Chapter 46

CHAPTER 46

N obody died during dinner, which was something.

And the crab rangoon was excellent.

The restaurant was as busy as usual, but it was also fairly quiet, so I sat and listened while Max tried to get me to say that it was all right he was leaving. I appreciated the dress jacket and the dinner out, but not enough to let him off the hook. If he had to go, he had to go, I understood, but I wasn't going to tell him it was okay with me.

Plus, every time he tried to get down to business, somebody interrupted him. "So, Rose," he said, and Don Jones stopped by the table to tell us he had a new shipment of running shoes in if we were interested, which was really his attempt to show everybody that he knew Max, the new Big Cheese in town. When he left, Max said again, "So about what you need," but Barry came out of the bar to tell me I was looking good and to drunkenly ask if we'd found any money or gold. I was going to ask what the hell all this talk about gold was, but Max got rid of him by telling him to shut the fuck up about my business, and then Oxley Crothers stopped by the table to tell Max about some kind of gardening book he'd just gotten in—gardening?—and Max got rid of him, too, and started on another pathetic bid to get me to say I'd be better off without him when I looked around and realized the restaurant was filling up.

"This isn't good," I said as the crowd grew.

"Well, tell me what I have to do to make it good," he said, sounding exasperated.

"Not you. This place has gone viral. Somebody called a friend and told them who was here and what was going on, and they called somebody and now everybody's here waiting for the fight."

Max looked around. "We're never going out to eat again."

Lionel was now looking very nervous, and he'd asked Louise something a couple of times, and she'd shaken her head no a couple of times. He probably wanted to get the hell out, but she wasn't going for it.

"So about—" Max started, and Lionel got up and came over, and said, "Max, if Dottie—" and Max said, "If you interrupt my date, Dottie will not be the person you have to worry about killing you," and Lionel went back to Louise. Again.

I was trying to figure out what the hell Louise's play was but not terribly worried about it. I was sedated by four orders of crab rangoon and not in the line of fire.

I asked for tea after dinner, and to my surprise Max asked for a cup, too. Then Betty Baumgarten arrived as Owen put down a tray with a pot of tea and two cups, and without a word he went back for another cup as she pulled up a chair without asking.

"So I hear there's trouble here tonight," she said. "What did I miss?"

Max looked like he was ready to shove her chair over, but I said, "So far, nothing. Dottie and Bea are in the bar with Barry. Lionel and Louise are over there in the corner, arguing. Pike and Coral are playing a waiting game by the front arch. Alfie Packer came late and went into the bar, where I doubt he's thinking about bonding with Dottie."

"Who the fuck is Alfie Packer?" Max said, evidently pressed beyond his limits of social conversation.

Then he sneezed into his napkin.

"Alfie is the vet who took Louise to Peru," I told him. "Try to keep up."

"Why?" Max said. "None of them killed Melissa or Sid, right?"

"Melissa had secrets," Betty said serenely, pouring tea into Hugh's fragile little cups. "Not like Sid's secrets, of course. She was always very discreet. I have no idea who killed her, but I'd very much like to know who it was." She looked at Max. "Do you know?"

There was some intent in her voice, a kind of promise that if Max knew who killed Melissa, he could tell her and not have to worry about it again. I marveled that she'd pulled off that sweet little old lady bit for the nineteen years I'd known her. And how cool she was after telling me she'd had an affair with Melissa and another one with a Russian who'd given her a llama. And how right she was when she told me to get a life. Looking at her now, her white hair dipping down over her forehead in a perfect wave, her big eyes the color of steel, watching everything, her mouth set in a firm, red line under that strong nose that had a bit of a hook in it, she was the Iron Lady personified. Then I stared at her again and realized what she'd always reminded me of: an owl. A sweet, white-feathered owl who could see everything. And from experience, I knew she could swoop down like an owl, too. Betty was a raptor.

"I do not know who killed Melissa," Max was saying, just as firmly. "Don't do anything I'll regret, Betty. We have no idea who it was."

"I have some ideas," Betty said calmly. "And I never have regrets. You shouldn't either. We were damned a long time ago and we just have to ride it out until the final darkness takes us." She frowned at him. "You don't look well."

"Swimming in the Little Melvin in November is not a good idea," Max said. "Twice. I got shoved into it today when?—"

But Betty had already moved on. "I assume Dottie has not seen that Louise and Lionel are here."

"No," I said.

"Have you braced Harvey over the killings and for attacking Rose?" Betty asked Max. "I don't see him for it, but Luke said you're looking for a chemist and he's the last one standing. Plus, you should kill him just for the Rose attack."

"I am trying to enjoy my date ," Max said and then ruined the effect as he sneezed into his napkin once more. He was really sick. Getting worse by the moment.

Then everyone heard Bea's voice yelling from the bar, " You bastard. "

Max gave a wan smile. "Maybe she'll take out Barry." He sounded hopeful.

Hugh came out of the bar, holding Bea by the arm, bending it in an unnatural way that brought a grimace to her face as he marched her out the door before she could do anything about it. Barry walked to look out the bar archway at all of us and shrugged and said, "What can you do? Women, amirite?"

The room ignored him.

"Rose and I were talking," Max began, I think in an attempt to shift Betty, but then Dottie came out of the bar and spotted Lionel and Louise across the room. Her face changed in an instant, from a fussy little frown of annoyance to a mask of fury, and Pike stood up, and then to my amazement, Max sighed and stood up, too.

He was really taking this marshal thing seriously.

Dottie started across the room, snarling, "Hello, Lousie, " as Hugh came back from turfing Bea and moved to stop her, saying, " No, " in an unmistakable command voice. "Not in my restaurant. Take it outside."

Dottie seethed over his shoulder. "I want to talk to the bitch whore that stole my man."

Louise stood up and oiled her way to the floor to smile at Dottie, Hugh standing between them.

"I didn't steal him, Dottie," she said, sweetly. "He escaped."

"That's enough ," Hugh said as Dottie made a move toward her.

"You bitch ." Dottie pulled a knife from under her jacket, but Max was there to deftly take the knife out of her hand, leaving Dottie blinking in surprise and unarmed.

Now that was something useful he could teach me.

"I'm on a date, " he snarled and pointed the knife at Louise. "You. Go back to that idiot who has probably never looked at your face and shut up. And you ," he said, turning to Dottie. "Stop letting her bait you. You're better than that. You definitely deserve better than him."

"Damn it, Dottie," Lionel yelled now that Max had saved everybody, but he didn't move in front of Louise to shield her.

Max would have moved in front of me. So there, Lousie.

"All right," Max said loudly to the restaurant as a whole. "Listen up, people. I'm on a date. And I do not want any more interruptions. The next time one of you tries to kill somebody, take it out into the street. Because if I have to get up and save somebody again, the next person who dies will be the one who interrupts my date. Are we clear?"

Then he ruined what had been a good speech by sneezing.

"That was very impressive , " Louise said, transferring her purr to him, and I had to admit, Max was very attractive when he was being commanding and threatening, especially in a nice jacket. Even with the sneezing.

If she touched him, I was going for her throat.

Max looked at her. "I'm not that stupid," he told her calmly. "Are you going back to Lionel or is Hugh going to toss you into the street with Bea?"

She smiled at him, no offense taken, looking straight into his eyes, and then she swiveled back to Lionel with extra wiggle, which Max ignored to focus on Dottie.

"Go home, Dottie," Max said. "She's torturing you. If you go, she's stuck for the rest of the night with Lionel."

Dottie nodded, and I felt sorry for her, but Hugh shook Max's hand as Dottie left the restaurant.

"That was excellent," he said. "I don't think you're the new Oz, I think you're the Max we need."

"Yeah, right," Max said and came back to the table, ignoring the stares of the general populace. People began to drift out now that the show was over, including Betty, who said, "Very nice, Max," as she put her chair back where she'd found it.

When she was gone, Rowan and Lian stopped by our table.

"I think I made it perfectly clear," Max began, and I reached over and patted his hand.

"We need to talk with Rowan," I reminded him.

Lian pulled a chair over from a vacated table, and Rowan did the same.

"Lian has given me a brief summary of the two deaths," Rowan said as he sat down, "and asked if I could help."

"Nobody listens to me," Max said, and no one listened to him.

Pike and Coral had also gotten up to leave, but seeing the situation, they pulled their chairs over. We had enough space to talk without being overheard as the crowd thinned out now that the show was ove. Plus, Max's threat had kind of cast a pall over things.

"What's going on?" Pike asked, glaring at Rowan.

"Nobody has any respect for my personal life," Max said. "I'm on a d?—"

"Okay," Pike said to Rowan. "Do serial killers usually pose the bodies?"

"Depends on the killer," Rowan said. "Those that do, do it for different reasons, to satisfy some psychological need of the killer. Or it could also be done to confuse the investigation."

"The investigators are definitely confused," I said.

Lian spoke up. "Rowan said he was investigating a death in Bearton that was labeled an accident, and he thinks it was the work of this serial killer he's been tracking for years."

"Yes," I said. "He told us. The Director."

Max turned on him. "You think you know who it is?"

Now it was Rowan's turn to look uncomfortable. "How were your bodies posed?"

Max and Pike exchanged a glance, then Max reluctantly answered. "A funeral director in one of her caskets. A drug dealer with a blunt in his mouth and Cheetos stains and cocaine smeared on his face."

Rowan nodded. "That fits the Director. What it doesn't fit is three killings so quickly and in the same area. He—it could be a she, but evidence suggests a male—has always taken at least four months between a kill. That I know of. He always poses them in a way that shows why they were guilty of something and needed to die." He frowned. "Not sure what a funeral director would be guilty of."

We all held our peace on that, but yeah, Melissa the assassin in a coffin was ironic.

"Who died in Bearton that brought you here?" Coral asked.

"A river guide named Braxton," Rowan said. "Drowned after getting tangled in fishing line."

"That happens," Pike said. "Why do you think it was this Director?"

"There were rumors after his pregnant girlfriend drowned, but he had an alibi. From another woman. The police photos show his body splayed against the riverbank, his head just under water, the fishing line caught on a submerged rock."

"So?" Max said.

"The fishing line was tied in the shape of an A. It looked random, but the line was red, and a scarlet A has been a symbol of betrayal for a long time."

"That's pretty out there." Max leaned forward, getting interested despite the fact it was Rowan. "You said the Director has two signatures. What was the other in this case?"

"Braxton's fishing vest was gone," Rowan said. "The Director always takes clothing as a trophy."

"Melissa's jacket," I said. "It was missing." I looked at Max. "Was something missing from Sid?"

"His lab coat," Max said.

"It sounds like the Director," Rowan said. "And he's escalating. Three kills in that many weeks. That's not good."

"No shit," Pike muttered.

"It means he's deteriorating," Rowan said. "All serial killers do eventually, if they manage to stay alive long enough. They get sloppy."

"I haven't seen any signs of sloppy," Max said.

I patted Max's hand. "Let's be smart and work together. Whoever it is, he's not a stranger, it's somebody here in town. There was nobody new in town when Melissa and Sid were killed."

"He is," Max said, nodding at Rowan.

"Come on, Max," I said. "If Rowan's the killer, he already knows anything we'd tell him."

"He has enough problems without us," Max said. "Herc wants him to disappear. He suggested I make that happen." He looked at Rowan. "I said no. You're welcome."

"That's another time you've mentioned this Herc fellow," Rowan said. "He means me harm? Why?"

"He's an asshole," Pike said at the same time Coral said, "Because you are a journalist here in Rocky Start."

"I need to know more," Rowan said. "What exactly is going on in this town?"

Pike stood up and walked out.

Coral shook her head, said, "Have a good night, lovelies," and followed him.

Max, Lian, Rowan, and I were left in awkward silence in an almost empty restaurant now.

"You can't ever write about this place," Max said to Rowan.

"I'm picking that up," Rowan replied, which was an acknowledgment but not an agreement, and I know Max noticed that. "I don't even know what I would write."

"Good," Max said. "Ignorance is bliss."

"Can we get back to the point?" I said. "How do we figure out who the Director is? And then what do we do about him?"

"You have any suspects?" Rowan asked.

"Harvey," Max said.

"The exterminator in the flamingo shirt," I clarified.

"Not likely," Rowan said. "These types of killers tend to be tightly controlled."

"You said he's begun unraveling," Max pointed out.

I hated to squash Max's hope, but . . . "You said whoever was doing this cleaned up, and I really don't see Harvey doing housework. He's a slob."

"Okay, then, one or both of the Ferrells," Max said. "They have the expertise to hijack the Cybertruck."

"Dottie's the postmistress with the knife," I explained to Rowan. "You met her at the post office. He's the one she was going after, the one with the beautiful blonde.."

Rowan shrugged. "Also out of control, so no. And when two killers work together, one is always clearly in charge."

"That would be Dottie," Lian said.

"I'd vote for Louise," I said, "but I don't see Louise cleaning up anything. That's for the little people."

Rowan went on. "We're looking for somebody who's very cool, very in control, very adept at what they do, very under the radar. Not raving but probably angry. Frustrated. Power-mad."

He was staring at Max now and Max was staring back at him.

"Don't even go there," Max said and then spoiled that by saying, "If I took somebody out, you'd never find the body."

Rowan shrugged.

"You can leave now," Max said, and Rowan gave up and left with Lian.

I stood up. "Come on. You're tired, you're sick, and you need to go to bed."

Max stood up, too. "We had things to talk about."

"Yeah," I said. "And I appreciate the thought. Let's just go home."

He sighed and stood up, and Hugh was there again.

"We need the check," Max said, and Hugh shook his head.

"Any time you get hungry," he said to Max, "you come here and eat free. You saved me a lot of trouble tonight, son. That's worth a lot of crab rangoon."

He held out his hand, and Max shook it and then put his hand on my waist to steer me out the door. I think he'd had enough Chinese food for a while, possibly a lifetime.

It was cold outside and Max automatically pulled his jacket off—Ozzie's jacket—and put it over my shoulders, which was nice, but now he was going to freeze. We started to walk back up the street to Oddities, and I thought about what had happened, about how he hadn't gotten what he wanted because he was taking care of other people, and I knew how that felt.

Which is when I realized we were more alike than I'd thought.

I stopped walking and Max didn't realize and kept going, but all I could think of was that what he'd done tonight was the kind of thing I would have done, that if he stayed, he'd be doing that for the rest of his life.

And he'd hate it. He'd hated it tonight and I'd be dooming him to a lifetime of uncomfortable moments taking care of other people.

He stopped and turned back to me, and I said, "You don't need to explain about leaving. I understand. You can go. I won't whine anymore."

He sighed, and he looked so tired, and then he held out his hand to me, and I walked forward and took it, and we walked back to Oddities holding hands.

Like we were lovers.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Max, his voice distorted by stuffed sinuses, said, "I think I might have a cold."

He was buried under three blankets with only his flushed face visible. He hadn't admitted he was sick until now, curled up in a shivering ball of naked misery in my bed.

"I'll be fine in the morning," he said.

"Right." I picked up the thermometer. "Open up." I stuck it in his mouth.

He mumbled something around it.

"Shush," I said, feeling like I was dealing with Poppy when she was four.

He closed his eyes and stopped fighting. After enough time, I retrieved the thermometer. "You have a slight fever."

"It's all the blankets," he protested. He started to push them aside, but I reached down and stopped him.

"Stop it. You're sick."

He grumbled something.

"I'll get you some Tylenol. The best thing you can do now is sleep."

After I'd medicated him and turned off the light, I heard Max whisper, "Thank you." He was quiet for a moment and then he said, "I'm just not used to being taken care of so I don't know how to deal with it. But I'm grateful."

"Your mom didn't make you chicken soup?"

"I don't remember," he whispered, his voice raspy. "I went into foster homes pretty early after she was gone. Herc liked people with no family." He sort of mumbled a laugh. "Hell, he didn't even want anybody who'd been adopted. He preferred the ones who'd stayed in the system or been shuttled from family to family. No ties. No complications."

I really hated Herc. I mean, I'd thought he was an asshole before, but now . . .

"Well, you have ties now," I said and crawled under the covers with him to put my arms around him. "And there will be chicken soup and Vicks VapoRub and I will keep you warm until you're well." I kissed him on the forehead. "Go to sleep, sick baby. I will take care of you."

There was a long silence and then he said, "You deserve better."

"Baby, you're the best," I told him, and he turned in my arms and put his head on my shoulder, and I rested my cheek on his hair and patted his shoulder. "Go to sleep, sweet baby," I said, just like I'd always said to Poppy, and his arms tightened on me and then relaxed, and soon he was asleep.

You know what I said about us needing time apart to know how we felt? I changed my mind. I loved Max Reddy now. I was gonna love him forever.

He was just going to have to deal with that.