Natchez By Night, Game 4.0: The End of King Cotton
Play Date: 10 Sep 2011
Present: Cindy, Kim, Maer, Terri, Andy, Ken, and Jim
Saturday Morning, 06 Aug 2011
3:00A.M.
Right after Renny deals with the Elvi, he goes to Eliza to deliver his report on the evening’s events and one of the matters attended to is a séance to ask questions of Midnight Johnson. They descend from Eliza’s upstairs office to her dining room and take up positions at the table.
Would it be of assistance for Eliza to bring her ‘nieces’ from the basement? Renny’s sympathy and high humanity prompt him to politely assure Eliza that no, not unless the girls were real familiar with Midnight, they won’t be necessary, thank you. Eliza knew him. Renny knew him. That should be sufficient.
Eliza: Shall we hold hands or shall we gaze across the table at each other, Mr. Jacobson?
Aware of the flirtatious undertones of the question and equally aware of the necessity to stay in Eliza’s good graces, Renny replies:
Renny: Let’s hold hands, for the purposes. Also it’s best to have the questions decided ahead of time. Since this is a bit more forceful than a regular séance and he’s not going to be too pleased about bein’ here. He’s not gonna be able to do anything about it but he’s not going to be pleased about bein’ here.
Eliza: What is your interest in the shade of Midnight?
Renny: Well, I wanna verify how he died. I wanna verified what he thinks Mr. Johnson’s defenses are going to be like. We have a unique look at it and he has to answer directly if it’s possible. And he’s going to be takin’ over my body, which is the most important piece of information.
Because Renny’s a medium and that is the way he can have spirits talk so others can hear—they talk through him by taking possession over his body.
Eliza: Well I feel capable of answering the majority of those questions myself, Mr. Jacobson.
Renny: Also if there’s anything in particular you ever wanted to know out of the guy, this is the chance for it.
Eliza: You mentioned something about his Arab in the basement.
Renny: Yes, I wanted to ask him a question about that.
Eliza: If he could get me the location of Cotton’s feeding pen …
Renny: I’m sure he would know it and I’m sure we can find out. In fact, I already sussed that piece of information out.
He tells her. Eliza smiles.
Eliza: You have proved to be quite invaluable Mr. Jacobson.
Renny: I appreciate being valuable. So without further ado, perhaps we should get down to cases cuz I’m figuring we’re both gonna pass out pretty soon.
Eliza: I will have one of the staff prepared to take you upstairs.
Where her offer of her own coffin awaits for Renny to sleep the day away in.
Renny: Ahhm, there’s no reason for you to put yourself out on my account. A closet with a bed in it is good enough. But um … without further ado we should summon the shade of Midnight. And in fact, yes …
His tone changes, his New York accent dropping away, and a more sonorous, theatrical voice takes its place.
Renny: Let us reach out into the Ether and think, think closely about … Midnight.
Eliza: (batting her eyelashes) …. Ohhhh …..
Renny: If you would open your mind to me, it would be much easier.
Eliza: (flirtatiously) Why, Mr. Jacobson, I do not believe I could be more open.
Renny politely ignores the come-hither and concentrates on bringing forth Midnight’s shade. In a matter of minutes, he’s done it. Midnight settles into his body and what happens next is an odd two person conversation coming out of one person’s mouth, complete with intonation and body language per each individual intact. It’s a bit disconcerting to hear Midnights deep southern drawl booming out of a shrimpy little white guy from Brooklyn, but there you go. Renny’s a master at this. Midnight puffs out his chest and looms over the table and Renny’s theatrical Stage Magician’s persona alternates with Midnight as they talk.
Midnight: Whachoo callin’ me fo’?
Renny: I’m calling you from beyond the grave. I have questions. I need answers and you are bound to provide them. And only when you have given the correct and useful answers will you be able to pass back into the Pale.
Midnight: I ain’t passin’ over no pale. Midnight is one thang an’ one thang only. Midnight dark.
Renny: Yes. (clears throat)
Midnight: Where Francine? You callin’ me, you should be havin’ Francine wit’ you. Where Francine?
Renny: Francine is off on her own matters at the moment. I need to know about Cotton Johnson’s household defenses.
Midnight: Cotton Johnson’s his own dee-fence. You ever seen Cotton take a bullit? Mm-mm-mm. He also got some bad news ghouls that like to shoot people. An’ he got Francine. An’ I’m pretty sure Marcus Stone and his chil’len gon’ be on Cotton side. Yoo plan ta’ kill Cotton, ain’t you?
Renny: (grandiose) I am asking the questions here. You must answer the questions or suffer the flames of eternal torment—
Midnight: Oh, why you threatenin’ me. I answerin’ yo’ questions. We can exchange information.
Renny: Yes, we will. (more grandiosely) I do not plan to kill Cotton Johnson.
Midnight: Den you in for a world’a hurtin’ cuz I’m sure Johnson gonna kill you.
That’s a fair point.
Renny: That was Question Number One. Question Number Two—the creature that resided in your basement.
Midnight: The A-Rab. The Assassinite.
Renny: Yes. What powers did he possess?
Midnight: Mmmmm. He had dem exotic powers. He was a Spirit Eater what could also do the Poison Blood. An’ I been usin’ da’ Persian Blood Power myself and got me a little bit’a the Spirit Eatin’. I ain’t dat hungry since I died, I tell you dat. But I still be willin ta’ …. if you c’n see yourself to givin’ myself a body, I would gladly rid you of some redneck white-ass Gangrel. You letta dog pack git too big, it go wild.
Renny: I cannot fault you on any of the particulars.
Another point to the big guy. The Gangrel have shown themselves rather eager to mix it up, combat-wise. However, the only body Midnight could possess is Renny’s own and there isn’t ANY WAY Renny would just give it up. Midnight’s accustomed to being six feet tall with tons of fortitude, capable of simply wading through any army the vamps could throw at him. What Midnight would actually get is a five-foot-four shrimpy Yankee who might be able to wade through a crowd at the counter of a Starbucks. Renny gets winded climbing stairs. Any damage Midnight incurred while possessing Renny would be taking it out on Renny’s own body, with only Renny’s strengths and weaknesses.
Even so, it would be churlish to say so to a spirit one is trying to get information from.
Renny: Perhaps at some point in the future I shall grant you a body.
Midnight: Francine got her collection. I bet she would be—Things be so confusin’ now. She be gratified to have Midnight tell’er what to do. An’ I got decades of calm, buildin’ up the desire to be tellin’ pretty white girls what to do, let me tell you.
Renny: Well, here is One Last Question. Who is Francine loyal to? Which side is she upon?
Midnight: I think she was loyal t’Cotton cuz she thought, Man, he gon’ eat them Yankees. But Cotton got a liddle discomboobalated when he discovered I was dead an’ someone stole an A-Rab. I’ma go an’ see if I c’n talk to Cotton. He all bloody-eyed, standin’ over my shanty. It ain’t fittin’.
Renny: Then go. Return to the Dark Domains from whence you came.
Midnight: They ain’t much Domains gonna be darker than this ol’ witch’s house.
Renny turns to Eliza.
Renny: Boy, this guy’s got a lot of sass.
Midnight: I’s already gots someplace I wan’ be. If you gots some mo’ questions, I think it time for Cotton to die. Yo’ want some help makin’ Cotton die, I here to help ya. You’s all—(exaggerating)—OOOH, the Torment-of-a-Thousand-Years bullshit. I dealts wit’ somebody who dint drink no vampire blood, he ate spirits. Yo’ liddle song an’ dance, Mister Showy, ain’t impress me none. You ain’t got not blackface on.
Renny: (to Eliza) Boy, this guy’s getting’ annoying. (to Midnight) How would you assist in the assassination of Cotton?
Midnight: I ain’t got no body! Give me a body, I use my sword. I got th’ Persian Blood. An’ when he gets weak, a little shaky-like, I c’n jump from my body, pounce on his body, an’ then you’ll have Midnight inside’a dat body. Den Midnight be the Prince. Ever’body happy.
Jumping from one body to the next? Damn. Renny’s good but even he isn’t THAT good. That’s a whole other path of Necromancy he hasn’t even started down yet. And frankly, Renny wouldn’t trust Midnight if even Midnight had that ability. Best we nip this notion of Midnight’s in the bud. Renny pulls out all the stops on his theatrical ‘bullshit’ and announces forcefully:
Renny: No. Nay, we shall take this upon ourselves. For now … BEGONE!
And Renny closes the séance. And since Midnight doesn’t possess the magical ability to manifest in this reality, Midnight’s shade is gone.
Eliza: Not since the 1960s has he been that uppity. He knew his place before.
Renny: Well, the 60’s, I’m told, were a tumultuous time. I was not yet born then. So. We have our answers, such as we do. I do not trust Midnight. I would not give him a body. I would not trust him in Cotton’s body, especially.
Eliza: I think he clearly stated that he would be in Cotton’s body so that he would be able to replace Cotton as Prince.
Renny: Yes, exactly.
Eliza: So no, we are not going with that plan at all, Mr. Jacobson.
Renny: Then we are in accord on that. Given that the rooster is likely to crow in mere moments, we should probably retire.
Eliza: I shall retire to the basement. If you find a room to your pleasing, take your rest.
Renny: Very well. I will.
Eliza: Enchanté, Mr. Jacobson.
Renny: Enchanté, Madame.
And Renny shakes off the last of Midnight and slides right back into his usual manner of conning old ladies with his charm. After all, it’s what he did best before he became a vamp. They leave the dining room and go their respective ways, Eliza to the basement to spend the day sheltered from the sun and Renny upstairs to find a suitable closet. There’s no way he’s going to lie down in Eliza’s silk-lined coffin, no matter how comfy. It’s just too damned creepy.
The sun rises and the mortal world puts the vampire world away.
9:30A.M.
In her brownstone, Caroline Thibideaux is woken in her bed by Mason McAllistar bearing breakfast for her on a tray. He hands Caroline her cell phone and it’s full of text messages from her mother, Mary Alice Thibideaux. Scrolling through them quickly, Caroline reads:
—I am inside of your house.—
—I notice I am alone except for a dog that has not been cared for.—
—One would have thought I had raised you better than to ignore and abuse an animal.—
Click. Click. Click. Caroline starts deleting the texts, then quits her bed and grabs her robe.
Mason: Caroline, where are you going?
Caroline: (pissed) Momma’s here.
Caroline runs downstairs to check on Maggie and to see where her mother’s hiding. She finds Mary Alice sitting in a comfy chair in the living room, petting Maggie—who’s eating up the attention the way only a Golden Retriever can. The dog’s tail is thumping a steady appreciative tattoo on the carpet. Pet, pet, pet. Thump, thump, thump.
Caroline rakes a hand through her hair, knowing it a mess and smiles at her mother. Mary Alice is not fooled a bit. She gives Caroline The Look when she comes off the bottom stair.
Caroline: Hi, Momma.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: (genteely terse) I thought I was alone in your house and was wondering where you might be until a man with no clothes came downstairs and started cooking.
Caroline: (back at’cha) Well, Momma, you do know better than to not-knock before you come in.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: What would be the point of knockin’, dear. You made yourself get deaf by going to Europe without proper pro—.
Caroline: Oh, Momma. Are we really going to go over that again? (softer) Did you feed Maggie, Momma?
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Actually, your friend, Mr. McAllistar did.
Caroline: (drawls) So you’re back to ‘Mr. McAllister’ now, huh? Not like you didn’t give me hell for sendin’ him a lettah from the hospital.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Mason, then. You seem quite familiar with him. (pointed look at her deshabille) Let’s call him Mason.
And all Caroline can think at this moment: Oh, God. Mason you had to go downstairs in your altogether to go for food? And lo, as if summoned by her thoughts, Mason does come on down—fully dressed—and says to Mary Alice:
Mason: Ms. Thibideaux, please, I was wearing boxer shorts. I have a measure of decency. I wouldn’t wander naked in front of the dog.
Caroline looks at him to catch his words. She sighs and screws her manners firmly back in place.
Caroline: Momma, can I get you some coffee?
Mary Alice Thibideaux: I would be gratified to have some coffee. Why has it been so long since we’ve spoken, Caroline?
Caroline: I just talked to you yesterday, Momma.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: On the phone. Well I suppose the inquiries about why won’t you come over to the house for dinner—you’ve been busy and certainly you didn’t invite me over here…
Caroline: I’ve been a little occupied, Momma.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Hm. You mean preoccupied or inhabited, Caroline?
Caroline: Well, now, Momma. If you really want to get to the nitty-gritty—
Mary Alice Thibideaux: No, I would not care to do so. I would not like to have it thrown up in my face and certainly not paraded down the street.
The gauntlet has been thrown.
Caroline: I am nearly thirty years old and you just let yourself in my home! Mason may walk around in his boxers if he feels like it, Momma.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you should mention to your family that you have become familiar with a gentleman?
Caroline: No. It did not in fact occur to me. I am thirty years old. I can run my own love life, thankyouverymuch.
Caroline goes into the kitchen to get coffee. When she comes back, she finds Mason and her momma in a heated discussion. She can clearly see Mason’s face and is able to follow what he’s saying.
Mason: No I am not just going to leave town again.
Caroline: Momma. (hands her a cup) Have some coffee.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Thank you. (takes it)
Caroline: Why don’t you leave Mason alone?
Mary Alice Thibideaux: What plans are there for making this … arrangement that you have a bit more legitimate and publically acknowledged? If you are known to be keeping company with a gentleman, then that would be one thing. If it is bandied about town that gentlemen drop by and leave in the morning—
Caroline: Momma, this is 2011!
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Yes. But this is Natchez and you have a family name.
Caroline: Well, not for long. I’m getting’ married.
Zing!
Mary Alice Thibideaux: So did he buy you a ring? (to Mason) Did you buy her a ring?
Caroline: (softly to Mason) I’m sorry.
Mason: I did buy her a ring.
Caroline’s wearing it right now, in fact. He takes his love’s hand in his and shows his future mother-in-law the article in question. Mary Alice looks it over with a critical eye.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: I thought you bought a ring.
Caroline: Momma! Now that is the rudest thing I have ever heard you say.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Now, Caroline, you’re a grown woman. You get to make the decisions you want to make. It’s just a—your father in his grave would be—he must be spinning right now.
Caroline: Daddy liked Mason. You said so, yourself. When you hollered at me for sendin’ him a Dear John lettah. Because it was in bad form.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: You could have at least called him.
Caroline: (heavily) Deaf. I could have called him. From the hospital.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: You didn’t have to hear what he had to say. He had to hear what you had to say.
Come again?
Mary Alice Thibideaux: (continuing) If you had plans to make yourself honest about it when you called, ‘oh the rent’s been handled, oh I can’t come by, oh I’m gonna be out tonight, don’t come by’. All of those conversations, you could have mentioned you were getting married.
Caroline: It was only decided last night! (lightbulb!) Oh, and that’s why you came this mornin’, isn’t it, Momma?
Mary Alice Thibideaux: I’m only—
Caroline: All right! I’m sorry. I’m sorry you heard it from the gossips before I got a chance to get out of the bed and call you.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Well, if you’re going to accept an engagement in a public place, perhaps—
Caroline: I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: I make it my business not to know the sort of people who frequent the Magnolia Grill and places of its ilk. But I’m certainly cannot—
Caroline: I’m sorry, Momma. I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have called you. I’m sorry. I apologize.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Well, Mr. McAllistar, I assume you’re expecting the family of the bride to cover the expenses of the wedding, so—
Caroline: Momma! That is outrageous.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: I just wanted to make sure that there was a wedding that is appropriate for your station, rather than his.
Caroline: That is outrageous. We haven’t even had a chance to talk about that.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Well I am the mother of the bride. It’s my place to decide where the wedding will be.
Caroline: I—OH NO!
Mary Alice Thibideaux: I’ve been maintaining a—
Caroline: Oh, no! MOMMA!
Mary Alice Thibideaux: (continuing) —A guest list so—
Caroline: MOMMA! Go home, Momma. Oh my God! I’m so embarrassed. If you keep making me angry, I’m going to have one of the Elvi do it.
Mary Alice archly crosses her arms.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Mr. McAllistar, would you kindly inform my daughter Caroline that I am awaiting her apology?
Mason’s not stupid. He’s not about to piss off the senior combatant in the pair of two Southern women in an argument. He does as he’s told. Besides, he and Mary Alice had quite a pleasant breakfast together before he took that tray up. He touches Caroline’s shoulder.
Mason: Caroline. Your mom wants an apology.
Caroline: (evenly) Mason, dear. Would you tell my momma that if she continues in her vein of behavior, I will call my Grandmama Cecilia and get her involved in the plannin’ of the weddin’. (nods at Mary Alice) And if she thinks that she is all about of winning the prize of best society matron, I’m quite sure that Grandmama can fix it.
Mason: (to Mary Alice) She’s going to unleash your momma.
Mary Alice Thibideaux isn’t stupid either. She certainly doesn’t want to mix it up with a Southern matriarch senior to her. She looks at Mason.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Well. There is no reason for us to behave this way. Tell Caroline to talk like a civilized person. (to Caroline) Now if you’re going to marry Mr. McAllistar, you’re going to have to do it right.
Caroline: Momma. I have been home exactly one month. I have been engaged exactly six and a half hours. Would you give me a little space? A little space. That’s all I’m askin’.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Like I discussed with Mason this morning over breakfast, he was quite civilized and spoke in quite a civil tone in understanding of my feelings. After all of the—and finding out about—and yes, Mason has promised the wedding is entirely yours to plan and—
Mason: Tell me the tux number and I will get that tux. I will let you buy me the tux. I will not get in your way. Thank you.
Caroline: (sighs) Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven—
The doorbell rings and the light installed over the front door starts flashing. Maggie jumps up from under Mary Alice’s hand and runs to Caroline, then to the door. Good dog, Maggie.
Caroline: (to the door) Go to hell. Sorry, Momma.
Mason’s dressed. He gets the door. He hesitates when he sees who’s waiting on the threshold. Zadie Calhoun’s infamous mother, Adeline “Addy” Calhoun, is standing there. She’s decked out in painted on evening wear that would be risqué even in a major city. For Natchez, it’s downright indecent. Addy doesn’t wait for Mason but breezes right past him and sashays inside in all her lycraed Pleather glory.
Addy: Caroline! What a sight for sore eyes!
Oh, Lord. Mary Alice looks kerflempt and waves weakly. Caroline plants a pained grimace of a smile on her face.
Caroline: Adeline, I didn’t know you were back in town. When did you get in, darlin’?
Addy: I got in this mornin’ and I went straight to Momma’s house.
Addy puffs up in feined indignation, straining the laces of her Pleather bustier.
Addy: And I knocked and I knocked and I knocked and I rang the bell. I rattled the door. They’d changed the locks. And I came all the way from L.A. on a red eye flight. And you know sunlight isn’t very becoming for me.
She smoothes a hand over her hair and shows off her figure. Knowing Willi Mae’s and Zadie’s secret, Caroline thinks fast.
Caroline: Well, darlin’ if you called ahead, Zadie could have told you that she and her Granmama are on a riverboat trip today.
Addy: They went on a riverboat trip?
Caroline: They did.
Addy: Who’s runnin’ the business?
Addy’s expression goes calculating.
Caroline: Their managers are runnin’ the business, of course.
Addy: They hired a manager?
Caroline: Yes. Your momma’s getting on in years, you know, and she’s gettin’ ready to turn the business over to Zadie but she’s not quite old enough to—.
Addy: Turn the business over to Zadie? She needs to turn it over to me! I could sell that dump and set myself up right in L.A.
Caroline: Which is exactly what she doesn’t want.
Addy: But Zadie could move out to L.A. with me. go to a real school where she would be a doctor or a lawyer. Somebody could take care of her while she met gentlemen of interest.
Caroline slides a look at her mother. Mary Alice takes the cue.
Mary Alice Thibideaux: Caroline, it’s always a pleasure.
Mary Alice rises and takes her leave, kissing Mason on both cheeks in the Continental fashion, kissing her daughter and hugging her, and giving Addy the old-fashioned cut.
Caroline: (softly) I’ll you later, Momma, about dress shoppin’.
Caroline sees her mother out and thinks internally: Oh God … She calls up the steel of her upbringing and returns to her living room. Addy has taken Mary Alice’s seat and looks quite comfortable there, thanks. She’s adjusting the rise on her bustier and throwing lustful looks at Mason. Caroline and Mason’s eyes meet when Caroline returns: Jesus! they both think at each other.
Caroline: Addy, what brings you back to Natchez?
Addy: I had a really troubling and disturbing phone call a couple of nights ago from Zadie. She was all feeling sorry for herself and I thought I would come here and take her back to L.A. with me and especially since Momma is selling that dump—
Caroline: Your momma’s not sellin’ the store.
Addy: If she’s giving it to Zadie, we might as well sell it and Zadie and I will have—
Caroline: Zadie loves the store.
Addy: Zadie will love Los Angeles.
Caroline: (politely) No, I’m reasonably sure you can’t do that. Maybe you should talk to your daughter a little more often and realize what it is she wants out of her life.
The irony is pretty thick, considering the contretemps just before Addy’s arrival.
Addy: I talk to her frequently. And I got a call from my ex-husband. I talk to Zadie but she’s given up on calling her daddy. Or takin’ his calls.
He’s sweet, good lookin’, and dumb as a rock. Which is why he got caught up in that robbery scheme and is now in prison. Of course, he can only call his daughter during the day and now that Zadie is dead to the world when the sun is up ….
Caroline: I’m not sure I blame her, given the way he is.
Addy: Oh, just cuz your family’s always been the ones who had the cash delivered to them instead of actually having to carry the gun to the bank to get it—
Caroline: Oh Adeline!
Addy: Are you going to go all Mary-Alice on me or are you going to get Zadie? The number I had two nights ago, the last time I spoke to Zadie, isn’t workin’. It just rings and rings and rings.
Caroline: Like I said, they went on a trip today. So maybe she didn’t take her phone with her.
Addy: She’s nineteen years old. She’s a good-lookin’ girl. She’s almost as good-lookin’ like me. Why would she not have her phone? Men will want to talk to her.
Addy has a point—imagine an older and hotter looking version of the title actress in that 90s vampire slayer movie, and you’ve got the spitting image of Zadie’s momma. Only a bit sleazier.
Addy: If they can’t reach her by phone, there are other decent lookin’ girls in this town. She needs to keep in constant communication if she wants her pick!
Caroline: Addy.
Addy: Yes, Caroline.
Caroline: You came in on the red-eye. You obviously didn’t get any sleep whatsoever. Why don’t you go upstairs and take the guest room up on the third floor and catch yourself a little nap. It’ll do your complexion wonders.
Addy: I slept on the plane. It was decades ago I first joined the Mile High Club. I had nothing to prove on this trip.
Addy casts a look at Mason and then looks demurely down.
Addy: (breathily) Why, I’m not sure I’ve made your acquaintance. I’m Addy Calhoun.
Mason: Mason McAllistar.
Addy: McAllistar. What a looooooong name.
She rolls it off her tongue lasciviously. Caroline steps in and puts an end to that, yes, sir.
Caroline: Adeline. I’d like to introduce you to my future husband.
Addy: Oh, future, you say? So you’re going to be Missus McAllistar. I am so gratified for you that you finally found a man that would have you.
Zing!
Caroline: Not all of us had to go through quite so many as you do.
Addy: Oh, variety is the spice of life. (looks at Mason) And I like spices.
Caroline: (with an edge) Do you need the guest room or are you staying in a hotel, darlin’?
Addy: Actually …
Addy reaches out and grabs Mason’s arm and slides her hand down to his wrist.
Addy: If you would get the bags up to my room … ?
Caroline: (smiling daggers) He can’t. He has to go to work. You’ll have to carry your own. Excuse me but I have to dress, because I too have to go to work.
Addy: Well just give me the directions to the room then and I’ll come down later to—
Caroline: Third floor. There is only my painting studio and the spare bedroom up there.
Addy: It was great to see you again Caroline.
Addy rises.
Addy: I’m sure while I’m in town we’ll have nothin’ but fun. I believe we’ll have a Bachelorette party for you if you’re gettin’ married.
Caroline: Please just don’t be the entertainment for the Bachelorette party, darlin’.
That doesn’t slow Addy down a bit. She takes Mason’s chin as she passes and gives it an affectionate squeeze and jiggle.
Addy: He looks like the poor but honest type. I’m not sure he could afford my rates.
Mason: (stepping back) I gotta be getting’ on to work. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
He doesn’t have a day job but Addy doesn’t need to know that. He gives Addy a nod and Caroline a deliberate deep kiss. And gets the hell out of there. Caroline locks every door on her way upstairs, keeping Addy as far away from her as possible and texts Irina from the safety of her room:
—Save me from my family!—
It’s only 10:30 in the morning and Irina is dead to the world, sleeping off a crippling migraine. Caroline had left with Mason last night before the migraine hit her friend, thanks to Mason’s injudicious consumption of alcohol on top of pain killers, and Caroline doesn’t know her text would go unread. She waits for a reply for a minute and frowns. The detective is usually prompt with a response. Caroline sighs and gets dressed to face the rest of her day.
At 11:30 the lights over her door goes off again. Maggie bounds for her mistress and leads her to the door. Bracing herself, Caroline opens it find … the Lieutenant, the other of Evangeline’s ghouls, standing on her doorstep.
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