Tallulah stuck her foxy red head in the doorway, her chestnut eyes dancing in merriment. “Chief, Two Feathers is dancing naked on Main Street. Full moon madness at work.”
He fingered the amulet around his neck. “Darlin’, there’s no scientific proof to support the theory.”
“Tell it to Two Feathers. Want me to dispatch Henry?”
“I’ll handle it.” He took one last look out his window implanting the serene sight in his memory.
Donning his coat and Stetson, he walked through the hallway toward the rear of the building. He came to a halt when Aubrey, escorting a prisoner, pushed through the double doors. Simon recognized the man as Carson Kneeland, a high school history teacher. Kneeland glared at him. “Chief, will you tell this imbecile it isn’t a crime for me to break into my car.” Aubrey yanked on Kneeland’s cuffed hands. “Vandalism, destroying public property, resisting arrest—”
“Tell me what happened.” Simon took a step back and leaned against the counter.
“I left some papers in my car and went out to the parking lot and realized my keys were locked in the car. The latch on the hatchback is broken, so I hit on it a bit to open it. That’s when Honeydale’s finest appeared.” Carson hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Aubrey.
Aubrey placed his hand on his holstered sidearm and puffed his chest. “I was on patrol when I noticed a suspicious person banging on the trunk of a car with a ‘Keep Off the Grass’ sign in the parking lot of the school.”
“Suspicious person?” Kneeland’s eyebrows reached his hairline. “You’re unbelievable.” He shook his head.
“You were. All hunched over like that trying to break into a car.”
“I was hunched over, you idiot, because it’s twenty-eight degrees outside, and I don’t have a coat on.” He turned to Simon. “Tell him to uncuff me.”
“This will have to wait. I have a Native on his way to frostbite. Aubrey make Mr. Kneeland comfortable and get him a coffee. We’ll sort this out when I get back.”
“Yes, sir.” Kneeland stomped his feet. “You can’t hold me. I didn’t do—”
“Chief.”
Simon turned to Tallulah who stepped from foot to foot. “What is it?”
“Just got a report of a deer ramming the chain link fence along the highway just before the turnoff for Durham.”
“Why don’t they call Forestry?”
“The woman said she did, but there was no answer.”
Cutbacks. The department of forestry was a one-man show now on the island.
Simon walked to the gun cabinet and took out the shotgun loaded with number four birdshot. He didn’t want to put the deer down, and the birdshot had only a maximum penetration depth potential of about three inches. Deer weren’t known to charge, but given how this day was progressing, anything could happen. Better inclined than penitent.
“Chief, you can’t keep me here. I didn’t do anything wrong and I have a class to teach.” Kneeland said.
Simon pumped the shotgun. “Aubrey, uncuff him, and let him go.”
“Chief?”
Simon glared at his deputy. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“I need a ride back to school.”
“Aubrey, give Mr. Kneeland a ride.”
“Oh, all right.”
“Tallulah, darlin’, would you call Evie, see if she wants to pull an extra shift? I have a feeling we’ll need the extra help.”
“I’m on it.”
Once outside, Simon gulped in the frosty air, clearing his mind.
He heard the sound of car horns tooting long before he saw Two Feathers two-stepping in the street. A crowd had gathered, shouting encouragement, whooping catcalls and whistling. He double-parked, got out of the four-by-four and pushed through the onlookers.
“Hey, Two Feathers, how’s it going?”
Without breaking step, the old Indian chanted, “Noochenen’ tan wasõk à umun, ukwesoonum nikskamawadastch.” He raised his arms into the air and waved his hands. “Blood on the moon.”
“Uh-huh. Last night. Noticed it.”
Two Feathers tossed his long, gray-streaked hair over his shoulder. “Death before noon.”
Simon edged closer, hoping there was no truth in the prophecy. “Why don’t you get in my car and we’ll talk about it.” Taking note of the odor of whiskey in the air, he took off his parka and slipped it over the Indian’s shoulders. On his diminutive frame, the jacket hung to his calves.
“Death is coming. It is all around us. Do you not feel it?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“If you had more Indian blood running in your veins than white, you would. Half-breed.”
“The guilt is tearing me up.” Simon steered Two Feathers through the crowd. “Show’s over, folks.”
“Where’re you taking me?”
“To a warm, cozy bunk at my place. First, though, I got a stop to make.”
Simon spotted the White Tailed deer in the bushes, stomping its feet just before it charged the fence. He surveyed the area and learned the reason for the deer’s distress. Two of her offspring were on the other side.
“Blood on the moon,” Two Feathers said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Looks like she hurt herself. Blood runs down her face. What you plan on doing, chief? Take her down?”
Simon knew he said that only because of his mixed heritage. Shooting a deer was sacrilegious among Indians. “Nope, gonna accommodate her.”
He looked at the shotgun racked on the dashboard. “Why did you bring that, then?”
“Thought you might be uncooperative.”
Simon got out of the truck, put on the bomber jacket in the trunk compartment and grabbed the wire cutters. The deer turned and eyed him warily when he crossed over the ditch. “Easy, girl. Easy.” He kept a safe distance away, walking along the fence in the opposite direction. Simon worked fast cutting the links and bending back the fence. He stepped to the side and waited for the deer’s offspring to take advantage of the exit. With mother and fawns reunited, he directed traffic while they crossed the road.
“You’re a crazy son-of-a-bitch, chief. The deer could’ve charged you.”
“Yeah, could have, but didn’t.”
“Should’ve shot it. Have some deer steaks for supper.”
Simon refused to give in to the taunt. “Maybe next time.”
At the station, Simon handed Two Feathers over to Tallulah. “Our finest accommodations for Mr. Kennah and get him some clothes. We must have a jumpsuit around here somewhere. Did you get a hold of Evie?”
“No answer at her place.”
“Did you try her cell?”
“Yup, and she isn’t at your parents, either.”
“Okay. Keep trying. Call the DOH and tell them there’s a section of fence that needs mending.”
With a lull in full moon madness, Simon decided to ride out to Evie’s. She worried him. Seldom did she go anywhere without her cell. He drove the ten minute distance to the cottage without event. Here, amid the nestle of spruce and pine trees along the road toward Evie’s cottage the silence seemed surreal considering the craziness he’d dealt with in the last hour and a half.
Evie’s Explorer sat in the drive. He stood on the stoop at the back door and rapped his knuckles on the jamb. “Evie.” After a moment, he called her name again. Still no answer. The doorknob turned in his hand. That she left her door unlocked didn’t surprise him. “Evie?” He stepped through the kitchen and into the living room. But for the tick-tock of the grandfather clock, the cottage was as silent as an animal’s lair in winter. Bear was nowhere to be seen, either. He retraced his steps and searched the property. No need to worry, he told himself.
Simon answered calls and wrote up reports and considered moon madness a blessing. At least for a little while, it took his mind off murder and what the result of Evie’s DNA test might bring. The pressure built slowly inside him, the desperate need to make things right, the violent want that Evie was not a murd
erer. When Tallulah called out from her desk that Glenn Talbot from the lab was on the phone for him, he was about ready to burst. His hand shook when he reached for the phone. “Chief Wolfe.”
“Chief, the hair sample you sent me isn’t a match for the DNA found on Miller’s body.”
Simon breathed relief. “Was it close at all?”
“Not even remotely.”
He let out another long breath. “Thanks, Glenn, for putting a rush on it. I owe you one. Send me the bill.” Simon jumped into the air. “Yahoo!” He sprinted to Tallulah, lifted her off the floor and kissed her on the lips. “Life is great!”
“You might not think so when I tell you a pissed-off mayor is on her way over to see you.”
“Not even a temperamental bureaucrat can spoil my mood.”
“Did I forget to mention the ADA will be joining her?”
“Victoria ‘the Viper’ Shore”?
“Uh-huh.” Hell’s Bells. He hated lawyers.
With the ADA and Mayor dealt with, Simon decided to have a talk with Aubrey. He walked out of his office and stopped alongside the deputy’s desk. “Let’s take a walk.” He clipped a two-way on his belt. “Tallulah, you have the com.”
“Like I don’t always?”
Outside, a brisk wind had picked up, the kind that brought rain. Simon steered Aubrey around the back of the building. “How’s everything going?”
“Good.”
“No problems?”
“None. Look, Chief, if this is about what happened earlier with Kneeland, I want to apologize.”
“You should be apologizing to Kneeland, not me.”
“But I embarrassed you and the department.”
“Most of all you embarrassed yourself. Aubrey, I don’t want to turn this into a sermon where I preach about how a man’s actions define him. You know what you did was out of line and I’m sure you’ll never let anything like that happen again. Right?”
Aubrey heaved a breath. “Right.”
“Good.”
They crossed the street and strolled up the sidewalk toward town. Fallen leaves rustled around their ankles. “How’s Henry doing? Been spending a lot of time with Mrs. Miller, has he?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“A lot. Every free moment he has. Truthfully, he’s clinging to her like plastic wrap.”
“Uh-huh.” Just as he thought. Sometimes the truth stared you straight in the face. Simon caught Aubrey’s quick glance.
“You don’t think…What? You’re saying Henry killed Miller to get him out of the way because he’s in love with his wife? Oh God, you can’t ...he’s one of us.”
“I can’t dismiss him as a suspect because of that. Is Henry capable of murder?” Simon spread out his hands. “Love can make us do crazy things. Maybe he thought he was doing right by her.” He scanned houses, parked cars, the loose shingles on the roof of Harry Gammon’s house. “He’s kept up his friendship with her since high school…that’s what…fourteen years or so? Loving her from afar, watching her husband make a fool of her and pissing on their marriage vows time and time again. That must have been a sore spot with him, probably festering inside until he couldn’t stand by and do nothing anymore.”
A woman pushing twin boys in a stroller past by them. “Ma’am.” Simon tipped his hat. “It looks like rain.”
“It does.” She smiled and continued on her way.
“Miller had no defensive wounds on his body, so he wasn’t worried enough about his assailant to think he needed to protect himself. He either knew his killer, or thought his killer posed no threat to him.” Simon waved at Wallace O’Connell entering his office. “We have to recognize that fact.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Keep an eye on Henry, discretely, of course. You will, too, Aubrey.”
It neared six o’clock when Simon left the station for the day. He stopped by Su Linn’s for take-out. Darkness had settled over Honeydale. The moon was high in the sky and clear, he noted with relief. When Evie’s well lit cottage came into view, he let out a pent-up breath. Before he had his boots firmly planted on the deck, the door swung open and Evie jumped into his arms. “I missed you.” She showed him how much with a passionate kiss. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I did, Tallulah did, but there was no answer. I even came by, but you weren’t here.” She appeared deep in thought for a moment. “Oh, I must have been out by the brook with Bear.”
“We sure could have used your help today. The town went crazy, for awhile.”
“Really?”
“Full moon madness.”
“You don’t believe in that stuff.”
“Maybe a little, now.” He steered her into the kitchen and set the take-out on the counter.
“Bad day?”
The worst, but it ended well. Very well, in fact. He gave her the abridged version. “Then the mayor and DA took today to pay a visit. ‘When can I expect an arrest in the Miller murder,’ Mayor Duffy asked in that high-pitched mewl of hers.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her she’d be the first to know when I make an arrest and to get out of my office.”
She slapped his chest playfully. “You schmoosed her, didn’t you?”
“All two hundred and thirty pounds.” He nuzzled her neck. “Be my wife, my soul mate, my friend for life, Evie.”
She stepped back. “What?”
“Marry me.”
A half-smile formed on her lips. “This isn’t full moon madness, is it?”
“I’m madly in love with you and the moon doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
She searched his face. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack. Marry me. Please don’t make me beg. We’ve lost so much time as it is, I don’t want to lose another minute with you.” It took only a second for her to decide.
“Yes!”
They kissed.
Simon felt the ground settle beneath his feet.
“I want a diamond, a big diamond.”
“I want children, lots of children. Cooper, Amelia, Dawson, Penelope, Morgan. I want a pack of them. A pack of little Wolves.” He showered her cheeks, forehead, nose and chin with kisses.
She locked her arms around his neck. “Why don’t we take this to the bedroom and get started on Cooper or Amelia, or Cooper and Amelia.”
“You always were an over-achiever.” He scooped her into his arms. Evie would finally be his, his to cherish, his to love freely. She nibbled on his ear and he stopped thinking altogether. They lowered to the bed. When he held her tightly in his arms, he had all he needed, all he would ever need. His mouth closed over hers, his fingers undoing buttons.
She yanked off her jeans.
Something colorful through the lace of her underwear caught his attention. “What’s this?” He edged the fabric down slowly and gasped.
“It’s a tattoo,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hell’s bells! A tattoo. Keertana’s vision flashed in his mind. Simon couldn’t breathe. The room spun before his eyes. His stomach somersaulted.
“Simon, my God, what’s the matter? You look like you’re going to pass out. It’s just a little tattoo. I wanted to surprise you.”
That, she did. He forced calmness that didn’t reach his mind and flipped over on his back, shoving himself up against the headboard. “I’m fine.” He mustered a smile.
Squinting, she looked into his eyes. “Something’s going on. What is it? You shouldn’t have had that reaction to a tattoo.”
He shook his head. “Nothing’s going on. Just taken off-guard, that’s all. You’re not the kind of person to get a tat.”
She wagged a finger before her face. “No, no, no. It’s more than that. Now, come clean, mister.”
He weighed the prudence of telling her the truth. Would she still want to marry him once she knew he thought she was a murderer? On the other hand, one lie would lead to another lie. If
she was innocent, was that any way to start their life together? He patted the bed beside him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Simon told her everything. “And when I saw your tattoo…”
She threw her head back and laughed, then covered her mouth, tears dribbling from her eyes. “You thought I killed those men and staged the break-ins and everything else?” She laughed some more, rolled over and slapped the mattress playfully.
He grinned, feeling like an ass. How could he think she was a murderer and devious enough to concoct a plan to implicate someone else?
She composed herself and sat up, staring him in the face. “Did your mother say whether the killer’s tattoo was a permanent one?”
He thought back to that night. “At the time I assumed it was, and given the time that’s elapsed since Miller’s murder and my mother’s vision, I would say so.”
She flipped a hand through the air. “Well, there you go. Mine’s a Mehndi.”
“Huh?”
“A temporary tattoo. The application is hand drawn and applied with powdered henna, a mixture of coffee and lemon juice mixed into a paste. It’ll probably last about two weeks and fade away.”
“Oh,” was all he could think of to say.
“Judging by the skeptical expression on your face, you’re still not convinced. You still think I might be the killer?”
How could he still think that? He hauled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “First thing in the morning we’re shopping for that big diamond. I want the world to know how in love with you I am.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Evie sat before Gaston. Her second hypnotherapy session had begun.
“How do you feel, Evie?”
“Fine.”
“Relaxed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Evie, I want you to remember back a few years.”
She smiled.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
Wolfe, She Cried Page 15
