Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  “Smile?” she said, making large, surprised eyes. “Me? Never. Probably some kind of spasm.”

  He laughed at that. “I wish we didn’t have to spend even part of this evening dealing with Gautreaux. I don’t like him.”

  “I don’t know what I think.” Ellie shrugged. “He’s like two different people. Angry and pushy or thoughtful and sad. I can’t figure him out. He’s got a room at Gator and Doll’s. I’m told he’s working on the case full time. Doll’s suspicious of everyone but Gator likes him. Says young Wally likes him, too, and I think Wally’s a good judge of character. Cyrus is the boy’s best friend, that stands for something when it comes to his taste in people.”

  “Wazoo reckons Gautreaux’s a man of many levels, whatever that means.” He leaned toward her, kissed her cheek and nuzzled her neck. “Not that we would take any notice of Wazoo.” His breath felt warm.

  Ellie lowered her eyes. He’d decided he wanted to pursue her after all.

  “I love the way you smell,” he said. “Ellie, I want you and I’ll wait as long as it takes, as long as there’s a chance.”

  Hesitantly, she patted the side of his face, smoothed his sharp jawline. “I can’t promise you anything, Joe.”

  He covered her hand on his face. “Okay. But can I hope?”

  Ellie’s throat tightened. “I want to hope.”

  “Cher?” He sat straighter but kept his face close to her. “That means you’d like things to work out for us?”

  She heard him swallow and saw the hope in his eyes. “More than I’m capable of explaining.”

  “Let me help you deal with whatever happened to you,” he said.

  That wasn’t a place she was prepared to visit, even if it did begin to seem inevitable that she’d have to. “I’m going to try to forget all about it,” she told him. “Perhaps being…I have to let go of it. Not bury it anymore but allow it to lose its power over me. And if I can I will tell the whole story one day. I’ll tell it to you.”

  He looked at her mouth. “If that’s the way it has to be for now, Ellie, so be it.” Then he kissed her lightly, as if he was reassuring her. She returned the kiss and felt his composure slip.

  The tip of his tongue slid along her lower lip before he took her face between his hands and reminded her how it felt to be really kissed by Joe Gable.

  Someone tapped the window and Joe put his forehead on Ellie’s. “The joys of livin’ in a small Southern town,” he said. “One big, happy family sharin’ just about everythin’.”

  Ellie managed to peek past him. “Spike,” she said, her nose all but touching Joe’s. “Someone needs to talk to him about the places he doesn’t have jurisdiction over around here.”

  “Mmm.” Joe kissed the tip of her nose. “Let’s pretend he’s not there.”

  She gave him a little push and opened her door. “Evening, Spike.”

  “Evenin’, Ellie. Y’all comin’?”

  The driver’s door closed hard. “We gotta do somethin’ about your timin’, lawman. It stinks.” Joe walked around to slap Spike on the back.

  “Save it,” Spike said, sounding like a stranger. “Your little romance takes a back seat to things like murdered women and attempted kidnapping. And terror tactics.”

  Ellie was stung. She blushed and blessed the evening gloom.

  “That’s enough,” Joe said. The banter was over. “When it comes to our private lives, keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “Is that you, Joe?” Madge emerged from the side of the house and hurried to join them. “Cyrus is over there on his own with that angry man. I don’t like it. Spike, how come you left him?”

  “I came looking for these two.”

  Madge noticed Ellie and said, “Hi, you. How you doin’? Cyrus and I have been worried about you. I’m real sorry for your trouble.”

  “Thanks,” Ellie said. “Are you coming with us?”

  “No,” Spike said. “This isn’t a tea party.”

  “Then I’m definitely coming,” Madge said. She turned away and walked across Bonanza Alley toward the church.

  “What the hell does it take to keep control in this town?” Spike said. “You do what you decide to do, all of you. That woman behaves like Cyrus’s mother.”

  Or like his wife. Ellie walked after Spike and Joe lengthened his stride to catch up with her and squeeze her arm. She was wrong to misinterpret the strong friendship Cyrus and Madge shared.

  “Did he tell you how long Gautreaux’s been here?” Madge called back. “Hours, that’s how long. We kept thinkin’ he’d leave whenever someone came to talk to Cyrus, but no, that man just hung around lookin’ at his papers and makin’ notes—and angry enough to frighten off a gator.”

  Spike broke into a run. “Will you hush up, Madge? You don’t want him to hear you. Go back to the rectory and wait. Please. Or go home where you belong at this hour.”

  Joe glanced down at Ellie and raised his eyebrows. She wasn’t the only one who felt buffeted by sharp currents.

  Madge marched on, walked into the open vestibule but didn’t enter the church. Refusing to look at Spike, she turned her face away when he passed her and kept it turned away as Joe and Ellie followed him.

  Electric wall sconces cast weak light over wooden pews and embroidered kneelers. Every other bulb had been removed. St. Cécile’s coffers tended to be a challenge. Brighter lights shone from a chapel to their left and Spike walked, boot heels clattering on flagstones, to stand before a gate in the wrought-iron screen that closed off the chapel.

  “There you are, Spike,” they heard Cyrus say. “How about we all walk over to the house. We’ll be more comfortable there.”

  Spike opened the gate.

  “This is quite fine, thank you,” Guy Gautreaux said in his deep voice. “No distractions to speak of. Any sign of them, Spike?”

  Ellie and Joe went quickly into the chapel. Ellie said, “We would be ‘them,’ Detective. We got here as quickly as we could.”

  Spike crossed his arms in a manner that reminded her that she and Joe hadn’t exactly come as quickly as they could have. Joe rubbed her back and she actually felt safe, even in this strange interrogation cell. Spike had made it clear that Gautreaux planned to ask them questions.

  “The detective here wanted to know how many mornings we run,” Cyrus said to Joe.

  “Father,” Gautreaux cut in, looking as if respect cost him something. “I do the talkin’ here. Sit down. Are we still on our own, Spike?”

  “Um.” Spike rubbed tired eyes. He had a good growth of beard stubble but not enough to cover two old razor cuts. “As good as.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I expect Madge walked over with you,” Cyrus said. “She’ll be watchin’ to make sure we don’t get any interruptions.”

  “Watchin’ from where?” Gautreaux said, and went to the gate. He peered out. “Ma’am, you can’t be sittin’ there. Best you get along.”

  “Madge?” Cyrus spoke sharply, more sharply than Ellie had ever heard from him. He followed the detective, put a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, “You don’t speak to the lady that way, you. She’s knows a lot of what I know and she doesn’t repeat anythin’ she hears. Come right on in, Madge.”

  Ellie scarcely dared check any reactions, but she saw Spike’s jaw slacken.

  “Hoo-mama,” Joe said under his breath.

  “Come one, come all,” Gautreaux said, waving Cyrus and Madge into the chapel.

  “I’ll stay out here and keep watch,” Madge told him, and walked out of sight.

  “Let’s get on,” Gautreaux said, his black eyes expressionless. He returned but didn’t sit down again. Cyrus came, too, and they were all silent as long as they heard Madge’s receding footsteps.

  “Why here?” Joe asked. “Not exactly regular procedure, Detective.”

  “This ass-backwards town drove me to it. All I want is a secure place and I’m not convinced the station is safe. Too much classified information gets
spread around here and it—”

  “Hold it,” Spike said. “Were you about to say my people are talkin’ out of school? If you were, don’t. You know how it works in a place like Toussaint. Good folks, but they come to their own conclusions and sometimes they’re right. Throw in comments by people who’ve been questioned and everyone’s even closer to knowin’ what’s goin’ on.”

  “My name is Guy,” Gautreaux said abruptly. “I’d be obliged if you’d use it—all of you. I’m around for the duration—or until the action moves elsewhere—and I’m thinkin’ we ought to try to get along.”

  He achieved silence until Cyrus shot out a hand and said, “Thank you, Guy. We’ll be doin’ our best to help any way we can.”

  Joe and Spike weren’t shaking any hands tonight, but they nodded and muttered the man’s name.

  “I am afraid for security,” Gautreaux said. “I’d be lyin’ if I didn’t say so. Didn’t occur to me to talk here until I came to find Father Cyrus. I’m glad I did. Know what I think? I think we’ve got some major desperate people on our hands and Ellie’s the pebble in their shoes. Charles Penn for one, I can’t be sure he’s workin’ alone.”

  “Don’t say that,” Ellie told him. “Why? What makes you think so?”

  “I’d say he’s gettin’ help, that’s why.”

  “Yeah,” Spike agreed. “That’s what I figure. He knows too much about folks’ movements. How would he find out on his own?”

  Joe held Ellie’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ve wondered about that.”

  “Okay, I see that, but why didn’t one of you say something to me?” Ellie concentrated on the pressure of Joe’s hand. “Penn knows where I’m going to be and when. He knew I’d be at Pappy’s that night.”

  “I kept puttin’ it aside,” Joe told her. “Why stir you up even more when all I’ve got is a hunch?”

  Guy said, “On the mornin’ of the murder in Royal Street—Ellie, who can vouch for you bein’ at home?”

  “Damn it,” Joe said, squaring off to the other man. “I thought you said you’d dropped that. If Ellie had anything to do with the killin’ why would someone be in town tryin’ to kill her now?”

  Guy leaned against a stone wall and lowered his eyelids almost shut. A small stained window behind him, depicting St. Francis and a scattering of birds, looked ludicrous. “All I’m doin’ is askin’ questions,” Guy said. “Put your mind to it and you’ll know why. I want you to account for your movements, too, Joe. Cyrus can’t seem to remember if you ran that day.”

  “We didn’t,” Joe said at once. “We ran the day before and the day after. I was in court early on the day of the killing.”

  “And a whole mess of people can tell you so.” Spike said.

  “Did anyone see you that mornin’, Ellie?” Guy said. “We got to get this out of the way.” He pinned her with a stare, and when she didn’t speak soon enough for him he raised his voice a notch, “Don’t mess with me anymore. Just speak your piece. Yes or no?”

  Joe went for Guy, fists at the ready, and landed a solid punch to his chin before Spike and Cyrus could leap forward and drag Joe off. He strained, trying to lash out again.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said. “All that cozy talk was to loosen us up, right? You think that’s what it takes to get what you want out of someone. Well, Ellie was wherever she’s told you she was. This woman doesn’t lie. I’m gonna see to it you get reprimanded and taken off the case. There’s nothin’ usual about the way you’re conductin’ things.”

  Guy laughed and turned his back.

  “Spike, do somethin’.” Joe shrugged off Cyrus and Spike.

  “What d’you say, Guy?” Spike asked.

  “That I agree. There’s nothin’ usual about the way I’m dealin’ with this and that’s because there’s nothin’ usual about the crime. Remember I’ve been in on this from murder number one. I thought things got screwed up then and I think they’re screwed up now. Where is Penn? There’s nothin’ wrong with the search teams. You’re doin’ fine work, Spike, and so is everyone else as far as I can tell. So where in hell is Penn when he’s not scarin’ up fake attacks?”

  “Fake?” Ellie sat down hard on the cane seat of a chair.

  “What about it, Ellie?” Guy said. “Who can back up your story?”

  “I don’t get it,” Joe said. “This conversation belongs in an interrogation room. I don’t want it to take place there but this is wacko…Guy.”

  “Humor me.” Guy looked anything but humorous. “This is the best way.”

  Best for whom? Ellie bowed her head.

  “You were present for the Mardi Gras killin’,” Guy said in a monotone. “If you can’t prove otherwise, who’s to say you weren’t there when Billie Knight died?”

  Spike and Cyrus restrained Joe.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Ellie said. Guttering candles caught her eye. She smelled old incense and older dust warmed to an intense odor by hot wax. The men’s faces looked gray but their eyes turned dark in the up-light.

  “Neither do I,” Guy said. “But if you were there it would be some coincidence, wouldn’t it? That ring Billie Knight kept lookin’ at, it wasn’t worth much, Tilton told me. Or at least not what I expected. I saw it. Simple but a pretty thing. Someone should have bought her that little ring, then she wouldn’t have been there when a killer came callin’.”

  His comments were met with silence.

  “I don’t think you were there,” Guy said to Ellie. “But you’re in the middle of this and I want you to think hard. Think how it looks that Penn killed Billie then showed up here, supposedly after you.”

  “Fu—” Joe snapped his mouth shut.

  Cyrus took over. “I’m glad you decided to have this talk here where there are witnesses. Seems a strange choice, though. If you really think Ellie’s involved I can’t think why you’d throw your idea around without anything to back it up.”

  “The only way this is going to get solved is by comin’ at it from the inside,” Guy said. “I want your help. And Ellie’s goin’ to want help from all of us. Think about this. The reason Ellie’s still alive is because Penn wants her that way. He could have killed her by now if that’s what he’d decided to do.”

  “He could have,” Spike said. “But you’re thinkin’ somebody else is tellin’ him what to do and when.”

  “Could be true,” Joe agreed. “Question is still why.”

  “Because,” Cyrus murmured, “Ellie doesn’t have witnesses to what she says happened to her, and Penn, or someone else, wants to make it look like she’s makin’ it up to cover for somethin’.”

  “You’re even the book lady and you’ve got those Sonja Elliot stories in your shop,” Spike said, and turned red. “Forget I said that.”

  “This is turning into a parlor game,” Joe said. “I’m takin’ Ellie home. By the way, I’m also stayin’ at her place so you’ll know where I am if you need me.”

  “Are you thinking—you are.” Ellie moistened her mouth. “You definitely are thinking I’m either being framed for murder or that I committed murder and I’ve got some incredible scheme for making myself look like a victim instead.”

  “Do you know what you’re suggestin’?” Cyrus asked Guy. “You’re makin’ a case for Charles Penn being innocent in both cases.”

  Guy shook his head. “I’m throwing out an idea I think is fairly solid. Now, let’s get on with it. I’ll want to be at the field teams’ briefing in the mornin’. You goin’ back to the station now, Spike?”

  “I reckon I’ll hang out here for a bit if it’s okay with you, Cyrus.”

  Cyrus said, “Anytime,” but didn’t quite hide his concern.

  “Stop.” Ellie stood up, her whole body shaking inside. “What happens now? If you don’t believe someone’s after me. Or not to do me real harm, anyway, are you saying you don’t take anything I’ve told you seriously?”

  “I think we’re all on the same page,” Guy said. “Calm down, Ellie. There are too ma
ny people who know too much. We’re going to have to weed ‘em out until we’re left with a credible suspect.”

  “But—”

  Guy cut Ellie off. “Relax. You should be happy. You’ll be watched, but there’s a good chance you’re bein’ used as a red herring to throw us off. But that’s not the whole story. We need to retrace our steps and look in other directions—without taking our eyes off you.”

  “We’ve had too much serious crime in this town,” Ellie said. “How come? We’re ordinary people.”

  “Must be somethin’ in the water,” Guy said. “That and Toussaint is an easy in-and-out for types who want a fast getaway.”

  “You don’t know this town as well as some of us, Guy,” Joe said. “We’ve had more than our share of homegrown crazies killin’ one another off.”

  Guy looked slightly impressed. “Is that so? Well, every crime is different and this one surely is. This is nothin’ homegrown and I’m about ready to bet our joker is here for one reason—Ellie. The way I see it we’ve got two big questions hangin’ over us. Is her only connection that she saw what she saw at Mardis Gras? And—”

  “And how many people are involved and why?” Joe said.

  Guy nodded. “And do they or don’t they really want her dead, now or later.”

  19

  Candlelight, holy smells and deep quiet ought to give a man some peace. At least, that’s what Spike had pinned his hopes on.

  He didn’t know much about the praying stuff but he’d give anything a try, anything that might help him out of the pit he’d stepped into.

  Quiet and the rest of the stuff didn’t stop his mind from dashing around or help him quit calling himself every kind of a fool.

  Guy Gautreaux needed a mouth transplant for rubbing it into Ellie that she could be the target for murder, “now or later.” Some people just never got it how just because nothing much scared them didn’t mean everyone else was made the same.

  There he went, thinking about work again. Sure, Ellie and the others were dear friends, but he wasn’t here, feeling the night slip onward, because of them. He was a failure in the area of his life that mattered most—with his family.