Krall manage to jerk his lustful gaze from Abbey’s hips to face him again. “John, can I give you some advice?”
Pilate smirked; up to that point, Krall had never called him John. “Sure, Derek.”
“Leave it alone.” Krall looked back at Abbey. “What do you mean?”
“John, there’s obviously something weird going on, but it’s not your concern.” Krall seemed to be making an effort to keep his tone light, though he would not—or could not—meet Pilate’s gaze anymore. “You’re here for a few more months at best, right? I mean even if Lindstrom doesn’t run you off, it’s apparent that you don’t fit in at Cross. That’s been clear right from the start, truth be told…and I mean that in the kindest way possible.”
Pilate nodded slowly. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t disagree.
But I have to know….uh, do you have a theory?”
“Yes, yes I do,” Krall said, “but I am not going to go into it.”
“Why?”
“Because I think you would start nosing around in it and get your ass shot by somebody,” Krall said in a whisper.
“What the hell do you mean?”
“John, you should be smart enough to figure out that there’re people in this town who run things, and they don’t like outsiders messing around.”
“Jesus, Krall. This sounds like an episode of the Incredible Hulk or something.” Pilate laughed. “Every time Bill Bixby wandered into town he’d start messing around with somebody’s perfect scheme or the mayor’s daughter would get all gooey over him and then all hell would break loose.”
“Well, unless you can turn into a super-strong green mutant, I suggest you end this episode now,” Krall said.
“Actually, when I get angry, I do change. It’s a bitch because I always ruin a pair of purple pants,” Pilate said. “You know how tough it is to find those?”
Krall smacked the table with his open hand.
Several students looked up for a moment, and then turned back to their books and conversations.
“John, listen to me. This is not a joke. People have been murdered in this town before, and I wouldn’t put it past happening again.”
“I know. The Bernard thing, remember?”
“Among others,” Krall looked around conspiratorially. “John, people who don’t mind their own business around here often find themselves in the river or with a bullet in their head—or both. Those are the kinds of people who research things instead of leaving well enough alone.”
“Krall, I can tell you’re serious, and I appreciate your concern.” Pilate sat up in his chair. “Look, I just want to finish up here and move on. I have no interest in getting killed. Just give me an idea for my own curiosity. Shit, I deserve at least that.”
Krall sighed deeply. “All right, but keep your mouth shut about it, especially to Kate.”
Pilate nodded hurriedly.
Krall laid his long boney-fingered hands on the table in front of him. “There are people in this town who stand to make a lot of money on some upcoming land deals.”
Pilate felt a little disappointed. Land deals? Not exactly the stuff of great mysteries. “Um, okay.”
“Let me finish. Legend says that back in the day when Bernard offed the president and dean here, it might’ve had something to do with a bad business deal that involved Ollie Olafson’s dad, who was mayor back then. He was also head of the local Klan Klaven.”
“Nice,” Pilate said.
“There’s a rumor that Martin Nathaniel was in on it, but he got cold feet and threatened to spill the beans to save his own ass. That was why he was killed.”
“Killed? I thought he had a car accident.”
“Sure. Somebody accidentally ran him off the road,” Krall
said.
“Holy crap.”
“Yeah, exactly. Crap is putting it lightly, and there wasn’t
anything holy about it. See why I’m worried, now, Speed Racer?”
“Yeah.” Pilate rubbed his temple. “But why go rooting through the coffins?”
“There is also a longstanding rumor that Marty had some evidence—something that would burn the Olafsons to the ground. Until now, I just assumed it was either a false rumor or that Olafson had found the evidence or whatever, but now I gotta wonder if there’s more to it than that.”
“If something was in those coffins, that would mean that somebody had to have put it there,” Pilate said.
“Well, any one of a hundred people coulda slipped something into Marty’s coffin.”
“But Millie died years later, right? Why search hers?”
“I don’t know for sure. Maybe to make it look less suspicious?” Krall shrugged. “Or maybe somebody thought something was hidden in there.”
Pilate’s thoughts rattled around in his skull for a few seconds. “Grif! What about Grif? Would he know something?”
“Well, it’s been a long, long time, and nobody’s bothered Grif that I know of,” Krall said, holding his coffee cup aloft for a refill from the student passing by with the pot. “Of course, there wasn’t anybody trying to buy land to put in a golf course and shopping center on the edge of town until now.”
Pilate was silent as the student warmed up his coffee too. “So you think Olafson is ransacking graves trying to find something that could incriminate his family and queer the real estate deal?”
“That’s my theory, John.” Krall sipped his hot coffee. “Then again, I could be crazy.”
“Interesting.” Pilate’s mind jumped from fact to fact.
“John, that faraway look in your eye better stop now. You promised to stay out of this. They’re not playing around.” Krall leaned forward. “I mean it, man. Just do your job, have some fun…screw some students.” He nodded toward Abbey as she did crunches. When he saw the scowl on John’s face, he continued, “Or don’t. Date Kate Nate. Do whatever you want to do, then move on after summer semester. Take this advice, John. It might just save your life.”
“Okay, Krall. Thanks for sharing,” Pilate sipped his coffee a moment. “I’ll behave.
“Well,” Krall continued, once again envying the workout gear that had the chance to hug Abbey’s notable rear end, “nobody said you had to behave too much.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kate knocked at his door around six.
“Welcome to Pilate’s Place,” he said, tucking in his shirt and gesturing to the small living room.
Kate looked around; she had a wry smile on her face. “Bachelor heaven, I see.”
“That bad?”
“Actually, no,” she said, sounding a bit surprised. She slid her purse and coat off and laid them on a chair. “More books than most bachelors, and…” She wandered around the room. “So far, the place seems almost completely devoid of jock stuff.”
“Does fencing count? I was a champion swordsman in college,” Pilate said.
“More aesthete than athlete, huh?”
“Good one. And yes. Won’t you sit down?” Kate sat on his well-worn couch.
“Would you like a glass of wine before we go?” Pilate took a couple steps toward the kitchen, anticipating her answer.
“Sure. Do you have any Cab?”
“I do.” Pilate had the nicest six-dollar Australian Cabernet in his wine rack. He removed the cork, poured two glasses, served Kate, and then sat beside her.
She sipped her wine and nodded approvingly. “Nice.” “Thanks. It’s from an insouciant little vineyard run by Crocodile Dundee.”
She chuckled and swallowed some more. “How was your day?”
“Oh, okay,” he said, looking into his glass. “Yours?”
“Good. Got caught up on some paperwork at least.”
“You get a babysitter for Kara?”
She sighed heavily. “No. Actually I struck out. Most of the college girls I use went home for the weekend, and the high school girls I usually call are in a school play tonight.”
“Let me guess…Our Town? Wait…did you leave
Kara on her own?”
“Yes, John, but don’t worry. She’s perfectly safe. I left a loaded pistol for protection and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, just in case she gets thirsty.” She sipped more wine.
“Grif has her?”
“Uh-huh. Boy, John, you’re sharp for a city boy.” She smirked.
“Well, we could have canceled. I know Grif has his hands full right now,” Pilate said, drinking more of his own wine.
“He does, but I think a little time with Kara will help him take his mind off things. If nothing else, she’ll keep him out of the mortuary,” Kate said, “and frankly, I needed a break myself.”
She looked into Pilate’s eyes in a very deliberate way.
His skin tingled; he hadn’t felt that in a long time. A few weeks without antidepressants, along with the lure of pirated porn, had revived his libido quite nicely. Kate was the final bit of encouragement he needed. Pilate took her glass and set it beside his on the coffee table. He kissed her lightly on the mouth.
Her lips were firm for a perceptible second, then melted around his. Her tongue gently swam into his mouth as he cupped her cheek in his hand.
They kissed for a few moments, then broke apart a few inches—just enough to look into each other’s eyes. Hers sparkled, dewy and half-lidded. Pilate’s hand moved from her cheek to her neck. He felt the warm flush on her skin, her pulse increasing.
She let out a low moan as he touched her breast through her shirt and kissed her neck. Her hands pressed against his chest.
Pilate laid Kate back on the couch and moved on top of her. Her body rose to meet his as his hand felt her ass. He was not disappointed in the firm, muscular butt that moved with his kisses and the exploration of his hands.
She squealed with delight as he playfully nibbled her lower lip. She pressed her lap against his. The volume of her moans increased when he opened the buttons of her jeans and slid his hand under her panties.
He felt her lush, soft pubic hair and explored her mouth deeply with his tongue as he slid his fingers inside her. Kate felt silky and warm to his touch.
She grasped the sides of his head and put her lips to his ear. “I want you inside me, John.”
He kissed her, reared up, and pulled her Levi’s and underwear off. Before she could protest, Pilate was kissing her and using his tongue instead of his fingers.
Kate rocked back and forth, her hands running through his hair, pulling it gently as he flicked his tongue inside her. Pilate’s own excitement grew, and by the time Kate climaxed from the labors of his tongue, he was ready to go further.
As Kate lay back, breathing heavily, smiling with pleasure, Pilate stripped off his clothes, then removed her shirt and bra.
He looked at her firm body for a moment, long enough for her to become self-conscious and place her hands over the scar left over from her caesarian section.
“Hey,” he said softly, gently moving her hands and kissing the scar.
She looked at him with trusting eyes as his body merged with hers.
Moonlight streamed through the blinds as they lay there.
Pilate really, really wanted a cigarette. He was disgusted with himself for slipping so far back into his pathetic addiction, but at that moment he desperately needed a smoke.
Kate’s hands rested on his, clasped on her belly as he held her, her back to his chest, her head resting in the crook of his arm.
“Isn’t this where we have a smoke?” Kate said. “Um, are you serious?” Pilate said.
“Yeah. I mean, you do smoke, right? I do after orgasms.
So…” she said.
“I didn’t know you knew I’m a smoker.”
“John, as nice as your apartment and hygiene is, I can smell it on you,” she said.
“Oh. Do you really want one?”
“Yes, but don’t take this as a sign that I approve of it,” she said. “I mean, I only have one after good sex.”
“Uh-oh,” Pilate said, standing up to fetch his cigarettes from his coat pocket.
“What?” she said, covering up with a throw.
“Well, in that case, I hope this doesn’t lead to you being a pack-a-day girl. Or then again, maybe I do,” he said with a wink.
“Lame, Pilate,” she said, reaching for her wine. “Just lame.” Pilate lit two cigarettes, a la Clark Gable, and handed one to Kate. She puffed it like a pro.
“It was really wonderful,” he said.
“Yes, but can we not talk about it? Can we just let it be what it is?”
Pilate nodded. “Sure.”
“Besides,” she said, sitting up, “I’m hungry.”
They sat on the living room floor, scarfing down grilled cheese sandwiches.
“This is Mom’s recipe,” he said. “See, you put butter on the outside, Miracle Whip on the inside of one slice, then the cheese, then mustard. What do you think?”
“Nice,” she said, being a good sport. “Maybe I’ll make one like my mom made now.” She made one her way and devoured it, leaving Pilate to wonder how she stayed so fit and trim.
After they finished, Pilate broke the silence. “So, do we have to say goodnight after this?”
“Afraid so. I have to pick up Kara by eleven,” she said, her face a mock frown.
“Can I go with? I hate for you to drive alone on these roads at night,” he said.
“Thanks, John, but it’s probably best we don’t just yet. I don’t want to confuse Kara.”
“Or upset Grif?”
“Well, I don’t think he has anything against you, but he’s protective of us.”
“Hmm. Okay, but can I see you again soon?” He felt silly asking. They were office mates, after all.
“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” she said.
Pilate couldn’t help but feel hurt by her answer, especially when Simon’s laughter echoed in his mind like a bully mocking him for being picked last in gym. He nodded. “Of course.”
She touched his cheek. “John, I came here tonight and…well, uh, spent this time with you because I like you, and I do want more from you, but I’m not so silly as to think you’re going to stick around here very long.”
“Well, I haven’t really decided whether or not—”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Wait…who says you are going to stick around here?” he said.
“Of course I’d like to go,” she said, “but Grif would be all alone without us. I just can’t.”
“I understand,” Pilate said, his stomach suddenly groaning. He felt a lump in his throat, and his eyes watered. Jesus, he said to himself. His emotions were out of control, swimming just under the surface. He felt a pain in his chest, the same one he’d felt when his mother had told him his granddad had died.
“John?” Kate said, her hand on his. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Must be an allergy or something,” he said.
“An allergy?” she looked confused.
“Or maybe a vitamin deficiency,” Pilate smiled. “Grilled cheese and cabernet aren’t exactly packed with nutrients, you know.”
She laughed. “Heh. Right.”
Both jumped when the phone rang.
Pilate welcomed the distraction as he got up to answer it. “Hello?” he said.
“John, it’s Sam.”
“Oh, hi,” he said, his knuckles scrubbing his scalp. “Can we talk?”
Pilate watched Kate put their plates in the kitchen. “Now really isn’t a good time,” he said.
Kate leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him, with her arms folded against her chest.
“Sam, I have to go,” he insisted.
“Bollocks. You aren’t doing anything,” she said. “I just want to talk, John. Please?”
“Samantha, I…I have a friend over.”
She hung up.
Kate pulled on her boots.
“You’re not going now, are you?” he said, sitting beside her.
“In a minute,” she said. “Can I call
Grif? I want to make sure Kara is ready when I get there.”
He handed her the phone and felt an explanation was in order. “Hey, that was just—”
“None of my business,” Kate said, taking the phone and dialing Grif’s number.
He lit a cigarette.
Kate buttoned her shirt, holding the phone in the crook of her neck as she waited for Grif to answer, but he never picked up.
“No answer?”
She frowned. “Nope. But it’s strange.” “What?”
“It’s busy.”
“Well, maybe he’s tied up with something.”
“He has several lines, though, and he never lets one ring off the hook. Hmm. I guess he’s just busy with an intake.”
“You want to wait a few minutes and call back?” She shook her head.
“Well, let me go with you,” he said.
“No, John. Thanks. I’m sure everything’s fine.” She stood. “I’ll be okay.” She took the cigarette from his hand, inhaled, and put it out. “Thanks for a wonderful night,” she said, hugging him.
He kissed her neck.
She pulled away gently, smiled, and put on her coat. “See you Monday,” she said.
“Not if I see you first,” he teased. “At least let me walk you to your car.”
“No,” she said. “Why should you risk catching a cold? I’m a big girl, John,” she said with a reassuring smile, “and I’ve lived here long enough. I’ll be fine.”
Before John could protest further, the phone rang again.
She wrinkled her nose. “My, that Sam is persistent.” She opened the door. “Goodnight.”
He waved and watched her go as he picked up the phone. “Hello?” he said, irritated.
“Mr. Pilate? Morgan Scovill. Is Kate Nathaniel with you?”
“No, Sheriff, she isn’t…but even if she were, I’d have to tell you it’d be none of your business.”
“Can the ACLU bullshit,” the sheriff said. “Look, we’ve, uh, had a little problem out at Grif Nathaniel’s, and I need to get a hold of her.”
“Grif’s place? Oh God. Is Kara okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine, but I really need to talk to Kate.”
“She just left. Let me see if I can catch her,” he said. “Hang on.” Pilate dropped the phone on the couch where they had made love only moments before and sprinted outside. He found Kate scraping the ice off her windshield as the motor idled.
Pilate's Cross Page 12