There was a scrape of chairs, the kind of dismissive laughter that signals the end of a long party, a murmur of 'good nights.'
Tutti, Vittorio, and Elaine proceeded up the stairs. Meg moved the camcorder into position. Doreen set Tatiana on the floor. Quill stood at the head of the stairs.
'Now,' Quill whispered.
'Git it!' Doreen roared at the startled dog. She held a mini-sized videocassette above Tatiana's head. The dog leaped for it. Doreen jerked the tape out of reach and ordered, 'Git it! Git it!' The dog, irritated to a frenzy by the incomprehensible behavior of this bad-tempered human, barked like Joshua at the walls of Jericho. She leaped, and leaped again.
'They're looking up,' Quill said from her vantage point on the landing. 'Any time now.'
Doreen let the cassette drop. Tatianan snatched it up with a triumphant 'Yap!' Tutti, hearing the barks, cried, 'Tatty! Come to Mummy!' Tatiana raced down the stairs, videocassette in her mouth.
Tutti caught he dog in her arms and grabbed for the tape. Tatiana wriggled and dropped it. Vittorio picked it up. His swarthy face turned pale.
'Goddammit!' roared Vittorio. 'Ma! You told me you hid the goddamn thing.'
Quill walked down the stairs. Doreen thumped down beside her and snatched the tape from Vittorio's hand. Meg followed, the camcorer rolling, the camera eye fixed on the group on the stairs.
'Give me that thing,' Vittorio demanded. He swayed, caught himself with one hand o the banister, and blinked blearily at Doreen.
'Is it yours?' Quill asked sweetly. 'I'm afraid the little dog went through your things when Doreen was straightening your room, Tutti. Where she unearthed this thing I don't know. It can't be yours, can it, Mr. McIntosh? It's marked, `Property Tompkins County Police Department.' '
'Give it to me, you bitch!'
'Vic!' sanpped. Tutti. 'Shut up!'
Quill took two more steps downward. 'This is it, Mr. McIntosh? The videotape from Frank Dorset's hidden camera? The one that shows you killing Nora Cahill?'
'Yes, goddamit! Yes!'
Meg shut the camcorder off. 'Well,' she said sunnily, 'I got it all. And the little dog, too.'
Quill surveyed the wreckage in the dining room with a sense of satisfaction. It was a shame about the roses, or course. But it had taken less than half an hour that morning to strip the walls and windows of the wedding finery.
Mike the groundskeeper poked his head in from the foyer. 'You want I should take the?'
Quill nudged one of the garbage bags with her toe. The scent of crushed roses was strong. 'Yes. Thanks, Mike.'
'I'll bring the tree in, then. You want it here?'
'I think so. Everyone's coming at eight tonight, so we have plenty of time.'
'No problem. I got all the ornaments down and I'll bring `em in first. Meg having that oyster stew again this year?'
'And Marge is bringing the pumpkin bread.'
'Ahh!' Mike patted his flat stomach. 'You didn't hear me say this, Quill, but I'd almost give up the holiday bonus for that pumpkin bread.'
Quill stripped the rose-patterned cloths from the tables, bundled them into a box, and replaced them with the red plaid she used for the holidays. She set out the buffet plates, the flatware, and the punch bowl, humming 'The Boar's Head Carol' under her breath, then 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.'
Mike brought the tree in, a fifteen footer he'd cut from the woods beyond Hemlock Gorge. It filled the windows overlooking the Falls. It smelled of snow, of cold fresh winds, of pine tar. The two of them strung the hundreds of tiny white lights that Quill had collected over the years, then stepped back to view the result.
'It'll look great at night,' Mike said. 'You want I should plug `em in?'
'Degradation!' Evan Blight bellowed, so suddenly that Quill nearly fell over. 'Young man? Remove those artifacts of man's inhumanity to the arboreal immediately.'
'Hello, Mr. Blight,' Quill said. 'Can I get you some hot chocolate? I'm afraid that breakfast is over.'
'There was,' he said a little pathetically, 'a disturbance in the night.'
'There was indeed. I hope it didn't keep you up.'
'She most certainly did,' he said with indignation. 'Not to mention going through my personal effects.'
'She?' said Quill. 'You mean someone was in your room?'
'That....dog. That... perverse mutant of the noble wolf.'
'Tatiana? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess in all the confusion last night, we sort of ignored her.' Quill chuckled. 'Tatiana isn't a dog that likes being ignored. But, under the circumstances, I hope you will forgive her.'
'I understand from the Red Man that several guests were arrested.'
Quill thought about this for a moment. 'Do you mean John Raintree?'
'Yes! The Primal Savage. The nobility of him! It's a shame,' Blight continued, 'to see on him the wrappings required by our so-called civil-ization, although anything less civil...'
