Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 186

"So you're not the docent?" Kristi ventured. She didn't like this woman, with her perfect complexion and officious att.i.tude, but she wanted to know more about her.

"Of course not," the woman said. "That's Marilyn Katcher!"

Kristi pushed. "So why are you here? For a place that's closed to visitors, there seems to be a lot of people running around."

"I'm Georgia Clovis," she bit out. "Georgia Wagner Wagner Clovis." She said it as if it were supposed to mean something to Kristi. Clovis." She said it as if it were supposed to mean something to Kristi.

Mathias, like a puppet on a string, said quickly, "Mrs. Clovis is a descendant of Ludwig Wagner and-"

"Direct descendant," she corrected frostily, her red lips turned down at the corners.

"Direct descendant of the man who so graciously donated this house and property to the archdiocese to establish the university."

Kristi gave Georgia a bland "So what?" look.

"Mrs. Clovis, along with her brother and sister, still sit on the board of Wagner House. Very important to All Saints. Now, if you'll come back when Mrs. Katcher is here..."

"Someone's upstairs," Kristi said, just to gauge their reaction. She'd come this far, might as well go for broke. She didn't think she would get another chance and she wasn't frightened of either of these two people. Father Mathias was often brooding, but he seemed like a weak man. Georgia Clovis, tall, slim, her dark hair twisted onto her head, tried her best to be intimidating-and wasn't half bad at it-but Kristi wasn't about to be cowed.

"No one else is in the house," Georgia said through her teeth. "Not that it's any business of yours."

"I saw someone in the window. That's why I came inside. It was a girl, er, woman, and she looked scared out of her mind."

"Impossible." She shook her head, but the perfect facade cracked just a bit. "You imagined it."

"I didn't."

"A play of light," Mathias put in, shooting a look at Georgia.

"One way to find out." Without waiting for any kind of permission, Kristi headed through the dining room and up the stairs.

"Wait a minute. You can't go up there!" Georgia called after her, high heels clicking across the hardwood floors. "Wait!" To the priest, she added shrilly, "What does she think she's doing?"

Kristi didn't waste any time. She raced to the third floor and once there, dashed to the door of the room that overlooked the backyard, the one where she was certain she'd seen Ariel, or someone, standing near the watery panes of gla.s.s.

Father Mathias's heavier tread was climbing the stairs. "Miss...please...you aren't allowed..."

Kristi twisted the k.n.o.b and the door swung open to an empty room. The one that held the Victorian dollhouse. No one was inside, but the dollhouse, which had been closed, was now open, the perfectly furnished rooms on display.

"h.e.l.lo?" Kristi called, her voice disturbing dust motes but nothing else. She checked the closet, just to be sure.

Empty.

But near the window overlooking the back porch hung a black cloak with a white bag above it, both facing the window...as it had the night before when she'd searched the house.

Had she been mistaken?

Thought she'd seen a face when it was just this cloak and bag?

"Satisfied?" Georgia demanded, entering with Father Mathias on her heels, her pale skin flushed from the exertion of the rapid climb. "No one hiding in the corners? No 'scared out of her mind' girl?" She was shaking her head. "I know the stories that run rampant about the house and yes, in the early 1930s a person was killed here, the murder never solved. I also know about the group of 'Goth' kids who hang out around here, fascinated by the architecture and history of the house, but it really is just a museum, filled with very personal and valuable artifacts. Therefore we can't have anyone, including you you, running wildly through it. If you really did lose your gla.s.ses, which I suspect is a total fabrication, please return when Mrs. Katcher is on duty and she can help you."

"Last night, a girl walked into the house," Kristi insisted. "I saw her. Followed her. She came inside and...disappeared. Maybe...into the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"Another girl? Or the same scared one?" girl? Or the same scared one?"

"Different."

Georgia snorted contemptuously. "The bas.e.m.e.nt? Why?"

"I thought you could tell me."

"It's only used for storage."

Father Mathias hovered in the doorway, almost as if he were afraid to enter. "I was just in the bas.e.m.e.nt and it's not empty," he said to Georgia. "I found evidence of rats. I think we should call an exterminator, but other than old furniture and crates, boxes, there's nothing downstairs." Reaching into a deep pocket within his alb, he found a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead.

"Yes, call someone to take care of the problem." Georgia was dismissive. "As for you..." She glared at Kristi. "Who are you?"

Kristi thought about lying but it was too easily checked. "Kristi Bentz. I'm a student here."

"Well, Kristi, if you really did come into the house last night, you were trespa.s.sing," Georgia said, her lips pursed at the corners. "If we find anything missing, believe me, we'll contact the police and your name will come up."

"Don't you have security cameras?" Kristi asked. "You know, with all your valuable things, I'd guess you'd have some kind of security system in place. Check the tape."

"Until now, we haven't had to have one," Father Mathias said coolly.

Georgia sniffed. "Obviously it's something we need discuss at the next board meeting. Now, Miss Bentz, it's time you left."

"I'll escort you outside," the priest offered. "I'm already running late. It's past time to get ready for ma.s.s."

There wasn't any point in arguing and Kristi, too, needed to leave.

As Father Mathias ushered her out, including opening the door for her, Georgia Clovis followed, her coat billowing around her as she headed toward a sleek black Mercedes.

Kristi had thought about mentioning Marnie Gage's name but had decided to keep it to herself for the time being. Maybe she could talk to Marnie. Not interrogate her, but cozy up to her, befriend her, although so far the plan of permeating what appeared to be the inner circle of the vampire "cult" hadn't worked. Not only Ariel, but now Lucretia, was avoiding her like the plague.

The chapel bells chimed, breaking into her thoughts, as the priest hurried down the steps to unlock the gate and hold it open. "Be careful," he said under his breath, so low she almost didn't hear the words. "G.o.d be with you."

She turned, but he was already hurrying toward the church and she didn't have any time to chase after him. Strapping on her helmet, Kristi swung onto her bike, picking up speed and clicking through the gears as the cold rain began to fall more steadily, bouncing on the pavement and running beneath the collar of her jacket. Father Mathias's warning echoed in her mind as she headed for the diner. Her tires hummed across the cement and brick walkways, cutting through puddles beginning to form. She skirted the library, then sped across a parking lot before catching a main street and riding the six blocks to the back lot of the restaurant.

What was the priest trying to tell her? Obviously to back off. But there was more, she knew, secrets he wasn't about to share.

Her heart was beating like crazy as she swung off the bike and locked it against a post. Tearing off her helmet and wiping the rain from her face, she headed inside-and straight into the heart of chaos. The Bard's Board was filled with the brunch crowd, people standing and waiting for tables, the line cooks working like mad, the wait staff searching for orders and hurrying through tables, the bus people clearing tables as soon as they were vacated.

One of the ovens had given up the ghost the night before and one of the fry cooks, who considered himself a handyman, was trying to fix it. He was on his knees, head inside, his big size-thirteen feet sticking in the small galley so that everyone had to step over him.

Kristi whipped on her ap.r.o.n, washed her hands, and grabbed her notepad. She didn't have time to think about what had happened at Wagner House.

"Thank G.o.d you're here!" Ezma breezed by with a tray of water gla.s.ses. "The new people can't keep up."

"I thought I was one of the new people."

"I'm talking about Frick and Frack," Ezma said under her breath. "They're useless." She slid a glance at two waiters. One, Frick, was a tall thin boy who looked no older than sixteen and was really named Finn. Frack was a girl somewhere around twenty with rosy cheeks, springy brown curls, and curves she didn't bother to conceal. Her real name was Francesca, but it didn't seem to fit. Even during this mad rush, Frick-Finn was taking time to flirt with her and Frack-Francesca was eating it up, ignoring her tables.

Kristi scanned the specials. "This is it?" she asked, noting that some of the more popular items, shrimp crepes, crab cakes, and crawfish etouffee had been erased from the chalkboard, the faint outline of their Shakespearean names still visible.

"With the oven on the fritz we're down to a lot of the stuff that was made earlier or can be sauteed. Push the jambalaya and catfish fritters."

"Okay."

"Can I get a clean table?" the harried hostess asked of the kitchen staff. She was standing a few steps from the front desk and door where patrons were cl.u.s.tered, waiting. "What about thirteen? Or eleven? I've got people who've been waiting out front for a half hour!"

"I'm on it." Miguel, one of the busboys, hurried past and was picking up dirty plates, gla.s.ses, and flatware before Kristi finished tying her ap.r.o.n.

Francesca looked up, spied Kristi, and immediately went into complaint mode. "It's about time you showed up," she chastised, breaking up her tete-a-tete with Finn. "It's been a nightmare this morning, let me tell you," she said, as Finn, with a quick look over his shoulder, turned back to the tables in his section of the restaurant.

Francesca's cheeks were flushed as she untied her ap.r.o.n, further showing the area of her blouse where the fabric gapped, offering a peek at her lacy bra and cleavage. "People with kids, and I mean young young kids, babies, and the tips have been miserable. Just awful. I should have stayed home and called in sick." She stuffed her dirty ap.r.o.n in the laundry basket and reached for her jacket. kids, babies, and the tips have been miserable. Just awful. I should have stayed home and called in sick." She stuffed her dirty ap.r.o.n in the laundry basket and reached for her jacket.

Waa, waa, waa, Kristi thought, wondering if the lousy tips had anything to do with the girl's obvious lack of interest in her job. Kristi thought, wondering if the lousy tips had anything to do with the girl's obvious lack of interest in her job.

Unfortunately Ezma and Francesca's evaluation of the situation was spot on. With one oven disabled and a cook out of commission as he tried to fix it, the finished orders were slow to reach the window where the waiters were to pick them up.

Worse yet, in Kristi's section, she saw familiar faces. Dr. Croft, the head of the English Department, had just been seated along with Dr. Emmerson, her Shakespeare 201 instructor with the biker dude persona. Today, though, he'd shaved, his usual T-shirt given up in favor of a gray sweater, his hair still a carefully planned mess. The third member of the group was Dr. Hollister, Jay's boss, head of the fledgling Criminal Justice Department.

A toxic trio, Kristi thought as she greeted them, handed out menus, and smiling, rattled off the specials that still remained. "...and if you're interested in jambalaya, I hear it's wonderful today."

"Is it hot?" Dr. Emmerson asked, his eyebrows lifting, almost flirting. "Spicy?"

"No more than usual, but yes, I think it's got a little kick to it."

"Just the way I like it."

"Down boy," Natalie Croft said, her lips twitching a bit.

Yuck, Kristi thought. But at least it drove out all thoughts that she was way behind in his cla.s.s, and she had several a.s.signments that she hadn't yet read. Kristi thought. But at least it drove out all thoughts that she was way behind in his cla.s.s, and she had several a.s.signments that she hadn't yet read.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Mmm. I'll have sweet tea," Dr. Croft said. She was a tall woman, with porcelain skin, dark hair, with just the beginnings of crows feet showing in the corners of her eyes. Her nose was patrician, her demeanor a little standoffish.

"Coffee for me," Dr. Hollister said, slipping a pair of rimless reading gla.s.ses onto her nose as she studied the menu, tucking a wayward strand of black hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, me too, the coffee. Black." Dr. Emmerson looked up at her and a spark of recognition touched his face. "You're a student of mine, aren't you?"

Kristi nodded. That was the trouble with this d.a.m.ned job, located as it was, so close to campus.

He snapped his fingers. "Shakespeare, right? Two-oone?"

"That's right."

Kristi didn't want to get into a discussion here in the middle of rush hour at the restaurant, but she didn't have to worry as Dr. Hollister inadvertently came to the rescue. "Oh, I'd like cream with my coffee. No, make it skim milk, is that possible?" She gazed questioningly at Kristi over the tops of the half-gla.s.ses perched on her nose.

"Not a problem. I'll be right back with it."

"Miss!" a petulant man's voice called from a table in the next section. "We've been waiting here for ten minutes and would like to order. Can you help us?"

Kristi nodded. "I'll get your server."

"Can't you just take the order?" he asked, checking his watch. He was seated with a grumpy-looking heavyset woman and two preteen kids who were already beginning to fiddle and slap at each other.

"Stop that!" the woman said sharply.

The older kid ignored her and stuck his tongue out at his sister. She shrieked as if he'd slapped her.

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Marge, control them, will you?" the man insisted as Kristi flipped the page of her notepad.

"Sure, I can take your order," Kristi said to stem the tide of pandemonium that was about to erupt amongst this happy little family. "What would you like?"

"Strawberry waffles!" the girl yelled. "With whipped cream."

"It has a different name. It's called-" her mother said.

"That's okay, I've got it." Kristi managed a smile as she hurriedly finished taking the order. In the kitchen Finn was nursing a cola and looking as if he'd just run a marathon. "No time to rest," she warned him, tearing off the page for his table. "Take care of this. Table seven. And you'd better not mess around. The natives are getting restless."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Figure it out!" She slapped the order into his hand, tried to ignore his I-didn't-do-nuthin' expression, and grabbed the plate of drinks for her table, even remembering the small pitcher of nonfat milk. After depositing the drinks at Dr. Croft's table, she took their food orders, then stopped by several other tables as well, including a surprise birthday party for an elderly woman with a walker who had trouble understanding the Shakespearean lingo her equally old, but spry, husband found so amusing. Somehow the cook-c.u.m-electrician got the oven working again and with him on the line, orders came up faster and tables could be turned. Even Frick-Finn, after a scolding, pulled his act together.

All the while she worked, Kristi felt as if the professors in the diner were watching her. She pa.s.sed by their table several times and heard s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation.

"...might have to make a few changes..." Natalie Croft said as she bit into her beignet and wiped the extra honey from the corner of her mouth.

A few minutes later, she was still speaking. "...well, I know, but it was Father Tony's idea. Trying to make the school more interesting and Grotto's a natural. I don't know why Anthony's so insistent that we continue with the courses, but it is popular...." She lowered her voice as Kristi stopped by to refill the coffee cups.

The conversation caught Kristi's interest but she couldn't eavesdrop as her tables, though cl.u.s.tered near each other, were filled with noisy patrons needing service. However as she carried out trays of plated food, refilled gla.s.ses and tallied up bills, she noticed that the three professors were deep in discussion, serious and unsmiling. They declined dessert, gave her a reasonable tip, and left as the crowd finally began to thin.

She was about to close out her section when Jay strolled into the restaurant, big as life. He spoke with the hostess and landed one of the small two-person tables in her part of the restaurant.

Kristi propped one fist against her hip. "You're kidding, right?"

"Didn't get much to eat at your place," he said with a wink.

"Neither did I." She'd been so busy she hadn't noticed how hungry she was, but now that things had slowed down, her stomach rumbled.

"So what do you suggest?"

"That you wait for me outside and take me somewhere else else for lunch." for lunch."

"Better yet, we'll order from the to-go menu and take it back to your place. There's something I want to show you."