Part 25 (1/2)

Samurai again, and by Ali Griffith. The Law of Parsimony demanded Bonnie connect these incidents together, especially in light of the fact that the e-mail-presumably Ali's e-mail-containing the same nickname would be fired off not three hours later. The Law of Parsimony demanded Bonnie connect these incidents together, especially in light of the fact that the e-mail-presumably Ali's e-mail-containing the same nickname would be fired off not three hours later.

Still, doubt nagged at Bonnie. Would Ali be so careless as to make such incredible blunders-first, the incriminating e-mail then a gaff as serious as leaving her cobra choker in Edmund's pocket? Was the girl insane as well as stupid?

Bonnie slapped the water in answer to her own question. No, G.o.ddamit. Unlike Edmund Sheridan, I know this child, have known her and her family for a decade. Despite circ.u.mstantial evidence, Ali Griffith is neither a fool nor a conspirator in a murder. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. No, G.o.ddamit. Unlike Edmund Sheridan, I know this child, have known her and her family for a decade. Despite circ.u.mstantial evidence, Ali Griffith is neither a fool nor a conspirator in a murder. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

Someone was trying to not only frame Jesse Poole, but was sizing up Ali Griffith as well.

A knock sounded on the door. ”Bonnie, phone call for you.”

”If it's not Jesse, tell them I'm indisposed.”

”I think you might want to take this.”

Why can't men take no for an answer? ”Not now, please!” Then realizing she was yelling at the wrong per-son, she lowered her voice. ”Say I'll call them back.” ”Not now, please!” Then realizing she was yelling at the wrong per-son, she lowered her voice. ”Say I'll call them back.”

Armen's voice faded as he carried the phone and his conversation away from the bathroom door.

Her new-found conviction of Ali Griffith's inno-cence animated her. She grabbed a loofah and a bar of soap and scrubbed her knees and elbows until they glowed pink.

Another knock sounded on the door. ”Me again.”

Well, thank G.o.d for that. I wouldn't want a stranger knocking on the door while I'm naked as a plucked chicken. ”Did you tell them I'd call back?” ”Did you tell them I'd call back?”

Armen hesitated. ”Let me go on record as declar-ing I told you to take the call then did as you bade me and suggested you would call them back.”

Uh oh. ”Armen, who was on the line?” ”Armen, who was on the line?”

”Rhiannon Griffith and she had a suggestion of her own, mostly anatomical, as to what you could do with your call-back. She's on her way.”

CHAPTER 15.

RHIANNON GRIFFITH FILLED THE DOORWAY. Bonnie couldn't remember the woman ever looking so formidable. The witch's long red fingernails appeared positively lethal, as if they'd been filed to a point. Her black tresses framed a face dark and angry like a storm getting ready to explode on an unsuspecting mountain town.

And I'm that tiny town.

”Rhiannon, won't you come in?” Although Bonnie tried to maintain her equanimity, her voice shook.

Rhiannon pushed into the living room. Once in, she wheeled on Bonnie, finger pointing directly at her face. ”You are one treacherous b.i.t.c.h. Do you know they took my daughter away?”

Bonnie had expected this proclamation since she learned Rhiannon was en-route. Appropriate responses had auditioned across the stage of her brain for the last forty-five minutes without a clear-cut winner. Now that Rhiannon was here in the flesh, they all seemed lame.

”I'm sorry,” she offered feebly.

As if she'd never heard the word before, Rhiannon shouted, ”Sorry? That doesn't cut it by half, Pinkwa-ter. You made promises to Ali. Promises you broke the first chance you got.”

Bonnie felt her anger rise with every accusing word. No more Missus nice Pinkwater. No more Missus nice Pinkwater.

”Horse pucky, Rhiannon. Short of telling lies, I did everything I could to protect Ali. Do you even have the faintest clue concerning the circ.u.mstantial evidence stacked against your daughter?”

”I know a snake in the gra.s.s when I see one.” Men-acingly, Rhiannon halved the distance between them.

Bonnie cast about, wondering why none of her ani-mals were coming to her aid. Oh, yeah, they're torqued at me, too. Well, screw this. Oh, yeah, they're torqued at me, too. Well, screw this. Bonnie swung up a crutch and jabbed it into Rhiannon's ample chest, pus.h.i.+ng the woman back. Bonnie swung up a crutch and jabbed it into Rhiannon's ample chest, pus.h.i.+ng the woman back.

”Don't do anything stupid, witchy woman.”

Rhiannon slapped at the impediment. ”The only stupid thing I've ever done is mistake you for a friend.”

”Glad to help you clear up that misunderstanding.”

”Chamomile tea, anyone?” Armen emerged out of the kitchen holding a rattan serving tray. Perched atop were three cups, a small ceramic tea pot, and the honey jar.

Bonnie knew he'd been up to something in the kitchen, but had forgotten about him in the anxiety be-fore and the animosity after Rhiannon's arrival.

”Armen?”

If ever there was an inappropriate time for an intru-sion, this was it. No way did she want this woman to stay any longer than was necessary.

For her part, Rhiannon just stared at Armen as if he'd asked her was she in the mood for a quick bikini waxing.

Armen stepped between the two women nudging Bonnie's crutch aside. ”What say we have a seat and talk before we bring out the weapons of ma.s.s destruc-tion? You two can always kill each other later, but the tea won't keep.”

Bonnie coldly eyed Rhiannon, expecting the woman to shove past Armen and come after her. Much to her surprise, Rhiannon nodded.

What the h.e.l.l is going on in that pagan brain of yours?

Her face still a mask of stone, Rhiannon said, ”I can tell you what I think of you and drink tea at the same time.” Rhiannon backed away from Armen and took a seat on the sofa behind her. She folded her hands in her lap, the knuckles white with the effort.

Somehow the woman's a.s.sertion seemed a slam against Bonnie's intelligence, as if the infernal witch was suggesting the simultaneous acts of drinking tea and arguing were somehow beyond Bonnie's capabilities.

”I can stand a cup of tea if she can.”

”Well, good, it's a start.”

Armen set the tea tray on the coffee table in front of Rhiannon. He returned for Bonnie and led her around the table to the far end of the sofa. Taking her crutches, he helped her sit. He turned a reasonable face toward Rhiannon. ”You know, Missus Griffith, it's funny you being angry with Bonnie about your daughter.”

From the look on her face, Rhiannon was having trouble finding anything funny about Bonnie, and right now wasn't in the mood to try. ”What are you talking about?”

Armen knelt before the tea service and poured three cups of the pale amber tea before he spoke. He slid one to each of the two women. ”Just last night she was angry with me because I was arguing for your daughter's guilt in the murder of Stephanie Templeton. Bonnie felt that Ali was far too intelligent and compa.s.sionate to do any such thing.” He delivered the self-d.a.m.ning remarks in his oh-so-reasonable voice.

Bonnie had to stifle a laugh. Callahan, you are a pip. Callahan, you are a pip.

Rhiannon looked from Armen to Bonnie and back to Armen, appearing, for all the world, like a woman stranded between opposing emotions. No doubt she was reluctant to transfer her anger from Bonnie to Armen, but she bore all the hallmarks of someone dying to learn more about the previous night's conversation. Her mouth hung open in mute testimony to her dilemma.

Armen gestured to the teacup closest to the witch. ”Honey?”

Rhiannon ignored the question, turning slowly toward Bonnie. ”Is that the truth, Pinkwater, or is this man just trying to save your crippled b.u.t.t?”