The Chilling Spree (29 page)

“Which part?”

I shook my head.  “Never mind. 
Not an appropriate discussion for mixed company.”

My gaze had unfettered access to the
attendees.  I scanned for Johnny’s golden head, the broad
shoulders that stood out among the typical giants of Darkwater
Bay.  He was nowhere to be seen.  First thought leapt to
the case.

Johnny was off closing one without me. 
The brain and heart went to battle again.  Heart was happy for
him to close one without my help.  Unfortunately, my brain
always wins these battles, and it never likes being cut out of the
action.

My mother used to tell me that rain was the
tears of angels crying.  Today, their tears pelted the earth
with frozen fury, a relentless torrent of stinging darts. 
Like we weren’t miserable enough with the gravity of our somber
processional.  I had the foresight to bring a large
umbrella.

In that act, I was not alone.  A
symphony of sleet hammered out Ned’s final chorus on a sea of black
canvass.  We made our way from the Expedition through the
bleak congregation of black street clothes and dark blue
uniforms.  The rare swath of gray piping on the legs of our
State Police – out en masse to honor a fallen officer – broke the
ocean of otherwise gloomy color.  Odd that I’d suddenly find
gray welcome.

An empty chair awaited Devlin with the
family at the graveside, deference to his wounded status, I’m
sure.  I took my place behind him and held our umbrella over
both our heads. 

Bizarre observations stabbed my
consciousness.  Why wasn’t the family seated under an awning
of some sort?  Had Dev confabulated when he assured me that
the longest part of this graveside ordeal was getting everyone into
place so the priest could do his thing? 

“Twenty minutes tops.  This nasty turn
in the weather this morning will probably make him want to talk
fast, Helen.”

I gave the dissertation on the creepiness of
this particular ritual, prefaced of course with my awareness that I
was being irrational.

“So what’s it gonna be for you? 
Cremation?”

“Because burning me is a so much more
comforting thought.”

He chuckled and shook his head.  “You
can’t have it both ways, Helen.”

“Speak for yourself.  I’m counting on
science to advance to the point where I can live forever.”

That was pretty much the sum total of our
conversation between Saint Angelo’s and the massive monument to the
dead, Darkwater’s most beloved cemetery.  Sick to think about
it, but a little over a week ago, Ned visited this place to oversee
the exhumation of David Ireland. 

A shiver rippled through me.

Before the service began, I sensed warmth to
my left.  It blanketed me in comfort.  My eyes sought out
Johnny’s.  I held my umbrella high enough to accommodate both
of us.

The priest began the ceremony. Ned’s body
was lowered into the grave, and it seemed that the cacophony of
voices swelled into one great prayer. Latin too. Impressive
Catholics. It was the
Canticle Benedictus
. My Latin is
rusty, but I picked up enough to understand the basic tenants:
redemption; salvation; mercy; remembrance; service to God; prayer
for peace in a time of mourning and loss.

Devlin’s shoulders started to shake toward
the end.  His regret that Ned died instead of him overwhelmed
me.  The fingers of my right hand sifted gently through the
hair on his bowed head.  The man at my side tensed.  I
glanced up, saw the tight, ticking muscle of his jaw. 

What a time for jealousy to rear its ugly
head. 

I shifted the umbrella to my right hand and
threaded my fingers through Johnny’s.  He ignored me. 
Clench, clench harder.  Release.  The angry jaw was
unrelenting.  I tugged his hand against my thigh.

Johnny glanced at me.

My lips formed words. 
I love
you.

Johnny pulled his hand free and moved behind
me.  One arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me against his
chest.  He pried the umbrella from my hand.  “Sorry,” he
whispered in my ear.  “Comfort away, Doc.”

My right hand anchored the one pressed to my
belly.  The other stroked Devlin’s shoulder until the quaking
abated.

“
Grant this mercy, O Lord, we beseech
Thee, to Thy servant departed, that he may not receive in
punishment the requital of his deeds who in desire did keep Thy
will, and as the true faith here united him to the company of the
faithful, so may Thy mercy unite him above to the choirs of angels.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
  The priest closed
the graveside service with one last prayer.

I soaked Johnny’s warmth like a hungry
sponge.  Priest guy could’ve prayed all day and I wouldn’t
have minded so much.  His proximity chased away logic and the
doubts of daylight. 

“Did you miss me at the church?”  The
throng around us gave the gift of time as it leeched slowly back to
the long string of vehicles parked in the cemetery.

“I did.  Something case related?” 
The familiar unwelcome pang of exclusion bristled along my
spine.  I definitely don’t like being out of the loop. 
How that would ever mesh with my alleged longing for retirement
hadn’t occurred to me until that moment.  Why shouldn’t I feel
conflicted about it too?  Everything else in my life had
become a tug of war between what I thought I wanted and what I
ought to do.

“I was talking to Randy and Joanne
Tippet.”

In this instance, it was a conversation I
didn’t mind skipping.  I tensed with what I imagined their
reaction was.  “How delightful were they in person?” I
asked.

“About as Waters predicted.  Think we
can chat for a minute before you get Devlin home?”

“You have to talk to more people?”

Johnny planted a quick kiss behind my left
ear.  ”If I promise to be home at a decent hour tonight, will
I be forgiven?”

“Depends.” The bones that should’ve held me
erect melted into his frame.

“On?”

“Your definition of a decent hour.”

“Early enough to show you in exquisite
detail how beautiful I think your legs are.”  He exhaled a
warm puff of air into my ear.  “Jesus, Doc.  It’s damned
distracting to see you this way.”

“Mmm,” I purred.  “So the next time I
ask you to come inside, all I need to do is show a little skin,
huh?”

“Don’t tease.  And aren’t you the one
who’s always harping about keeping our heads in the case?”

It injected a healthy dose of calcium back
into my spine.  Yes, this brilliant idea of mine that spending
time together would help spark Johnny’s deficient memory was going
like gangbusters.  In light of his reassurance that he’d
rather not remember our past, it disturbed me that these little
things returned with such ease all of a sudden.

“Baby, why wouldn’t you want me to remember
that?”  Johnny’s fingers deftly maneuvered me into position
for an assault from his probing eyes.

“It never made you particularly happy when I
reminded you that this stupid job is my first priority.”  Some
lies are effortless.  Utterly convincing too.

Johnny grinned and thrust the umbrella back
into my hand.  “Chris is helping our houseguest.  I
should probably be a gentleman and pitch in.”

One brow arched.  “I’ll have to listen
to him bitch about how you treated him like an invalid all
afternoon if you do.”

He laughed softly.  “We all have our
duties, I guess.”

I fell into step beside the three of
them.  Chris was wise enough to walk close but maintain a
hands-off approach.  Johnny took the cue.  His hand crept
to the small of my back instead.

We were half way to the car when I caught
Maya’s wave.  It wasn’t a greeting.  I pointed at my
chest.  She nodded.

“Maya,” I said.  Before I broke
formation, Chris reached out with one hand.

“Give me your keys.  I’ll get Dev
settled and warmed up in the SUV.  Winslow’s got a look of
business about her.”

I took one step to the right and skidded in
the pellet coated grass.  Johnny gripped my waist and
prevented the fall.

“Dammit.”

“Don’t you know I’ll always catch you before
you fall?”

“You sure about that?  It seemed like
you were still having some issues during the service.”

“It bothered me,” Johnny said. 

“The funeral?”

“That too,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, I felt a strong compulsion to
stick my very nonsensical shoes into my mouth.  Maybe that
would prevent me from saying the wrong thing every time I opened
it.  No such luck.  “Johnny, how many times do I have to
tell you that he’s strictly a friend?”

The rhythmic clench-release of the jaw
returned.  His lips barely moved.  “You touch all your
friends that way?  Comfort is one thing, Helen… or was that
just your way of letting me know how little what happened between
us last night meant to you?”

I skidded to an abrupt halt, jerking him
into similar motion.  “What the hell are you talking
about?”

“You ran your fingers through his hair, just
like you did to me last night.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” I hissed.  I
grabbed a handful of hair like I did last night and let my nails
rake over his sensitive scalp.  Johnny groaned and crushed me
against his chest.

Lesson not over, not by a long shot.  I
quickly demonstrated the comforting stroke Devlin received. 
“That was nothing like how I touch you.”

Wrecked droopy eyes rested at half
mast.  “I felt absolutely no difference,” he rasped.

I rolled my eyes.  “Seriously? 
You told me to
comfort away
.  I need to get permission
and forgiveness?”

“No.  It’s hard for me, okay? 
This isn’t about lack of trust, Helen.  Well, it is and it
isn’t.  I trust you.  Devlin… let’s just say I see how he
looks at you.”

“Do you see how I look at him?”

He nodded.

“How is it different from the way I look at
you?”

“Night and day.  It’s not your problem;
I get it.  Can we let it go?”

Large hands circled my ribcage.  It
sucked the ire right out of me.  “For now, yes.  Don’t
think I won’t expect us to talk about it later.”

“Preferably in a warm place,” he
grinned.  “You’re gonna freeze solid if we don’t get over to
Winslow and find out what she wants.”  Johnny stole a quick
kiss.  “Besides, I think we’re attracting attention.”

“Molest me in public and that’s what you’ll
get.”

This time, Johnny didn’t let go of me when
we made our way to where Maya stood grinning like Sylvester finally
outsmarted Tweety for the final time.

“Good to see the world isn’t spinning off
its axis anymore.”

“Not now, Maya.”  I shot her a
withering look.  “What did you need?  I have to get
Devlin home before he pops his stitches.”

“Right.”  All business replaced her
salacious glee.  “I did the autopsy on Tippet, finished up
barely in time to make it to Ned’s funeral this morning. 
We’re awaiting the detailed toxicology report, but I can tell you
that we found nil of the usual suspects in his system.  Our
boy was clean as a choirboy.”

“All right,” Johnny said.  “You
could’ve called about that.”

“Tsk,” she clicked her tongue against
lightly chattering teeth.  “You think I like this shit anymore
than you do?  I’m freezing my one and only tit off,
Orion.  What I wanted to say was that I think the two of you
should check your email sooner rather than later.  I found an
unexpected message when I peeled those prosthesis off Tippet’s
chest this morning.”

“A message?”  My ears perked. 
“Related to what was carved on his abdomen?”

She nodded.  “Lefty said ‘not in God’s
image’ and righty said ‘made in man’s perverse image’.  What
do you make of that?”

“Religious nut, or at least he wants us to
believe that’s his motive,” I said.  Waters’ citation of his
mother’s opinion flooded my thoughts.  They were an
abomination.  Joanne Tippet would not be the first parent in
the history of the world to kill her child.  History,
stretching back into antiquity offered far too many examples of
such heinous behavior perpetrated from parent to child.

“Wait a minute.  How was this message
placed on the prostheses?” Johnny asked.

“If I had to guess, I’d say your garden
variety Sharpie,” Maya said.  “Though considering the
bluntness of the tip and the block script used, I doubt that a
handwriting analyst would give you a whole lot to go on,
Orion.  Your call though.  Like I said.  You’ve got
the photos from the evidence I processed, so if you want to have
someone take a look at it, Godspeed.”

Before Johnny had the chance to return her
snarky barbs, Briscoe huffed into our group, red-faced.  He
glared at Johnny first, then me.

“Now what?” I half groaned.

“Ain’t you seen it yet?” Briscoe snarled at
me.

“Watch your tone, man,” Johnny warned
softly.

He pulled a newspaper out from under one arm
and waved it in the air.  “Puppy and I didn’t have a chance to
peruse until we were waiting for traffic to thin getting outta
here.”  He stabbed the blunt tip of one index finger in front
of my nose.  “And before you start accusin’ him of anything, I
can guarantee he ain’t talked to that harpy soon-to-be-ex of his
all week.”

The headline was the last thing to leap out
at me.  No, it was the gigantic photo on the front page of the
Sentinel that grabbed my attention.

Johnny had me in a clench that without
context, looked downright pornographic.  I recognized the
background immediately.  We were standing outside my front
door.  Last night.  The byline strangled rage in the back
of my throat.

Belle Conall.