Free The Bones of Old Carlisle by Kevin E Meredith Page B

were,” Arrowroot continued, “trying to help Mr.
Franklin rape that girl, and she wouldn’t cooperate at all, would
she?”
“Exack—“ Homans replied, finally catching on. “That wasn’t rape,
Mistah Mayah.”
“Nope, it wasn’t, fortunately,” Arrowroot answered. “It was
attempted rape, and that’s how I’ll describe it when I’m asked to
testify.”
Homans’ eyes narrowed to slits just big enough to stare daggers.
“It was a date, which based on her words to me she was eaga’ to pahticipate in. I’m just a matchmaka’, as you most surely should know.”
“I know what you are,” Arrowroot said, “and I know that girl
barely knows anything about what’s going on around her. Now we’ll want
to get Mr. Franklin’s full name so he can testify too. Well, here he
is now. Hello, Sir.”
Mr. Franklin had approached them at nearly a trot but now he
stopped, seemingly confused about what to do next, dripping copiously
before the grand entrance to the Eden Hotel.
The human body and mind, when they are subjected to a shock such
as immersion into very cold water, quickly undertake a variety of
survival measures perfected over millions of years of mammalian
evolution. Most of the reactions are invisible, but three were
obvious: Mr. Franklin’s face had turned beet red, he was shaking like
a seizure patient, and he was very, very angry.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded in a quavering voice, and he
puffed his chest out at Arrowroot and balled his hands into fists.
A drunken man who’s been subjected to physical discomfort, denied
sex and humiliated by a woman makes a particularly dangerous mix,
Arrowroot reminded himself.
“I’m Karl Arrowroot,” he said, smiling. “I understand you’re a
Mr. Franklin?”
The other man said nothing, his eyes shifting suspiciously
between Arrowroot and Homans.
“I’m also the mayor of this town, Sir,” Arrowroot continued.
“Welcome to Heligaux, we’re glad to have you. Now, by the power vested
in me, I declare that Ms. Homans needs to refund whatever you paid her
for the services of the girl that tossed you in the drink.”
“Hea’s your deposit back,” Homans said without a moment’s
hesitation, pulling a wad of cash from a vent at the side of her gown.
“But really, Karl, I don’t know what you’re on about, considering what
your mothah used to do.”
“Second, here’s how this is gonna go,” Arrowroot said, smiling,
and he took off his glasses and peered carefully in turn into each
pair of eyes. “You’re going to forget that you ever spoke to that
girl, or attacked her, or got her help with taking that swim in the
river. Okay? And I’m going to forget that you tried to rape her, and
that you –“ he turned toward Homans “and that you did your best to
serve as an accessory to rape. You got all that?”
He was greeted with silence and angry stares, but he knew they
understood. “Now, if being charged with rape doesn’t scare you, that
girl should,” he said, and he turned to Mr. Franklin. “She shook you
like a dog shakes an old sock,” he said. “You’re damned lucky she
didn’t do worse than give you a bath.”
Arrowroot turned and strode into the hotel, his hand shaking
against the door as he pushed it open.
Chapter 9: Dinner With a Blushing Bride
    Karl Arrowroot knew the layout of the Eden Hotel well enough that
he could immediately picture all five routes from the lobby to the
veranda: the main flight of stairs, two emergency stairwells, and two
elevators. He knew she could easily exit by one path while he sought
her by another.
    He chose the main stairway, a grand, curving affair with deep red
carpeting that he attacked two steps at a time. Then past the Mace and
Helm restaurant, down the tapestry-lined hall and finally through the
French doors to the veranda itself.
    The wedding girl hadn’t moved. She looked at him, still
expressionless, then back at the darkening water of the