call. My paper didn't come, but I know there must be news on our case.”
“Right. John has another story. Venice , listen to this! He mentions an unsolved murder from last summer.” Kate, with the phone caught between her shoulder and ear, paced the length of the kitchen as she read to Venice , occasionally stopping to sniff and stir the lentil mixture bubbling away on the stove. “There's a picture of the girl. It looks like a high school yearbook photo. He says that Charlene Nelson was strangled and left under a pile of leaves and brush in a wooded area. The police have never found the killer. Oh, Venice , it couldn't be the same person.”
She leaned over to turn the page and spread the paper on the counter top. Feeling a cold hand brush against her neck, she leapt back, gasping, and dropped the phone.
Venice 's voice came faintly from the floor. “Kate? Are you all right?”
“I just dropped the phone.” Kate, embarrassed, realized it had been her wet ponytail falling across her neck. “He says the psychics envisioned exactly what the police found at Lake Jocassee .”
“I'm worried about you. I think I had better talk to Ramses again.”
“I haven't finished reading.” Kate paused, scanning the rest of the article. “Damn him! All kinds of crazy people are going to be looking for us. That wretched prophet from the mountain was on my doorstep tonight.”
“Kate. Be careful. I have a feeling of danger. Last night when Martin brought me home, it was so strong I asked him to come in and check the house for me. Now I think it's directed at you. I don't like this.”
“I'm okay. Everything's locked. But what about Charlene Nelson? Do you remember anything about her?”
“No. Just that a girl's body was found.”
Venice 's flat statement scared Kate. The woman must be truly frightened. The daffy old witch never, ever admitted to not remembering anything. If she didn't know, she made it up and swore the other person had the faulty memory. “ Venice , I could come over if you want. Maybe it would be better if I spent the night with you.”
“No, but thank you for offering, Kate. I'm fine now. It's you I'm worried about. Have you seen John again? I'd feel better if he were with you.”
“I hardly know the man! I may never see him again.”
“Ramses says there's a strong connection between you two. Just let it happen.”
Ignore her , Kate told herself. It was absolutely pointless to argue with Venice on something like this. “Be careful, Venice . I'll call you tomorrow from the studio.” Thoughtfully, she dished the lentils into a bowl and sat down to eat.
* * *
6:10 a.m .
Still dark. Time to move.
At least he had another car now, and they still hadn’t found the old man, so no one knew it was missing. When they discovered the body, he would get another one. No sense using his own any more. And replacing it had been so easy. One clip with the pipe and the guy had dropped like a lead weight. Probably did him a favor—he must have been a hundred and looked sick besides, wheezing his way to the kitchen, all white hair and liver spots. Professor Plum, he thought, in the kitchen with a lead pipe—and Miss Scarlet was next. They hadn’t a clue.
Inside his garage, he lifted the hood of his new car, and using a rag wrapped around his finger, carefully wiped a smear of grime off the engine block. He rolled it in the rag and tucked it into the tool belt. On television, the cops always recognized a fresh cut because it was clean. He was smarter than that.
He drove into town, parked the car, and walked to a vacant lot behind the warehouse. It was ideal, higher than the gravel parking area at the back door and overgrown with small trees and weeds. He wanted to be in place early and make sure there were no surprises. He popped a couple of Tums into his mouth and settled down to wait, rubbing his thumb over the concave agate surface of the stone in his pocket.
Kate pulled up behind the building at
“Right. John has another story. Venice , listen to this! He mentions an unsolved murder from last summer.” Kate, with the phone caught between her shoulder and ear, paced the length of the kitchen as she read to Venice , occasionally stopping to sniff and stir the lentil mixture bubbling away on the stove. “There's a picture of the girl. It looks like a high school yearbook photo. He says that Charlene Nelson was strangled and left under a pile of leaves and brush in a wooded area. The police have never found the killer. Oh, Venice , it couldn't be the same person.”
She leaned over to turn the page and spread the paper on the counter top. Feeling a cold hand brush against her neck, she leapt back, gasping, and dropped the phone.
Venice 's voice came faintly from the floor. “Kate? Are you all right?”
“I just dropped the phone.” Kate, embarrassed, realized it had been her wet ponytail falling across her neck. “He says the psychics envisioned exactly what the police found at Lake Jocassee .”
“I'm worried about you. I think I had better talk to Ramses again.”
“I haven't finished reading.” Kate paused, scanning the rest of the article. “Damn him! All kinds of crazy people are going to be looking for us. That wretched prophet from the mountain was on my doorstep tonight.”
“Kate. Be careful. I have a feeling of danger. Last night when Martin brought me home, it was so strong I asked him to come in and check the house for me. Now I think it's directed at you. I don't like this.”
“I'm okay. Everything's locked. But what about Charlene Nelson? Do you remember anything about her?”
“No. Just that a girl's body was found.”
Venice 's flat statement scared Kate. The woman must be truly frightened. The daffy old witch never, ever admitted to not remembering anything. If she didn't know, she made it up and swore the other person had the faulty memory. “ Venice , I could come over if you want. Maybe it would be better if I spent the night with you.”
“No, but thank you for offering, Kate. I'm fine now. It's you I'm worried about. Have you seen John again? I'd feel better if he were with you.”
“I hardly know the man! I may never see him again.”
“Ramses says there's a strong connection between you two. Just let it happen.”
Ignore her , Kate told herself. It was absolutely pointless to argue with Venice on something like this. “Be careful, Venice . I'll call you tomorrow from the studio.” Thoughtfully, she dished the lentils into a bowl and sat down to eat.
* * *
6:10 a.m .
Still dark. Time to move.
At least he had another car now, and they still hadn’t found the old man, so no one knew it was missing. When they discovered the body, he would get another one. No sense using his own any more. And replacing it had been so easy. One clip with the pipe and the guy had dropped like a lead weight. Probably did him a favor—he must have been a hundred and looked sick besides, wheezing his way to the kitchen, all white hair and liver spots. Professor Plum, he thought, in the kitchen with a lead pipe—and Miss Scarlet was next. They hadn’t a clue.
Inside his garage, he lifted the hood of his new car, and using a rag wrapped around his finger, carefully wiped a smear of grime off the engine block. He rolled it in the rag and tucked it into the tool belt. On television, the cops always recognized a fresh cut because it was clean. He was smarter than that.
He drove into town, parked the car, and walked to a vacant lot behind the warehouse. It was ideal, higher than the gravel parking area at the back door and overgrown with small trees and weeds. He wanted to be in place early and make sure there were no surprises. He popped a couple of Tums into his mouth and settled down to wait, rubbing his thumb over the concave agate surface of the stone in his pocket.
Kate pulled up behind the building at
Similar Books
