matter. This part of the journey, the only part the detective could affect, would soon be history. Mr.
Cutter would remove his mask and makeup and shine as himself.
Jeremy spent a half an hour with the photos, then another hour with written reports. Ava and I sat to the side as Jeremy grunted at the photos, sniffed them, ran his hands across them as if secret messages were imprinted in the colors, then scattered them across the floor like confetti.
'Why didn't you tell me about the pathologist who had his ticklers removed by a bomb? This changes EVERYTHING.'
Jeremy held up the investigative report on the Caulfield incident and pretended to study it through a lorgnette. It had been included as a sidebar report on the Mueller killing.
I said, 'Caulfield? There was a murder attempt, but it was aimed at Mueller.'
'So I read, brother. Someone stuck a bombaroo up Mueller's fundament knowing when he awoke he'd attempt to remove the obstruction and jellify his exhaust system. The man's lifestyle prepared him for such discoveries. Yawn, what is it this time… a pumpkin? A cocker spaniel? Who could anticipate the man's heart would explode first and he'd be sent to the morgue.'
I said, 'The bomb wasn't meant for Caulfield. It was horrible misfortune.'
'Put yourself in Caulfield's booties. He's worked years for the moment, he's given a postmortem he's not expected to have, and gets his touchy-fee lies turned to paste. Bye-bye, career.'
'What do you mean, the post wasn't expected?' I plucked the sheet from Jeremy's hands.
'It's all there. Mueller's postmortem was scheduled for Dr. Peltier.
She graciously stepped aside and let Caulfield be head chopper.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, my, was that Freudian?'
I read the report. At the last moment Clair gave the post to Caulfield. This was all new to me; it hadn't been our case. Jeremy sneered. 'Maybe good doctor Caulfield got a little pissed about the substitution.'
'How do the words fit in? I can't connect them.'
'Don't Start with the words! They don't have to make sense to you!'
'I want them to mean something,' I said, confounded that the thick scrawl of phrases didn't resolve into order, lacked the finger snap moment of That's if.
'Mean something? Mean something? What do you know of meaning? Did you know what the burning silk pad over the eyes of Adrian's little dolly meant? Your people were saying it was a way of hiding. I told you it was a bond of love… Didn't I tell you Adrian loved his fires far more than any female could ever love any male and didn't I send you away from here looking for arson? The first step in may I call him Joel? Thank you Joel's selection process? That Joel would find people at his fires and follow them until love had its way?'
It didn't make sense for Joel Adrian to see fire as a spiritual entity.
It didn't make sense for him to believe his set fires tapped his victims for death. I hadn't seen it, but Jeremy had, as well as the fires selecting the next four victims. I couldn't see into the world of Joel Adrian, for which I daily thanked God, but Jeremy could. How could I doubt him?
I nodded. 'You were right, Jeremy. I can't argue that.'
Ava spoke up. 'Your participation saved lives, Mr. Ridgecliff.'
Jeremy turned to Ava and his lips curled into a sneer. 'You see it as saving lives, witch. I see it as betraying Joel Adrian!'
Ava startled and her purse fell, its contents spilling across the floor. The red lighter spun on the white tile.
'Oh, don't get so excited, honey,' Jeremy said, smiling at the lighter.
'We'll get there.'
He stood and began circling again. 'Caulfield lost his career on the first day he went to work, Carson. Years of work gone in a' he smiled finger snap I think your boyo is a wee bit PO'd at his old boss for slipping his digits in the blender. Think of the bodies as postcards, that's a nice analogy. Postcards from hell. Miss you, wish you were here. She will be, if our boy has a word in the matter.'
Ava said, 'Why no heads?'
Jeremy jerked his head to her, veins cording in his neck. 'Because something has to be missing, girly, and missing fingers would point to him. Is that an oxymoron? And consider: Can even the most perfect body function without a head? No. Can even the most perfect pathologist function without a hand?' He said, 'Tell me, how were the heads removed?'
I replied, 'With near-surgical precision.'
Jeremy crossed his arms and tapped an impatient toe. 'Is that not a signature for a man dedicated to slicing and dicing?'
Ava frowned and said, 'It wasn't surgical precision. There were hesitations, he was off track.'
'He's got half a fucking hand, whore!'
Suddenly Jeremy was on the floor and my hands were around his neck. He made no attempt to fight. Ava was over me, pulling me away. 'Carson.
Stop!'
I released my grip. Jeremy looked at Ava, confused. 'Thank you, dear,' he said, recovering and standing. He glared at me.
Ava said, 'If he hates her so much, why doesn't he '
'Remove her hated head? He's making something, laying a foundation.
He's suffered, and he's planning for her to pay back the pain with heavy interest.'
Jeremy smiled and took a bow. 'Our work here is done, Tonto,' he said.
He turned to Ava. 'Got that lighter, sister?'
CHAPTER 30
'Perhaps my brother explained our little arrangement,' Jeremy said, rubbing his hands together as if trying to strike fire from his palms.
'My words for his… music. At first I thought your presence would hinder our ritual. But you, my dear, have touched the magic pretties, swam amid the stink-flowers that bloom within. You have been up to your delicate little wrists in' he reached over and stopped just short of touching her fingertips 'the glorious. Maybe you'll even learn something.'
He turned to me. 'Why don't you slip that shirt off now, brother. I know you're anxious to tell the world about Dr. Stubbyfingers's adventures, and I do have my paycheck coming.'
I nodded at Ava. She opened her purse and removed the lighter, a simple red Bic, seventy-five cents' worth of plastic and stamped metal and butane. She held it on her palm and offered it to Jeremy. His hands shook as they reached for the implement, fingers figuring how to pluck it from her palm without contacting flesh.
'Get what you need, Jeremy,' Ava said. 'But make sure it's a lifetime's worth.'
He paused in his reach.
'What do you mean, lifetime?'
Ava's arm slashed the stack of photos from the table. They drifted across the white floor like exotic leaves.
'What are you doing?'
She said, 'Wasn't it fun while it lasted, Jeremy? Having rare blossoms brought to you from the far side of the walls?'
He turned to me. 'What is it saying?'
Ava held the lighter on her palm like an offering. 'Breathe deep, Mr.
Ridgecliff. Today's the last day you'll ever smell the magic blooms.'
His eyes darted like bait fish beneath an osprey. 'What is it saying?
What does it mean?'
I looked away.
'You know, you have lovely hands, Jeremy,' Ava continued. 'Look at them. So soft, so pink. But think of an old
