"I haven't opened it. Of course, it's evidence. I cannot give it to you yet. But I wanted you to know that I have it. And I will let you know what it says, tomorrow."
"Thank you, Roam." Rhoda whispered.
"Yes, ma'am."
Rhoda's hand went up to her own throat. It stayed there a moment. Then she turned to Edgar and wrapped herself around his waist. "I can't tonight. I have to sleep."
"Right, darlin' we should rest. We're no good spent." Edgar held his wife for a moment more.
"You keep her safe Roam." Rhoda nodded toward Honey.
"Yes, ma'am. I'll keep you all safe. I promise." Roam gave her a weak smile.
"We're lucky to have you son." Edgar patted Roam's back as he helped Rhoda from the kitchen toward the staircase.
When everyone had gone, Honey sat at the kitchen table. The eggs were cold on the plate Edgar had set in front of Roam. Above them, through the floorboards, came the soft murmur of Lazlo's voice in the east hall, checking, one more time, on Maeve and Oona. Then the soft sound of closing doors. Then silence.She did not cry. She did not move. She held the moment the way the kitchen had been holding her family all night.
"Should we check out front?" Roam slipped his arms around her shoulders.
"Yes. We certainly should." Honey closed the book and rose to walk with him. Through the house and outside through the big door. She remembered being on the other side of that door as a toddler, hoping for someone to answer. Rhoda and Edgar had answered, and that had filled her heart. Now she stood at the rail in the cold with Roam. Having answered the door for a lawn full of cats in the dark. They sat in their puzzled rows. The hum of the spilling was a near-whisper now.
Honey leaned her shoulder against Roam's.
"I know it is not for me to ask. But."
"You can ask, Honey."
"Maeve. Oona."
Roam looked at her in the moonlight and didn't confirm or deny. "We're talkin' to everyone."
Honey understood. She nodded once, wrapped her arms around his waist, and they stood at the rail in the cold and did not speak. Above them, buried in the purple flowers of the vine, Dean Martin watched the lawn stop filling up with cats. "Sugar, I think that's it."
Honey took a deep breath, and said, "well, Roam O'Reilly, how would you like to be my assistant tonight. So, we can get all these lovely creatures inside."
"As long as I get to be beside you, sure. I'll do anything."
Chapter 8
The Cats Never Lie
The last cat had been a slow gray queen from somewhere outside Krakow who would not give her name until Honey explained to her, five times, what exactly she was doing at FACTS & FIBS. By the time she signed the book and the page slipped down through the slit, it was after three in the morning.
Honey closed the registration book and stretched the cramp out of her wrist. Roam stepped back through the front door with his coat over his arm. The house was finally settled.
"Tea?" Honey said.
"Tea." He slipped his hand in hers and they moved back into the kitchen. Roam set the kettle. Honey reached for two mugs from the shelf above the stove.
The bayou book was on the kitchen table where she had left it earlier in the night. She pulled it toward herself and began to read again. "Hmmm. Interesting."
Roam poured tea. Then he reached into the inside pocket of the coat hung over his chair-back and brought out a small, folded envelope in an evidence bag.
Honey glanced at him but did not stop studying the book.
He turned the evidence bag over in his hand a long second. Then he stood, crossed to the drawer beside the sink, and pulled out the thin paring knife. He opened the envelope and drew out the page inside. He read it once. His shoulders changed. He set the page down flat on the table without looking up, and dropped into the chair beside Honey with a huff that came out of his whole chest.
"I have no idea what that means."
