Nightwind (26 page)

consume his meal. She grinned when he was finished and he sat down to engage in his morning bath.

“Did I keep you awake last night?” she asked, wondering why he hadn’t slept all night on her bed.

When the feline stopped in its absolutions and peered up at her with a calm stare, she laughed. “I guess I

did, huh?”

Onyx went back to his bathing and Lauren got up from her table to pour the coffee that had finished

dripping into the pot. Carrying her steaming cup to the back door, Lauren opened the panel and peered

through the screen at the sparkling moisture clinging to the shrubs and bushes in her backyard.

“That was some storm last night, wasn’t it, Miss Agnes?” she called out to the little old lady who was

watching her from her own screened back porch.

Agnes Black did not acknowledge the friendly question, but continued to water the plants hanging from

the porch’s ceiling.

Lauren sighed, a part of the brightness of her day stained by the old woman’s rudeness. She jumped,

feeling the furry invasion of Onyx’s body against her leg.

“You ready to go out and about, fella?” she asked and unhooked the screen door.

The cat padded softly down the steps and onto the wet grass then disappeared between the azalea

bushes between her property and the Black’s.

“You be careful!” Lauren called out. She blushed when she realized Agnes Black must have thought she

had been speaking to her for the old lady hurried into her house and shut the door.

There was a knock at her front door and Lauren looked back through the kitchen, puzzling at the dark

form on the other side of the glass. She put down her coffee cup on the table as she passed and pulled

her robe closer around her. Her face mirrored her confusion when she recognized Ben Hurlbert, the new

acting Sheriff, through the lace sheers. Opening the door, she smiled hesitantly at him.

“Good morning, Benny,” she said, having known the man all her life; they had graduated high school

together.

“‘Morning, Lauren.” he said, doffing his hat. “How you doing?”

“All right,” she answered, wondering at the uneasy look on his face. “Has something happened?”

Ben Hurlbert shook his head as he twisted the rim of his uniform hat around and around in his hands.

“No, ma’am, not that I know of.” He looked behind him, flinched when he saw the Atherton’s staring at

him from their front yard. He glanced to his left and seemed to shrink when he saw Henrietta Malone

glaring at him from her porch. He lowered his voice, apparently embarrassed. “I’m sorry to have had to

come over here, Lauren, but your phone wasn’t working.” He blushed. “All the phones are down

because of the storm, but the phone company says they’ll be back on by nine.”

Lauren unlatched the screen door and came out onto the porch as Ben stepped back. “May I offer you

some coffee?”

The acting Sheriff shook his head. “I’ve had plenty; thank you.” He ducked his head. “I was just

wondering if you’d know where I could find Mr. Cree.” He lifted his head and seemed to flinch with

embarrassment. “Ah, Mr. Syntian Cree. I understand you, ah, went out with him last evening.”

Lauren’s heart skipped a beat. “Has something happened to him?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Ben hurried to say. “Ah, not that we know of, anyway. I just went out to his house

yesterday afternoon to speak to him and he wasn’t there. Francine Chalmers said she saw you up to

K-Mart yesterday and that he was with you. I came by your house about ten last night and there weren’t

no lights on. I didn’t want to bother you ‘cause I thought you might have already gone to bed.” His face

turned bright red. “I didn’t see Mr. Cree’s car here so I knew he wasn’t with you.”

“Is he in some kind of trouble, Benny?” Lauren fidgeted with the neck closing of her robe.

“I don’t think so,” Ben answered. “We ran a check on him and nothing’s come up yet.” He shifted from

one foot to another like a schoolboy before his principal. “He came down to the office on Monday, but I

just have some more questions I need to ask him about Beth Janacek.”

Fear ran down Lauren’s spine. “You don’t think he had something to do with her murder, do you?”

“No!” Ben was quick to reply. “He was at Mr. Turnbridge’s as best we can figure when Beth was

killed, but I’d still like to question him a bit more.” He lowered his head. “About his relationship with

her.”

“Have you tried reaching him this morning?” Lauren asked, wishing she could tell Ben there had been no

relationship between Syn and Beth Janacek, but she didn’t know if there had been or not.

Ben nodded. “I went out to the Herndon place first thing, but he wasn’t there. His car was gone and I

thought, well, you know.” He looked away from her. “That he might have come over here to see you.”

Lauren smiled, wondering how many people in town knew she was keeping company with Syntian

Cree. “I haven’t seen him today, Benny, but I’m supposed to have lunch with him. If you’d like, I’ll tell

him you’d like to speak to him.”

Ben sighed with relief. “That would be real nice of you, Lauren,” he said. He walked to the front screen

door and opened it, jammed his hat back on his head of thick chestnut hair and touched the brim. “You

sure do look pretty this morning.”

Lauren’s eyes widened. “Why, thank you, Benny.”

The acting Sheriff blushed and nodded. “You have a good day, now, you hear?”

“You, too,” Lauren answered, too stunned by the compliment to even bid the man goodbye. She saw

him tip his hat to Mrs. Malone and the Athertons then climb into his car and drive away. She was

surprised even more when he looked back and waved at her. She lifted a hand and stood there, with it

raised, until he was out of sight.

Henrietta Malone shuffled back into her house and the Athertons continued on their early morning stroll,

glancing only once at Lauren before putting their heads together as though discussing something of vital

importance.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lauren saw the curtain at the Blacks’ front parlor swing back into place

and knew the elderly sisters had been investigating, as usual.

“I couldn’t carry on a wild affair and keep it quiet in this town,” Lauren mumbled to herself, shocked at

her own words. She hurried inside to get dressed for work.

At a quarter to nine, Lauren stepped off the front stoop of her house and headed down the walkway to

the sidewalk. Just as she turned to her right to head for the corner, she saw Syntian standing on the

Blacks’ front steps, looking up through the screen door, smiling as he talked to whichever of the Black

sisters had answered the door. Lauren stopped, staring at him, wishing he’d look her way. She started to

call out to him, but he stepped off the top step and the screen door swung outward and he entered the

porch.

“What are you doing, now?” Lauren whispered. She heard the second screen door of the Black sisters’

porch squeal open and shut and knew he had been allowed into the old women’s front parlor.

“Gonna be late if you don’t hurry, Lauren!”

Lauren’s head snapped around and she noticed one of the Colton boys who lived down the street

pedaling past her on his bike. He waved at her and she hesitantly waved back. Never once had either of

those two teenage boys ever spoken to her, let alone waved.

“What’s going on?” she asked herself. First, Benny Hurlbert had actually complimented her; now, Trip

Colton had spoken to her and waved!

She glanced once more at the Black sisters’ house then shook her head.

Agnes Black smiledas she held the silver teapot over the gentleman’s cup. “Do you take cream and

sugar, Mr. Cree?”

“Perhaps he prefers lemon,” Anna Black corrected her sister.

“Nothing should be allowed to spoil the blend of the leaves,” Syntian answered. He smiled at the sisters.

“Why ruin perfection?”

Agnes Black’s wrinkled face glowed; Anna Black nodded in appreciation of the gentleman’s good taste.

“Naturally, we prefer it unadulterated ourselves,” Anna admitted. She sipped delicately at the Earl Grey.

“Where is your home, Mr. Cree?” Agnes inquired. She wiped at her upper lip where the strong tea had

clung.

“I am a native Bostonian,” he informed them and watched as the two sisters exchanged knowing

glances. He lifted his cup and took a small sip, smiled his approval and saw Agnes beam with pleasure.

“Of course, I was educated abroad.”

“One can tell,” Anna told him. “Good breeding and a fine education always show.”

“From which institute did you matriculate?” asked Agnes.

Syntian’s lips twitched. “I received my Master’s Degree in music from the Sorbonne,” he said, giving the

university its French pronunciation.

Anna’s face lit with excitement. “The Sorbonne?” breathed, casting a slow, thrilled glance to her sister

“Why, our mother studied there, as well!”

“Did she?” Syntian asked politely. “What a coincidence.”

Agnes hurriedly put her cup down and walked to the Steinway flanking the east wall of their parlor. “Do

you play, Mr. Cree?”

Anna clucked in disapproval. “Sister, really! Mr. Cree is our guest. Allow him to finish his tea.”

Placing his Limoges teacup on the Queen Anne console beside him, Syntian stood up and joined Agnes

at the piano. He lovingly touched the deep shine on the baby grand’s lid. “A magnificent work of art,” he

said, running his hand over the wood. He turned his full gaze on Agnes. “May I?”

Agnes stared into his umber eyes and fell through layer upon layer of fantasy. “Yes,” she breathed,

reaching out to open the piano’s lid. “By all means, please!”

“I don’t know where Agnes’ manners have gone, Mr. Cree,” Anna began as she hurried over to join

them at the Steinway. “She sometimes gets carried away.” She stopped as that devastating gaze fell upon

her.

“Call me Synti,” he said, staring down into the old woman’s creased face.

“Synti,” Anna whispered, her gaze running rampant over the strong features before her.

Syntian sat down at the piano and ran his fingers over the keys. “Beautiful tone and resonance,” he said.

“We have sheet music from every classical composer,” Agnes told him.

“No need,” he said, playing random chords. He looked up and fused his gaze with Anna’s. “What

would you like to hear, Miss Anna?”

“Bee...Bee...” Anna cleared her throat, trying again. “Beethoven?”

Syntian smiled, his smoldering look locking with her confused one. “The Moonlight Sonata?”

Agnes drew in a quick breath. “That’s our very favorite!” she gasped.

He turned that lethal attention on Agnes. “Ladies of discriminating taste,” he complimented and arched

his fingers over the keyboard and began the movement.

Agnes and Anna Black stood mesmerized by the beautiful music flowing from the strong fingers of their

guest. They stared at his face, marveled at how expertly he could play with his eyes closed, his head

thrown back as though he were being transported to another sphere of existence. They took in his

measured breathing, the way his wide shoulders seemed to fill the room, the grace with which his hands

caressed the piano keys to draw forth the breathtakingly beautiful music that flowed with ease from the

Steinway.

“Heavenly,” Agnes sighed, staring at his handsome face, caressing that lean jaw with her fevered gaze,

wanting desperately to touch his glorious hair.

“Truly magnificent,” Anna agreed, allowing her vision to smooth over their guest’s high forehead and

stroke his glossy dark hair.

Syntian did not need to see the faces of the women to know they were beyond where they stood. He

had taken them with him to another world: a world where he ruled and where he decided all that was of

any importance. He was mesmerizing them, carrying them to a place where neither had ever been. His

fingers might have been running over the ivory keys of the Steinway, but to Anna Black, his fingertips

were stroking the high insides of her thigh. He might well have been bringing forth the brilliant music of a

composer without equal, but he was also bringing forth pants of pleasure from Agnes Black’s wrinkled

lips.

Anna was unaware of the trembling hand she reached out to place on her guest’s shoulder. Even as her

fingers moved over his back to caress the thick queue at the nape of his neck, to fondle that silky hair,

she was not cognizant of doing so. Had she seen her face: pupils glazed, mouth slack, face high with

color, she would not have recognized the woman staring back at her with rapture.

Likewise, Agnes was as unaware of her sister, and her sister’s transport into fantasy, as she was of her

own state of excitement. She seated herself beside her gentleman caller and was running the palm of her

arthritic left hand up and down his taut thigh, marveling at the strength beneath the leather of his pant leg

as his thigh muscles tensed and relaxed as his foot plied the pedals. She squeezed his flesh, caressed him,

so wrapped up in her own dream world, she did not know her fingers had strayed to the boldness

between his legs.

Syntian smiled as he felt her stroking him, barely flinched as Anna placed her dry lips against the side of

his throat and kissed him. He continued to play, to draw from the Steinway the music that had so

enthralled the old women. He knew they were supremely oblivious to the fact that he was repeating the

same measures over and over again. He had brought them to this place and was now letting their fancies

run wild, allowing them the dreams they had long been denied.