Kiss Them Goodbye (22 page)

“They thinkin’ with they rear ends,” Wazoo said, her grin showing just how much she was enjoying the fuss. “Or worse.” She looked meaningfully at Vivian but ignored Spike and Cyrus.

One of the men left his hose to jog over. “It’s dyin’ down, ma’am,” he said to Charlotte. “We lit it where we was told.”

“Who told you to set a fire this close to the building?” Charlotte said with no effort to sound reasonable. “The stables—the garage is right there and there’s a lot of wood in the roof. And if there was a wind in the right
direction you could have got the house itself. Who suggested it?”

“The man…A man. He said he worked for you. We were makin’ the pile way back but he said this was where you wanted it.”

Cyrus put an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Don’t be so upset,” he said.

Wazoo watched him as if she thought he might shed a skin.

“An older man?” Charlotte asked. “A bit bent over. Could it have been Gil, you think?” She looked at Vivian, then at Spike. “Please, God, let it be Gil.”

“About so high,” the gardener said, indicating an above average height for a man. “Can’t say I remember much about him. Hey, either of you remember what the man looked like, the one who told us to burn here?”

“No,” one man yelled.

“We were workin’ hard,” the other said. “Didn’t notice what he looked like.” The fire ceased to leap into the air but a great smoldering, flickering heap remained.

Spike wished he could be alone to ask questions. “You didn’t notice? Had to be somethin’ about him you remember.”

All three heads shook slowly. The one who seemed to be in charge said, “Nothin’. Except he was sweatin’ like a pig but he had on one of those thick hats. Wool. Pulled down so you could hardly see his face, but he wasn’t no more than forties, I should think.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said. “I don’t know who spoke to you, or why, but I’m sure this wasn’t your fault. I hope you’ll keep coming.”

“Sure will, ma’am,” he said.

As soon as he moved off and picked up his hose again, Vivian said, “Mama—”

“No man like that workin’ here, no way,” Wazoo in
terrupted, hopping from sneaker to sneaker. “No, sir, no man like that at all. I’m seein’ it, me, the shape. The way he walk and talk, him. He the killer. He still here.”

My enemies are all around me. I watch their faces, see their fear. They don’t know who I am, yet they think they are clever enough to beat me. That makes them more vulnerable.

What they don’t understand is that they have no defense against me. When the moment comes there will be nothing they can do to save themselves. Meanwhile the game continues.

He, the one who believes he can control me, must also be removed. The only uncertainty is when.

Meanwhile circumstances force me to make a different move, but I shall relish it. This time I must be very patient and even more careful.

I have not changed my mind about that woman. She tests my tolerance.

The fourth day

V
ivian had planned to visit Hungry Eyes and Ellie Byron at opening time that morning. Unfortunately she hadn’t woken up until ten and then took half an hour to persuade her aching body into the shower.

She should be easy on herself. The ordeal in Bayou Lafourche would be enough to make anyone stiff and sore—and scared for some time.

Making love in the front seat of a van? Possibly that could stretch a few muscles and other things. Vivian parked on Toussaint’s square, leaving herself about a block to walk to the bookshop. Making love with Spike, the way they’d made love, the sensations she wouldn’t forget, were worth an aching back and sore legs. With Boa in her straw basket, she got out and walked to the shade of a big old sycamore tree.

Already the temperature soared and humidity with it.

She and Spike were in deep. Vivian didn’t think she
was jumping to conclusions in thinking they were both hooked. The future? She couldn’t see one and that hurt so badly she felt sick.

She locked her green van. The words,
Rosebank Resort
, in black with gold shadowing had been added to the sides. Mama and Vivian had decided to take more visible steps toward establishing Rosebank’s official image. They hadn’t even hidden their pleasure when the van came back from the shop and they parked it where Susan Hurst could see if she wanted to look.

Susan and Morgan would make them an offer for Rosebank they couldn’t refuse? The dinner at Serenity House was supposed to be tonight, but Vivian intended to do her best to scuttle it.

Hungry Eyes epitomized “quaint.” Bow windows with stained-glass eyes on each small, square pane of glass had been added on either side of the front door. Similar panes in the door, without the eyes but with a row of books top and bottom, gave a “come in” feeling to the place.

Vivian could see round tables with blue chintz cloths inside the left window. Beyond stacks of books displayed on a wide shelf in the right window, she saw rows of bookshelves reaching far back into the store.

People sat at the tables. She recognized Dr. Reb Girard, Bill Green and Joe Gable, Jilly’s brother, whose law offices were two doors away from Hungry Eyes.

“Miz Vivian?”

Wazoo’s voice couldn’t be mistaken. Vivian turned in time for the new Rosebank employee to catch up. “Hi, Wazoo. What are you doin’ here? I didn’t have a chance to talk with you today. Are you still enjoying working at Rosebank? There’s so much to do, I’m afraid. We need lots more help but—well, I might as well be honest. We don’t have the money to pay for much more help.”

“I know so, me,” Wazoo said. “You and Miz Charlotte
savin’ every penny for makin’ the house nice. I think it beautiful already, me. The place Miz Charlotte give me? Ooh ya ya, that the sweetest room I ever see. But I guess you gotta do more stuff for visitors from big cities. They gonna come y’know. That house am so special. Even if it do need an exorcism.”

Vivian sighed. “We don’t believe in such things.”

Today Wazoo wore a black dress that only reached her calves, and hose with her tennis shoes. Nice legs. Her hair was in two explosive and long tails that fell from high up on either side of her head. She watched Vivian intently. “You afraid of what you don’t know. I feel the spirits, me, and they gotta be put to rest. You can’t have horny ghosts flittin’ around ladies’ bedrooms.”

”
Wazoo.
” Laughter would feel good but it would also encourage Wazoo’s outrageous chatter.

“On the other hand, Miz Vivian, you could cater to ladies who might get a real uplifted feeling out of some truly
spiritual
experiences.” She grinned. “Might not say no to one or two of those myself. You could advertise
earth-moving satisfaction.
Mark my words—”

“Wazoo.” Vivian said the name in the best schoolmarm voice she’d never had a reason to have. “You are irreverent. And don’t forget that when you advertise, you have to deliver. Something tells me we’d be paying back a lot of reservations because of nonsatisfaction.” She coughed, amused by the conversation.

“You gotta have rules. They guest ladies sleep nude with their ankles and wrists tied to the bedposts. And you got a fan right where it’ll blow hard on them beggin’ buds and tunnels o’ love, Miz Vivian. Play the right kind of music, blindfold the customers, and pay someone to do a little somethin’ with a feather here and there. Drip warmed-up oil real slow. Well, now, you might not even have to pay someone to do that. Could have candidates linin’ up to work for free. Turn that fan on high, mind.
Then you can just wait for them repeat customers at the door.”

Stunned, but entertained, Vivian said, “I’m going to the bookstore. See you later.”

“Why, I’m goin’ the same place. Miz Ellie’s gettin’ me some new tarot cards. Now there’s a girl who could use a little blowin’ and pluckin’. That ain’t baby fat under her dress. She’s just got one womanly body. And don’t think the men don’t notice. You take a look at where Joe Gable’s eyes are when he’s around her. And I don’t even think she knows.”

Vivian hadn’t met Joe Gable but he’d been pointed out to her and that was enough for her to notice he was better-looking than the average lawyer.

Wazoo trotted at her side. “That nice Mr. Legrain, he sure was mad when he find out what happen to you last night.”

“I didn’t stay up to talk to him about it,” Vivian said. “He’s already got his hands full without my problems.”

“Sure,” Wazoo said, opening the shop door. “But he sweet on you and he care about that.” She wriggled her nose and her slim eyebrows rose. “I think the sheriff know that man’s feelings, too, and I think he mad about it.”

“Hush,” Vivian told her, digesting Wazoo’s remarks. “I hope Mama told you how we feel about gossip.”

Wazoo flapped a hand from a loose wrist.

“Hi,” Ellie Byron said from behind a glass case filled with pastries and sandwiches. “Vivian, I thought you would never come.” Her oddly distant blue eyes were just as Vivian remembered them. Her short, brown curls shone in the sunlight. She wasn’t quite real.

Vivian took in a sharp breath and went to the counter, returning greetings as she went. “Good mornin’, almost good afternoon. I overslept. Don’t ask me why.”

“Because you get back from New Orleans real late.
With that Spike Deeevol” (Wazoo’s vowels were dragged out) “the pair of you lookin’ like you wearing other people’s clothes. And you was. Bein’ pushed in Bayou Lafourche, in Spike’s van, couldn’t have done you no good.”

Mesmerized, Vivian listened to this recital of her personal business and said, “Thank
you
, Wazoo.”

“That’s awful,” Reb Girard said and that’s when Vivian noticed Gaston on the floor under the table. “I want you down at Conch Street so I can examine you.”

Gaston’s bright brown eyes fastened on Boa’s basket. The latter was smart enough to press herself into the bottom.

“I’m absolutely great,” Vivian said. “It was really nasty at the time but we were so grateful to get out safely we felt better at once.”

Black-haired, blue-eyed Joe Gable introduced himself and went on to ask, “How come you were down by the Bayou in all that rain last night? Late, too, from what’s been said.”

Everything said about small towns, or many of them, was true. News and personal details traveled a little too fast.

“I won’t bore you with the details,” she said, meeting his gaze.

Slithering across the floor on his belly, like a woolly apricot alligator, Gaston made his way to Vivian’s feet and looked up into her face. He appeared to be smiling. With Boa and her basket held to her chest, Vivian hunkered down and scratched the poodle’s head, heard a low growl and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m Vivian. You’re Gaston. We’re friends. Shake.” She held out a hand. Gaston’s eyebrows wiggled alternately before he sighed and closed his eyes.

Vivian wasn’t fooled. She’d be watchful of him.

“Oh, wow.”
Why hadn’t she thought of it
? “Excuse me.
I walked right in here with my dog and didn’t think a thing of it.”

“What dog?” Bill Green, the real-estate guy, asked. He shared a table with Olympia Hurst.

“She’s in the bottom of this basket,” Vivian said apologetically. “I’ll have to come back another time—without her.”

“What’s that?” Bill, crisp and clean-cut in a tie and white shirt with the cuffs rolled back, indicated Gaston. “Doesn’t look like a stuffed animal to me. Around here we figure a clean dog’s as good as a clean person, right, Ellie?”

“Right. I love dogs. Occasionally Deputy Lori mumbles something about rules when Gaston’s in here but Spike just gives him crumbs and generally acts silly with him. This is part of my home and I like dogs in it.”

Reb, looking way more pregnant than she had even a week earlier, snapped her fingers at Gaston who ran and jumped onto what knee space Reb had available.

“I’d like a cup of black coffee,” Vivian said. “No cream or sugar. Make it a mug. May I have pickles and gratons? If you have them?”

“You certainly may,” Ellie said. Her movements were rapid and she had a way of glancing into the recesses of the shop, or through the front windows, as if she expected to see someone, and not just anyone. Ellie Byron expected a visitor, only Vivian wasn’t sure she expected him or her to be friendly.

“Coffee for me, too, please,” Wazoo said. “Did you tell everyone about the bonfire, Ellie?”

“I expect it did expensive damage,” Olympia said but Vivian ignored the comment.

“We were talking about it when you came in. Bill says we’ve got things to discuss.” Ellie winked at Wazoo.

“How would all of you know about the bonfire?” Vivian said, then looked at Wazoo.

“Okay,” she said and shrugged. “I tell ’em. I call and tell ’em. We like to know when we needed around here.”

“You want to gossip, you mean,” Vivian said.

She turned from the counter in time to see Joe Gable watching Ellie intently, a worried ruckle between his arched brows.

She already had enough troubles without courting other people’s problems and her reason for being here would have to be dealt with as soon as she could find a way to speak with Ellie alone.

Hovering would only draw curiosity, so Vivian took her coffee, pickles and chips to Reb’s table and was immediately asked to sit down. If Vivian weren’t anxious, the interlude would be cozy. Inside the shop Ellie kept the temperature pleasant. Zydeco, played at a low volume, made the perfect background music. Handmade gifts were displayed on blue shelves that matched what could be seen of the table legs beneath the cloths. The chairs and their tied-on seat cushions also matched.

Vivian bought time by studying every inch of the place. The deep shop housed many more books than she had expected.

“The bonfire sounds terrifying,” Dr. Reb said. “What would possess them to light it so close to the buildings?”

Vivian faced the table. “It happened fast. There wasn’t time to be frightened.” She bit the end off a whole pickle and followed it up with a strip of crispy pork cracklings.

“I heard some stranger pretended he worked there,” Bill said. He took a bite of a boudin sandwich as thick as an encyclopedia and had to chew his way through the sausage before saying, “Man the workmen never saw before told them to put the bonfire where they did.”

“Just maybe he was the killer,” Olympia said, smiling, her eyes bright with excitement. “The one who killed the lawyer. Did his head really fall off when you opened the car door?”

Vivian looked at her hands in her lap. “No, that’s not true.”

“I told ’bout that man, too, Miz Vivian,” Wazoo said. She sat on a high stool at one end of the display case and held her coffee mug in both hands. “Maybe someone see this man and tell the po-lice. Maybe it’s a clue.”

“Maybe.” Vivian hadn’t the heart to tell Wazoo in front of her friends that she was compromising any clues. Since Wazoo responded slightly better to authority figures, Spike could deal with it later.

“Great coffee,” Vivian said, wanting to change the subject. “If you started giving patients shots of this, Reb, you’d have a booming practice.”

“I’ve got a booming practice,” Reb said, and leaned across the table to say in a low voice, “and it would be a lucrative practice if anyone paid me in something other than eggs, chickens or fish.”

Vivian smiled. She closed her eyes and sniffed the fragrant steam rising from her coffee before drinking some more.

“I can’t take credit for the coffee,” Ellie said. “I get it in pots from Jilly, and the pastries also come from her.”

Vivian said, “Everything’s good,” with her eyes still closed.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” Reb said quietly. “Are you taking vitamins?”

“Every day,” Vivian told her, puzzled.

“You don’t get much nutrition from meals like that.” Reb gave Vivian’s plate an arch look. “Fat and pickles. It’s important to take good care of yourself, especially at times like this. You’ve got too much stress to cope with.”

Bill Green cleared his throat. As soon as all eyes were on him he said, “I don’t have long so I should get this said quickly. I’ve gotta check in at my place out back and get to the office again. Wazoo let us know you’d be in,
Vivian, and more people wanted to be here but you know how it is in the middle of the week.”

Surely they hadn’t gathered a committee to tell her they thought she and her mother should give up on Rosebank.

“I’m here for Marc, really,” Reb said. “He had to run into New Orleans but this will affect him more than me—obviously.”

Olympia got up, said, “I’ll be back” to Bill and hurried outside.

“Gary Legrain wants to be counted in,” Bill said, “and Homer Devol, if you can believe that. Spike hasn’t been officially asked but he will be and he’ll want to do it. Ozaire Dupre, Joe here, Wazoo’s going to be useful, Father Cyrus, a bunch of guys from the ice plant, Jilly, Gator Hibbs and the guy who bought the body shop. The list goes on. They all want to be in on it.”

Vivian tried not to appear stupid but she had to ask, “In on what?”

Bill’s wide grin made her like him even more. “We’re going to get enough work done at Rosebank so you and Charlotte can get your business going. We figure eight or ten rooms and the dining room should be enough at first. Zeb Dalcour, the ice plant boss, he’s gonna check the kitchens over because he knows about those things. Homer will lead a crew. Marc Girard already started roughing in some plans for adding bathrooms. He knows the house from when he was a kid. We’ve got it all worked out.”