The Fall of Never(46)

Detective Felix Raintree had a penchant for New England clam chowder, oven-baked bread sprinkled with sesame seeds, and stiff black coffee, hold the cream and sugar. Having spent his entire life in Spires afforded him the opportunity to trek across the county in search of a restaurant that prepared such delicacies to what he considered perfection. But Raintree was not a punctilious man, and it didn’t take him long to settle on Gray Cloud, a small eatery just north of Spires. It was a shy, modest place stashed off Interstate 87 that was never more than half-full. Maybe the service wasn’t the greatest, but service he could overlook. It was the food that kept him coming back. That clam chowder—something in that chowder just worked. Something creamy and thick, like sifted butter. Good food.

He was seated at his usual window-side booth just finishing up a bowl of the chowder from heaven when his cellular phone rang. Still scraping the bottom of the bowl with his spoon, he reached for the cell phone with his free hand, not bothering to look at the caller’s ID on the display.

“Raintree,” he said, his mouth still full.

“I catch you during supper, Felix?”

“Oh.” He set the spoon down. “Hi, Annie.”

“We’ve got a little situation down here, Felix. Big to-do.”

“Sturgess find that cat in his office again? I keep telling him to keep those windows closed. Darn thing walks the ledges around the building. I’ve seen it.”

“Not Sturgess,” Annie said. She sounded tired. Her voice was flavored with just a bit of urgency. It was enough to disturb him. “We’ve got Graham Rand down here causing some kind of scene. Came in maybe all of two minutes ago, been pacing through the offices like some caged animal, Felix. He’s all tempered out. Says he wants to speak with you.”

“Isn’t Bannercon around? He’s the sheriff, have him take care of it, Annie. He’s the one running the show, right?”

“Graham Rand don’t want to talk to nobody but you, Felix. He said so straight away, made a point of it.”

“Heck, now,” Raintree grumbled.

“He’s fierce upset, Felix. He’s got his hunting cap in his hands and he’s darn near wringing the life out of it right in the office. He won’t talk to Bannercon. He wants you. Says he was up in that tract of woods in the valley around Gordon Kellow’s place. Said he saw something there you might want to know about. Only wants to talk to you about it. Made that part perfectly clear.”

“All right,” Raintree said. “I’ll be there in a shake. Thank you, Annie.”

He slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and waved the waitress over for the check. She was a young girl named Rachel with purple-streaked hair and a silver barbell speared through her tongue.

“Ready to pay up?” she said.

“Unfortunately, my dear. Nature of the beast, I’m afraid.”

“You haven’t had your three cups of coffee today.”

“Well,” he said, “what about one of those wonderful new beverage containment apparatuses? Those—ahhh, now, what do they call them? Yes—I believe it’s a Styrofoam cup? Am I pronouncing it correctly, my darling?”

Rachel laughed. She’d heard the routine before—hundreds of times before, Raintree was certain—but she was a good sport. “Sty-ro-foam, you say?” She tapped her pencil on the corner of her mouth. “Must be one of those fancy French contraptions all the runway models have made popular. I’ll see what I can dig up in the Dumpster out back for you, but that’s the best I can do.”

Raintree laughed and fluttered a hand at the girl.

“All right, then,” he said. “We make no promises. Good, good, good. Now scoot. Duty calls.”

“Yes it does,” Rachel said and hurried away.





Chapter Thirteen


It was already dusk when Gabriel returned to the Kellow Compound. He was dressed nice in pressed slacks and a blue chambray button-down, his curlicue hair tamed and parted to one side. Upon arrival, he presented Kelly with a second spray of wildflowers. He then drove her into downtown where he’d made impromptu dinner reservations at a local tavern. Together, mostly in embarrassed silence, they dined on scalloped potatoes, grilled salmon, and chords of asparagus. Throughout dinner, Kelly tried to see herself through Gabriel’s eyes. After all this time, how did she appear to him? Was her hair too dark? Were the rings beneath her eyes too noticeable? Did she wear too many silver bracelets and rings and have too many piercings? Or maybe not enough?

Gabriel was thoughtful enough to steer away from discussing Becky’s condition over dinner.

“Tell me more about this project of yours, this We the People documentary series.”

“Like I mentioned, I’ve really only started,” she said. “I was lucky enough to get a grant from the city, and I’m hoping I can get someone to pick it up. I’m hoping for the Discovery Channel.”

“It’s an incredible idea,” he told her, his tone genuine. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem selling it. Have you made any initial contacts?”

“Not yet. I’m just filming the preliminary segments now.”

“Meeting all those different people, filming each segment—sounds daunting.”

“I have someone to help me.” And damn it all, she’d forgotten about Josh. He’d wanted her to call and she still hadn’t. She looked down at her plate, and at the potato coins and asparagus antennae. “Tell me about your paintings.”