Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 (10 page)

“The right thing. By whose standards? Certainly not mine.” Nightingale sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

Silence filled the room as Chewy waltzed back and forth between them. She flung her abundant tail into the air and pranced around like she was waving
a flag.

“Nightingale, the case isn’t closed, but you aren’t a suspect anymore. You really weren’t much of a suspect
, ever. No one really believed you committed murder, it was a technicality. The ex-wife and all that.”

“Well, just my good fortune to be his ex-wife. So I get punished for that mistake in judgment when I married him.”
Nightingale narrowed her eyes on Bill. “It stinks. And you stink for breaking up with me.”

“Nightingale, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Bill looked pleadingly into her eyes from eight feet away.
“But you also ordered me out of your house, remember.”

Realizing he needed to bridge the distance, he
stood up and moved so he was standing in front of her. “Nightingale, please forgive me. I am so sorry for this mess. Please.”

Bill dropped to his knees in front of Nightingale and reached out for her hand. “Please forgive me.”

It was obvious that he meant what he was saying, but
the demonstration seemed so easy. Apologize, be forgiven and then everything is okay. Too easy.

“Bill, I felt betrayed, like you didn’t believe in me, our relationship, what we meant to each other.” She pulled her hand back. “It was like everything before was just an experience, nothing special. Just a fling.”

“No, no not at all,” Bill insisted. “You know I cared for you, still care deeply for you. It was circumstance, appearances, ethics. Stupid appearances. I knew this would pass and we could resume where we left off.”

“Resume? Oh, right, just pick up from stop and start all over. Okay. Hmm, just how do we do that?” Nightingale looked imploringly at him. “How?”

“Maybe I’ll have to work extra hard to win your confidence back…”

Silence filled the room again as Bill took both of her hands into his, staring at her face. “Nightingale, I love you. I really do. Please, can we put this behind us? I’ve been miserable without you. My days are empty and forget the nights…”

Nightingale stared right back into Bill’s eyes, unblinking. She was thinking hard. What was she to do? She knew she loved Bill and wanted to be with him. Should she take the chance? Would he hurt her again? She turned her head to the side in thought, her eyes catching Chewy as she rubbed up against Bill’s crouched leg. A half smile crossed her face.

“Chewy seems to like you,” she said, facing Bill. “I think she has pretty good taste. After all, she picked me. Okay, I’ll forgive you. But don’t ever do that to me again, understood?”

“Understood.”

“Okay, we can ‘resume.’” Nightingale smiled down at Bill.

He stood up, pulling Nightingale from the couch. “I love you, Nightingale,” he said, kissing her softly on the lips as he gathered her into his arms.

“I love you, too.”

~~

There was an unusual amount of people in attendance at the community supper. Maybe it was the cooler
snap of weather that had brought them out in such quantity. As far as Ralph was concerned, that just meant an increase in tasty food. He loved these events because he didn’t have to pay for a meal out or cook. No one expected a ninety-one year old man to bring something to share. And they really didn’t expect Helen to bring anything, either. Seniority earned some perks in the community.

Alex was strutting around the room, bathing everyone in a radiant smile, as she made her way to the long table of food. Her satisfaction over being appointed to the board was obvious.

“You look quite happy tonight, Alex.” Michael looked at the woman through chocolate colored eyes as they met in line.

“Yes, I am happy.” Alex picked up a paper plate and plastic uten
sils, scrunching the napkin in between. “How have you been?”

“Very busy,” he replied. “It seems I live in my studio lately.”

“That must mean there’s demand for your paintings.”

“Yes, that’s exactly true.” Michael spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate, followed by a chicken breast. “Several galleries are demanding shows within
weeks of each other. That means I have to paint—a lot!”

“That should make you very happy, Michael.”

“Yes, it does. Chloe and I will be out of town for quite a while when the shows begin, staying in hotels, attending openings, dinners.”

He fixed his eyes on Alex as he spoke. She could feel the animal in him emanating through his pores. Chloe was one lucky woman.
“That’s one of the benefits after the hard work,” he said.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Okay, Alex, quit flirting with Michael.” Sheila shot a mischievous look at Alex. “He’s taken.”

“Oh, Sheila! Silly!” Alex blushed unwillingly over the comment. “I’m not flirting. We’re just talking about his upcoming art shows.”

“I know, I’m just pulling your chain.”

Shelia looked especially attractive that evening, dressed a blue dress
with matching low heeled shoes. Her brown hair hung around her face in a becoming bob and her makeup was subtle. She reached up to hug Michael.

“Hi, Sheila,” Michael said, returning the hug.

“When do you and Chloe leave town?”

“In a few more weeks.” He walked toward the tables with his plate and a glass of iced tea. “Which is a good thing. All those skulls turning up has caused some concern.”

“I can imagine it would. What do they think is behind this discovery?”

“All I know is some rituals must have been performed in that place
. I guess the skulls are associated, but I don’t know how.” Michael placed his plate across from where Chloe was seated. “Sheila was asking about the skulls.”

“Oh, yeah, those skulls,” Chloe said. “What a mess that has been,” she said to Sheila. “One was bad enough, then a bunch more showed up.”

“What do the detectives say?”

“Not much. They don’t know why.” Chloe pushed a piece of chicken through her lips.
“I guess this all falls back to when they held some strange ceremonies there. At least that’s what Gladys told me occurred a long time ago.”

“But why skulls minus bodies?”

“Sheila, do I look like an expert in this matter?” Chloe grinned at her friend. “I haven’t a clue. Speaking of weird happenings, tell me what you know about Joe’s death. Do they have any suspects?”

“Well, that’s a bazaar situation, for sure.” Sheila pulled a chair out and sat down at the table.
“So far there are no leads. No one saw anything, no one knows anything. Any time they talk to people in the neighborhood, they can account for their whereabouts, so there aren’t any suspects.”

“How, in such a close community where everyone knows your business, can no one have seen anything?” Chloe asked
.

“I don’t know.” Sheila shrugged. “But the other question is, why murder Joe?”

Chloe gazed ahead at nothing in particular. “Beats me. He was a nice man.”

“Nice man? Where’s a nice man? Let me at him,” Latisha said, catching the tail end of the conversation.

“Joe, we were talking about Joe,” Michael said.

“Ah, yes, he was a nice man,” Latisha acknowledged. “All the good ones are either taken or dead. Well, with the exception of Nightingale’s ex.”

“What about my ex?” Nightingale asked as she came close to the table, carrying her dinner. Bill was directly behind her.

“I was saying he wasn’t a nice man,” Latisha explained.

One corner of Nightingale’s mouth pulled up as she set her plate down on the table next to Chloe. “No, he wasn’t and apparently I’m not the only one who holds that opinion.”

Bill pulled out Nightingale’s chair and the one next to it for himself. All eyes suddenly swept over to him, questioning. Latisha was the first to speak.

“Well,
do
you know anything?” Latisha stared squarely at Bill, her hands resting on both hips.

“Nope,” he answered,
purposely stuffing a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“And you probably can’t say anyway
,” Sheila remarked. “That’s okay, Bill.” 

“Go get some food, Sheila, and come back,” Chloe said, changing the subject. “Put your purse there to hold your  place.”

“Okay, I’ll be back.” Sheila left.

“You mean to tell me that nothing has turned up about that asshole’s murder?” Latisha just couldn’t let it go. “He had a knife in his back. Brad didn’t just fall over backwards and get stuck.”

Bill looked up at Latisha and gave her an offering. “Nightingale’s been cleared of any suspicion.”

“Well, that’s good news.” Latisha took a deep breath, then sighed out her frustration. “But surely you got more than one eliminated from suspicion?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Bill said, swallowing some iced tea. “Are you concerned you’re a suspect?”

“What? Me?” Latisha glared at Bill. “I only worked for the asshole. I
didn’t kill him.”

Stephano came up from behind Nightingale, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders.
He bent around and kissed her cheek. “Sweet lady,” he said.

“
Hola,
” Poppy cried. “Ooh, food looks great!”

Stephano kissed Chloe on the cheek as well. “Greetings, everyone.”

Everyone at the table welcomed the couple and encouraged them to eat.

“Go get some food!”

“The chicken is wonderful!”

“Don’t forget the
mashed potatoes!”

Helen and Ralph watched the young people chattering and laughing several table
s away. “Makes me feel good to see that,” Helen said, pointing her fork at the group.

“Me, too.”

About that time Jorie came waltzing into the hall, swaying to unheard music. She was wearing a scarf around her shoulders to fend off the night air. A smile lit up her face as she walked toward the food table. A very gay smile for someone who had just become a widow, Helen thought.

“Don’t you think she’s a little too happy?”

“I think she’s a little too drunk,” Ralph replied.

Fifteen

Stephano and Poppy held hands as they walked over to her apartment after the community dinner.

“Jor
ie was pawing you,” Poppy said with a pout on her lips.

Stephano didn’t know how to respond, not wanting to fuel Poppy’s jealousy. It wouldn’t take much to ignite her anger
after Jorie’s overly friendly performance earlier.

“I think she was just overly happy
,” he suggested.

“Happy? She was drunk!”

“Well, yes, that too.”

“She grab your butt! In front of everyone!”

That was true as well. Jorie had taken a good snatch at his rear end and squeezed. Everyone had stood, speechless, gaping at the display. Even Poppy’s mouth had hung open in utter shock, which was saying something for Poppy.

“I think I handled things okay,” Stephano said.

Poppy’s eyes swung over to his face as she stood on the bottom step to her apartment. “Why she think she can touch you?”

“As you said, she was drunk, Poppy. We all do crazy things when we’re drunk.”

“Hmm, she better keep hands to self,” Poppy muttered.

Stephano moved both of Poppy’s hands up to his lips and kissed them repeatedly, tasting each fingertip. “You have no competition
, my beautiful lady.”

~~

When Jorie was about to leave, Zach raced over to assist.

“Jorie, would you like me to walk you home?”

“Oh, I drove here.”

Worse yet, Zach thought.

“Let me have your keys and I’ll drive you home.”

“Okay, here,” she said, holding the keys out in front of her as if they were a dangling cat toy. Zach took them quickly from her.

“Where are you parked?” he asked, opening the door which suddenly had become too heavy for her to manage.

“Down there,” she said, pointing along the street.

Zach looked where she had pointed and saw Jorie’s car sitting practically in the middle of the road. Jorie giggled as she took Zach’s arm. “Look,” she exclaimed, pointing to the sky. “The stars are be-uuuu-tiful!”

“Yes, they are,” he said.

Zach opened the passenger door for Jorie and waited until she situated herself comfortably before he closed it. He ran around to the other side, nodding his head at the driver in the truck behind who was being delayed. There wasn’t any  way he could get passed until Zach moved the vehicle.

“Did you eat?” he asked Jorie.

“When?”

“Just now. At the dinner.”

“Oh, that. No. I wasn’t hungry.”