Bishop,_Carly_-_The_Soul_Mate.txt

by The Soul Mate

  That by now maybe you would even be grieving that you couldn't remember

  the sound of his voice." She lifted her brows, her eyes filled with

  pity, or something too much like it. "Your memory hasn't dimmed one

  iota, has it?"

  "No." She cleared her throat to knock back the dull throb.

  "Have you thought, perhaps, that you need to get away from Kiel?"

  Robyn's heart twisted. She broke off the eye contact. "I can't,

  Lucy--"

  "Of course you can," Lucy chided gently. "I wouldn't say this to you

  if we weren't friends, Robyn, but we are.

  If he keeps you so in mind of Keller, get rid of him. You don't owe it

  to anyone to put yourself through this, Robyn, least of all some

  man."

  But that wasn't fair, and Robyn knew it. "Lucy, it's my fault, not

  Kiel's, that I see Keller in him. It isn't fair to blame Kiel."

  Together, she and Keller had each been whole, larger than life. One.

  One.

  She was like the jam on his toast. He was as essential to her as the

  cream in her coffee. It was only that she couldn't get used to being

  "jam" without purpose or place. "I've been drinking my coffee black

  for a while now," she mused.

  "Is that something I'm supposed to understand, Robyn?"

  She shook her head and gave a smile. "No. Lucy, I'm not going to curl

  up and die. I'm not a shadow of my former self, and... even if I

  thought I could get rid of Kiel, he won't be dispensed with."

  "I would help you," Lucy offered. "I have Staff I can turn over to

  your use this minute--"

  "Lucy," she interrupted, touching her friend's hand, "I can't. I've

  never run away from anything in my life, and if I start now, how will

  that make me better? Is there some other reason you believe I should

  get rid of Kiel?"

  Lucy straightened and set aside her napkin with a thump. "I've said

  too much, haven't I, even between friends? Of course you must do what

  will finally make you better. If I overstepped, Robyn, please forgive

  me, but it's because by your own admission, he's making you crazy."

  "Or ... maybe he's making me well." Like flypaper, her great-grand

  mama Marie used to say. Flypaper traps flies;

  so your soul captures what it must learn, and the people to learn

  from.

  Or in this case, Robyn thought, the angel.

  AFTER ROBYN LEFT with Lucinda Montbank, Kiel sat staring into space for

  a long time. Every bit as troubled as Robyn by their lack of real

  progress in resolving the murders of Spyder Nielsen and Keller, he knew

  they must be edging closer. And he knew it was the nature of the

  beast, of investigating, that a certain amount of time was likely to be

  spent chasing leads that went nowhere. But his own frustration had

  more to do with Robyn, with keeping her in the dark as to his true

  self, than anything else.

  His eyes fixed on the lighted display cabinets along the wall of the

  office and the collection of Wild West lore everything from old decks

  of cards to bullets, recovered door sills and pictures of dead bodies

  from drunken, brawling shoot-'em-ups in the mining. camp saloons. Old

  Lucien Montbank, Lucy's great-grandfather, had owned one of the

  brothel-saloons, and must have had an unexpectedly forward-looking bent

  of mind to save such things for posterity. For instance, the bullet

  that killed BlackJack Turner, the notorious gambler.

  Just for exercise Kiel split his consciousness, focusing both inward,

  on thoughts of Robyn, and outward, on that bullet. His eyes trained on

  the misshapen metal bullet, focused sharply and zoomed in until a part

  of his being and awareness shrank and actually entered into the

  molecules of the lead itself.

  This was truly what Kiel would consider an angel trick. David

  Copperfield could make the Great Wall of China appear to disappear, so

  it wasn't so amazing, to Kiel at least, that he himself had the power

  to both materialize,

  and then make disappear, that mountain cabin--or anything else, for

  that matter. But this ... this ability to be in consciousness in two

  different places, this was a feat befitting an angel. He could at once

  explore the inner contours of the spent and deadly bullet, and at the

  same precise time, be sitting in a chair in an office as would any

  mortal being, thinking.

  He knew there were times when Robyn believed she had taken a star fling

  left-hand, turn into madness. He would either have to resolve this

  ease quickly and get out of her mortal life, or finally explain to her

  who he was.

  The deception was sanctioned as the most humane and compassionate

  choice, but every minor piece contributing to it now corroded his

  angelic sense of fairness and truth. And with or without the memories

  of Keller Trueblood, Kiel's human manifestation was falling deeper in

  love with Robyn's earthbound one.

  He couldn't handle it much longer. Since the last thing he wanted to

  do was to deal with a look of betrayal in Robyn's eyes, he had to do

  something--and fast. He ended his little exercise with the bullet in

  the display cabinet and sealed the division in his consciousness to get

  on with the business of resolving the murders.

  He cloaked himself in invisibility and followed the path Robyn and Lucy

  had taken, then sat in for a moment on their conversation in the dining

  club.

  He didn't like Lucinda much. He had the sense that despite all her

  obvious help, she was hanging around to throw roadblocks in their way.

  She manufactured disputes with him where there were none, and goaded

  him every time Robyn went out of earshot. He was tired of messing with

  her, and he would have loved to flare up into his fearsome angelic

  visage just to put her in her place. He couldn't see what it was that

  Robyn admired in

  Lucinda Montbank, but instead of taking her on, he went out of his way

  for Robyn's sake not to get into power struggles with Lucy.

  He didn't like her and didn't like the tone of her lunch conversation,

  but he left the restaurant telling himself he had to have faith that

  for the next hour, Robyn would be fine without him.

  And if she wasn't, by the carving of ivory wings he had made for her,

  he would know it. He soared in his invisible state of being around the

  mountains surrounding Aspen in search of Tee Palmer, the crusty old

  miner Lucy had promised but so far had been unable to deliver.

  Kiel traveled in ever-widening circles, searching for the consciousness

  of the old man. He found him taking a smoke break from his labors in

  an obscure old mining shaft that would have been closed down cold

  inside a week had government safety inspectors ever seen it.

  Kiel materialized out of sight in clothes the old man would not

  automatically mistrust--which were ones about as filthy as those Tee

  Palmer wore.

  He walked up the hillside for about fifty feet so as not to surprise

  the old man, either. "Tee Palmer?" he called out from a distance of

  thirty feet.

  "Depends." The old guy squinted hard though the sun was at his back.

  "Who
in the billy hell are you?"

  "Name's Ezekiel. A friend of Lucinda Montbank." "She didn't say you

  could find me up here, 'cuz she don't know what I'm doin'," he answered

  suspiciously. "So how'd you find me?"

  "Lucky break, I reckon. Need some help. Mind if I sit awhile with

  you?" Kiel asked, tailoring his words to the old man's speech

  patterns.

  They sat and talked awhile. Palmer smoked another cigarette, then

  another, while he listened to Kiel explaining what it was Tee could

  help him with.

  The old man sat soaking up the sunshine for a moment, dozing. He

  startled awake when a bird screeched at a squirrel, still in mind of

  what Kiel had been talking about.

  He settled his backside differently on the hard, down-ward-sloping

  ground. "That old Hallelujah cavin' in like it did that day set me t'

  thinking. Came a runnin' m'self when I heard it go. In that bunged up

  ol' Jeep, anyway," he said, jerking his head in the direction of a

  vehicle Kiel would bet had seen thirty years on some army base, 'and

  another thirty in Tee's possession.

  "Were you at the Hallelujah when they rescued that woman and her

  husband?"

  "Dead-as-a-doornail husband, yep. Can't figure it. Dumb-ass people

  get their selves killed all the time going where they oughtn't oughta

  go, but I had a sense about this not being a case of dumb asses," he

  went on, "but something' nefarious goin' on instead."

  Amused as he was by Tee Palmer's mix of quaint and sophisticated words,

  the sentiment, the skepticism, shook Kiel. "Why is that Tee?"

  "Just a feelin'. About as much logic as fits in a pinhead, but the

  feelin'..." Tee shook his head. "That lack o' serious reasoning don't

  change the feelin'. Only times in a long life I've ever been in real

  trouble was when I ignored m'gut and went with logic."

  "Is it possible that someone set off charges?"

  "More'n possible. Likely. Had to set off a few more to rescue them

  kids, too--that lawyer fella 'n' his wife."

  Kiel had a powerful sense of himself being one of the kids Tee was

  talking about, only the mortal body of

  Keller Trueblood had been stone-cold dead. But the point the old man

  had made was an important one.

  More blasting had been necessary to clear a path into the tunnel where

  Robyn and he, or rather Keller, had been found--which meant new traces

  of explosives residue were to be expected.

  "So there'd be no way of telling, would there? No way to prove someone

  intended for the Hallelujah to collapse on those two?"

  "No way on God's little green earth I know of," Tee said. "You know

  anybody had it in for that mouthpiece leila?"

  Kiel nodded. "There were some. Nobody such as yourself, though, who'd

  know how to do the dirty work."

  Tee shook his head. "Wish I'd been around, maybe I'd a seen who done

  it. I mighta been in the general vicinity," he reflected, " 'cept I

  was five miles away chasin' off after some damn-blamed fool New Age

  hippies getting' naked in my hot springs."

  Kiel grinned. It was too bad Tee Palmer had not been in the vicinity

  to see who'd been anywhere near the Hallelujah planting explosives. He

  stood up when Tee shoved himself up to his feet, and shook hands with

  the old miner. "Thanks for your help." "Ain't much, come to that."

  "Did you get rid of the hippies?"

  "I fixed their wagon good," Tee said, cackling a bit. "Filled in the

  springs with boulders, that's what."

  Chapter Ten

  Judge Vincent J. Ybarra kept a dark courtroom every Friday afternoon.

  Robyn and Kiel checked in with his clerk, and he had, in fact, gone

  home for the weekend. She told them it was the Judge's habit to go

  soak in the mineral hot springs at the back of his property. That was

  where they found him.

  His aging housekeeper had taken their names, and he'd sent her back to

  invite them in.

  The trek out had to be a quarter mile over a footpath just worn through

  the weeds. Covered to his bare neck in a pool cut out by the natural

  springs, Judge Ybarra smiled broadly and waved an arm at the two of

  them. He had a full mustache, head of snowy white hair and distinctive

  Hispanic features. He was one of the most respected magistrates on the

  Western slope. "Robyn Delaney," he said. "I'm quite a fan of yours,

  young lady, I've read all your books. Found them quite good, in fact.

  And you're not a trained attorney, are you?"

  "No, sir, I'm not," she answered. "Thank you. It's always nice to

  hear that someone enjoyed my work, but doubly so, coming from you." She

  turned to Kiel. "You've not met Judge Ybarra." Kiel introduced

  himself.

  "An alias, or a descendant of the great Italian poet?" the old judge

  asked, his eyes sparkling with the devil.

  "I chose it, sir," Kiel answered. Smith, he swore, next time. Smith.

  "Well, if you're going to choose a name, why not?" Ybarra asked. "A

  dear friend of mine, a civil rights attorney, went from Ken to

  Sebastian. Quite fitting, I believe now, though in my younger days, I

  thought changing one's name a bit on the side of overweening. Take off

  your shoes, both of you, and dip your feet while we talk. You'll find

  it really very therapeutic."

  Robyn peeled out of her light knee-highs and loafers inside thirty

  seconds. Kiel took a few seconds longer.

  Ybarra's expressive face went solemn. "Your husband was a very fine

  young man, Robyn. His loss must be very difficult for you, as it is to

  all of us who respected his work so highly."

  "Thank you so much for that. Keller held you in the highest regard,

  too."

  "As he should, as he should," Ybarra joked. "You'll find I am not a

  falsely modest man."

  Kiel finally stuck his feet in the hot springs. "Judge Ybarra, I'm

  working with Robyn, going through Keller's files. We think there may

  be reasons to doubt the integrity of one of the investigating officers

  in Colorado v. Candelaria."

  The old gentleman sat up, spreading his thin arms on the rock behind

  him. "What reasons?"

  "That's really what we came to see if you could help us with," Robyn

  answered. "In Keller's notes... I don't know if you were familiar with

  Keller's cartoon sketches--"

  "Oh, quite," Ybarra interrupted. ".I found him in contempt twice for

  scrawling cartoons when he should have been paying attention." The

  skin around his old brown eyes crinkled nearly shut when he laughed at

  her startled expression. "I confiscated his drawings as payment."

  Ybarra leaned forward, whispering, "I framed them. They're of me.

  Quite good." Hesat back, laughing, roaring for his housekeeper to

  bring him a cigar. "But you were saying?"

  Robyn smiled and shook her head at the sly, funny old magistrate. "I

  was saying, that in Keller's notes are several caricatures of Detective

  Crandall--all quite recognizable." She described the series of

  drawings, ending with the courthouse being pulled into the hole

  Crandall had dug. "My question, Judge Ybarra, is this. Did Keller

  come to you privately and sug
gest that he mistrusted anything Crandall

  had done, or anything he'd testified to in court?"

  The housemaid was in the midst of lighting Ybarra's cigar. He puffed

  on it several times, making smoke rings sail into the steamy vapor over

  the hot springs. The smoke rings didn't last in the humid air like

  they might have in the crisp autumn air above.

  "Keller did, in fact, indicate a certain level of mistrust," Ybarra

  stated.

  "Over the unidentified tire track?"

  Ybarra nodded.

  "Did he think the charges against Ms. Candelaria should have been

  dropped?"

  "No." He sank back down again in the hot springs until the water rose

  to his neck. "Keller was troubled over that issue--but, and I tell you

  this now in confidence--even the defense investigators failed to come

  up with any specific identification on that tread."

  Planting her hands behind her on moist rock, Robyn massaged the instep

  of one foot with the toes of her other. She exchanged looks with Kiel.

  "Judge Ybarra, were you also aware of the problem with Stuart

  Willetts?"

  "That, my dear, I was not. Not at the time, I should say. Mr.

  Willetts behaved with the utmost decorum in my courtroom, and as you

  may well know, I do everything in my power to absent myself from the

  social scene in this town."