The Raven Master

by Diana Whitney

  After acknowledging the sheriff with a stiff smile, she confirmed with a glance that Edna was painfully aware of the officer’s presence. Not only had the poor woman paled three shades, she’d also barricaded herself behind the sofa and was wringing her fat little hands. Since Althea and Jules were obviously unhurt, Janine was baffled by Edna’s continued distress.

  The lawman stepped forward, tipped his broad-brimmed hat and spoke to Janine. “Good evening, ma’am.”

  “Good evening, Sheriff—” she glanced at the engraved plate pinned below his starched collar “—Rhodes.” Pasting on a hospitable expression, she avoided staring at the notebook he’d just opened. “May I offer you some refreshment? Coffee, iced tea?”

  “No, thank you.” Rhodes flipped a few pages of the small scratch pad, then extracted a ballpoint pen from his pocket. “I’d like to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Questions?” She managed a pleasant smile.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He frowned at the exposed page. “I understand that you have a tenant named Quinn Coulliard.”

  Her smile froze. “Yes, Mr. Coulliard is a guest.”

  “What was his date of arrival?”

  Startled by his curtness, Janine glanced toward the sofa and was immediately alarmed by Althea’s smug smile.

  “Miss Taylor?”

  “Hmm?” Janine returned her attention to the sheriff. “Oh. I’m sorry, I don’t recall the exact day.”

  “Could you check your records, please?”

  “Yes, I could.” She lifted her chin. “But first I’d like an explanation as to what this is about.”

  “Just routine questions, ma’am.” The sheriff angled a covert glance first at Althea, who seemed inordinately pleased with herself, then at Jules, who was engrossed in studying his fingernails while the corner of his mouth curved into a subtle smile.

  Janine felt as though she’d swallowed a brick. Something was definitely awry here, and apparently the only uninformed person in the room besides Janine herself was poor Edna, whose tiny blue eyes reflected only bewilderment and fear.

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “We have information that Mr. Coulliard arrived on the same evening of the fire at Marjorie Barker’s house. Can you confirm that, Miss Taylor?”

  Stunned by the implication, Janine was barely able to stammer an indignant reply. “No, I—I can’t.”

  Squaring her shoulders, she told herself that it wasn’t entirely a lie. Although Quinn had mentioned that he’d been in town the afternoon before the fire, Janine herself hadn’t seen him until the following morning. Therefore she could legitimately disavow any personal knowledge of his actual arrival time.

  She took that flawed reasoning a step further. “What’s more, I don’t feel comfortable answering questions that violate the privacy of my tenants, particularly when I haven’t a clue as to why those questions are being asked in the first place.”

  “It’s part of an ongoing investigation, Miss Taylor.”

  “Investigation of what?” Janine steadied herself on the door jamb. “The fire was an accident…wasn’t it?”

  “We’re still looking into the Barker case,” Rhodes replied cautiously. “There were some irregularities.”

  Janine felt ill. She remembered gossip at the memorial service, rumors about how Marjorie’s body had been found in bed, hands clasped neatly. But that had been explained. Even the tiny local newspaper had reported that the woman had been asphyxiated by smoke and had apparently died in her sleep long before the fire reached her bedroom.

  In fact, Janine recalled being rather surprised by the article. More precisely, she’d been skeptical that Marjorie—or anyone else, for that matter—could sleep through the agonizing process of slow suffocation. Still, she’d accepted the theory because there had been no plausible alternatives. At least none that she’d been willing to consider. Not here. Not in Darby Ridge.

  Concealing her mounting turmoil, Janine addressed the sheriff in the most casual tone she could muster. “Exactly what kind of ‘irregularities’ are we talking about here?”

  Rhodes shifted uncomfortably and spoke to his notebook. “I can’t discuss that, ma’am.”

  Before she could question him further, a high-pitched giggle emanated from the sofa. “I told you,” Jules announced, barely able to suppress his glee. “It was murder. I knew it all the time.”

  Edna gasped and covered her mouth.

  Althea punched Jules in the knee, frowning and shaking her head. The young man nodded and stared at his lap, chuckling softly and fidgeting with his fingernails.

  An icy chill slid down Janine’s spine as she realized that the sheriff’s sudden appearance might not have been routine after all. She spun around and confronted the smirking duo. “My God. What have you two done?”

  Feigning innocence, Althea sat down next to Jules and laid a palm on her chest. “Why, just our civic duty, hon.”

  Sheriff Rhodes slid a disapproving glance toward Althea then faced Janine uncomfortably. “Mr. Delacourt and Ms. Miller have brought certain facts to our attention. Since Mr. Coulliard’s arrival coincided with the, uh, tragedy, I thought it prudent to investigate further.”

  “This is ludicrous.” Raising her hands in frustration, Janine started to pace, desperately trying to suppress disquieting memories of Quinn’s strange expression at the smoldering ruins of Marjorie Barker’s home and the way he’d stared with such eerie fascination at the flames dancing in the parlor fireplace. There was also the unnerving fact that he carried a gun—

  She jerked to a stop and pointed an accusatory finger toward the sofa. “I can’t believe you would take such foolishness seriously, especially from these two. Good grief, Jules actually believes that the eruption of Mount Saint Helens was a Communist plot—”

  Jules interrupted indignantly. “I merely said that it could have been.”

  Ignoring the lame protest, Janine flicked a hand at the gloating woman. “And whenever Althea wants to go shopping in Eugene, she forges medical reports to get sick pay.”

  Althea crossed her arms and grinned happily.

  “I’m ashamed of you both.” Disgusted, Janine jammed her fists against her hips. “In fact, I think the nice sheriff would be extremely interested in the details of why each of you has an ax to grind with Mr. Coulliard.”

  That got Althea’s attention. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’d better watch what you say. One false word and I’ll own this freaking place, get the picture?”

  “Oh, I get it loud and clear. But before you hire a lawyer, check out the law, particularly the part where it states that truth is an absolute defense to slander.” Janine took satisfaction from the uncertainty clouding the woman’s eyes and closed in for the kill. “The bottom line is that Quinn Coulliard kicked Althea out of his bedroom and her ego couldn’t handle it, plain and simple.”

  Althea leapt up, red-faced and furious. “Bend over and kiss it goodbye, lady, because you’re going to be sorry you screwed with me.” With that, she stalked out of the house, slamming the front door behind her.

  “And you—” Janine turned on Jules “—are you actually so childish and petty that you’d seek this kind of revenge because you lost a lousy chess game?”

  Jules’s mouth thinned. “He cheated.”

  Completely aggravated, Janine faced the bewildered sheriff and spread her palms in a pleading gesture. “You see? How on earth could your department persecute someone based on such unsubstantiated innuendo?”

  Rhodes regarded her warily. “I’m just doing my job, ma’am. When Mr. Delacourt expressed concern about a stranger being in town the night of the fire, we had a few questions, that’s all.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake. Mr. Delacourt—” she gave the name emphasis and cowed Jules with a look “—is a spoiled and vengeful young man with an obviously perverse sense of humor.”

  “Perverse?” Jules was on his feet, eyes flashing. “How dare you speak of me in such a way, you ill-mannered—”


  “Jules!” Edna rounded the sofa and clutched her grandson’s arm. “Janine didn’t mean that, dear. She was upset.”

  Shaking off the restraining hand, Jules glared furiously at Janine. “Coulliard is trash. It doesn’t matter what happens to him. Why do you care?”

  “Why do I…?” Shaking her head, Janine took a step back and regarded her angry young tenant with shocked disbelief. “Quinn Coulliard is a human being, entitled to the same respect and dignity as anyone else in this world.”

  “He’s evil,” Jules snapped. “Do you defend Satan’s servant over the holy messenger of God?”

  Edna’s eyes darted frantically. She tugged on her grand-son’s crisply ironed sleeve. “You mustn’t say such things, dear.”

  Frowning, Jules looked down at his grandmother as though just becoming aware of her presence. “But you told me—”

  “Hush, now!” Edna tittered nervously, glancing quickly from Janine to the sheriff and back again. “The Lord has challenged my grandson with a quick temper and a foolish mouth. Jules is still young. In time, he will master his flaws.” She prodded him with an elbow. “Now apologize to Janine. You’ve been quite rude.”

  Jules’s jaw sagged. “I will not!”

  “I am not the one who deserves an apology,” Janine said. “But if Jules will simply admit that this childish scheme was cooked up solely to embarrass Mr. Coulliard, I’m certain that the sheriff will close the file on this unpleasant incident without pressing false-report charges.”

  Rhodes cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Miss Taylor, but that isn’t possible.”

  Surprised, Janine wanted to clarify the sheriff’s dire comment but Jules suddenly stepped forward, his eyes glittering strangely. “You hypocritical slut,” he murmured, oblivious to whispered warnings from his frenzied grandmother. “You’re doing it with him, aren’t you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s it!” Jules crowed with excitement. “You and Coulliard are lovers. That’s why you’re defending him, because you take him into your bed and let him do nasty things to you.” Lifting one lean leg, he easily stepped over the coffee table and confronted her. “Are you naked when you do it? Where do you let him touch—”

  There was a blur of motion before Edna’s palm cracked across her grandson’s cheek. “How dare you besmirch this child of God with such filthy talk?”

  A red welt appeared on Jules’s stunned face.

  Edna continued her shrill diatribe. “Janine is a good Christian woman. She would never defile herself with pleasures of the flesh. Never!”

  The furious woman drew back a flabby arm and connected another stinging blow that jerked the young man’s head around. “You bastard child of sin,” she screeched. “You’re an abomination to God, unworthy of being in the presence of such purity. How dare you desecrate this chaste girl?” She slapped him again. “How dare you?” And again. “How dare y—”

  Edna gasped as Jules caught her wrist in midswing. He stared into his grandmother’s face with eyes blacker than the pit of hell and spoke through clenched teeth. “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you.” He flung her hand away, wiped his palm on his trousers and strode angrily out the front door.

  With a tiny cry, Edna clutched at her throat and rushed after him.

  Janine stood there, frozen with shock, turning only when the sheriff emitted a low whistle. Tipping back his brimmed hat, Rhodes scratched his balding scalp. “Does this sort of thing happen a lot?”

  “No.” She lowered herself shakily into a nearby chair. “I’ve never known Edna to raise her voice with her grandson, let alone strike him. She worships Jules.”

  “Just an observation, ma’am, but the lady seems a lot fonder of you than of her own flesh and blood.”

  Sadly shaking her head, Janine wanted to dispute that but couldn’t defend what she didn’t understand.

  Rhodes shifted nervously, then pulled up another chair. “If it makes you feel any better, Delacourt was way out of line. I would have stepped in myself, except his grandmother got there first.” When Janine looked up sharply, he sheepishly added, “Of course, I wouldn’t have hit him, being an officer of the law and all. But I would have told him in no uncertain terms to mind his manners.”

  She managed a weak smile but was unable to respond, partly because the incident had shaken her to the core and partly because Jules’s suggestion of intimacy between her and Quinn had been uncomfortably close to the truth.

  Cooling her face with her hands, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and faced Rhodes directly. “At least you understand now that Mr. Coulliard has been unfairly accused.”

  “Well, now…” The sheriff tugged at his collar. “Thing is, we never did put much credence in what Delacourt and Miss Miller said.”

  “Then why on earth are you here?”

  “Like I told you, we’re still investigating the Barker fire, so when we were notified that there was a stranger in town, we were duty-bound to investigate.”

  “Investigate what?” Janine rose angrily. “Good grief, do newcomers leave constitutional protection outside the county line?”

  “No, ma’am, but—”

  “Then is it department policy to treat everyone like a criminal?”

  The sheriff’s thick jaw tensed. “Only the ones that are.”

  She blinked. “Are what?”

  “Criminals.” Rhodes sighed. “We ran Coulliard’s name through the computer.”

  The significance escaped her. “So?”

  “The man is a convicted felon.” When Janine suddenly swayed, Rhodes laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I’m real sorry, Miss Taylor. I thought you knew.”

  “No,” she whispered sickly. “I didn’t know.”

  But she should have known. Given Quinn’s secretive manner, Janine had secretly suspected that he was hiding something. The most frightening thing, however, wasn’t learning that her suspicions were true; it was that she simply didn’t care.

  Cloistered in her bedroom, Janine alternately paced and fretted, trying desperately to convince herself that there was a logical explanation for what the sheriff had told her. After all, computers weren’t infallible. There must be dozens of Quinn Coulliards in the world.

  Grimacing at her own skewed rationale, she sat on the edge of the bed and tried to gather her thoughts. All right, there probably weren’t a lot of men with that particular name but what if some frazzled keypunch operator had made an input error? Maybe someone named Quintin Collard had robbed a bank in Des Moines. That would explain everything.

  She glanced anxiously at the clock, wondering when Quinn would return so they could clear this mess up. He hadn’t shown up at dinnertime—which was probably just as well, since no meal had been served. The last thing on Janine’s mind had been feeding people whom she would have preferred to strangle.

  Apparently she hadn’t been expected to, since none of the tenants had returned. That was fine with her. In fact, Janine hoped that each and every one of them was out searching for new accommodations. That would save her the trouble of giving notice, which by law required a thirty-day wait. On the thirty-first day, of course, she’d have to declare bankruptcy.

  God, she missed San Diego.

  Sighing, she took the sheriff’s business card from the night stand and absently tucked it into her pocket. Even after dropping the bombshell that Quinn had been listed as a felon in the computer data base, Rhodes had continued to insist that the questioning was routine. Then he’d pressed the card into her limp hand and asked her to have Quinn call in the morning. She’d assured him that she’d pass on the message.

  And she would, if Quinn ever returned.

  The idea that he might not return, that he might be gone forever was more frightening than she could ever have imagined.

  By the time Janine heard the front door open, she was frantic with worry. She grabbed the knob and nearly dashed into the hall before realizing that it could be one of her other tenants returnin
g. Since she wasn’t ready to face any of them, she pressed an ear to her door and waited.

  She heard footsteps on the stairs. After a pause, the muffled sounds grew closer. The soft click was only a few feet away as Quinn’s door opened and closed.

  Closing her eyes, Janine sagged against the jamb, trembling with relief and renewed trepidation. She moistened her lips, drew on whatever courage she could muster, went into the hall and tapped softly on his door.

  After a moment he answered and seemed surprised to see her. “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

  “It’s not that late.” She swallowed hard. “There’s something we should discuss. May I come in?”

  “Of course.” Eyeing her quizzically, he stepped back, allowing her access.

  As she stepped inside, the raven hissed, extending its wing in warning. Ignoring the irritated bird, she stood stiffly in the center of the room with her fingers tangled together. She heard the door close softly and knew that Quinn was watching her.

  After pulling the sheriff’s card from her shirt pocket, she took a deep breath, turned and held out her hand. “You had a visitor this afternoon.”

  Quinn hesitated before plucking the card from her palm. Except for a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, his expression remained impassive and said nothing.

  Since he appeared to be waiting for an explanation, Janine offered one. “Althea and Jules went to the sheriff this afternoon. They intimated that you were responsible for the fire at Marjorie Barker’s. There…are some questions. Sheriff Rhodes would like you to call.”

  “All right.” Quinn dropped the card onto his nightstand. “Is that all?”

  She nervously chewed on her lower lip and looked away. “He said something else.”

  “Something that upset you.”

  “Yes.” A hot mist gathered in her eyes. “He…said you were a criminal.”

  There was a long silence. “I see.”