Haunting Melody (25 page)

We stayed at the police station long enough
to let Denise make a statement and watch the cops officially arrest
Anna for aiding and abetting in kidnapping. They had no idea what
else to charge her with since performing Egyptian rituals of
rebirth wasn’t exactly on the books. We had no proof that she’d
been involved in the disappearance of Francesca Cerroni back in New
York, nor that her death that was anything other than accidental.
Ptah Junior had been looking to mate, not maim or kill.

Anna was escorted to a jail cell, still
wearing her lion-skinned costume. She wasn’t talking to anyone. The
sergeant who’d tried to take her statement got only two words out
of the woman and they were unrepeatable.

Izzy trotted off to file his latest story
with the Courier-Appeal. The rest of us drove back to Teresa’s. The
truck was dirty, but unscathed after the night’s adventure. Briley
promised me he’d wash it before Teresa had a chance to see it. Once
again we’d crawled home in the very wee hours of the morning. Saree
had been right that I’d grow used to late nights, but I sure hadn’t
thought I’d be spending them scoping out houses of ill-repute,
watching brothers reunite in Beale Street bars, or fighting vicious
murderous madams on Mud Island.

I offered Denise and Nevin the use of my room
and found a couch in a sunroom at the back of the house. It was too
short to really fit my frame, which could have helped explain why
sleep was impossible to achieve. After a few hours of tossing, I
got up then headed to the kitchen for some tea and to try to make
sense of what was insensible.

A noise startled me. I grabbed my empty
teacup as though it were a weapon and stood with it raised to
defend my honor.

“Death by camomille? Is that your
intention?”

I set the cup down. “Briley. You scared the
livin’ doo-doo out of me. That’s two times this same day if you
count last night as today.”

“I actually understood that. And I’m sorry I
startled you. Couldn’t sleep. I guess we’re sharing thoughts about
something warm and soothing to ease our minds.” He started to add
water to the kettle, but I waved him toward a seat.

“I’ll do it.”

Briley grinned. “I’m not sure this is wise.
With your talent for arson perhaps you shouldn’t be allowed near a
stove.”

I threw a crocheted potholder at him. “All I
did was let the hot plate overheat. Seems to me you’re the one who
actually lit the match and tossed it into the bathtub at Madam
Anna’s. You’re just as culpable. I’d say we started a nice fire
together.”

Briley took a step closer to me. “I bet we
could start other fires together. The last day and a half has been
crazy, and I’ll admit my mind has been primarily focused on rescues
and reunions, but I really enjoyed that kiss - until the room went
up in flames, that is.”

Those last words were merely a mumble because
by that time his own lips were on mine. My arms immediately wrapped
around him and our bodies molded together. His hands gently roved
through my hair then traced my forehead and cheek and neck. There
was an urgency in this kiss even though we were safe in a friendly
house in the middle of the night. We knew things weren’t settled.
Somewhere out there was an angry man who, deprived of his latest
hope for power through reincarnation, would be seeking revenge.
Doubtless sooner than later.

“I smell tea! How wonderful. Camomille?”

Briley and I pulled away from each other and
glared in united frustration at the interloper.

“Izzy. How did you sneak inside at this
hour?”

“Southerners. Bless their trusting little
rebel souls. They never lock their doors. I didn’t want to disturb
anyone’s sleep,” he grinned, “or other activities, but I needed a
typewriter and figured the Flynns had one.”

“At this hour of the morning?” I asked.

“Sure. Best time to get my head around all
the crazy twists and turns in this little opus.” He paused. “Plus,
I thought if anyone was up and indulging in small repasts in the
kitchen I was going to grovel and beg a cup of coffee.”

Briley started to argue but I waved “okay” at
him. “It’s fine. I’ll just get a pot started.”

I began roaming through the kitchen muttering
until Briley stopped me. “What are you looking for?”

“Coffee maker or expresso machine.”

Both men stared at me.

“Oh. Uh. Forget it. Briley, you make coffee
since your skills are undoubtably better then mine. Meantime I’ll
entertain Mr. Rubens with tales of Ptah.”

“What?”

I shook my head at Izzy. “Not what. Who. I’m
going to spell this out while you write. P. T. A. H. Ptah, creator
god of Memphis. Not this Memphis. The one on the Nile. Anyway, Ptah
is the god of rebirth and favorite of designers and seamstresses –
or of villains who want to use designers and seamstresses.” I began
to sniffle. “Stinkin’ lousy kidnapping swine. I can’t believe this
clown abducted Denise and Nevin and intended to –well –do what he
intended.”

Izzy had his notepad out and was getting
busy. “Nobody has really told me. Exactly what did he intend?”

Briley snarled. “What the hell do you think?
Flaming ferrets! How old are you, anyway?”

“Ah. Yes, indeed. Got it.”

I gave Izzy him the skinny on everything we
knew about the old god and the wannabe new one while Briley got the
Flynn percolator to perk.

“Hold it.” Izzy’s pen slowed. “Didn’t you say
you also were a costume designer?”

“Yep.”

“Has it occurred to you that you’re probabaly
up next on this guy’s list?”

“Yep.”

Izzy stared at me while Briley stared at the
table with a deep frown. “You have?”

“I’m not stupid. Just ‘cause I can float down
a staircase with grace and execute a double pirouette without
falling on my butt does not mean I can’t deduce a pattern. And our
Ptah is laying one out like a Donatella Versace showroom during the
Paris season.”

Izzy’s right eyebrow raised. “Who?”

“Never mind. Uh. Our lunatic knows me. He
knows I design. He may well be waiting to pounce, either here or
back in Manhattan.”

Briley muttered, “Will you agree to let me
protect you?”

I smiled. “Yep.”

He looked surprised. “You will?”

“Yep. Remember? Not stupid here. I’m not
going to go off by myself huntin' down some lead. I accept all the
big bruisin’ bodyguards I can get.”

Izzy queried, “Any idea who we’re looking
for?”

“Yep.”

“You do?” asked Briley.

For someone who is usually intelligent and
articulate, Briley was being pretty dense this night.

“Guys, I’ve been getting lotus blossoms on an
almost daily basis since my first night in New York. And as we saw
earlier, lotus blossoms seem to figure prominently in the décor of
Ptah Junior’s little hopeful love life.”

“They do?” Izzy interrupted.

Briley growled, “Shut up, Izzy..”

I sighed. “Okay. Let me list the guys who
jump out as great villain candidates. Gentlemen who suddenly became
part of my life after the Ellingsford party. We’ll start with him.
Lloyd Ellingsford. A married man interested in the fact that I
design costumes. Who happens to be an amateur archeologist with
lots of Egyptian figurines and stuff around his house. Or howzabout
Prince Peter who doesn’t speak a heck of a lot of English, but who
seems fascinated by Memphis, Tennessee? Ditto Grady Martel, except
for the English, which he speaks fine but with a damn huge Texas
accent. Oh, yeah. Grady’s a pyramid-exploring buddy of
Lloyd’s.”

Briley squinted at me. “News to me. How did
you found that out?”

I grinned. “Simple. Grady told me. Shyness is
not part of his personality. Okay. Up next. The Count, who is
always dating Follies girls and knew a lot about Francesca
Cerroni’s disappearance. Oh. Y’all do realize all these guys have
at least one chauffeur or bodyguard or manservant or
something?”

Briley commented.“Who look like they’ve won
-or lost- numerous boxing titles. Damnation, what an ill-favored
bunch!”

“I thought I was the only one who’d noticed
the lack of glamour amongst the hired help.”

Briley smiled. “Nope. I’m never comfortable
seeing those men hanging out by the stage door waiting for their
bosses to finish flirting with the chorines. But you were
saying?”

“Yeah, well, last but not least, there’s
Lawrence Vassily, who asked me a lot of questions about Beale
Street and why I want to go into costume work instead of becoming a
big Follies star. Two subjects we covered during one foxtrot at
Francy’s on opening night.”

Briley’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I
had no idea you were so popular. Well, perhaps I did, and didn’t
want to dwell on it.”

I smiled sweetly. “Ain’t just me, Briley. All
the chorus girls are inundated with suitors. Regardless of hair
color, height or charm. Though, our mysterious Ptah worshipper
isn’t in the same class with the typical stage-door hounds. This
guy wants a girl for his own power, not for a wife or a
mistress.”

Briley nodded. “I’ll endeavor to restrain my
jealous impulses until we determine who’s behind this.”

Izzy looked at Briley, then at me. “Aha! I
sensed was blowing that direction. Well, I shall have to bow out
and get over my broken heart elsewhere.”

“Mr. Rubens, if your heart breaks that
easily, you need to be in an Intensive Care ward somewhere.” An imp
suddenly overtook me. “By the way, Izzy darlin’, Saree Goldman told
me she thinks you’re cute. I believe her exact words were 'he's hot
and peachy!'"

He brightened. “She said that? Wowee! I
return the sentiments with extra. I’ve always had a yen for Saree,
but she has a way of attracting the attention of the rich boys and
royalty like your chauffeur-driven Count. I’m afraid of competition
when it comes in the form of dollars. Would she’d really be
interested in a struggling, poverty-stricken reporter?”

I prayed that this little bit of matchmaking
would not condemn me to the same locale in the hereafter doubtless
reserved for Madam Anna and her brother, but I answered, “Izzy,
she’d be thrilled.”

“Do I smell coffee?”

I glanced toward the doorway. Frank stood in
the center, smiling. Right behind me stood Denise, modestly wrapped
in one of Teresa’s robes. It trailed on the floor around her feet
and I felt a special kinship with my Great-great-aunt, another tall
female hovering above all the petites.

Briley ushered the newcomers into what was
now a crowded kitchen. “You do. We also have some scones leftover
from tea.”

He winked at me. “They’re not cranberry but
they’re tasty. Plus, we have scintillating conversation. Theories
and hypotheses as to who, why, and what was behind Denise’s
ordeal.”

The pair found two empty chairs and pulled
them up around the old table. For the next three hours we hashed
out the mystery of Ptah’s follower. By the end of the night, Denise
and Frank had sparks igniting between them, Briley and I were
barely maintaining a time-out on our own emotions, and Izzy had a
Pulitzer prize-winning story to sell to the Times, the Post or the
Memphis Courier-Appeal.

What none of us had
was an answer.

Sometime between the fourth cup of coffee and
the arrival of the milkman to the Flynn household, Briley, Izzy and
I decided we needed to be on the earliest train heading back to
Manhattan. Neither Briley nor I wanted to be fired by Mr. Ziegfeld.
Izzy was more interested in getting back to Manhattan to see Saree.
I’d noticed the way he’d been looking at her at the Ellingfords and
at Francy’s. He was smitten, a fact which did not surprise me.

The surprise came when Frank and Denise
declined to join us.

“I like it here, Briley. I like working in
the saloon playing piano.” Frank glanced at Denise, who hadn’t
taken her eyes off of the man except to help boil more pots of
coffee for our band of heroes. “And for more job security, I’m
considering opening up a music store.”

Denise beamed at him. “Frank and I ‘ave been
talking, no? We theenk I could work in a restaurant cooking la
cuisine Francais and eventually start my own café.”

Briley’s mouth opened to his neck. So I
jumped in with, “That’s awesome! I love the idea of the store,
Frank. Memphis needs a place that sells instruments and sheet music
and stuff. And I’ve tasted Denise’s cooking and it’s hard to even
find words that convey how superior it is to everything else out
there. Right, Briley?”

“Uh, yeah, right. Are you two . . .?”

I cut him off. “Oh, Briley? We need to pack,
don’t we? If we’re going to make the nine o’clock train today?”

“Uh, yeah, right. But I just wanted to ask
Frank . . .”

Izzy grabbed Briley’s arm. “Come on boy-o,
let’s leave your brother and Denise to make plans. Melody is right.
There’s not a lot of time for us to catch that train.”

He led a stupefied Briley out of the room. I
had no idea when Frank and Denise had found the opportunity to
discuss their feelings or their ideas for a life together in
Memphis, but it was obvious that they cared for one another and
also obvious they were meant to be together. Denise and Frank would
be happy with each other; Nevin would have a father, and no doubt
lots of little half-brothers and sisters to play with before
long.

I quickly packed the few things I’d brought
then hurried downstairs. Briley, Izzy, Frank and Denise were
discussing real estate in Memphis with Great-Aunt Teresa, who was
offering Denise and Nevin a place to stay until whenever the
wedding would be. Briley was still in a state of shock, but I knew
once he thought about how perfect this was for his brother and
Denise, he’d be as excited as the rest of us. Nevin kept running
back and forth from Frank to Briley hugging them both. Clearly he
was happy he was going to be a McShan within the next year.