NAUGHTY JOHN

Evie followed Will into the museum, talking quickly despite the pounding in her head. “I heard that song with Ruta Badowski’s buckle, and again today with Eugene Meriwether’s ring.”

“Didn’t I specifically ask you not to do that very thing—”

“What if there’s some sort of connection we’ve missed? What if our killer has patterned himself after this Naughty John person?”

“You’re basing your assumption upon a song—”

“A song known to be associated with a murderer!”

“That’s rather a questionable hunch to go on….”

Jericho and Sam watched the scene unfold like a tennis match gone awry.

“What is this about?” Jericho said at the same time that Sam asked Evie, “Why would you touch a dead man’s ring?”

Will and Evie ignored them and continued arguing.

“Would you touch a dead man’s ring?” Sam asked Jericho, who shrugged.

“Unc, it’s the only lead we have,” Evie said.

“Very well,” Will said after a pause. “If you feel strongly about it—”

“I do.”

“Then you may do what scholars do when they feel passionately about a subject.”

“What’s that?”

“You may visit the library,” Will said. “The New York Public should have what you need to know about this John Hobbes fellow.”

“I will do just that, then.” Evie hung her hat and scarf on the stuffed bear’s giant paw.

“What we do know is that the killer is playing by the Book of the Brethren,” Will said. “The Temple of Solomon: The Freemasons also refer to their lodges as temples, and they consider themselves descendants of King Solomon.”

“We had the right idea, but the wrong joint,” Sam said.

“What’s the next offering?” Sam asked.

Jericho turned to the next page in the Book of the Brethren. “The eighth offering, the Veneration of the Angelic Herald,” Jericho said. He immediately began naming possibilities. “Angels… a church, a priest or nun, someone named Angel or Angelica. A herald—a messenger of some sort… postman, radio announcer, reporter, musician…”

“Reporter,” Evie repeated. She rubbed her temples.

“What’s the matter?” Will asked.

“It’s just a headache.”

“A headache? When did it start?” Will asked.

“It’s nothing but a nuisance. Mother says it’s because I need cheaters—um, eyeglasses, but I’m too vain to wear them. I told her my eyesight’s just fine. Honestly, two aspirin and I’ll be right as rain.”

Jericho fetched Evie two aspirin and a glass of water.

“Unc, why are you looking at me like that?” Evie asked.

Will had been watching her, his brow furrowed. He busied himself with a pointless tidying of his desk. “Take your aspirin,” was all he said.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 635