“Yes, I can tell how relaxed you are,” she said mildly.
I made a face at her. “Okay, I’m pissed, but not at you and not because you brought him in. I’m pissed because we’re supposed to be a team and nobody mentioned the idea of bringing him in.”
“And?” She raised a brow.
“And I’m pissed at myself because he thought we were dead. I never thought to tell him otherwise.”
“I know,” she told me. “He was a little surprised to get my call.” A tiny smile touched her lips and I relaxed.
“I feel like a bitch, Helen. It just didn’t occur to me to call him.”
“Lonesome is habit,” she said with a shrug. “One that can be broken.”
She left then and it was probably for the best. I stubbed out my cigarette before I went to find Taverner. He was in the garden, chucking knives at a tree stump. His form was still good, but the fact that he was doing something as visceral as knife throwing meant he was still feeling testy.
“So, I hear you’re into philanthropy now,” I said, coming to sit on the edge of the grass. “Giving away murders, no charge.”
“Well, every fifth murder is free, and I’ve already killed four people this year,” he said.
“Good to keep your hand in,” I agreed. I blew out a breath that sounded ragged and felt worse. “I really am sorry, you know. I should have thought and I didn’t. I guess I’m so used to pushing you out of my mind that I’ve gotten really good at it.”
“Well, that stings,” he said, coming to sit next to me. I handed him a bottle of water. He smelled like clean sweat and something else. Lemons?
“How are the twins?” I managed.
“Grown. Planning their thirtieth-birthday bash. Kate is a television producer living in London and is engaged to a nice young man I don’t much like. Sarah is a garden designer. She married an American and lives in upstate New York. She has twins of her own who just turned three.”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “You’re a grandfather?”
“Yes. They call me PeePaw. I hate it.”
“You should. It’s awful. Do you see your grandchildren much if they’re in America?”
He shrugged. “Not as often as I’d like. But they’re busy.”
“What about you?”
“I live in a cottage in Yorkshire, where I bake bread and refinish antiques and shock the neighbors with naked tai chi in the garden.”
“Retirement sounds like it agrees with you.”
He was quiet a long minute. “It’s an adjustment. I have considered freelancing. You know, picking up the odd murder here and there just to keep busy.”
“Oh, so we’re the first. Hey, if you do a good job, you can use us for a reference.”
“I’ll be sure to put that on my CV,” he said. He paused. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Vance. I never much liked him, but I didn’t think he was bent.”
“Me either. He was never my biggest fan, but I understood why. I just feel so . . . stupid. My entire career, all those years, and for what? No pension. Reputation shredded.”
“Hey, you killed some really deserving people. That’s got to be worth something.”
I laughed until I felt the tears gathering in the corner of my eyes.
“God, I needed that. Thank you.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” he said, almost touching my shoulder with his.
“I’m sorry about Beth,” I told him finally.
He nodded. “I got your card. I should have answered it, but with the funeral and all, I never got around to it.”
We were quiet for several minutes and it felt good, being with him. Too good. It was time to get back to business. “We’ve dotted all the i’s, crossed the t’s, Taverner. The plan is solid. We did the work.”
“Yes, you did.”
“So, you’re in.” I didn’t want it to be a question, but I had to know. I kept my voice just neutral enough.
“I’m in,” he said. Something knotted up in my chest started to unravel.
“I know you told Helen you wouldn’t take any money,” I began.
“I’ve never yet killed a woman who didn’t have it coming,” he said lightly. “Don’t make me rethink that.”
“We’re in charge,” I told him. “No going rogue.”
“I get it,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and going to retrieve his knives from the stump. “I’m just the pretty face.”