“You are, though,” Dan B. volunteered.
“I am?”
“Acting a little weird lately.”
Vera considered this. She guessed it was true. “Yeah, I confess. Kyle’s ticking me off again.”
“Still scoping your milk wagons, huh?”
Vera winced. Male lexicon seemed at no loss for sexist references to female physiology. “I thought it was rib melons, Dan B.”
“Rib melons, milk wagons—same thing,” Dan B. defined. “Just let me know when you want me to lock the asshole in my walk-in for a few days. See ya.”
Dan B. was about to leave, then turned back. “One thing, though. Lee’s been acting a little weird too.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know.” Dan B. fingered his chin. “But I can tell something’s bugging him.”
“Maybe he’s just homesick,” Vera offered.
”Nah, no way—he hated the city. He just seems down, you know, distracted or something. And he acts even weirder whenever that maid is around. You know, the one with her hair in a bun?’’
Yeah, the one I saw last night at three in the morning, walking away from—
Vera felt a little jolt.
Lee’s room…
“I don’t know,” Dan B. went on. “It’s probably nothing. Anyway, I’ll see you at dinner.”
”’Bye.”
Vera’s perplexity sat on her shoulder like a bothersome parrot; weird things seemed to be amassing, none of which she could even begin to figure. Dan B.’s departure made her feel sullen in the office, and bored now that she’d finished the daily paperwork. When the phone rang, she snapped it up, grateful for anything to get her mind off her confusion.
“Is this The Inn?” a rough, rusty voice asked.
“Yes, it is, and I’m Vera Abbot. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, ma’am, well maybe you can. This is Sergeant
Greg Valentine, Waynesville Police. Our dispatcher’s 10-6 log has Chief Mulligan dropping by your inn yesterday. That true?”
“Yes,” Vera said, though she had no idea what a 10-6 log could be. “It was yesterday morning; I talked to him myself.”
“How long was he there, ma’am?”
“Only a short time. Twenty minutes maybe.”
“Then he left?”
What an odd question. No, you moron, he pitched a tent in the atrium. Right now he’s roasting marshmallows in the fireplace. “He left immediately after talking to me, Sergeant,” she eventually answered. “Is there a problem?”
“Well…yeah ma’am there is.” A pause wavered on the line. “No one’s heard hide nor hair of Chief Mulligan since.”
««—»»
Such wonders, the Factotum mused.
Everything in the nave seemed to be shimmering in sizzling candlelight, even the dull rock walls. Zyra was off tending to the women, while Lemi commenced with the usual preparations.
Yes, every night a new and separate wonder!
Mosaics of light seemed to swarm atop his bald head, as dazzling as his visions and his thoughts. Could there be a greater honor than this, or a greater blessing?
Oh, my most resplendent lord, I am bound to serve you…
Under his cassock, his hairless chest tingled with the beat of his heart. His blood felt hot in his veins, hot with duty, hot with joy. That’s all he could remember, for as long as he’d lived: the delicious, sultry joy of giving this bounden service, this homage, this witness.…
Rending the fat one had been noisy; the Factotum smiled as Lemi, as always, expertly slit the bulging belly from groin to sternum. The organs within swelled forward through the crack as if by pressure. Arms red to the elbows, then, Lemi extracted the dead heart, held it high much like an offering to a god—
—then laughed and tossed it in the trash.
Sacrifice? the Factotum thought in jest. But in a way it was. Everything they did, and had always done, was in a sense a sacrifice to greater things.
“There’s one dead fat cop,” Lemi remarked.
“Yes, poor Chief Mulligan,” the Factotum added. “He won’t be bothering us anymore…”
And with that, Lemi raised the hatchet and cut off the police chief’s head.
— | — | —
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was Paul’s good fortune that he’d never actually met McGowen, though Vera had griped about him endlessly: an obnoxious, ill-mannered slob who had a knack for sexually harassing the waitresses. McGowen, nevertheless, was The Emerald Room’s general manager, and Vera’s boss when she’d worked there. Vera’s sudden departure had left the Emerald in managerial chaos, so it stood to reason that McGowen would be all too eager to help Paul out.
Provided he fell for the lie…
“Yes, Mr. McGowen, my name’s Kevin Sullivan,” Paul said, “and I was wondering if you could help me. I work for a collection agency. Of course I realize that you might not want to help me at all, since a general manager might feel a sense of loyalty towards an employee.”
McGowen smirked, corpulent behind his cluttered office desk. Unconsciously, he picked his nose. “Which employee are we talking about?”
“A Vera Abbot.”
McGowen’s eyes thinned like those of a cat spying fresh prey. Then he smiled. “Well you can bet I don’t have a whole lot of loyalty for Vera Abbot. The bitch quit without even putting in proper notice, and she conned three of my best employees to quit too. She left the place in a shambles, we’re still recovering.”
And it’s a good thing you don’t know who I am, Mr. McGowen, Paul thought, ’cause I’m the reason she quit. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
An unnoticed booger seemed to dangle from McGowen’s sandy mustache. “Sullivan, huh? A collection agency? What, Abbot owes money?”
“Indeed she does, Mr. McGowen, quite a bit of money,” Paul lied further. “She owes thousands and thousands of dollars on her credit cards.”
“Anything I can do to help you burn that bitch, just ask.”
Ahhhhh, Paul thought. It worked! Finally I’m getting somewhere. “She’s been ignoring our calls and notices for quite some time, and when I paid a visit to the address on her credit application, the landlord told me she no longer lived there. And she left no forwarding address. Did she by chance leave one with you?”
“Not a residential address. But she did leave her new employer’s address with me for her tax forms and W-2. Would that help you out?”
Paul had to consciously resist shouting out with glee.
“Yes, Mr. McGowen. That would help me out more than you can imagine.”
««—»»
When the night wound down, Vera retreated to her office to tabulated receipts. Forty-seven dinners tonight! she nearly rejoiced. An all-time high! At least it was something. After all, The Carriage House hadn’t been open that long, and though these numbers were nothing to rave about compared to The Emerald Room’s typical receipts, it was a clear indication that business was looking up. Vera even felt inclined to scoot over to room service and brag, but then she remembered that even the restaurant’s all-time high would be significantly less than the nightly RS receipts. Why give Kyle an excuse to rub my nose in poop? she reasoned.
“Can you believe it?” Donna remarked, suddenly sauntering in. “It’s the third night this week that the mayor came, and tonight he brought a bunch of town council members!”