A Night in the Lonesome October Part 10

"It doesn't matter," I said. "It's one of the places it might be."

"What are the others?"

"Let's not get greedy," I said.

We made our way through the wood. When we reached the clearing there were no Gipsies about, nor anyone else.

"Check the crypt first," I said. "You've gotten me wondering whether he's still using it."

Quicklime slithered into its opening. A little later he returned.

"He's there," he reported, "and so's Needle. Both of them are asleep."

"Good. All right. Try the church now."

I paced about, sniffing the breezes, watching the trees. No one was near, no one approached.

In a little while Quicklime emerged.

"No," he said. "It's a complete disaster, filled with dirt and rocks. Nothing's left. We'd have to start over again and rebuild."

I approached the opening, forced myself in as far as I could. It narrowed quickly to the crack down which he had taken his way.

"How far back in that crack did you get?"

"Ten feet, maybe. There were two side ways off of it. Neither goes as far."

I believed him, from what I could see.

"So what does it mean?" he asked.

"That this isn't the place," I replied.

"Then what is?"

I thought quickly. I didn't like giving anything to the compet.i.tion. But in this case one real fact could be misleading; and it was a fact he'd learn sooner or later, anyhow.

I backed out of the opening, turned toward the woods.

"Vicar Roberts," I said, "has a good disguise as a fanatic churchman. . . ."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a player."

"You're joking!"

"No. He holds midnight services to the Elder G.o.ds, right there in the church."

"The vicar . . . ?"

"Check it out," I told him.

"What does that do to the pattern?"

"I've calculated that if we count the vicar and drop Larry Talbot that places the vicarage and the church at the center of the pattern. This isn't final if the Count is moving around, of course, but that's how it looks right now if we figure it this way."

"The vicar . . ." he repeated.

We entered the woods.

"So," he said after a while, "if the Count has a home away from home, or two, we need to find out whether they were established before or after the death of the moon."

"Yes," I agreed. Everything was frozen at that point. Death, relocation, withdrawal of a player -- all of these s.h.i.+fted things about only before that time. Afterwards, we could kill each other or move about as we wished without disturbing the geometry of the business. "If there were a way of getting Needle to talk, we could find out."

"Hm," said Quicklime.

It occurred to me as we pa.s.sed among the trees that I could be wrong, that I had just given him the correct information. But it seemed to me that the weight of Larry's presence -- along with that antic.i.p.ation business he spoke of -- made him too big an influence on the game not to count him as a player, whether he collected ingredients and wove dueling spells, protections, opening spells, closing spells, or not. With him included -- along with the vicar -- it had to be that old manse rather than the church. And the oft-restored place looked as if it went back far enough to have a chapel around somewhere, or something that had once been a chapel.

Besides, it wasn't really a bad thing to reveal the vicar for what he was. The others would start doing things to skew his efforts once the word was out.

"So what about watching the Count's comings and goings?" I asked.

"Let's hold off on it, Snuff," he hissed. "No need to bring the others into this yet. I've a much better idea for finding out about the Count's doings."

"Even with the Gipsies about?"

"Even so."

"What've you got in mind?"

"Let me pursue it on my own for a day or two. I promise I'll share it with you, after this. In fact, it would be a good idea. I think you're a better calculator than Rastov."

"All right. We'll hold off."

We parted at the edge of the wood, him going left, me right.

I made my way back to my place, did a quick circuit, found everything to be in order, and went back outside.

It was easy to follow the Gipsies' trail, since they stuck to the roadway till they neared their destination. It was a field near Larry's place. I lay doggo for an hour or two and watched them set up their encampment. I didn't really learn anything, but it was colorful.

Then I heard sounds from the road and turned my attention. An old-fas.h.i.+oned coach was approaching, drawn by two tired-looking horses. I dismissed it till it slowed and turned up Larry Talbot's driveway.

I quitted my place of concealment in a stand of shrubs and headed that way -- in time to see the coachman help an old woman to descend from the vehicle. I moved nearer, pa.s.sing among a few ancient trees, upwind of them, as the lady, with the a.s.sistance of a blackwood cane, made her way to Larry's front door. There, she raised the knocker and let it fall.

Shortly, Larry opened the door and they spoke briefly. The wind prevented my making out their words, but after a short while he stepped aside and she entered.

Most peculiar. I circled the house to the rear, began peering in windows. I discovered them to be seated in the parlor, talking. Sometime later, Larry rose, absented himself briefly, returned with a tray bearing a decanter and a pair of gla.s.ses. He poured, and they sipped sherry, continuing their discussion. This went on for at least half an hour.

Finally, they both rose and departed the room. I raced about the house, checking windows again.

At last, I located them in the skylighted room where he grew his plants, engaged in an animated discussion with frequent gestures toward the flora. This went on for the better part of an hour, before they returned to the parlor for another gla.s.s of sherry and another long talk.

Then the coachman was summoned, and Larry loaded him with greenhouse clippings, then accompanied them both out to the coach before he bade her a cordial good-bye.

I was torn between following the coach and approaching Larry immediately. As the thing rumbled off, I realized that I could not contain myself -- foolishly perhaps, for I can only speak with Jack between midnight and one o'clock. I raced up to him.

"Who was that lady?" I asked.

He smiled.

"h.e.l.lo, Snuff. How are you?" he said.

I repeated my question, hoping that his canine spirit granted comprehension around the clock.

"A delightful lady," he replied. "Name's Linda Enderby. Widow of an India officer who'd died in the Mutiny. She and her servant recently moved into an old manse she's restored near here. The city's grown a bit dear for her, and far too busy. She was just paying a social call, wanting to meet some of the neighbors. And she shares my pa.s.sion for botany. We had a lively discussion of dicotyledons."

"Oh," I said, ordering my thoughts. "I was watching the Gipsies when she arrived. I guess I a.s.sume everything involves the Game these days."

"Well, I guess they do, somehow," he said. "Gipsies and I go way back."

"I've heard the Count is sometimes a.s.sociated with them."

"There's that, too," he said. "The whole matter will have to be explored, soon."

"I was concerned about your welfare," I said, truthfully.

"False alarm, Snuff," he said. "She's an intelligent and very personable lady. Would you care to come in? I have a beef stew you might -- "

"No, thanks," I replied. "I've some errands I should be about. Thanks again for your help, the other night."

He smiled.

"No trouble, really. We'll talk again," he said, turning back toward his house.

"Yes."

I walked back slowly, thinking. I had caught their scents as I'd watched, and I knew Linda Enderby and her servant to be the Great Detective and his companion.

Leaves blew by, and I caught one in my teeth, spat it out again. The pace was quickening.

As I was approaching my home, there came a soft "Meow" from the field across the way.

"Gray?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Good. I wanted to talk to you."

"What a coincidence," she said.

I turned and entered the field. She was standing on the spot where the body had first been located.

"What about?" I asked her.

"I've decided not to play games with you. 'Ding, dong, dell,' as MacCab said."

"Oh. Well. . . ."

"What I thought you should know is that when the vicar was out with the searchers, this was the first place he brought them."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He had to know that the body was here. He wanted them to find it, wanted them to focus their investigation on Jack."

"How interesting."

". . . And how else would he know unless he'd left it here, or been party to it? Snuff, the vicar's behind it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I told her where the Gipsies were. She'd already seen them go by. So I told her, too, that we'd a new neighbor named Linda Enderby, who'd been by to visit Larry.

"Yes, I've met her," she said. "She was also by to visit the mistress earlier. Charmed her completely. They share an interest in herbs and gourmet cooking."

"Jill's a gourmet cook?"

"Yes. Come by later, and I'll see that you get some choice selections."

"I'd like to do that. In fact, I'd like to collect you later, anyway. I want your help on an investigation."

"Of what?"

I had to tell her the truth if I wanted her help. So I told her of my conclusions on the hilltop, there in my ring of p.i.s.sed-on stones, and of the day's adventures with Quicklime, of his speculations on the Gipsies, of the other things I'd learned about the vicar, and of my conclusions concerning the manse. I told her everything, except that the Great Detective had come to town and had set up housekeeping in that place, and that I could talk to Larry Talbot and get an answer anytime.

"I found a broken bas.e.m.e.nt window when I was prowling the other night," I continued, "big enough for a cat to slip through easily."

". . . And you want me to go inside and see whether there's a chapel?"

"Yes."

"Of course I will. I have to know, too."

"When should I come by?"

"Just after dark."