A grateful and chastened Harry cuddled the cats and dog. As Fair drove them home, she said in a small voice, “I’m sorry. If you hadn’t saved me he would have killed me tonight.”
“Susan told me about your drive by. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where you were. She called Coop.”
“I’m sure he’s Bechtal’s outside man. I just know. Crazy ass, to do what he did to those women. He had money, he had jewels, you wouldn’t believe what he had down there.”
“He almost had you.”
“I thought about that, too.” She rubbed her temple, then winced. “You know, these cats and dog would have died to save me.”
“I know.” Tears came into Fair’s eyes.
“I was a fool.”
“Yes,” he quietly said. “And you were very, very lucky.”
“Well, maybe we can celebrate that.” She sighed, feeling both guilty and vindicated.
Not quite.
33
“Mother!” Brinkley put his paws on Tazio’s shoulders and kissed her face as she bent her knees slightly to greet him.
Paul had wanted to go to the prison with Ned, and Big Mim thought that was fine. She could do with a day in the stables herself.
However, through Ned. Tazio had asked that Paul stay at work. She wanted to wash the stink of the prison off her, fix her hair, girly herself up.
Ned brought Brinkley.
On the drive home, Ned provided all the details he had of Mike McElvoy’s arrest.
“Did he confess to the murders?”
“No. He swears he’s innocent.” Ned couldn’t help the irritation that crept into his voice. “So, kid, we’re still not out of the woods yet, and it will be expensive.”
“At least I’m out of jail. How can I ever thank Big Mim for going to people and raising bail?”
“By being yourself. She likes you. Well, she’d have to, wouldn’t she?” He smiled. “There is one thing.”
“What? A building?”
“Big Mim has wanted to create an orangery for years. Never got around to it. Perhaps you might surprise her with plans.”
Her eyes brightened, for Tazio had never designed an orangery.
Always up to a new challenge, she said, “I will. Wonder if I can create a misting system that won’t be intrusive.”
Ned smiled broadly this time, because he knew Tazio was on her way back to the Tazio they all knew. This experience had bruised a sensitive soul.
Given what she considered her state of ugliness, it took Tazio two full hours to prepare herself. Then she hopped in her wheels—with Brinkley, the happiest dog in America, in the passenger seat—and drove to the stables.
Paul, in a back paddock, heard the engine. He quietly slipped the halter off the yearling, closed the gate, and burned the wind running to the parking lot, the halter flapping all the while, for he had forgotten to hang it up.
Tazio had no sooner taken three steps from the car than Paul smothered her in an embrace. Then she cried and cried. She’d known she loved him, even though she’d kept that to herself. But she hadn’t known how much.
He cried, too.
Brinkley, respectfully seated, wagged his tail because he knew they weren’t sad tears.
“I love you,” Tazio simply said.
Big Mim, who had just come out of the house to walk into the garden, saw them out of the corner of her eye. She thought she’d wait a little before going down there, but she did see Paul drop to one knee, take Tazio’s right hand in his. She looked up to heaven and thought, truly the Lord works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform.
After Tazio agreed to marry Paul, the two of them, holding hands, walked up from the stables to the big house. Tazio wanted to thank Big Mim.
Big Mim waved from the garden as she saw them coming, took off her gardening apron, and opened her arms.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Tazio cried again.
Paul did, too.
Big Mim managed to hold it in, but she swallowed hard. “You’ll be cleared. Wait until you read today’s papers.”
Paul wiped his eyes with his hand, straightened his shoulders, and spoke with his seductive accent. “Mrs. Sanburne, Tazio has granted me the honor to become my wife.”
“Marvelous!” Big Mim kissed Tazio and Paul. “You couldn’t have chosen a better partner, nor a more beautiful woman. You are a lucky man.”
Paul beamed and Tazio said, “I’m pretty lucky, too.”
Big Mim held Tazio’s hands in hers, enthusiasm in her voice. “I know you two have a lot to do, people to call, but, Tazio, you have got to read this. Come on.”
In the kitchen, Tazio sat down and Gretchen made her coffee. Big Mim put the front page in front of Tazio as Paul sat next to her.
“Oh, my God.” Tazio enunciated each word slowly. “Oh, my God.” As she read, her breathing grew stronger and she couldn’t stop interjecting phrases throughout.
“Isn’t that the most incredible thing you have ever read?” Paul said as she put the paper down and picked up the coffee cup.
“Harry could have been murdered.”
“Would have.” Big Mim enjoyed her third cup today—one too many, but what the hell.
“He’s claiming innocence. That will slow the process, but how many murderers confess?” Gretchen couldn’t help but throw that in.
“State prosecutor will get him.” Big Mim hoped so, anyway. “Sixty-two thousand dollars in cash and all that jewelry. And he cataloged every single woman he had taken money, jewelry, and panties from. It’s so bizarre. Why catalog?”
“Possession.” Tazio, with insight, said, “He still felt he possessed them.”
“The panties. How can anyone live that down?” Gretchen laughed.
“He’ll be living it down in jail. And maybe this time he’ll be the victim.” Tazio felt a flash of genuine hate for Mike.
“Noddy will bring him soap on a rope so he doesn’t have to bend over in the shower.” Gretchen laughed.
“Gretchen.” Big Mim pretended to be scandalized.
“Noddy will divorce him if she has a grain of sense.” Tazio shook her head.
“I can’t imagine the humiliation she feels.” Paul glanced at the article again.
“He was probably complicit in Will’s murder, but it will take a great deal of work to prove it. The rub is proving he killed Carla. He was absent from his table, but so were others.” Big Mim folded her hands on her lap. “Rick will crack it. I have faith in him.”
34
Mike McElvoy, in the cell next to Jonathan Bechtal’s, talked to him over the days. When he was talking to him, he listened to Jonathan’s delusions about being the hammer arm of God.
Neither man particularly liked the other.
A week had passed since Mike’s arrest. Noddy refused to visit him. The guard gave him the daily papers. Each day his shame deepened—not guilt but shame.
“You’re cooked.” Jonathan cheerfully read the papers, too.
“Shut up.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up, you pervert. What do you do with those panties? Jerk off into them?” Mike ignored this. “Couldn’t get enough from your wife. She’s dumped you, too.”
“Shut up. No one visits you.”
Jonathan’s face darkened. His beard, now straggly since he wasn’t allowed any grooming implements, made him look fiercer. “My angel can’t visit me. No one must know.”
“Married, is she?” Mike crossed his arms over his chest.
“You shut your filthy mouth. She’s a pure, sweet angel. She’s not married. She’ll never marry. She’s married to our great cause of saving lives. They’ll kill me eventually, but I die a martyr. I die for the unborn.”
“She’ll open her legs before your body is cold.” Mike could give as good as he got.
Jonathan slammed up against the cell bars between them. “I’ll strangle you if you get near enough.”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
As it was Monday, the usual medley of drunks from the weekend had been released. Only the two of them were incarcerated.
Jonathan, clever in his way, lowered his anger and his voice. “Why didn’t you take the money and the jewelry and run?”