Linda Welch - A conspiracy of Demons (9 page)

His gaze
swooped
around
as if he thought he’d spot her
.
“So you have three of them now.”

“She’s visiting, said she’ll leave tomorrow.
” I twin
ed my fingers together. “But if she agrees to stay a little longer, we could maybe use her.”

“
Use her how?”

My mouth twisted. “
We can plant her at Provo PD.”

“You asked her t
o help while we were in England,
”
h
e retorted obstinately.
He pushed back in the chair.
“As I recall, she gave us nothing worthwhile.”

“
My fault
. I didn’t brief
her properly on what we wanted.” I leaned over my knees. “If I give her specific instructions, we can take her to Provo tomorrow on the pretext of bugging them for information, leave her there and pick her up the next day.”

“You cannot trust this to a ghost.”

My breath burst out as a tiny
puh
!
“
Yeah
? How many shades have we trusted to solv
e an investigation? Tell me
,
because
I’ve lost count.”

He stared at me for a moment, then his shoulders
set in hard lines
. “What time do you want to leave tomorrow?”

“I thought eight
, if she agrees to do it
.”

He rose up. “Do you want to drive, or shall I?”

“
Whatever
.” I stood.

“I have things to do.” He went to the door.
“I’ll
pick you up
at eight.”

And
off he went
.

Deflated, I sat on the bed again.
Why did he
act like this?
T
he shades who helped
us provided
an invaluable service and he knew it, yet at the same time he hated my relationship with them, especially with Jack and Mel. And now Carrie.

I decided to eat before talking to Carrie. Having spent years in the Hart and Garter Inn, their kitchen and restaurant, and eating establishments in
other
parts of the world, I didn’t think my cooking supper would entertain Carrie. But she stood with Jack and Mel as I
got a frozen chicken pot pie from the freezer, slit the top crust with a sharp knife and put it in the microwave.

“How long does it take?” Carrie asked. “Is it any good?”

Head ti
l
t
ed up hopefully,
Mac sat by my ankles.

“About eight minutes. Yeah, it’s good.”

She bent over the carton. “Chicken Pot Pie. Why is it called
a pot pie?
It’s not in a pot
, unless you call the little foil thing a pot
.
”

“
They p
ossibly
were originally
in iron pots
,
” Mel said.
“But some food historians think the pastry wasn’t meant to be eaten. It was
a very thick
container for the filling,
meant to preserve
it
for quite a long time.”

My, she sounded pompous.
“Really?” I said.

“Yes. Or
people lined
po
ts or skillets
with pastry
so food didn’t taste metallic.” She
averted her face
. “I’m not as stupid as you think.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,
” I protested. Scatterbrained, yes.

“She heard it on T
he History Channel,” Jack said
in a dry voice
which made me imagine his eyes rolling
.

I peeked through the microwave’s glass door. The crust had browned and sauce bubbled through the slit. It smelled wonderful.

“I remember my first microwave oven,” Carrie said. “
S
o fast, but after a while eight minutes seemed too long to wait. Funny how quickly we ta
ke things for granted.
”

“Like you do, going all over the world,” Jack said.

Carrie
’s hands spanned her
hips. “
Don’t start that again
, yobbo.”

“Yobbo?
If I had any - ”

“
Don’t
get into it, you two
.
”
I reached for a glass from the top cabinet. “
I
can’t take it right now
.”

Their silence felt sullen
. Trepidation daunted me by the time I took my pie, fork and glass of
water
to t
he table.
Jack and Mel would not take my
request
well.

“
Not much of a holiday, this,”
Carrie
said
. She sat across the table from me as Jack and
Mel returned to the television.
“I’m bored.”

“What do you expect,” from Jack. “Nobody invited you.”

“Let Tiff take you outside. I’m sure someone will be along soon. With luck they’ll take you far, far from here,” Mel added.

If
I could get them alone, m
aybe I could talk Jack and Mel into being more accepting, or make Carrie more sympathetic to what they were going through.

“
Don
’t worry, I’ll be gone tomorrow,
” she said
.

“Er, Carrie, can you hang on another day?” I blurted.
“I could use your help.”

Jack and Mel simultaneously gasped.

I couldn’t tell them about Lynn b
etween mouthfuls
- it would take forever -
so I pushed my plate away. It still took a long time be
cause I had to relate what they knew about Lynn but Carrie didn’t.

I
outlined
what I wanted her to do
and added,
“This will
be intense, Carrie. Can you handle
it?”

“What?” Jack shrieked, abruptly at my shoulder. He raked his fingers through his hair. “This is too much! First you bring her
in
our home, now you’re taking her out on a jaunt!”

Mel slapped the back of her hand to her
forehead. “Oh, the betrayal.
”

Carrie sat up straight. “Don’t be silly. This is work.” She fixed her unchanging gaze on me. “I can do it! A real police investigation. I’m so excited. Don’t you worry about a thing, love. I’ll keep my eyes peeled and ears open, I’ll stick to the detective
s
like glue. Nothing will get past Carrie Wood.”

We left the house at seven forty-five
. Instead of watching for Royal from the house, or waiting on the porch, we ambled along Beeches
.
On the brow of the hill, when I knew Jack and Mel couldn’t hear us, I drew Carrie’s attention to a commemorative bench on the grass
behind
the sidewalk.
“Carrie, we need to talk.”

We sat side by side
,
then
she leaned nearer. “That sounds ominous.”

I smiled slight
ly. “
I didn’t mean it to
. We haven’t had
a chance to chat in private.”

“It’s about your Jack and Mel, isn’t it
.
Honestly, how
do you put up with them?
”

“
They are
possessive of me, but
we are fond of one another
although it may not come across as such.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I’d know
n
they were here. They’re like the rest, they hate me because I can do what they can’t.”

“They envy you. It’s natural, Carrie. If you were in their position, you’d understand.”

She tipped her head up. “I don’t have to be in their position to understand, and I sympathize. But what am I supposed to do? Stay in one place when I needn’t?”

“
All I’m asking for is
tolerance
and patience. If they get nasty, don’t sink to their level, it makes
matters
worse.”

“Bu
t I haven’t sunk to their level!
” She sniffed. “Although it’d be easy.”

“You haven’t, but as you say
, it would be easy.” I shifted on the bench
. “I’m trying to avoid it getting that bad and you can help by being the adult when they act like kids.”

“All right,” she responded grumpily. “Are you going to give them the talk too?”

“I will
, bu
t I wanted to speak to you first.”
I sighed.
“You were getting along well for a moment there
.”

“Until you asked me to go to Provo with you.”

“Yeah. Bad enough you can go where you want to, I had to make it worse by soliciting your help.”

A big engine purred up the hill.
“
Sounds like Royal
.”
I rose up.

Carrie sounded much happier. “I am excited, Tiff.”

“I can tell.” I
stepped to the curb
. “
R
emember why you’re there. I’m relying on you.”

Royal pulled alongside and leaned over the passenger seat to open the door.
He looke
d impossibly gorgeous in a pale-gold shirt, long black leather coat, black jeans and those sexy brown cowboy boots.
Carrie slipped into the back seat as I climbed in.

“Bloody hell,” came from the
back seat
.
“He couldn’t
get
any sexier if he tried.”

He leaned in, but pulled b
ack before our lips could meet.
“Is she here?”

“Of course I am, darling,” Carrie crooned.

“She’s in back.” I took
his
face between my palms and brought him in for a kiss. I took my time with it, too, and ignored Carrie’s comments. I didn’t hear her as more than a murmur, my senses consumed by Royal’s intoxicating scent and his lips
on
mine.

She raised her voice. I vaguely heard her declare, “Do you mind!”

I released him and he sat back, smiling. “And a very good morning to you, too.”

“Nothing like starting the day off right,” I agreed.

He eased the big machine into the street.
W
e
went
left and headed for University Drive
.
Carrie oohed and aahed over the old, once-stately mansions
as we
drove
the
secondary
street
s
.

“My niece came to America.
She
went to
some
historically significant
places, but all she
said is
it’s not really old, is it, as if that made them less
important
. I told her age doesn’t matter, it’s still history.”

She rattled on.
“Look at this!
The buildings look
Wild W
est if you ignore the cars and m
odern signs. Ooh, look at that -
was it a saloon once upon a time?”

I glanced to t
he side. “A
hotel
, I think
.”

I passed the time by giving
her
an abbreviated version of
Clarion’s history
. The organize
d gambling parlors and brothels,
s
trip joints and opium dens
. The local Mafia, assassinations, murders. How decent people
avoided
downtown
and it went into decay until the 1980s when the Clarion Restoration Society started raising money for renovation and t
empted specialty stores and
restaurants to move in.
Today
it is Clarion’s entertainment
Mecca
.

Royal’s mouth looked tight.

I walked a fine line,
talking to s
hades when Royal
hung out
with me. Since meeting him I ha
d gone from hiding my abilities, to declaring he had to accept I came with baggage and
would not
pretend they weren’t there, to trying to be sensitive to his feelings. I mean to say, not every guy c
an
tolerate
hearing his girlfriend have animated conversations with thin air.

I talked freely to Carrie now.
I wanted her in a good mood
, cooperative
.
I’d
try to explain
to Royal
later when Carrie
had gone on her way
.

After an uneventful drive through Clarion,
we circled
the lake
and
drove
down Fork Canyon,
where
we merged with traffic on the I-15 and headed south toward Salt Lake City.
The Great Salt Lake and Antelope Island stretched
along
west of the highway.
Carrie kept up a one-sided conversation,
asking
questions and answer
ing
them herself. Fine with me.

“Is that an amusement park? It is, by golly!” she enthused as we drove past Farmington. “Can we stop there on the way back? I haven’t been on a ride for donkey’s years.”

“It’s closed for the season.”

“Oh bother. Well never mind. I remember the last time I went to an amusement park. I was a tiddler. They had one of those huge gravity drums. I don’t think they were called that, but you know what I mean.
You get inside, it spins
and you’re sucked against the wall.
Well, I was plastered to it, didn’t dare move, but all these little lads were scrambling like spiders.”

“Damn!” Royal
eased off on the gas. Traffic
had
backed up
.
“Road
-
works.
We can avoid it on the way back.”

After inching along for seven minutes,
he
took the Centerville exit
where we
turned south along
South Main
. We rejoined the Interstate at Bountiful.

“This reminds me of Switzerland, all those houses up on the mountainside,” Carrie said.
“Not that I’ve been there, but I’ve seen pictures. I expect you have, haven’t you? Perhaps
I’ll go to
Switzerland
next
.

“Some parts of France
near the border
look like this. You should visit France, it’s an experience.
Although
it would be quite a journey for you, as bad as going to England, not just a trip on the ferry or through the Chunnel. My neighbor Margaret took the Chunnel all the time. Not me, I told her! All that water pressing down. They tout the safety but I ask you, what if. . . .”

At the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to Provo PDs squat, concrete building, I
pretended to talk to Royal as I spoke to Carrie. “You r
emember what to do?
”

“
Yes. I latch onto D
etective Stirland or Detective Haney, because obviously I can’t go with both of them. Unless they’re together all day and night, which I doubt. But I am not going into a Men’s room, if you want that you can think again. I suppose if they’re on a watch
amacallit, a stakeout, they’ll -
”

“Carrie!”

She
humphed
at me, then sighed. “I go everywhere with
either
one
of them
.
I listen for anything they say about your friend Lynn and
read everything I can see. Case file. Autopsy report. Anything. If you leave
today
without seeing the detectives, I stay here, hitch a ride to the
Criminal Investigations
D
epartment and find them. You’ll pick me up tomorrow afternoon. I come outside,
head
right and go to the next block.
What’s a block?
”

“
W
alk to the
next corner and cross the alley
.”

“I suppose
lots
of people come in and out of a police station. I should be able to get
in
there.”

“I hope we can take you in
and right to the detectives.”

T
he air felt
heavy and
sullen
in a pale, cloudless sky
, and too warm for this
time of year. Maybe a storm headed
this way
.

A prickle ran up my spine
, tickling my
consciousness
, almost as if we were being watched
. Spinning
in a circle
, I surveyed the street. My words came out softly.
“Royal, someone has eyes on
us.”

People went about their business on foot and in autos. Nothing and no one looked suspicious, out of place. Yet the sensation of watching eyes lingered.

“I do not see or sense anything.” Royal put his arm
along
my shoulders.

“I don’t
k
now
either
, but. . . .” I clamped my lips together irritably. I felt something, I knew it,
though
not
now.

We walked up the steps and
in
the precinct building. I stood at a big window
and looked at the street
as Royal went to the desk and
spoke to the officer on duty.

He joined me a minute later.
“They
wi
ll let us know
.”

We moved to a long, narrow leather seat. Carrie stood behind us. We were not there more than five minutes
when
the officer beckoned to us, then
flipped one hand to indicate the stairwell
.

The
precinct
was new territory
so
we
followed signs at the top of the stairs
and were soon in
the Criminal Investigations Department
. I probably could have found it by the noise. You hear a
contradictory
kind of sound, where officers and detectives talk on the phone, assist p
eople and question others. Jocularit
y
laced
with tension, casual banter and sharp tones.

A homeless man grasped
two large shopping bags filled with old clothes in
one hand as he gestured wildly at a detective with the other. A heavyset man in his fifties wearing a brown boiler suit sat beside a desk with hands cuffed in front of him. Two teen girls with red-rimmed eyes sat with a female detective.

“It looks like NYPD Blue,” Carrie said.

“The old cop series? You got it on British TV?” I murmured from the side of my mouth.