“He’s local?” Andre asked.
“A bit closer to the heart of London, but local enough,”Eric said.
“Have you ever met him?” Cheyenne asked.
Eric nodded. “Why, yes. He also wrote a book. BloodyWeird History. He was having a thing at a local bookshop a while back.Can’t say I know the chap. Happened in at the end of it all and thought I’dsupport a somewhat-local author in his endeavor. I bought the book. Met him.”
“I wasn’t with him,” Emily added.
“How did he strike you?” Cheyenne asked Eric.
“Decent. But you can see easily enough for yourself. Just doa search on his name. It will return a few of his videos. They’re about fiveminutes each. He said he was taught that amount of time was pushing the limitof a person’s focus these days, but he’d go the five anyway to get in what wasimportant about the subject or place.”
“Sheila dated him,” Cheyenne said.
“Did she now?” Eric asked.
“But that wasn’t something she shared with you,” Andreobserved.
Eric shrugged. “She owed me no accounting of her dating.”
“She also dated a banker. Mark Bower,” Cheyenne said.
“Bower, yes. We both know him,” Eric told them. “He’s withthe local branch of our bank. Good fellow, I’d say. A little prim, but a properBritish banker. I didn’t know that heand Sheila dated. Frankly, he’s a bit…well…staid. Then again, who knows what achap is really like when he’s not on the job, eh?”
“Clark Brighton is something of a local celebrity—or nut,”Emily said. “He goes on local shows now and then, touting one of his guides orbooklets. Let’s see… His latest was something called Let the Moon Beam DownWhen the Sun Will Not. I mean, he sounds a bit off his rocker butharmless. Except he rants a lot about the evils of Satan, telling people theyalways need to look to the light.”
Cheyenne caught Andre’s eye and knew they were thinking thesame thing.
They all sounded like interesting candidates.
Clark Brighton might well be a case of “the lady dothprotest too much, methinks,” as Shakespeare once said. Except, in thiscase, it was a man.
Mark Bower, prim and proper by day…something else by night.
Benjamin Turner, a man who knew the past well, with HighgateCemetery being part of that history.
“Where do we go from here?” Emily asked, her voice a worriedwhisper with just a touch of a sob.
“We go about life,” Andre said firmly. “Cheyenne and I willdo our best to meet others in your lineup of interesting characters. Just becareful.”
“You think we’re in danger?” Eric asked.
“I’d say everyone in this area is in danger until thiskiller is caught,” Andre said. “And, yes. I think you two need to be especiallycareful. Sheila was an ex-girlfriend. She was found on your steps. I believethe killer knew you had dated and hoped to send the police your way, Eric.”
Eric nodded glumly.
Cheyenne suddenly yawned, quickly clamping her hand over hermouth and looking around. “I’m so sorry! It isn’t the company.”
“Oh, dear,” Emily said. “You came all this way, and you’vebeen up for so long. You two should get some sleep. Eric brought your bags up.The guest room is at the top of the stairs to the left. If you need anything atall, just let me know. But you must sleep.”
“We will. Though let us help clean up after dinner fi—”Andre started.
“No!” Emily and Eric said in unison, interrupting him.
“Go on upstairs and get to bed. There’s a shower in yourattached bathroom. I left towels, soap, shampoo—hopefully, anything you mightneed,” Emily said.
“We’ll just pick up a few plates—” Cheyenne began.
“No!” Emily protested. “Go!”
“Okay, okay!” Cheyenne paused, drawing her cousin to her fora hug. She tried to reassure her. “We will get to the bottom of this.”
“I hope so,” Emily said.
“Hey, it’s what we do,” Andre said, pausing behind Cheyenne.“It’s what we do.”
Cheyenne turned to him. “Race you up the stairs!” She pushedpast him, aware he remained for a minute with Emily.
She heard him say, “I like to let her win now and then. Youknow?”
“I’ll bet she wins plenty on her own.” Eric chuckled.
“Yep. She does,” Andre agreed. “Goodnight. Windows and doorslocked tight, right?”
“Yes, sir, Special Agent Rousseau,” Eric said.
A minute later, Cheyenne heard Andre’s footsteps as hefollowed her up the stairs.
She knew it had taken a minute because he was Andre, and helikely checked the windows and the front and back doors himself.
She waited by the bedroom door until he was in the room.Then she slipped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “You’re a goodman. Do you know that?”
“I’m very good. I mean, you know. Very good. Inmany ways,” he teased.
“Aw, well, I should be the judge of that, right?” she asked.
“Huh! I’m wounded to the core,” he said.
She laughed. “Like hell. It would take far more than a fewwords from me to wound you to the core.”
His dark eyes grew serious. “No, my love, you are the onlyone with the ability to wound me to the core.” He kissed her lips. A long kissthat started gently, becoming deeper and more passionate. She felt the pressureof his body against hers—along with the growth of his desire—and stepped back.
“Race you into the shower!” she said.
“No! Are you kidding? I shall take my time to join you,rather than have one of us slip on some unseen bit of soap, crash to the floor,break a bone, and totally ruin the moment.”
She laughed and turned for the bathroom in the guest room,shedding her clothing as she walked in.
He was very close behind her.
They needed a decent shower. They’d been on a plane for hours,and then they’d spent a large portion of the day in a cemetery.
But…
Soaping up became far more than a bid for cleanliness.
Rinsing, not so important.
Using the fluffy towels to dry was more of a promise than areal fight against moisture, and they were quickly entangled with one anotherand falling onto the bed. The washing had been great, though, and Cheyenneloved the feel of Andre’s skin as she ran her lips and fingers across him, luxuriatingas he touched her in turn. He had an amazing ability to tease and
