How has no woman ever yet clonked you over the head with a purse full of quarters? I shook my head, wishing I could be the first, but knowing it wouldn’t be likely. Since I didn’t carry a purse. I said, “No, Dad. Our understanding is that the neighbors heard the bimbo and her staff screaming for several minutes before the house they were renting burned down around them.”
Albert didn’t wince. He’d taken too much of my crap and seen too much other shit in his time for either sarcasm or arson to part the stones that held his expression in its regular, harsh lines. “So Bea’s a firebug?” was all he asked.
“We thought so at first,” I replied. “Nearly all of the bodies had been thoroughly charred. But now we think she was trying to disguise the real cause of death.”
“Which was?”
“Snakebite.”
Albert shifted in his seat so he could see me better. “Why would that make any difference?”
“Not sure. But the sprinkler system preserved one of the bodies well enough that we can surmise it was covered in bites, almost like somebody had dumped a barrel of snakes on it. And these were ones from a particular species. The most venomous land snake in the world. It’s called the Inland Taipan, a shy mouse eater that’s only found in Australia. Strange deal, because Safia and her people were living in Lebanon at the time.”
The longer I talked about the Taipan the tighter Vayl clutched the wheel, until it began to creak under the pressure. He loathed snakes. Even worse than I disliked tight spaces. I wanted to reach out, give my boss a comforting pat. I lifted my hand, looked at it, ran it through my curls.
Meantime Albert had not digested my news well. The bushy eyebrows inched upward as his green eyes pierced right through me. Ten years ago I’d have given up every secret I thought he hadn’t already discovered under that glare. Now I just waited silently for his verdict. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “Inland Taipans as an assassin’s tool? That’s pretty sick. Did you bring antivenom?”
“Yeah. But I gotta tell you, it’s not a hundred percent effective. Something about the venom can sometimes sneak past the cure. Obviously we believe she’s a Medusa, so we’re hoping to kill her before she makes her move.”
As Albert imagined the horror I’d just described, a woman who wound her pets around her hair like a turban only to set them loose on her unsuspecting victims when the killing mood struck her, he produced that sucking-on-teeth noise that made my ribs ache. It meant he was about to say something important. I waited for him to tell me he was impressed that the CIA trusted such a tricky assignment to his own daughter.
“You should’ve brought a warlock,” he said before turning back to his map.
I leaned over to Cole. “I should’ve killed him on the plane.”
Chapter Four
Albert surprised me by navigating us straight from the A9 to a winding country road to the long tarmac lane that led to Tearlach. As we drove toward the house, I realized it may have been our first trip together where he didn’t decide on a last-minute detour to some obsolete hole like the Museum of Big Gray Rocks or the Littlest Loch in the Nairn Valley.
“Would you take a look at this place?” Albert said as he folded the map.
“Reminds me of thter„e Hansel and Gretel story,” Cole replied.
Much like the woman herself, Floraidh’s place exuded warmth and hospitality. From a distance we could glimpse orderly gardens just beginning to blossom in the promising warmth of mid-May. They surrounded a four-story confection whose designer must’ve had a wife who adored jewelry. So why not throw a bunch of doodads on the house as well? Six gables that I could see made the roof a reshingler’s nightmare. The front porch, which ran around three-quarters of the house, had been enclosed to begin with, along with the two sunporches that jutted above the main entrances, which were at its east and west ends.
“What the hell kind of monstrosity is that?” wondered Albert as he eyed the four smoking chimneys and the gingerbread molding edging the roofline.
“I believe that is called a Queen Anne Victorian,” said Vayl.
“No wonder they have to take in guests,” he replied. “It must cost a fortune to heat. And it probably never gets warm inside. Not even in the summer.”
Yeah, go ahead, Pops. Enjoy the show. Even the trees marching down the edge of this smooth, straight lane want you to believe the sham. But wait’ll you hear Floraidh’s secret.
She and her coven worshipped Scidair, a sorceress whose legends told how she’d become Satan’s concubine in the afterlife. When you kept that in mind, you could see the reality behind the advertising: a looming old construction laced with manipulative magic, guarded by green, bushy lumps with hidden thorns poised to reach out and grab the unsuspecting guest. Backing up my observations were tall thin rocks that jutted from the earth at random points in the yard, as if Mother Nature herself was giving us the middle finger. She’d shaded most of them gray, but at just the right angle they glittered so brightly that if you looked at them wrong you saw dots for the next two minutes.
Jack jumped down to get a better look out the window. Something on my side of the lane had caught his attention. He began to scratch at the glass.
I ran my hand down his back. “I don’t see anything, dude. What—”
Movement. I caught a blur out of the corner of my eye just as Albert yelled, “Watch out!” and threw up his hands.
I leaped forward, putting myself between my dad and whatever had startled him, practically sitting on his lap as Vayl jerked the wheel to the left. The van spun sideways, giving me half a breath to realize that a man had stepped into the vehicle’s path. He didn’t even look up as the tires squealed, signaling imminent impact. I got the impression of shaggy brown hair with a matching beard. A suit coat and pants in the same color that sagged so badly the man must’ve bought them when he was forty pounds heavier. And a gold chain running from pants to vest pocket.
Then our window swung sideways. I braced myself against the dashboard. Craned my neck, trying to see whether the man had jumped out of the way in time, tensing against the thud that would signal the beginning of a dreadful few days. It never came.
As soon as the Alhambra screeched to a stop we jumped out and ran to the spot where the man’s body should be lying. Nothing.
“Yeah.” I turned to leave.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“You taking the mutt with you tonight?”
I looked down at Jack, who blinked at me soulfully. “I figured I would.”
“Why don’t you leave him with me?”
“Huh?” The offer caught me so far off guard I was sure I looked like a total cave brain, with my mouth hanging open to give all my loose gray matter a straight shot to the floor.
“He could keep me company while I watch TV.”
“Are you going to yell at him?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You mean like you’re yelling at me right now?”
“I’m not yelling!”
“Promise to talk nice or he leaves with me.”
Albert shook his head and stared at Jack. “Do you want to stay with me for a while, Jackster? I may have a few treats for you in my suitcase to help pass the time.” Albert hobbled to the dresser and threw open the lid to his luggage. Right on top lay a box of doggy snacks.
“You didn’t.”
For answer, Albert dug one out and offered it to Jack, who immediately deserted me to make friends with the man who had informed me, at the age of eight, that if I couldn’t figure out how to manage all by myself I might as well skip my independence and check right into Greenfields Assisted Living.
I left my dad and my dog bonding over Milk-Bones and Hot Fuzz, thinking, The way this day is going, things are only gonna get weirder.