Rough Weather: A Spenser Novel

ahead of me. To my left I could see the MP9 that had disappeared in the fight last night. Most of it was washed overwith mud, and only the barrel showed. I left it. It would need to be cleaned to be dependable. On the other side of the barn, and at a little distance, I heard the sound of the helicopter starting up. I edged around the corner of the barn and looked toward where I thought it was. It was a lot closer than it had seemed in last night’s pitch-black chaos. The blades were turning. And as I watched, the chopper lifted off the ground, hovered for a moment, and then banked away north toward the mainland.
    I watched it fly out of sight and then went back inside the barn. The horses were all looking at me.
    “I’ll make sure somebody feeds you,” I said.
    Susan had sat up, leaning her back against the wall.
    “Who are you talking to?” she said.
    “The horses,” I said. “They’re looking for breakfast.”
    “And what did you tell them?”
    “I said I’d get them fed.”
    Susan looked at me for a moment, fully awake now.
    “My God,” she said. “I hope you look worse than I do.”
    “I always look worse than you do,” I said.
    “You’re a mud ball,” she said.
    I looked down at myself. All of myself that I could see was caked with mud and grass. I looked at her. Her hair had dried plastered to her skull. The only makeup she had left was her eye makeup, which made dark streaks and splotches on her face. I grinned at her.
    “Don’t you ever change,” I said.
    “What were you doing outside?”
    “Watching the helicopter take off,” I said.
    “They’re gone?”
    “I would say so.”
    “All of them?”
    “I can’t imagine a reason to leave anyone here,” I said.
    Except the guy at the bottom of the cliff.
    I wondered if he was still there or, more likely, had washed out to sea.
    “So presumably, they’ve got the girl,” Susan said.
    “Presumably,” I said.
    “What are we going to do?”
    “Reconnoiter,” I said.
    “I need coffee,” Susan said, “and a bath, and a bright mirror, and food.”
    “That will depend on when the power comes back on,” I said.
    “Omigod,” Susan said. “No coffee? A cold bath?”
    “Maybe there’s a generator,” I said.
    We went out of the barn.
    “Want to walk with me while I scope out the island,” I said. “Make sure.”
    “Yes,” she said. “I don’t want to be someplace without you.”
    “Here we go,” I said.
    We circled the island. It was a small island. It didn’t take long. I carried my gun in my right hand at my side. I was pretty sure all the evildoers had gone. But there was no reason not to be careful. Halfway around the island there was a body. It was one of the Tashtego patrol guys. Susan stopped. I went aheadand knelt down and looked at his storm-soaked body. He’d been shot once, as far as I could see, in the forehead. I nodded to myself and got up and went back to Susan.
    “Dead,” I said. “I suspect we’ll find the others the same way.”
    “Rugar?” Susan said.
    “Sure,” I said. “Keeping busy. While everybody’s getting ready for the wedding, he walked around and popped these guys, one at a time.”
    “They’d have had no reason to be suspicious,” Susan said. “So well dressed, so distinguished, just another wedding guest, taking a stroll.”
    “Yep.”
    “One at a time,” Susan said. “What kind of a man does that?”
    “Probably not a people person,” I said.
    There was another security guy dead behind the chapel. Same bullet hole in his forehead. The chapel itself was empty except for the two bodies near the altar rail. The doors were standing open, the candlesticks tipped over, the flowers scattered, the gauze draping tangled and wet.
    We moved on into the main house. The sun was up by now, but even so I could see that lights were on in the house. And I could hear the sound of the generator. Probably one of those that kicked in automatically when the power went out. The front door was locked, like that would have slowed Rugar down had he wanted to come in. I walked along the front of the house and looked in the floor-to-ceiling windows at the living room. The wedding guests were there, some asleep on the furniture, someasleep on the floor, some staring apprehensively out the window at me. Most of them looked as if they’d spent a lot of time outside in the weather. Sitting quietly in a big wing chair by the fireplace, Heidi saw me and stood. I pointed to the front door, and she