“I agree,” Caleb said.
“Don't have a real good way of dealing with 'em.” Banner frowned as he put the gum into his mouth. “Anyone can see they're crazy as hell, but you can't lock 'em up till they finally kill someone.”
“Must be frustrating for law enforcement personnel.”
“Damned frustrating.” Banner rested his hand on the butt of his revolver and resumed chewing. “But it looks like we won't have that situation with Kincaid. Problem's solved, isn't it?”
“I believe so,” Caleb said.
“Just as well.” Banner nodded with cool satisfaction. “I've got too many problems as it is. Nice to have one out of the way.” He walked off to give final instructions to the medics.
Serenity moved out of the small throng of Witt's Enders who had gathered on the street. She came up to stand beside Caleb as the aid car prepared to follow the sheriff down the mountain road to Bullington.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Caleb put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Situation's under control, ma'am. But I would like to take this opportunity to inform you that this sort of consulting work isn't covered by my standard contract. I'd appreciate it if you would avoid all similar situations in the future.”
“I will, if you will.” Serenity pressed her face into his coat and hugged him tightly. “Oh, God, Caleb, I was so scared when I heard those shots in the cave.”
“Not any more scared than I was when I found out Kincaid had nearly strangled you. I'm going to have nightmares about that scarf for years to come.”
“So will I.” Serenity opened her tightly closed fingers and glanced down at the griffin that lay on her palm. “Do you ever have the feeling that there might be something to Quinton's theories about intersecting planes?”
Caleb looked across the street to where Zone stood very close to Blade. Her face was pressed against his shoulder. There was enough light from the lamp over Witt's End Grocery to see that she had her hand on one of the rottweiler's broad heads.
“Not until tonight,” Caleb said.
A long time later Serenity stirred in the depths of her bead-draped bed. The tiny bits of glass shimmered and clashed gently in the darkness. Caleb's leg slid reassuringly over hers.
“Can't sleep?” he asked.
“I woke up again a few minutes ago,” she admitted. “I started thinking about something Kincaid said while he had that scarf around my throat.”
Caleb's arm tightened protectively around her. “Don't think about it.”
She smiled ruefully. “I can't stop thinking about it.”
“He's dead, Serenity. He can't hurt you.”
“I know. Thanks to you and Blade.” She nestled closer against his sleekly muscled body, instinctively seeking the security of his masculine heat. She kissed his shoulder. “But I can't get his words out of my mind.”
“Which words?”
“He said that he had deliberately allowed Zone to see him last night. He wanted to terrorize her before he killed her tonight.”
“A real son of a bitch.”
“Definitely. But what bothers me now is that Zone told me she thought she had also glimpsed him in the fog the night Ambrose died.”
“Maybe he'd instituted a campaign of terror,” Caleb suggested. “The guy was wacko, Serenity.”
“I know, but he was operating under his own internal logic. He knew who Zone was, where she lived, what he planned to do to her. He took pleasure in telling me all about it. But he only talked about making one appearance at her window.”
“He might not have realized that she had seen him the other time,” Caleb said. “He could have been prowling around, doing reconnaissance, as Blade would say, before he went in for the kill.”
“I suppose so.”
“You don't sound convinced.”
“The thing that's bothering me is that you can just barely see Ambrose's back porch through the trees from Zone's front window. She told me that she was sitting at that window, meditating, the night Ambrose fell. She thought she saw someone in the fog.”
“From all accounts, the fog was fairly thick that night. She might have seen a deer or Blade making his rounds.”
“She only got a brief glimpse before whoever it was switched off his flashlight and was swallowed up in the fog. She didn't see him clearly, but she was afraid it was Kincaid.”
“We'll never know for certain,” Caleb said.
Serenity tried to see his face. “What if it wasn't Kincaid or a deer or Blade? What if it was someone on his or her way to Ambrose's cabin?”
Caleb groaned and pulled her close. “So that's what this is all about. Your imagination has gone into overdrive. Having had a brush with one murderer, you're starting to see them everywhere.”
“I'm serious, Caleb.”
“So am I.” He rolled her onto her back and pushed up the hem of her nightgown.
“Caleb?”
“Let's see if I can give you something else to think about.” One hand closed around her hip as his mouth came down on hers.
Serenity put her arms around his neck. He was right, she thought. She needed something else to think about tonight. As usual, Caleb had all the answers.
14
THE PUNGENT AROMA OF FERMENTING GRAIN FILLED THE small brewery room behind the bookshop. Caleb watched with interest as Quinton checked his vats. A new batch of Old Hogwash was being readied for bottling.
“My special winter brew,” Quinton explained, peering at a dial. “I only make it once a year, to celebrate the coming of the winter solstice.”
“I see,” Caleb said.
“Got to keep a close eye on things at this stage.” Quinton made a small adjustment to one of the instruments. “Timing and precision is everything in beer, just as it is in the mathematical universe. In the brewing process, one sees a reflection of the interaction of various cosmic vectors. In beer, the forces of destruction, change, and creation are mirrored on a symbolic scale that can be appreciated and comprehended by the human brain.”
“I'll drink to that.” Caleb braced one hand against the wall, hooked his jacket over his shoulder and glanced at his wristwatch. “Speaking of time, do you want to tell me why you asked me to come in here, Priestly? I assume there was something other than cosmic forces and beer that you wanted to discuss.”
“What's your hurry? Going somewhere?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
Quinton frowned. “You're leaving town?”
“For a while.”
“Serenity going with you?”
“No,” Caleb said. “She's not.”
“You coming back anytime soon?”
“I expect to return tonight. Why?”
“Just wondered.” Quinton relaxed and went back to fussing with the brewing equipment. “Well, that's all right, then.”
“I'm glad you approve. Now, what was it you wanted?”
“Two things.” Quinton fiddled with a valve. “First, I wanted to thank you for what you did last night.”
“You mean what Blade and I did, don't you? And we didn't do anything except get lucky when Kincaid slipped and fell into one of the vision pools.”
Quinton chuckled. “Right. He fell into the pool.”
“It's the truth.”
“Hey.” Quinton held up a palm. “Whatever you and Blade say happened in that cave, happened. You won't get any argument from me or anyone else in town.”
“I'm pleased to hear that, because what Blade and I told you is the truth. Kincaid went for his flashlight, slipped and fell. Pure luck. Good for us, bad for him.”
“As to that, who's to say whether it was luck or something else. Perhaps he was the victim of colliding geometric planes.”
“That's certainly one logical explanation,” Caleb said.
“But as it happens, I wasn't talking about how Kincaid died, crucial as that particular event was to all of us. I was referring to the aftermath.”
Caleb raised
his brows. “Aftermath?”
“The way you dealt with Sheriff Banner and all the rest.”
“I just answered a few questions.”
“You did a lot more than that.” Quinton rested an arm on top of one of the small stainless steel vats and stroked his beard. “Things could have gotten confused, what with Blade involved. He doesn't interact well with the official representatives of established authority.”
“Somehow, I had gathered that impression.”
“The thought of Blade trying to explain last night's events to Sheriff Banner gives one pause.”
Caleb thought of how Banner might have responded to Blade's elaborate conspiracy theories. He couldn't help it, he grinned. “Yes, it does. Might have been interesting.”
“Might have been an unmitigated disaster for all concerned,” Quinton muttered. “At the very least, there would have been a hell of a lot more paperwork. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that someone might have tried to take Blade into custody for questioning or stuff him into a mental institution for observation. He couldn't have handled that.”
“No,” Caleb agreed. “He wouldn't have done very well in either of those situations.”
“What I'm trying to say is, thanks for saving Serenity and Zone, and thanks for keeping Blade out of trouble.” Quinton's teeth showed in his beard. “You're not so bad for a business consultant.”
“All part of the service.”
“Item two on my agenda today,” Quinton continued, “involves politics.”
“Personally, I never touch the stuff.”
“Neither do I. However, politics is an inescapable fact of life.”
“I've never thought of politics as having cosmic implications,” Caleb said.
“It does. So do the forces of change. And we've got change coming to Witt's End. A town's like a star. It's got to keep burning at a certain temperature or it dies. This town was dying, taking its time about it, I admit, but definitely dying until Serenity opened her grocery store three years ago.”
“That started the process of change?”
“It stopped the decaying process,” Quinton said. “Now things are starting to move forward again. This mail order idea of Serenity's may actually give us something resembling a real economy.”
“The shining star of Witt's End burns brightly once more.”
“And therefore changes,” Quinton said. “One can't stop change. The best thing one can do is manage it so that one doesn't get crushed by it.”
“What does politics have to do with this?” Caleb asked.
“Politics is how the universe manages change. This town needs someone who can do what you did last night.”
“Handle the outside authorities?”
“For starters. I expect there will be more and more of that kind of work as we here in Witt's End are obliged to deal with the outside world. Bound to get more tourists, for one thing, especially in the summer. Then there will be people from the health department wanting to inspect people's kitchens because of the foodstuff they're selling in the catalog. We'll probably have traffic problems, sewage problems, security problems. You name it.”
“Quinton, I'm in a hurry here. Could you get to the point?”
Quinton looked at him. “Point is, Blade isn't the only one around here who doesn't deal well with the outside establishment. Most of us here in Witt's End have a problem with that kind of thing. It's one of the reasons we wound up here. So we took a vote this morning.”
Caleb eyed him. “A vote?”
“We all got together first thing at Ariadne's café and talked it over. We voted you in as the first mayor of Witt's End.”
Serenity took her customary seat in the window of the Sunshine Café and poured the tea Ariadne had just made. Zone sat on the other side of the table. From this position they could both keep an eye on the front door of Witt's End Grocery. It was only ten o'clock and there was no one in the store at the moment. Serenity had decided that she and Zone needed a chance to talk.
“Here's to a real bonding experience.” Serenity raised her mug of tea in a salute. “I, for one, will never wear a scarf again as long as I live.”
“I'm so sorry about everything that happened,” Zone said for what must have been the hundredth time. “I came here to hide. I never intended for my problems to become a threat to anyone else. I'm just so sorry.”
“Stop blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault. At any rate, it's over and everything turned out all right.”
“Thanks to Blade and Caleb.” Zone shuddered. “And I can't bear to think about what might have happened if you hadn't known those self-defense techniques.”
“Quit torturing yourself with what-ifs,” Serenity said crisply. “I've got something important to ask you.”
“What's that?”
“Now that Kincaid is permanently out of your life, what are you going to do?”
“Do?”
“Are you going back to California?”
Zone looked confused. “Why would I do that?”
“You said that you came to Witt's End to hide from Kincaid. Now that you no longer have to hide, I just wondered if you planned to stay.”
“I hadn't thought about leaving,” Zone said hesitantly. “Somehow Witt's End feels like where I want to be.” She met Serenity's eyes. “Are you trying to tell me that you might not need me at the store? I know you only gave me that job because you felt sorry for me. If it's a question of not being able to pay me the same salary, I could take a cut in my wages.”
“Hang on here.”
“It doesn't cost much to live in Witt's End. I'm sure that I could get by on less.”
“Don't be ridiculous. Getting rid of you is the last thing I want to do. Who else in Witt's End knows how to open a store on time every day?” Serenity chuckled. “I was panicked at the thought that you might leave and I'd have to hire a new assistant.”
Zone smiled tremulously. “I don't plan to go anywhere.”
“That's a relief. For the record, I don't plan to cut your wages. If that fancy, high-priced business consultant of mine is a tenth as good as he says he is, I should be able to give you a raise soon.”
“Your fancy, high-priced consultant and partner,” Caleb said dryly, “is even better than he's told you.”
“And so refreshingly humble, too.” Serenity turned in her seat and saw Caleb standing directly behind her. Something about his newly polished shoes worried her. “Going somewhere?”
“Yes.”
A deep sense of unease stirred to life in the pit of Serenity's stomach. “Where?”
“That's what I came to tell you.”
Serenity stared at him. “Coming back soon?”
“Tonight.”
She let out the breath that she had been holding and managed what she hoped was a bright, breezy smile. “For a minute there I thought maybe you had decided Witt's End was too hard on hotshot business consultants.”
“Nothing a good consultant can't handle here.” Caleb glanced toward the counter. “I'll explain everything in a minute. First let me get a cup of coffee from Ariadne.”
“All right,” Serenity said.
“Is this a private conversation?” Zone asked.
Caleb's mouth curved. “If you don't mind.”
“No, of course not.” Zone got to her feet. “I'll let you two talk. I've got a store to mind.”
“Thanks,” Caleb said. “I won't be long.”
Zone paused and gazed intently up at him. “I want to thank you again for what you did last night.”
“Forget it.”
“I cannot forget it. Nor do I wish to do so. I asked Blade what happened in that cave. He says Royce slipped and fell.”
“That's exactly what happened.”
“I understand that you don't wish to burden me with the knowledge that because of me, you and Blade were forced to kill a man. It's kind of you to try to protect me. But as I told Blade, it's not necessary.”
“Zone
, read my lips: Kincaid slipped and fell.”
“As you wish.” Zone smiled her solemn smile. “It's clear that you and Blade want to let the matter rest. I will not mention the subject again.”
“That's good to know.”
“I see now that I misinterpreted the vibrations that I felt emanating from the vision pools. You were not the source of the turmoil and danger that I sensed. You were the counterforce.”
“Ah,” Caleb said sagely. “That explains it.”
“Yes it does,” Zone said seriously. “The vibrations I experienced around you were no doubt tuned to the same wavelength as the vibrations of the turmoil and danger that I felt. Naturally your vibrations resonated on the same frequency as the source vibrations.”
“Naturally.”
“And I accidentally mistook them for the negative energy, rather than the positive,” Zone concluded.
“I can certainly understand how someone could make a simple mistake like that,” Caleb said.
“Thank you for your graciousness. I shall treasure it as I would the most priceless of gifts. I am forever in your debt.” She inclined her neatly shaved head in a graceful bow, turned and floated toward the door of the café.
Caleb watched her leave. Then he looked at Serenity. “Does she really believe all that stuff about vibrations and counterforces or is she just pulling my leg?”
“I don't know,” Serenity said honestly. “I've told you, in some ways she's like Blade. They both live on two planes of existence simultaneously, the one we all recognize as real and one that probably exists only in their own heads.”
“In other words, they're both weird. Jessie was right. They're probably made for each other. Wait here while I get my coffee.”
“Coming right up,” Ariadne said as she bustled out from behind the counter. She had a mug in one hand and a handmade almond biscotti in the other. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Caleb hung his jacket over the back of the chair Zone had just vacated. He sat down, pulled the mug toward him and dunked the biscotti into the coffee.
“You're welcome.” Ariadne smiled. “And thanks for what you did last night.”
“All I did was hang around with Blade while a homicidal maniac fell into one of the vision pools.”
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