Lie of the Needle(72)

            She smiled her enigmatic smile. “Betcha if you go in the bathroom, you’ll find that he zipped home for some fresh clothes, got washed up, and went on his way again.”

            I ran into the bathroom. The toilet seat was up now, while I was sure it wasn’t before, and I spotted a few water droplets on the tiled wall.

            I went back into the kitchen to find Ronnie taking a newspaper out of the recycle bin. “Today’s date,” she said as she handed it to me. “You know, even if there weren’t all these obvious clues here, there are still vibrations in the universe you can sense if you stay open to them. Like dogs who know when you’re coming home.”

            I smarted a little at the word obvious. Had there been other signs on my earlier trips and I’d missed them? Also, we were assuming it was Cyril who had been here, but what if it was the killer, toying with us?

            I ripped the paper out of her hands and flipped to the crossword puzzle. The clue was Easter visitor, and instead of bunny rabbit, Cyril had written bonny castle.

            I knew he’d taken a huge risk by coming home, so it must be important, but I was stumped. What did bonny castle mean? Was it a reference to Beau Cassell, perhaps? Beau as in beautiful or bonny? Cassell for castle? Why the hell did Cyril have to be so cryptic?

            “I could do with a little more information here, Cyril,” I muttered, and then I explained to Ronnie about the previous clue in the paper at the café.

            “No one else knows about this?” Her kohled eyes were suddenly shrewd.

            “I told Serrano, but he really didn’t take me seriously.”

            “Good. Now, you need to meditate on what this means.” Ronnie hitched up her bra straps and twitched her short skirt down an inch. “Cyril is obviously depending on you to figure it out.”

            I watched, almost mesmerized, as she twirled her necklaces around one finger. I wondered if she and Tony Zappata were getting serious. Martha had lost her true love, and now it looked as though Eleanor might lose a chance at romance, too, if something was going on between Ronnie and the Millbury barber. I was bursting to ask her about it, but couldn’t think of an appropriate segue.

            “Ah, Daisy, I wondered when you were going to get around to that.”

            I jumped. Had I spoken aloud? I really needed to stop talking to Alice in the shop. I wasn’t even aware of when I was doing it anymore.

            Ronnie laughed. Actually it was more of a raucous chuckle. “Eleanor Reid weren’t a bit interested in him before, was she?”

            I stared at her.

            “Don’t worry, there’s nothing going on with me and my good friend Tony. We go way back to growing up together in Northeast Philly. Just helping out a pal. Jealousy’s a powerful emotion, ain’t it?”

            I laughed. “So this is simply a ruse to get Eleanor to see the light?”

            Ronnie grinned and tapped the side of her nose. “Only the spirit knows.”

            When I got home, I took Jasper for a walk, and suddenly spotted a black shadow darting through the yards, always keeping us in sight.

            “Hello, His Nibs.”

            The cat was an odd little character, just like his owner. I wondered what to do with the latest clue Cyril had left, like a trail of mysterious bread crumbs. He was counting on me to help, but did I have the right stuff to figure out this deadly puzzle?





Chapter Twelve




                         It was Laura’s day to man the store, and when she arrived, we chatted about the next open house that would be coming up after Thanksgiving. Sometimes a Great Notion was a bit off the beaten track, but luckily much of my business came from interior designers looking for unusual or antique accessories, bedspreads, and linens. Not to mention the collectors and dealers who came from miles away.