Titus had offered to oversee the contractors working on the outside and she'd gratefully accepted. She felt awkward with him since she'd lied to him in the library. And she still felt strongly she needed to cut him loose, but didn't know how to do it. Since they'd come back, their relationship had changed. Their comfortable camaraderie was gone and she missed it, but at the same time, was glad for it.
It made her feel crazy, but then, the situation was insane. She and Remy were courting a killer by inviting him to freaking dinner.
Her personal assistant had flown in to help her with the details and a new grounds keeper was supervising the reclamation of the garden and yard areas. She supposed he'd eventually get down this way, too. She also had people going over the wiring and plumbing. Roots had a way of growing through pipes down in this country. She didn't want a backed up toilet for her guests. Talk about messing with the mystique.
Out of the chaos, the yellow brick road had emerged. The landscape still had a wild, brooding aspect, but that was just rural Louisiana. Her favorite decision so far was to order the house painted a soft, emerald green. She intended the Wizard to be an unseen guest at the party, even if she had to cross the line into melodrama.
Gone for now, was the brooding quiet of Magus's Oz. Dorothy was bringing it to life again, but when night fell, he was back, he was there, assessing her work and alternately approving and disapproving. If she were being haunted, it was nothing like she'd expected. And it didn't seem to include her mother. Of course, she hadn't been murdered, so maybe resting in peace was not issue for her.
Knowing Magus, he wouldn't approve her intent to commune with the past today. He'd never been one to attach much importance to graves and had only been sentimental when the situation required. He'd consider it an unproductive use of her time, which was one reason she was so determined to do it.
In an odd twist, her parents had both died on the same day. They weren't buried side by side, since they'd been divorced, but at Dorothy's request, Magus had arranged for Emma to be buried the next row over, in the family graveyard. They'd ended up headstone to headstone, since Dorothy had had control over Magus's final rest. She could remember hoping it would force them to come to terms with each other.
The path curved around a stand of oak trees mixed with a few cypress trees. The gray ghostly Spanish moss hung down in her face and even the sluggish air seemed determined to slow her down. It still fascinated her how the cypress knees pushed up through the grass in tiny communities or maybe they were little clumps of gnomes planning nightly mischief.
Gently, almost imperceptibly, peace pushed out every other emotion. It was far too hot to be angry, or agitated. There'd always been something almost magical about the woods around Oz, as if she'd stepped out of time and possibly even place.
Moisture clung to her skin, making her linen dress cling, too. Her feet slipped in her sandals, but none of it mattered. In the distance, the quaint steeple of a church broke the line of the trees, then the path straightened and she could see the little cemetery with its mix of headstones and crypts. Little cities of the dead. Only not just the dead waited there.
A blue car sat parked in the dirt lot in front of the little church and a woman in black stooped to lay flowers on a grave.
Annoyance tried to rise, but it was too hot. She could only manage mild irritation and an even milder curiosity. Most of the family buried there had been part of the family Oz used to belong to. They'd died out, just after selling out to Magus. The only new graves in twelve years were her parents.
Of course, people doing genealogy could still be related to the family, but then why would they come dressed to mourn? And from here, it looked like her mother's grave receiving attention.
The woman stood up, and as if she felt Dorothy looking, she turned to face her. Glasses hid her face, but the shape of the jaw was as familiar as her own. For the first time, she remembered the genealogy scroll and the previously unknown aunt. Events had pushed that little surprise out of her head. Now it surged back to the forefront.
Time slowed to a dream's pace as they studied each other. The hair barely visible beneath the hat was gray. A bit of filmy black lace covered her eyes. Gloves in this heat? Insanely high heels for the terrain. Designer dress, no question about that. The cut was wonderful, flattering and demure. Perfect for mourning. Never mind that it was twelve years too late.
Dorothy stopped when the width of her mother's grave separated them. The silence was reflective, not uncomfortable. Perhaps she should be angry or something, but it was too hot. Her heart counted out time in slow and steady beats, that seemed to pause when the woman reached up and lifted the veil back to reveal eyes as violet as Dorothy's. She could be looking into a mirror thirty years from now.
“Hello, Dorothy,” she said.
“You must be my Aunt...?” Dorothy heard herself ask with matching calm.
“Kate. I'm your aunt Kate,” she said.
* * * *
“Bubba Joe thinks you're the one who had Vonda Vance killed,” Suzanne said, as she tried to insinuate herself back into his arms.
“Why would he think that,” Darius asked as he caught her arms, softening his rejection by bringing both her hands to his mouth again. They were the least offensive part of her body at the moment.
“You're the only one who knew he was connected to Vance.”
He probably should have thought of their connection himself, but since he'd thought he'd was the only one to hire Vance, it hadn't seemed like an issue. Interesting sensation, this being wrong. Not that he planned on getting used to it.
He had to hand Vance the honors for making the best use of the situation. He had collected two payments for doing one job. If he'd gotten his pardon from Bubba Joe, he'd have walked out of jail with a tidy retirement fund and a clean record. Darius had even shown him how to hide the paper trail to his money from the police.
“I'm still not seeing where I come into this, Suzanne,” he said.
“He thinks you have the proof. That you're the one who will release it. We convince him you aren't the one, but that you know how to find it and then we wait for the timer to run out. He goes to jail.”
“And you?”
“I'll need protection. Money to hide from him. I told you, he wants me dead.” She pulled her hands free and crawled close to him again, running her hand down his bare chest to the place where his pants were hooked closed. She started to undo it, but he covered her hand to stop her. What she had to say was so much more interesting that what she could do.
“But I don't have it,” he said.
She sat back on her heels, studying him. He met her gaze calmly. It helped he was telling the truth. What she couldn't know, is that this information was as dangerous to him as it was to Bubba Joe.
“You really don't, do you?”
“I can't think of any reason Vance would have trusted something like that with me.”
“I suppose not.” She frowned and then smiled. “But I'll bet you know who might have it.” Before he could stop her, she climbed in his lap, twining herself around him like an unwelcome vine. “If we had it, we could control when it was released. We could make Bubba Joe crawl and beg for mercy.”
The hunger in her voice told its own story about her life with Bubba Joe as she started kissing his neck, his chest, any place her mouth could find. Even as his body betrayed him by responding, his mind remained aloof, considering the question of who Vance might have trusted besides Vonda. He probably knew more about Vance than anyone. No one worked for him that he didn't know inside out.
He hadn't had Vance killed or been involved in the two subsequent murders. Apparently Bubba Joe hadn't either. That meant there had to be a third player in Vance's game. Who could it be? Did he know what he was doing? It was possible it was the person he'd trusted with the proof, of course. Maybe whoever it was had decided to make some money on the deal. Or was that she?
Now there was something to consider. The only she i
n the situation was Dorothy. She certainly had had the most to gain from Magus's death. And had ample reason to hate him. He'd practically let her starve until her mother died, then used her for his political ambitions. Had she been as broken up about daddy dearest as she looked? Or just a very good actress? It was an intriguing line of thought to explore later.
With a start, he realized Suzanne was practically crawling all over him. He grabbed her chin, tipping her face up and halting her roving tongue. He'd never liked being licked. Her face was slack with lust, her jaw unattractively agape. She had an ugly soul. More than anything, he wanted to close his hand around her neck and squeeze it until her eyes went blank. Bubba Joe was right about one thing. She was a liability. And not particularly trustworthy. If she'd betray her husband, she'd have no problem betraying him.
As much as his mind hated her, his body betrayed him again. He pushed her on the bed with a savagery that surprised him. She wanted him. She was going to get him. When he finished, she lay quietly where he left her until he'd dressed again. Her thin, white body was already showing the bruises of their encounter when he looked at her.
“Are you going to be able to cover those up?” he asked, without expression.
“Bubba Joe will probably think he did it,” she said, her voice flat and bitter.
He was more like Bubba Joe than he thought. For a moment he felt shame. He sat down and patted her. Comfort wasn't his style, but he was willing to try. Almost immediately she was sex kitten again, cuddling against him with mutters of relief and forgiveness.
As he cradled her body against his, he realized that she'd done more than give him information and sexual release. She'd opened a dark door to his soul. All those years, he thought he sought control for control's sake. But that wasn't it at all.
He turned her until she straddled him again. If she would be insatiable, let it be for a purpose. A last purpose in her sad life. He might have felt some remorse at what he was about to do, but it was really, a mercy killing. He knew he'd be kinder than Bubba Joe.
* * * *
“My sister and I weren't...close...after our parents died,” Kate said, smiling her thanks for the cold drink Dorothy offered her from the refrigerator. They'd come in the back way, avoiding the chaos of upstairs. Dorothy had told her the kitchen would be quiet and it was.
She paused to take a sip, trying to order her thoughts and edit them as she went. She should have prepared better for this moment. Henry had wanted her to wait, but she'd felt driven to come. She remembered all of the past ten years, but what happened ten years ago, she was still remembering it in painful chunks. And it all felt as if it had happened yesterday to her. She was raw and wounded and shocked and horrified by what she did remember.
“We'd always been different, pursued different kinds of lives. We just drifted apart. When the marriage broke up, Emma needed help, so we lived together until you were born, but I wasn't much into kids and we went our separate ways again. Didn't keep in touch.” Kate had avoided looking at Dorothy, but now she glanced up. “I didn't know. I know it's hard to believe, but I didn't know about the cancer and her death—” She stopped and swallowed painfully.
“What do you remember?” Dorothy asked. Her face and tone were neutral.
Judgment reserved for now. And when she knew it all? She shouldn't have come, but she was here. She took a steadying breath.
“I remember a newspaper story about Magus. It had a little bit about you, about your reunion.” All of it crap, of course. Magus couldn't let the truth be known. She traced a pattern in the old wood of the table. “My life wasn't going real great right then. And I guess I thought Magus might help me out, for old time's sake. So I came. I was there...the day he was shot. The day you were shot.”
She shuddered. It had been ten years, but for her, the memory was fresh and sharp in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. “My shrink says I had a mental breakdown because of the shock of it and everything that had been going on. My brain just shorted out.”
“I don't understand,” Dorothy said. “Why would that be so traumatic for you?”
It wasn't easy to look into Dorothy's eyes and lie. “I'm not sure. There are still some pieces missing from that time. It's...odd what I remember and what I don't. I remember the rally too well and I must have talked to Magus, but I can't remember. I guess...we didn't talk back then?”
“I didn't even know you existed until a few days ago.” Dorothy seemed uncertain how to react.
Kate didn't blame her. “I feel so ashamed. Henry, that's my husband, he says I couldn't help it, but it feels like I could have, that I should have.” She twisted her hands in her lap. Her insides felt like they twisted, too. “I...wasn't a very nice person back then,” she admitted painfully. “Apparently, when I blacked out, I just rewrote my reality. Made myself into a Kate I could live with again. Not long after that I met Henry. We fell in love and got married. I was happy, but—”
Dorothy's face wasn't unkind or kind, but Kate didn't mind. At least she was reserving judgment. It gave her time to building something. A beginning maybe?
“But?”
“On some level I must have known something was wrong. I always felt like there was something out there, just waiting to steal my peace. I used to go to the shrink. He'd give me antidepressants. Thank heavens for Henry. He kept me...sane.”
She looked up to find Dorothy studying her, probably assessing her truthfulness. Well, she couldn't blame her. It had happened to her and she didn't quite believe it.
“I don't blame you for finding it...fantastic. And strange. I'm pretty freaked by it myself. I just feel terrible that I left you alone. I wasn't a great person then, but we are...family. Of sorts. You haven't been too well served by your family so far, have you?”
Shame ate at her insides. She felt a brief, bitter longing for the peace she'd felt just days ago. Why did she have to remember now?
Dorothy seemed to come to a decision, but what it was Kate couldn't tell. She smiled, though it was cool. “Your Henry sounds wonderful,” Dorothy said, almost wistfully. “Is he here with you?”
Just hearing his name, Kate felt the darkness recede a bit.
“He wanted to, but...he's ill. And in a wheelchair. He didn't want to complicate the situation even more. And we didn't know how long I'd be here.”
Dorothy nodded, seemed to hesitate. “Wow, an aunt, an uncle. It feels...odd.”
“I can imagine. I'm so very sorry. I wish...” She stopped. How could she wish the years with Henry away? She couldn't have had memory and Henry. That she did know.
Dorothy nodded again. “Well, look, you're both welcome to stay here. We could fix him up a wheelchair friendly room. I think I like the idea of having an uncle.”
Just an uncle? Well, what did she expect? The fatted calf? And what would she do when she knew the whole truth? Henry had urged her to come clean, but Kate couldn't. Not yet. She hadn't even told Henry everything yet. He'd have never let her come.
“I'll ask him. Thank you.” She pushed back from the table. “I should get my car and check out of my hotel, if you're sure? I mean, I'm fine in the hotel.”
“I'll have Titus get your stuff for you, if you'll give me the keys to car and room?”
“Titus?” Kate felt her throat go dry.
“You and my mother knew him in high school, he said.”
“That's right.” She hadn't expected that. Thank heavens for the warning. “So he told you about...us?”
“I never even knew about the high school thing until a few days ago. Neither of my parents seems to have been big on sharing and Titus makes them look gabby.” Dorothy's smile was wry and a bit sad.
“I...could probably answer some of your questions. Not everything, of course, but some.” It wasn't much, but it was something.
For the first time, Dorothy gave her a real smile. “I'd like that. There's so much I didn't know.” Then her expression changed, closed slightly, as she looked past Kate.
; “Titus. My aunt Kate has come to visit.”
Kate froze, she wasn't ready for this, but there wasn't time to get ready. She turned to face her old school chum, her chin up. “Hi, Titus. How have you been?”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
ELEVEN
* * * *
Bubba Joe knew Bozo was right. He needed to get sober. He needed to think. Where was Suzanne? He needed her to think. He needed to punch her face in. He needed, he flexed his hands, to choke someone. Suzanne was the easy choice, so maybe it was just as well she wasn't around. The other person he really wanted to get his hands on was Dorothy.
Had she been playing him for the fool all along? All that crap about Magus haunting the place. She was good. But she was going to find out he was better. He needed to figure out what to do, but he couldn't think. Coffee, he needed coffee.
He grabbed the bell and yanked it furiously. When the maid appeared, he snapped, “Coffee. Hot. Black. Lots of it.”
She looked scared as she nodded and backed out of the room. Good. Be scared. Everyone be scared. Bubba Joe was making his move.
When she came with the coffee, he waited until she set it on his desk and poured him a cup, then lunged for her, but she must have been expecting it. She eluded him and fled the room.
He cursed the empty room. He'd deal with her later. He downed the cup and refilled it. His hands weren't steady and it spilled, but by the fourth cup, he wasn't spilling it anymore. And he was thinking more clearly.
He knew he could get Dorothy to talk, if he could get her alone. Titus would be with her, but give him a couple of roofies and he'd be no problem. He always kept a supply on hand. It was so much better when his dates didn't remember details.
"I have no recollection,” was one, sweet phrase.
Now, how to get her to come to him? She wouldn't come willingly. Wait. Hadn't he collected a souvenir from his encounter with Emma? Yeah, he had. Such an interesting one, too. And he'd tell her he thought he was her daddy. Okay, now his plan was coming together...
A Dangerous Dance Page 14