Vengeance (8 page)

My headset buzzed just as Cerberus said,
Somebody's coming
. He started barking while bounding toward the front foyer, sliding on the throw rug near the sink, falling on his butt, scrambling to his feet and lunging at the solid oak door.
Come on! Do I have to do all the work here? Geez, somebody could be breaking in, getting ready to kill us and you'll be sitting, taking it easy while--

"It's Mrs. Taylor," I shouted, trying to be heard over his basso woofs. "She lives next door. The security system already identified her. Calm down, you'll have a heart attack. Or you'll give her one, she's almost eighty." I grabbed for his collar but he jerked away and got behind me, nails scrabbling on the rug at the door. "Behave yourself."

Friend?
His tail wagged so hard it threatened to knock over the vase on the foyer table. I grabbed it before it could crash to the floor.
Open the door, open the door, I want to meet her!

"Oh, for cryin' out loud." I jerked open the door and flipped on the outside light. Tiny Mrs. Taylor, all ninety pounds of her, peered up at me from the confines of her red parka, her white hair like cake icing peeking out from under the faux mink trim. She held a pink Easter basket.

Ooh, Easter eggs. Excellent. I can't wait
.

The dog woofed out a noise behind me. It was a sign of how distracted I was that I had forgotten this little yearly ritual. Since I "moved" into the house eight years previously, I sent each of my neighbors a gift basket from an online food emporium at Christmas and at Easter. Most of them responded with cards, Christmas cookies or, like Mrs. Taylor, an Easter basket. One year I had even been subjected to rounds of Christmas caroling by a herd of small grandchildren who descended on the neighborhood. Luckily I was forewarned and had altered the security programming to accommodate the little heathens. When it came time for an Easter egg hunt, though, I drew the line.

I opened the heavy door, reinforced with bulletproof glass. "Mrs. Taylor, it's nice to see you again. How are you?"

"Hello, Nico. Happy Easter. Oh, you have a dog," she said as Cerberus darted past me to snuffle at her knees. "Isn't she pretty--and so big!"

Hey, lady, I'm a he, not a she. But I'll forgive you because you think I'm pretty and because you brought me food.
Cerberus's nose traveled upward and I saw saliva start to form at the sides of his panting mouth.

"I'm just pet-sitting." I reached for the dog, but he jerked away, almost toppling Mrs. Taylor as he pushed out of the door to stand next to her. "Behave yourself."

"Oh, that's fine, I like dogs." She rubbed Cerberus's head. He grumbled low in his throat even as his nose inched closer to the basket, which Mrs. Taylor let droop. She pushed her hood back and her soft white hair and rosy pink cheeks were revealed. "I saw your lights and wanted to give you my annual treat. And I wanted to let you know that a few of us in the neighborhood are getting together on Thursday evening for a potluck before church. I hope you can join us. It's at our house. Nothing formal, just bring whatever you have. Are you listening to your stereo?"

I touched my ear. "Yes, I am. Thank you so much for the basket." I took it just in time, raising it high as Cerberus's nose came within millimeters of it. I glanced down and saw several decorated eggs, a large chocolate bunny in pastel cello paper and a handful of foil-wrapped eggs. Nestled in the pink "grass" were Mrs. Taylor's famous homemade frosted sugar cookies in Easter shapes. "I'm not sure about dinner, I may be busy."

"Well, I do hope you can come over, it would be so nice to have all the neighbors together. You know how Mr. Lewis is, he's not doing well." She regarded me with shrewd blue eyes. "Who knows what next year might bring?"

Behind me my mobile phone rang. I had set in its charging cradle on the kitchen counter and the sound echoed into the foyer as my headset said, "Incoming call on mobile. Answer?"

"Oh, there's your phone. You go answer that. Don't forget, Thursday night. If you have a date, you bring her along with you." Her blue eyes twinkled. She'd been dropping hints about some "nice girls" she knew for months now. I suspected that an unmarried male bothered Mrs. Taylor. She turned to Cerberus, who shifted his gaze from her to the basket. "You be good, now, and don't eat too many chocolate bunnies."

"Answer," I said softly into my microphone.

I'll be good, I promise. Those cookies sure smell good
.

She rubbed his head with one mittened hand as my phone rang again. "Bring your dog and I'll make a special treat." As she slipped out the door I looked outside. Mr. Taylor, a small, wizened man, stood under the light at the end of my drive. He waved and I waved in return.

The dog scooted back inside then I closed the door. A soft voice came through my headphones. "Mr. Haidess? Nico?"

It was Lucinda. I recognized her low, hesitant voice. Now that I had Persa in mind, I could hear the similar pitch and intonation. "Miss Delacroix?"

Cerberus's focus shifted from the basket to me.
She's calling you? That's interesting
.

I went to the kitchen and put the basket on the counter. "Stay away from those cookies."

I'll try, but they smell good. The nose--

"Cookies?" Lucinda laughed. I remembered Persa's low, chuckling laugh. I shivered at the memory. "You made cookies?"

"No, my neighbor dropped a basket off. Cerberus is eyeing it like he hasn't had food in a week. How much food can one dog consume?"

"Cerberus? You named him? Isn't that the dog...oh, of course. Cerberus was Hades' dog. That's perfect." She sounded delighted. "He's in your house? You fed him? That's so sweet of you."

Ooh, good move. You'll really impress her
. The dog's snout was resting on the counter, just inches away from the basket.
Just one little bite? Please?
His entire body wiggled with his tail, which slapped the cupboards as he shook it back and forth.

I gestured him away from the temptation and back to the living room. "Lay down on your bed. Stay away from those cookies. They'll make you sick."

That sounds very good. Keep it up. You sound so caring
. He yawned, turned around three times then flopped down on his mat.
We could use a few more logs. Oh and don't forget to clean up that wine. I'd hate to get glass in my paws
.

"It seemed the right thing to do," I said with what I hoped sounded like reluctant modesty. "And it's not much trouble. I have the space." I tossed a couple of logs on the fire then went into the laundry room for the dustpan and brush.

"I called to apologize for bullying you into taking him in," she said.

I laughed out loud. "Lucinda, I don't think you could bully anyone even if you tried."

She was silent for a moment and I took advantage of it to sweep up the glass pieces. "Are you saying I'm a wimp?"

I straightened up. I couldn't interpret her tone of voice. She sounded...hurt? Defensive? "Not at all." I dumped the wineglass in the trash and grabbed a dishtowel. "I'm saying you're too nice to bully someone."

"Oh." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I had another argument with my sister and I guess that's coloring everything I hear."

"Do you argue often?" I put the towel over the spill and watched the dark red wine absorb into the pale yellow fabric.

"All the time."

She sounded unconcerned by this lack of sibling harmony. "You argue? About what?" I tossed the dishtowel in the kitchen wastebasket and got out a new glass.

"Everything. We're so different. She cares about money and I don't. She wants to go public with the company and I don't. She doesn't want us to spend time on charitable research projects and I do." Lucinda sighed again. "I suppose that's why my father made her the CEO. The company is doing great. If I were CEO, we'd probably be broke."

"What do you mean you don't care about money?" I poured another glass of wine and sipped it, staring at the cookies in the pink and purple basket. They were Easter shapes--bunnies, chicks, lambs--and decorated with glittery sprinkles. I broke off one bunny ear outlined with pink icing. The cookie melted on my tongue, the flavors of butter and sugar sending a jolt through me, reminding me of that shock I felt when Lucinda touched my hand.

Can I have some? You're having some. Can I have some?

I looked down. The damn dog was right there, sniffing at the counter. "How did you get in here without me hearing you?"

Lucinda laughed. "You've never had pets, have you? They travel in stealth mode when they want to. Don't let him eat any cookies or candy. They'll probably upset his stomach."

"No, you don't." I pushed the basket far back on the counter. "Lucinda said you couldn't have any. They'll make you sick."

He gave me a disgusted look and padded back into the living room.
I take back what I said. She's not a nice lady
.

I laughed. "He just said--" I shut my mouth as I realized what I'd almost blurted.

She laughed too. "He said what?"

I shook my head, amazed at my own stupidity. "He just gave me a look that spoke volumes." I took my glass back into the living room. "So what did you mean about the money?"

"I don't really care about making a lot of money. I'm not very good at managing it, so it's sort of a hassle when I make a lot." She paused. Was it my imagination, or did she sound concerned? "John--John Fairchild, you met him tonight--has been helping me try to understand the bookkeeping at the company. I felt I should take a more active role in that kind of management. But I don't quite see how it all works. I guess I don't understand accounting."

"I do. Is it something I could help with?" A look at the books for Delacroix Labs might be interesting.

"I don't want to take up your time. You've got neighbor ladies dropping by and socializing to do...you know, all that Easter stuff. Besides, you're probably busy at work. This must be your busy season with spring break and all."

I drew a blank for a minute then I remembered Travel And Tours Associated. "I do a lot of work out of my house. And Edna, my neighbor, has gone home. She and her husband Wayne don't stay out late. Seriously, Lucinda, can I help?"

"Well..."

I silently urged her to confide in me, but my pleas apparently went unheard. "Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow. If you still want to go out, that is," she said in an overly casual voice.

She sounded unsure. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, no reason. It's just that Cara--she's my sister--well, she and I always argue about just about everything. Money, clothes, cars...men."

My attention sharpened. "Really?" The way she said it told me it was of importance.

"Yeah. She said..."

There was a long pause. "Lucinda?"

"Well, apparently John called her. You know how John is." She blew out an exasperated sigh. I didn't know how John was, but I was getting a sense of it from her tone of voice. "He probably ran home and did a full financial background check on you. He's so serious about stuff like that. I mean, he called me after you left and said that your car cost--"

Her voice broke off. "Cost what?" I prompted.

She laughed nervously. "Honestly, he must be wrong. Nobody would pay that much for a car. He cares about stuff like cars, and clothing designers, and where people shop. Like it matters what people pay for that kind of thing."

"So he called your sister and reported that a strange man with expensive tastes gave you a ride home and your sister, knowing your lack of interest in money, was curious?" I could imagine it. My financial background check on Lucinda had shown that she was comfortably set, far more so than was shown by a little house in a distant suburb and a ten-year-old economy car. I also did a cursory check on her sister, Cara, who owned a condo in downtown Minneapolis and took regular 'business' trips to Paris and Madrid. What was it Fairchild had said? They were, indeed, as different as night and day.

"Exactly. Cara wanted to know where I met you and why I let you give me a ride home. I'm not stupid. John followed us. I was perfectly safe. Besides, as I told Cara, it hardly matters if you have money or if I have money. What matters is that you have a good heart. Heavens, you took in that awful dog. That proves it."

I glanced at the bed where the awful dog should have been sitting.

It was empty.

"Damn it." I sprang to my feet.

"What?"

"That stupid dog." I raced into the kitchen. Cerberus had his paws up on the counter and his face buried in the Easter basket. "He's eating Easter candy."

"Oh no. He's going to regret it."

"Get away from there!"

Cerberus darted away as I approached to examine the damage. Part of the pink excelsior was missing, along with almost half of the cookies. One hard-boiled egg had been partially devoured and it looked like a couple of foil-wrapped eggs were gone too.