and her own lips parted in response. Spike said, “Bonine doesn’t have the right to step on my turf and start giving out orders. You’ve seen how he behaves when the shoe’s on the other foot.”

“Deal with that later,” Vivian said, only too aware that Spike was doing the natural male thing and protecting his territory. “Ellie? What about her?”

Spike knew Vivian was right to make him concentrate, not that they weren’t both aware of how the tension between them complicated that. His job was to keep people safe and now that there had been this incident with Ellie in Toussaint, the danger was no longer “somewhere else.” “Fortunately Bill Green made her go to Cyrus—she wouldn’t speak to me right off—and Cyrus took her to the station.”

He told Vivian Ellie’s whole story, sparing nothing, especially not the puncture made through her photographed body.

“It’s so scary,” Vivian said when he’d finished. The tale had shaken her. “Poor Ellie. I don’t like thinking about her being there alone tonight after going through that. Why would someone do that? I wonder if it was something to do with my uncle’s books.” She told him a story of how Ellie and Guy Patin had been friends and finished by saying Ellie thought a book intended as a gift for Vivian had been stolen. He didn’t make a big deal out of her not telling him earlier.

“There could be a connection, couldn’t there?” she said. “Maps of the area with Ellie’s photo. And a layout of the Rosebank estate? The house, you mean, or the grounds?”

“A lot of detail of the grounds?” He thought there must definitely be a connection. The big break could be coming and his job was to make sure it wasn’t at Ellie Byron’s expense.

“Lordy,” Vivian said, with a sense of foreboding. “The
fete.
Wazoo’s fete is supposed to be tomorrow? She and her friends have been busy arranging it so Mama and I wouldn’t have any extra pressure. I keep forgetting about it. Did you?”

“Uh-huh.” He surely had forgotten and it seemed to him that with the Patin women’s new windfall, they wouldn’t be needing raffles and dunk tanks in future. “That’s a lousy idea right now. Anyway, Bonine and crew won’t go for it.”

“Apparently Bonine thinks it’s a great idea and says he’s going to drop in—with that poor Frank Wiley. Mama says word’s out it’s going to be a real extravaganza.”

“In other words, Bonine thinks it’s a fine idea to have scores of people destroying any last hope of finding useful evidence. He’s never behaved as if he really wanted to solve this case.”

Vivian was annoyed at herself for being too preoccupied to think about the fete. “It may be wisest to carry on tomorrow. Could be the best way to convince people what happened is under control—even if it isn’t. Morgan and Susan should appreciate that. They hate living next to a crime scene.”

“True,” Spike agreed. “You might think folks wouldn’t want to be at Rosebank after what’s happened but I kind of think the ghoul factor will make sure there’s a crowd. Do you know if Ellie will be there?”

“I’m sure she will.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s never alone.” Damn it to hell that he’d be out of his jurisdiction again, and that he didn’t have some trained people to use as off-duty eyes. With luck Cyrus would be there and Mark, Bill and Joe would keep their eyes open once they were asked. He’d even swallow his pride and have a word with Ozaire if necessary.

“I must get home and be with my mother.” Vivian got up.

“Homer’s there,” Spike reminded her. “And Gary Legrain. I’d say Charlotte was real safe.”

“This guy wasn’t someone passing through,” Vivian said. “He’s under our noses, I only get more convinced that he is.”

One of the many things he liked about Vivian was her logical mind. “That makes two of us.” But he surely did like many things about Vivian. He’d like to take her apart and explore some of those right now.

She smiled at him but her features tightened. He saw the instant when a total, sexy awareness wiped the worry from her eyes. He couldn’t breathe so regularly himself. Wildness hovered between them, barely in check. He narrowed his eyes and reacted to an erotic recoil. His thighs came together hard and he dreamed of being naked—with her.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen for us,” she said breathlessly, coming to his side of the table. “But the fates were smiling when they sent me your way.”

Vivian put her arms around his neck and kissed him, a sweet, maddeningly gentle kiss before she pressed her face against his neck.

Spike stroked back her hair and ran his hands over her shoulders. She smelled wonderful—and tasted wonderful. He took her by the waist and began to sit her on his lap but she pushed away. She smiled at him with anything but gentleness in her eyes. “If I sit there, we could get carried away.” Slowly, she slid her hands from his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms. He caught hold of her hands but, still slowly, she pulled her fingers free. “I’m goin’ to finish up the dishes and get home.”

“I doubt it,” he said in a low voice.

Tossing her hair from her face, she backed away. He forced himself to wait, to give her a few moments to feel in control.

Standing in front of the sink, Vivian dried dishes and reached over her head to put them away in cabinets. Spike enjoyed seeing her supple body stretch, and the way her dress skimmed higher over her hips.

He got up quietly. They’d lowered the blinds, so she wouldn’t see his approaching reflection in the windows. Sneaking up behind her just as she lifted a pile of plates over her head, he reached around her and tweaked her nipples.

Vivian wobbled and said, “Don’t do that. I’ll drop these.”

“Oh, I’d just advise you to concentrate on the plates. Those are Homer’s favorites.” Rocking his hips forward he settled the hardest part of his body between the cheeks of her lovely bottom and kissed her neck. She smelled warm and all woman. She smelled like dark places and wet skin, slipping and sliding.

By the time she’d managed to push the china on top of several other pieces, he’d delved under the neck of her dress, under her bra, and cupped her breasts. With his thumbs he made circles over the ends of her hardened nipples and she acted as if her legs would fail.

Rid of the dishes, she tried to swing around. Spike wouldn’t let her. “I knew you could do it,
cher
,” he said, holding her right where she was with her back to him and nibbling at an ear. “You are so talented.”

“You cheat,” she said, her voice husky. “You waited till I couldn’t do anything to stop you and took advantage.”

“And you hate it?” he said, pinching her nipples while her hips rocked back and forth. “Okay, I won’t do that anymore. I’ll do this instead.” And before she could make a move to stop him, he pulled her skirts up around her waist, leaned to keep her from moving and ducked to run his hands up the backs of her smooth thighs and over that rounded bottom. A white thong didn’t cover
a thing, as far as he could see. Spanning her ribs under the dress, slipping the bra undone so the weight of her breasts rested on his fingers, he kissed each cheek, turned his face, opened his mouth wide and felt his mind bathed in a muskiness that turned it dark and hot.

“Stop it, Spike!” She wiggled suddenly, violently. “What if Homer and Wendy walk in?”

“They won’t. Homer knows I’ll let you drive me over there, then the three of us will come back at the same time.”

“Shut up and love me,” she said. “My God, I want you.”

For a slender woman, she had a lot of strength. He didn’t try very hard to stop her from wrenching to face him. She clamped his face in her hands and kissed him like a madwoman, until he returned the attack.

He stumbled and they clutched at each other, slammed into the table and spun away. They reached a wall, not that he knew what wall. But the lights went out and he hadn’t touched the switch. Vivian laughed deep in her throat. His shirt buttons parted company and she wrestled his belt undone.

“Whoa,” he muttered, although he wouldn’t change a thing.

He unzipped the back of her dress and pulled it from her shoulders. She shucked off the bra and managed to shimmy the whole mess down and kick it aside.

Vivian fastened her mouth on his and her hands shook so she couldn’t manage his zipper. He did it for her but had a moment’s anxiety that he might let everything go before he’d satisfied her.

“Wait,” he muttered, tearing his lips from hers. He spun her slick body around and buried his face in her neck again. He stalled for time, even a second could mean everything. His butterfly touches on her breasts
drove her wild. He pushed a knee between her thighs to steady her.

She leaned against him and rested the back of her head on his shoulder—and he pushed her breasts together while she moaned.

Sensations and instinct carried Vivian along. She raised her arms and locked her fingers around his neck. Her all-but-bare bottom pressed against his penis and it pressed back, thick and straining.

With the heel of one hand he smoothed hard down her belly and pushed his fingers between her legs. She breathed faster and faster and repeatedly dipped as if she would collapse. Spike smoothed deep with teasing strokes that flirted around the edges of where she really wanted to feel him. Restraint cost him plenty but he played on, occasionally closing his hand over her mound and applying pressure until she gasped and tried to make him move back to rub between distended lips.

He didn’t make her wait much longer, he couldn’t. He trembled with the strength it took to hold back. His fingers slid into place and he increased his speed until she arched back against him and climaxed. She hadn’t completely stopped shuddering when she dragged his hand away and revolved in his arms again. With her frenzied help, he wrenched his pants down.