Deep Waters

"Does it bother you?"
    "What? That you bullied Swinton into returning the Voyagers' money?" Charity smiled. "You must be kidding! He deserved it. But I do have a couple of questions."
    "What questions?"
    "First, do you think Swinton really might be the murderer?"
    "I doubt it. He might be capable of hiring someone to pull the trigger, but I don't think he could do it himself. He's an embezzler. He doesn't have the stomach for heavy violence. Too much risk."
    "You sound very certain of that."
    "No one can be absolutely certain about another person. But I think the odds are against Swinton being the killer. What's your other question?"
    "Why did you do it?" she asked very softly. "Why confront Swinton and force him to turn over the money? You don't really know any of the Voyagers except Arlene, and you're barely acquainted with her. There was no reason for you to get involved."
    There was a heartbeat of silence. And then another.
    The stillness in Elias was absolute. Charity could feel him retreating into himself.
    It occurred to her that he might not know the answer to her question. It also occurred to her that he didn't like the fact that he didn't know it.
    "The river of justice flows through many channels," he finally said in a very neutral voice. "Some are obvious. Others must be opened by the observer."
    "Forget I asked." Charity wrinkled her nose. "I know why you did it."
    His gaze narrowed. "Why?"
    She stood on tiptoe and touched the side of his face with her fingertips. "Because you're very sweet."
    "Sweet?"
    "Yes. Sweet." She patted his cheek. Then she brushed her mouth lightly across his, stepped back briefly to admire the stunned expression in his eyes, and then got quickly behind the wheel of her car.
    She turned the key in the ignition and hit the gas. Something told her it would not be a good idea to hang around.
    Sweet.
    Elias eyed the curry paste he was in the midst of preparing. He had already taken the recipe to the outer limits, heat-wise, but he added a few more of the intensely flavored, hot red chiles, just for the hell of it.
    Whatever else Charity would be able to say about tonight's dinner, she would definitely not be able to call it sweet. He had spent the entire day plotting the menu.
    The meal was built around a fiery potato and garbanzo bean curry. It was accompanied by a salad laced with a pepper-flavored dressing. Dessert was a very tart lime sorbet.
    "This is war, Otis."
    Crazy Otis, perched on top of his cage, bobbed his head and uttered his evil chuckle.
    Elias held up a plump jalapeño chile pepper. "As you are my witness, Otis. She shall never call me sweet again."
    "Heh, heh, heh."
    Elias still wasn't sure why the word rankled. He only knew he had been fuming quietly since the previous afternoon when Charity had patted him as if he had been an especially good dog, given him that airy little butterfly kiss, smiled, and called him sweet.
    He was fairly certain that sweet was a word women used for babies, puppies, and brothers.
    Sweet. It was an unpleasant, unsettling, uninspiring word. It was a bland, noncommittal, very dull word. And it sent a chill through him.
    Charity's eyes watered at the first taste of the curry. She blinked back the moisture, put down her fork, and snatched up her glass of wine.
    "I'm still experimenting with the recipe," Elias murmured.
    "Tasty." She gulped another swallow of wine, hoping the alcohol would kill the fire.
    "The curry paste emphasizes three different varieties of red chiles."
    "I could tell."
    "Not too hot?"
    She smiled grimly as she set the wineglass on the low table. "Hotter than Mount St. Helens, and you know it."
    Elias looked pleased. "Try the salad."
    Warily she forked up a bite of salad. The dressing was almost as hot as the potato and garbanzo bean curry. She breathed deeply and swallowed the smoldering greens. "Zesty."
    He frowned thoughtfully as he munched lettuce. "You don't think the dressing is just a tad on the sweet side?"
    "Sweet?" Alarm bells went off in Charity's brain. Sweet? She reached for a slice of corn bread. "Not in the least."
    "How about the corn bread? I don't like sweet com bread, myself."
    Charity swallowed and took another deep breath. "I don't think you have to worry about the corn bread. All the jalapeño chiles you put into it do an excellent job of masking any trace of sweetness."
    His eyes gleamed. "Thank you."
    She pondered his expression for a few seconds, read the challenge in him, and picked up her fork