Black Beans & Vice (33 page)

James raised his brows. "In that case, I wouldn't dream of missing it."

Luis waved and took off in the opposite direction. Even though
his pace was brisk, the light timbre of the song he started to sing
drifted through the warm air and seemed to hover about the sidewalk. It was like the pleasant scent left behind by a woman's perfume. James smiled. He couldn't hear any of the song's words, but
he recognized the emotion underlying the tone: Luis Chavez was
singing about love.

THE OFFICIAL SEARCH OF the Wellness
Village proved fruitless. Lucy found Roslyn quietly filling out paperwork in her
office and, after taking a cursory glance at
the proffered search warrant, the holistic
healer was more than happy to unlock the
supply closet in which she kept organic
medicines chilled in a small refrigerator.

"I've never met a bunch of people so eager to help after I've
informed them that we plan to rifle through every inch of their
stuff," Lucy informed James as he shelved books in the new release section. She pointed at a James Patterson hardcover. "Does
this guy ever sleep? Seems like he churns a book out every six
months."

"There are some critics who would agree with your choice of
verb." James handed Lucy two tickets to the Blue Ridge High production of Much Ado About Nothing. "I've been told by Principal
Chavez that attendance is mandatory. Are you bringing Sullie?"

Lucy shrugged. "I don't think plays are his thing, but he's got
another reason to be there."

Perplexed, James was about to ask Lucy to clarify her statement
when Fern finished assisting a patron and joined them in front of
the display. "You wanted to ask me something, Professor?"

"Actually, I did," Lucy answered with a friendly smile. "Don't
mind the uniform. This isn't official. I'm just trying to satisfy my
own curiosity about something."

Fern visibly relaxed. "For a second there, I thought you were here
to scold me for parking in the loading zone in front of Quincy's
Whimsies, but I swear I was only helping Willow with a delivery."

Lucy laughed. "I try to leave the dispensing of parking tickets
to Deputy Donovan. Nothing perks him up like a row of cars with
tickets stuck under their wiper blades. No, I wanted to ask you
about the photographs Lennon purchased. Can you describe the
prints and repeat the conversation for me?"

"Sure" Fern pointed at the computer behind the reference
desk. "It's easier for me to show you the photos online. My boyfriend created a gorgeous website for me."

Curious, James followed the two women behind the counter,
leaving Francis to man the circulation desk. Scott was busy in the
tech corner and was likely to be there for some time, considering
Mrs. Withers was back with a tote bag full of Beanie Babies and a
digital camera.

"I'm ready to sell these on eBay!" she'd announced upon entering the library and grabbed James by the elbow.

Scott had witnessed the encounter and had quickly intervened.
"I can show her the ropes, Professor. Francis and I have been on
eBay since the dawn of online trading. I know a trick or two to get
Mrs. Withers the best price possible."

As the pair sat down in front of a computer, Mrs. Withers
reached over and ruffled Scott's hair. "You're such a nice boy. I'm
mighty glad I baked up a batch of my homemade peanut butter
brownies for you and your sweet brother. I know the both of you
go outta your way to help us old coots and we sure do appreciate it. Besides, someone needs to put a bit of meat on your bones!
When are you gonna find a good girl to cook for you?"

"Oh, I've found the girl, Mrs. Withers," Scott declared happily.
"And she might not be a whiz in the kitchen, but she is a shining
star in every other way!"

Returning his focus to the present, James turned away from
the tech corner and peered over Lucy's shoulder just as Fern was
pointing at some images on the computer screen. Fern's website
was beautifully designed. The background was a soft, moss green
framed by her photograph of a purple rhododendron flower. Fern
clicked on the thumbnails showing more close-ups of plant parts.

"I took these shots when I was working as a part-time park
ranger," Fern explained. "All of these plants grow wild throughout
Virginia."

"How many photos did Lennon buy?" Lucy inquired.

"Ten," Fern said. "They were all framed prints costing one fifty
apiece. It was the biggest paycheck I've ever gotten for my photographs. Actually, it wasn't a check. Lennon paid me in cash."

Lucy drew back and rubbed her chin. "That's fifteen hundred
dollars-a big chunk of change for the Wellness Village maintenance man. And he said the photographs were a gift for his girlfriend?"

"Yes. He was really excited about giving them to her." Fern
searched Lucy's face. "Why would he pretend to be buying the
prints for her birthday when he really wasn't? Unless," her lips
scrunched up in thought, "he has more than one girlfriend."

"Unfortunately, two-timing's not against the law." Lucy
thanked Fern and saluted James. "Food for thought," she whispered to him. "I think I need to look a little closer at Lennon's
spending habits. See you at the play." She moved a few steps away
and then paused. Walking back to the desk she added, "We haven't
stopped driving by your house. I may be nose-deep in this case,
but I haven't forgotten about Kenneth."

Neither had James. In fact, his dreams the previous night had
been tormented by hundreds of sinister crows. Reminiscent of
Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, the feathered assailants gathered
on tree branches, telephone wires, and on the roof of Eliot's tree
house. They squawked and ruffled their black feathers, but never
took their dark eyes off James' bedroom window. He knew they
were only waiting for a signal, but from what or whom he couldn't
tell. It was as if their master remained hidden in the shadows of
the distant trees, waiting and watching.

"James!" Jane had finally shaken him awake. "If you don't stop
thrashing around, I'm going to be black and blue by dawn!"

Despite his anxiety, the workweek passed without incident.
No one in the Henry household received strange letters and there
were no dead birds left on the property. By the time Friday rolled around, James was immersed in thoughts of his upcoming marriage ceremony. It was to be performed by the justice of the peace
that very afternoon. Their marriage license had arrived by mail on
Wednesday and Jane had wasted no time in securing the last available spot in the JP's schedule.

"It'll be tight," she told James Wednesday evening. "We need
to be ready by five-thirty. Our marriage officiate, whose name is
Frank Love (if you can believe that), says we'll be man and wife
by six o'clock. Then we need to eat dinner and high-tail it to the
school by seven."

"Our first appearance wearing our wedding rings," James mused
and then asked, "What are your thoughts regarding our vows?"

Jane, who had been stirring spaghetti sauce at the time, stood
still. "I believe we should write our own. We went by the book last
time. Let's make this ceremony really personal. Oh, and I forgot to
tell you. We're getting married right here, in our house."

"That's wonderful! You, me, Eliot, Snickers, and Miss Pickles.
We could tie the rings onto Snickers' collar."

"And put a basket of tissue paper flowers on the floor. Miss
Pickles would scatter those in a heartbeat!" They'd chuckled at
the idea. After passing James the wooden spoon so he might taste
the sauce, Jane said, "The more I think about it, the more I believe
your parents should be here too."

"But won't your folks be hurt when they find out they weren't
included?"

She'd shaken her head. "No. They'll just be happy we made
things official. Besides, we're not taking pictures or having a cake
or anything like that, so there really won't be any details for them
to hear about later on. I'm wearing a blue and white sundress and sandals and you can be just as casual." She'd put an arm around his
waist. "We're stripping away all the trimmings this time around.
On Friday, it's all about the promises we make to one another.
Nothing else matters."

However, by the time the Fitzgerald brothers finished with their
lunch breaks that Friday, James had already thrown out page after
page of rejected wedding vows. He spent his entire break surfing
wedding websites and flipping through books stuffed with sample
vows. None of them felt right.

By the afternoon coffee break, James was nearing a state of
panic. The twins knew something was amiss with their boss, so
when James ducked into the kitchen to start the coffee machine,
Francis trailed after him.

"Professor?" The younger man said. "Do you need a hand?
An ear? A shoulder to cry on? A punching bag? Scott and I have
watched the clouds gathering over your head all day long"

James, who had been staring at the tin of coffee grounds as
though he might see his future written there, jumped at the sound
of Francis' voice. The scoop in his right hand jerked sideways and
grounds went everywhere. "Blast!" He dampened a paper towel
and waved at Francis to stay back. "It's not your fault. My mind is
a tangled knot today." He glanced at the younger man. "Jane and
I are getting married in two hours and I haven't written my vows
yet!"

"Ohhhh," Francis whispered and squatted down to push the
grounds on the floor into a tidy pile. "But you're good with words,
Professor. Can't you just tell her you love her and that you'll take
care of her for the rest of your life?"

Shaking his head, James dumped the paper towel in the trashcan. "I need to promise more than that. I need to make her realize
that she is the only one in the world for me, that she makes my
dreams come true, and that she's given me a second chance at happiness." His eyes grew distant as he thought about Jane. "I want
her to know that her love is a gift to me and that my love for her
is, and always will be, the forever kind. She is my friend and my
partner and my soul mate and together, we can make all the days
of our lives whatever we want them to be. As long as she's with me,
no matter what happens, I'll have hope and I will face each new
day with gratitude and joy in my heart."

Francis had stopped cleaning. Sitting back on his heels, he
stared at his boss open-mouthed. "Wow, Professor. I would totally
want to marry you if you said that to me!"

"That was okay? It wasn't formal or grammatically correct or-"

"Forget about that stuff? It was awesome!" Francis leapt up,
dashed from the room, and returned with a pen and scrap paper.
"Write it down. Quickly! And then post a copy on YouTube for the
rest of us hopeless guys."

James sat at the table and wrote his vows, smiling all the while.
As soon as he was done, he wolfed down a peanut butter and jelly
sandwich and then called his parents. He would later swear that
Milla squealed in delight for a full thirty seconds.

He failed to accomplish even the most menial tasks that afternoon. It wasn't nerves. James wanted nothing more than to recite
his vows and slide a ring onto Jane's finger. Now that the ceremony
was almost upon him, he found he couldn't concentrate on books.
When a female patron asked for a light beach read, James handed
her The Color Purple. Right after that, he gave Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol to a patron who despised books having anything to
do with conspiracy theory. Fortunately, Scott remedied both blunders as soon as James turned away to collect the wrong amount of
money for an overdue fine.

At four-thirty, Francis tapped James on the shoulder. "Scott
and I think you should go home, Professor. You've got a big evening ahead. We'll see you at the play tonight. If anything workrelated comes up, we can always fill you in then."

James gave his employee a crooked smile. "You're right. I've
never bumbled about the library as much as I have this afternoon.
If I stay here any longer, I'm going to let some seven-year-old
check out a Laurel Hamilton novel."