Divine Evil

a balloon. “As for me, I haven't got a bigoted bone in my body. Live and let live, I say. I even had a black girl from over inShepherdstown come in to do my house once a week last year. Had to fire her for laziness, of course, but that's neither here nor there.”
    “You're a regular humanitarian, Mrs. Atherton,” Clare said tartly.
    Min beamed at the praise. “Well, we're all God's children under the skin, after all.”
    “Sing Hallelujah,” Clare murmured, and Lisa had to hold back a chuckle.
    “But as I was saying, I was going to drop by to talk to you. The Ladies Club would like you to speak at our monthly luncheon.”
    “Speak?”
    “About art and culture and that sort of thing. We thought we might even be able to get a reporter down from Hagerstown.”
    “Oh, well …”
    “If you're good enough for the
New York Times
, you're good enough for the
Morning Herald.”
Min patted her cheek. “I know how important publicity is, being a politician's wife. You just leave it all up to me. Don't you worry about a thing but wearing a pretty dress. You might go by Betty's and let her see to your hair.”
    “My hair?” Clare ran a hand through it.
    “I know how you artists are—bohemian and all, but this is Emmitsboro. Fix yourself up and talk a little about art. Maybe you could bring a piece or two to show off. Might be the paper would take pictures of it for you. Come by the house Saturday, about noon.”
    “This Saturday?”
    “Now, Clare, you remember the Ladies Club has their luncheon the first Saturday of every month. Always has, always will. Why, your mama was chairwoman three years running. Don't be late, now.”
    “Yes—no—”
    “You'll be just fine. Now, you take care of yourself, Lisa. I'll come back and see you real soon.”
    “Thank you.” Lisa waited until Min had departed before grinning. “Maybe I should call a nurse.”
    Clare blinked. “Are you feeling sick?”
    “No, but you look as though you've been run over by a truck.”
    “In a pansy dress.” On a long breath, Clare plopped into a chair. “I hate ladies′ luncheons.”
    Lisa laughed. “But you're going to get your picture in the paper.”
    “Well, then.”
    “She's quite a … woman,” Lisa said.
    “Emmitsboro's first lady and resident pain in the ass. I hope she didn't upset you.”
    “No, not really. She just wanted to gossip. The business about the murder….” Lisa looked down at her leg. “I guess it should make me realize how lucky I am.”
    “Dr. Su's the best.” At Lisa's lifted brow, she continued. “I checked him out. If anyone can get you back in pointe shoes, he can.”
    “That's what Roy says, and my parents.” Lisa smoothed the sheet. “I can't think that far ahead, Clare.”
    “Then don't try.”
    “I'm a coward.” She smiled a little. “I don't want to think about tomorrow, and I keep trying to block out yesterday. Before Mrs. Atherton came in, this chant kept playing over and over in my head. I tried not to hear it, even though I knew it might mean something.”
    “A chant.” Clare reached for her hand. “Can you tell me?”
    “Odo cicale ca. Zodo … zodo something. Gibberish. But I can't get it out of my mind. I guess I'm worriedsomething got knocked loose in my brain and the doctors haven't found it yet.”
    “I think it's more that you're remembering something. Parts of something. Have you told Cam?”
    “No, I haven't told anyone yet.”
    “Do you mind if I tell him?”
    “No.” Lisa lifted her shoulders. “For whatever good it might do.”
    “The MacDonald girl is beginning to remember things.” Mayor Atherton dipped his fork delicately into his hot apple pie. “Something may have to be done.”
    “Done?” Bob Meese tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was too tight. Everything was too tight. Even his boxer shorts were binding him. “It was dark. She didn't really see anything. And the sheriff, he's watching her. Real close.”
    Atherton paused and smiled benignly at Alice when she came over to refill his coffee cup. “The pie is excellent, as always.”
    “I'll pass that on. Be sure to tell Mrs. Atherton that those flowers the Ladies Club planted in the park are pretty. A nice touch.”
    “She'll be glad you like them.” He forked up another bite of pie, waiting until she moved to her next table. Absently, he tapped his foot to a Willie Nelson number. “We're not yet sure what she saw,” he went on. “And the sheriff is hardly a genuine worry.”
    Bob