Killing in C Sharp Page 26
“You can ride with me,” Venus said. “The cab can drop you on the way to the airport.”
“Off to your next assignment?” Eamon asked.
“Nope, off to a vacation. Aed and I are on our way to Ibiza. He plans to start another opera.”
“Not seriously, not after all that’s happened?”
“Not seriously, actually. I mean his new opera won’t be serious. It’ll be an operetta. Think Gilbert and Sullivan instead of Verdi. It’s a commission from a small opera company just outside Chicago. Not the Met, but a start.”
“I never thought I’d say this,” Gethsemane said, “but I’m sorry to see you go.”
“I never thought I’d say this, but,” Venus raised her glass in toast to the others, “I’m going to miss both of you. I’m not used to having friends. Real friends, instead of contacts and informants. It’s kind of nice.”
“When’s the new edition of the book coming out?” Gethsemane asked. “I promise to read the whole thing this time.”
“In a few months. The publisher’s going to rush the production.”
“What’s after that? A book about Ciara and Bernard?”
“Yes, but not a sensational one. Legit reporting on the e. coli outbreak and how lax oversight of the safety inspectors and an industry rife with bribery led to preventable deaths. Ciara’s daughter will get some justice. I just hope Ciara—Karen’s alive to see it.” Venus drained her glass. “Time for bed. Got an early flight.”
Early? “About sharing the cab,” Gethsemane said. “I’ll walk to the village later or ride my bike. I plan to sleep in.”
Eamon laughed himself green. “Some things stayed the same while I was away.”
“Welcome home, Eamon.” Venus blew him a kiss. “And goodnight.” She headed upstairs.
Gethsemane toyed with one of her ruined cookies. “What she said.”
“Goodnight?”
“Welcome home.” Gethsemane threw a cookie at him. It passed through his chest and landed on the floor. He pointed at it and sent it floating back to the cookie sheet. “It’s good to have you back. I’m sorry Orla couldn’t be here, too.”
His aura dimmed to a dull yellow. “I had her back for a little while. I’ll miss her every day. But at least she has no more worries. I’m satisfied she’s in heaven teaching the angels to mind their manners.”
“And Father Tim granted you absolution, so now you can go visit her.”
“Shouldn’t you be off to bed? Tomorrow’s a school day.”
“Nope, day after tomorrow. Now that all the boys have recovered, Headmaster Riordan’s scheduled a ‘clean team’ to go through the infirmary, the dorms, and the classrooms, and disinfect anything that can’t run away fast enough.”
“Are you going to tell him Father Tim would do him more good than antiseptics?”
“Nope, not saying a word.”
A knock at the front door interrupted the jovial mood. Neither moved.
“Are you going to answer it?” Eamon asked.
“It’s late in the day for good news, and I can’t handle any more bad.”
The knock repeated.
“They know you’re here.”
She opened the door to find Billy on the porch. “Let me guess, I’ve got five minutes to pack and hit the curb.”
“Nope.” He took off his hat. “May I come in?”
“It’s your house.” She ushered him inside.
“I apologize for the lateness, but I wanted to tell you before I leave town. Business trip to Germany. You may stay at Carraigfaire as long as you like.”
She threw her arms around him in a bearhug. “What happened? What changed?”
“You’ve been getting a lot of attention, lately.”
“Don’t I know it?”
“It means I’ve been getting some attention, too. Mostly from people interested in Uncle’s music. Is he back, by the way?”
“Yes. He’s in the kitchen now, criticizing my cooking.”
“D’you think you can convince him to start composing again?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Some of these folks showing interest in Uncle’s music are interested in licensing it for things like movies and television ads. Some are interested in buying his catalog. The bigger the catalog, the bigger the sale.”
She heard swearing from the kitchen and smelled leather and soap. “I don’t think he’s going to go for the sale idea. The licensing…” She winked. “Leave him to me.”
“I heard that,” Eamon called.
“You’re serious about letting me stay here?” she asked Billy. “You mean it?”
“Yeah. Truth is, I’ve gotten used to having you here. Can’t imagine anyone else taking care of the place. You belong.” He glanced at his watch. “Oops, gotta run. Catching a red eye to Berlin. Welcome home.”
About the Author
A writer since childhood, Alexia Gordon won her first writing prize in the 6th grade. She continued writing through college but put literary endeavors on hold to finish medical school and Family Medicine residency training. She established her medical career then returned to writing fiction.
Raised in the southeast, schooled in the northeast, she relocated to the west where she completed Southern Methodist University’s Writer’s Path program. She admits Texas brisket is as good as Carolina pulled pork. She practices medicine in North Chicago, IL. She enjoys the symphony, art collecting, embroidery, and ghost stories.
The Gethsemane Brown Mystery Series
by Alexia Gordon
MURDER IN G MAJOR (#1)
DEATH IN D MINOR (#2)
KILLING IN C SHARP (#3)
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