turned into two dark caves by the deep set of his face and a trick of light, or would that be darkness. He stared down at me, and without seeing his eyes I could feel the intensity of that stare, as if I were being studied, measured, dissected.
I kept my gaze on Olaf, but asked, "What is his specialty, Edward? Why did you call him in on this particular case?"
"The only person I've ever seen do anything close to this, is him," Edward said.
I glanced at him, and his face was calm. I turned back to Olaf. "I was told you went to jail for rape, not murder."
He looked right at me and said, "The police arrived too soon."
A cheerful voice called out from the front of the house. "Ted, it's us." It was Donna, and the "us" could only mean the kids.
Edward left at a goodly walk, trying to head her off. I think Olaf and I might have still been staring at each other when she walked in on us, but Bernardo came in, and said, "We're supposed to hide the pictures."
"How?" Olaf asked.
I took the candelabra off the table and said, "Put the table cloth over the door." I stood aside and let Bernardo drag it off the table.
Olaf said, "Aren't you going to help him? You are one of the boys, after all."
"I'm not tall enough to hold it up over the entire door," I said.
He gave a small smile, derisive, but he moved up to help Bernardo block the open doorway with the tablecloth.
I was left standing behind them with the black iron candelabra in my hands. I stared at the tall, bald man and was half-regretful that I wasn't tall enough to smash the heavy iron candelabra into his skull. Just as well. I'd owe Edward another favor if I killed one of his backups just because he'd scared me.
30
ICOULD HEAR EDWARD in his best consoling Ted voice, trying to convince her that she didn't need to say Hi to everyone. She argued, polite, but firm, that of course she did. The more he tried to keep her away, the more she wanted to see. Call it a hunch, but I was betting it was me she wanted to see. The house was arranged so that you couldn't enter the three guest bedrooms without going through the dining room. Donna wanted to make sure where I was, and that I hadn't been in anyone's bed but my own. Or at least not in Ted's. Did she think that I was racing ahead of them to my room to throw clothes over my nakedness? Whatever the motive, she was coming this way. I heard Becca's voice.
Shit. I ducked under the rug across the door and nearly ran into them. Donna stopped walking with a small oomph of surprise. Her eyes were wide as she looked at me as if I'd scared her. Peter was watching me with cool brown eyes, as if it was all too boring for words, but underneath the perfect teenage boredom was a light, an interest. Everybody wondered why the tablecloth was in front of the doorway.
It was Becca who said it. "Why is the rug in front of the door?" I kept calling it a tablecloth because that's what Edward was using it for, but it still looked like a rug. Kids stick to the basics.
Donna looked at Edward. "Yes, Ted, why is the tablecloth in front of the door."
"Because we're holding it," Bernardo said from behind the improvised curtain.
She stepped close to the cloth. "And why are you holding it?"
"Ask Ted," Bernardo and Olaf said together.
Donna turned back to Edward. I usually know what Edward will say,but with Donna I was out of guesses.
"We've got the pictures from the case spread all over the room. They aren't something I want you or the kids to see." Gee, he went for the truth. It must be true love.
"Oh," she said. She seemed to think about it for a second or two, then nodded. "Becca and I will take the goodies through to the kitchen." She lifted a white, string-wrapped box, took Becca by the hand and went towards the kitchen. Becca was straining backwards, saying, "But, Mommy, I want to see the pictures."
"No, you don't, sweetie," Donna said, and very firmly led the child away
I thought that Peter would follow but he stood there, looking at the door way, then glanced at Edward. "What kind of pictures?" he asked.
"Bad ones,"