The Haunting Ballad (33 page)

“There's one thing I'm wondering,” I said to my partner. “Why did you set it up so that Tim and his brothers were there for Kimla's confession? It seemed sort of cruel.”

“That was certainly not my intent,” he answered. “As painful as the episode was for young Tim, I felt it was important that he witness it. Otherwise, he might never have fully accepted the dark reality of what happened that night.”

Audrey was seated beside him. “It's all so strange. When it comes down to it, it was love that brought Kimla to that terrible moment. Her love and Lorraine's hate.”

“Well expressed, lass,” my colleague said quietly. “Perhaps sometimes a love ballad can also be a murder ballad.”

“Then there's Loomis Lent,” I noted. “He also acted out of misguided love.”

Mr. O'Nelligan nodded. “Yes, his affection for Lorraine. Without question, much tragedy has arisen from the human heart.”

Audrey turned to him. “What was that Yeats poem you quoted yesterday? The one about the heart longing?”

“It's actually not a poem,” our Irishman answered. “It's a bit of prose from
The Celtic Twilight,
his book of folktales and faery legends. The full lines are thus: ‘Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.'”

Audrey smiled to herself. “I like that. It's kind of lovely and kind of frightening.”

“As is the world around us,” said Mr. O'Nelligan. “Lovely and frightening and worthy of our best songs.”

*   *   *

AFTER DECLINING OUR
host's offer of tea and sandwiches, Audrey and I said good night to him and headed out the door. Standing in between my Baby Blue and her Buick, with the Thelmont Twilight settling over us, we embraced, holding on to each other tightly.

When we finally stepped apart, she said, “It's been a long day, hasn't it?”

“Several long days.”

“Yes, several.” Her face registered something between calm and weariness. “I didn't get to tell you, Lee, but yesterday afternoon I got a call from my friend Delores Polk. Remember her?”

“The travel writer, right? Your one wealthy pal.”

“She's not wealthy, but she's doing nicely for herself. Anyway, she's working on a new book and wants an assistant. A travel companion.”

“You mean…”

“She wants
me,
Lee.”

“But … for how long?”

“A month, at least. Maybe more.”

“Five months? Ten? A few years?” There was no agitation in my voice. I was too bone tired for that, but her words had left me off kilter. “What about us?”

“
Us
doesn't change,” Audrey said firmly. “But you know I've been feeling the need to get out and explore. This is my chance to see something besides the streets of Thelmont. Delores says we might even go to Europe.”

“Europe…”

“I talked to Mrs. Jerome. She has a niece who can fill in at the five-and-dime right away. So I could leave soon. Very soon.”

Then there was silence. Not an awkward silence; not an angry one or a sad one; not a silence that comes from confusion or mistrust. It was the silence born of a long, disorienting day—one day and many days—that had left us in an odd new place. A place where we didn't quite recognize ourselves or each other.

And, strangely enough, maybe that was a good thing.

I was the one who finally spoke. “I hope you get to see the Eiffel Tower, Audrey.”

“Yeah?” She smiled; there was relief and gratefulness there.

“Yeah. And the Taj Mahal and the pyramids and the malt shops of Mars.
Especially
the malt shops of Mars.”

“You
know
there are too many calories in Martian ice cream,” she scolded. “What are you trying to do to me?”

“Just trying to expand your horizons.”

“More like my waistline. I much prefer Saturn sherbet.”

“Oh, you would.”

I reached out and pulled her to me. Our kiss was long and deep, accompanied by the trilling of a bird in the distance. Maybe it was a cardinal. Or a scarlet ibis.

Maybe it was better not to know.

 

ALSO BY MICHAEL NETHERCOTT

The Séance Society

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M
ICHAEL
N
ETHERCOTT
is the author of
The Séance Society,
the first O'Nelligan and Plunkett mystery. His work has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies including
Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Best Crime and Mystery Stories of the Year, Thin Ice,
and
Crimestalkers Casebook
. He is a past winner of the Vermont Writers' Prize, the Black Orchid Novella Award, the Vermont Playwrights Award, and the Clauder Competition, and was a finalist for the Shamus Award. Nethercott lives with his family in Vermont.

 

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin's Publishing Group.

THE HAUNTING BALLAD.
Copyright © 2014 by Michael Nethercott. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.minotaurbooks.com

Cover photograph © Little ny/Shutterstock.com

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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request

ISBN 978-1-250-01740-6 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4668-5650-9 (e-book)

eISBN 9781466856509

First Edition: October 2014