LITMIR.BIZ

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to the shop so Missy had to stay there.” Wazoo cast an accusing look at Guy. “That meant I couldn’t leave so I’ll have to make up my chores at Rosebank real late. I can’t expect Vivian to keep my rent low if I don’t do what I’m supposed to.”

      An urge to tell Wazoo to get to the point tensed every muscle in Guy’s body. The fact that he couldn’t tell her made them ache.

      “Wazoo,” Cyrus said gently. “It’s too bad you were inconvenienced, but—”

      “I don’t care about no inconvenience,” Wazoo said, her voice rising. “What I care about is Jilly. She doesn’t let people down. So there’s somethin’ real wrong with her and I figure I’m in the right place to find out what.”

      “Your intuition is failing you this time,” Cyrus told her. “You’re right. I went over to see her because I was concerned. But I can’t tell you what’s happened to her because she didn’t tell me.”

      Wazoo turned her attention completely to Guy. “But this is the one who knows,” she said. “I’ll bet you—er, Father, I’m sure you got him here with you because you know he’s no good for Jilly, and he’s finally done somethin’ to mess her up but good. You’re goin’ to tell him to move on.”

      “Wazoo—”

      “If he was any good at all,” Wazoo said, interrupting Cyrus, “he’d be with her now instead of steppin’ out in her hour of need to go drinkin’ with the boys.”

      “A glass of wine with the local priest isn’t exactly drinkin’ with the boys,” Guy said, looking at the grain in the old oak table.

      “That’s better,” Wazoo said. “You feelin’ miserable now. You should be. And Father here is most likely feelin’ better. He don’t care what you do as long as you have a bad time doin’ it—includin’ drinkin’.”

      Cyrus, in the act of emptying his glass, laughed until tears popped in the corners of his eyes. “Can I use that in my next homily?” he asked.

      “Not unless you want me to sue you.” Wazoo narrowed her eyes but her mouth twitched.

      “I’m glad the two of you are havin’ such a good time,” Guy said. “I’ve got things to do.” He’d gone over the top. What was he thinking, speaking to Cyrus like that?

      “You mean you’re goin’ over to try and sweet-talk your way into Jilly’s good graces. Well, don’t hold your breath, N’awlins, she’s got her head screwed on right and I can tell she’s made the right decision. You’re out. Time you crept away.”

      Understanding how Wazoo had burrowed her way into the hearts of the folks in Toussaint could be tough to understand. Guy liked her, too, but didn’t know why. She had an acid mouth when she wasn’t being outrageous and she pushed herself into the middle of anyone’s affairs. And they accepted her as if she was meant to be there. Bottom line was most likely that she’d do anything to help anyone.

      In a low voice Guy said to Cyrus, “Sorry for snap-pin’. I was out of line.”

      Cyrus gave his shoulder a light punch and turned to Wazoo. “You have no reason to behave that way.”

      “It’s awful,” Wazoo said suddenly. She gripped her glass in both hands and raised it to her mouth, at the same time staring ahead at the dark window. “I see it now. I got it wrong. All wrong, me. That’s gotta be ’cause I ain’t practicin’ like I ought to these days. Oh, so much pain and sufferin’ I see and—and—you the only one who can stop it.” She pointed at Guy but continued to stare with unfocused eyes.

      With a sigh, Cyrus reached to pat her but she pulled back and slowly turned to Guy. “Death,” she said. “Maybe. Then maybe more death. Don’t you stop listenin’ to someone who knows things or evil will descend on this town and we’ll be too late to stop it.”

      Wazoo was given to weighty predictions.

      From the hallway, Spike Devol came into the kitchen. “Evenin’,” he said, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners and his blond hair standing on end in front like it always did. For years a deputy, now he was actually the elected sheriff in these parts, but he still worked all hours.

      Wazoo gave no sign of having seen him. “There’s blood,” she said. “Blood everywhere. And poison—voodoo.” Her shudder visibly moved her flesh.

      Spike tossed his Stetson on the table and adjusted the belt around his trim waist and flat stomach. His marriage to Vivian Patin and his move to Rosebank Resort had been good for him. He was one healthy-looking lawman who made his khaki uniform look like a must for a GQ spread—with Spike in it.

      “I know where some of this is comin’ from,” Wazoo said, the focus back in her eyes. She pointed a long, red-tipped finger at Cyrus. “You can make a difference. You let those charlatans park their trailer on church land for free. You don’t know what they do, or where they come from. I heard they got all kinds of voodoo goin’ on. And your parishioners won’t tell you, but when they’re sure you won’t catch ’em, they’re linin’ up for that nonsense.”

      “You’ve been known to dabble in a little voodoo yourself,” Spike remarked. “Who is she talking about?” he asked Cyrus.

      “A very nice couple who earn their way by doing odd jobs. They’re willing and prompt. They were on hard times so I let them hook up their trailer over that way.” He pointed vaguely in the direction away from the church. “Ken and Jolene, their names are.”

      “You sure that was a good idea?” Spike asked.

      “I feel ever so much safer when you’re around,” Wazoo said to him. “You’ve got a level head, Spike Devol, and it’s one of the few in these parts.”

      “They’re fine people,” Cyrus told them. “Don’t go makin’ up stories about them because you think they could take away some of your business, Wazoo. And remember they grow vegetables and sell them. That’s probably their primary source of income. They do a good business.”

      Wazoo gave one of her memorable frowns. “In case you’ve forgotten, animal psychology is my thing and there’s many who’ll tell you how good I am at it. You ask Spike’s Vivian—and Joe and Ellie Gable. I’ve got plenty to speak for me—includin’ Dr. Reb. Her Gaston was one mixed-up poodle before I straightened him out.” She looked under the table at Goldilocks. “If you’ve got the sense you was borned with, N’awlins, you’ll get that sweet thing to me quick, too. I never saw a more obvious case of low self-esteem.”

      Guy resisted the temptation to check on Goldilocks.

      Spike stood at the opposite end of the table from Cyrus, but looked at Guy. “What’s going on?” he said. “You’ve been behavin’ different—so Homer says—and Jilly’s locked herself up in her house. If you don’t want to discuss it here, we can go somewhere private.”

      Guy’s stomach made a slow revolution. “You’re overreactin’, everyone is.”

      “Gator reckoned I’d find you here. You left Homer’s and never went back.”

      “I left a few hours early and Ozaire covered for me. But Ozaire must have passed along the good news to his buddy, Gator.”

      “Some man with a flashy car was leavin’ with the dog when Ozaire got back to Homer’s. He gunned it out of there as soon as he saw Ozaire. Who was that?”

      “Why the interrogation, Sheriff? Am I under arrest?” he said, trying to lighten things up, but failing.

      The atmosphere had a slow, darkening pulse.

      “Don’t be a smart-ass—I’m lookin’ for answers, and help.” Spike pulled out a chair at the table. He declined wine or beer but got up again and poured coffee. “Vivian’s on the warpath. Reckons it’s all my fault Jilly’s upset.”

      Guy looked to Cyrus, who crossed his arms on the

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