High Intensity (34 page)

"I agree wit ya, Mrs. Captain."

"Todd was a wonderful host, but that was a very intense weekend."

"Wasn't it?" Tyber winked at her as he carried in their bag on his outstretched arms. Hambone was curled up, sleeping, on top of the bag.

Zanita noted that Tyber looked as he always did: smart, awake, devilish, raring to go. She often wondered where he got his incredible energy from. It has to be a secret molecular spin-off, she decided.

She drooped wearily onto the bottom step of the stairs. I'm sure I look like something Hambone would drag into the house. Nothing a little sleep wouldn't cure, though. Still, there was something she had to point out to Tyber before she shut the case.

"You know, you never really explained how the Prominent Homes of Nantucket went from the top of the end table to the enclosed shelf."

He viewed her through partially lowered lids. "Didn't I?"

"No. And I'm not accepting that wild Maxie's devil theorem, either. So don't try it."

He grinned. "I think it was more a postulate than a theorem, and it's Maxwells demon, not Maxie's devil."

"Whatever; it doesn't wash."

He gently picked up Hambone and placed him in the middle of the comfy bench in the foyer. Without opening his eyes, the cat gave a short purr, stretched one paw out as far as it could go, and continued sleeping. Ghost-busting was tough work.

"I suppose you think it was the departed spirit of the real Sasenfras, helping us along by pointing in the direction of his murderer?"

"Actually, I do."

He viewed her askance, as if checking the motor to make sure all the parts were running.

That miffed her. "You know as well as I do that there was something odd going on there! Merville saw something in that wing that scared him so badly he wouldn't return—despite knowing that the real recipe was still in there. I don't think it's impossible that a ghost was haunting the place. If ever a ghost had justifiable cause, it was poor Sasenfras."

There was silence for a few seconds. "It is a possibility," he finally acknowledged.

She blinked, shocked to her teeth. Was this Tyber speaking? "I'm stunned you're admitting that."

"I said possible, baby; I did not say probable."

She narrowed her eyes. "You just have to qualify, don't you?"

"It is my raison d'etre." He smiled, showing a hint of white teeth.

She rolled her eyes. "So what is probable to you? How did the book move like that?"

"My bet is that somehow Mark slipped it into the cabinet when no one was watching."

"Mark?"

"Yes. I think he was trying to help Todd again."

"Then why didn't he admit to it afterwards when you confronted him about the photo?"

"He was embarrassed enough by the photo trick, and with everything else going on at that dinner, I'm sure he was happy to just let it go by; hoping that we would, too. I'm sure he also played around with the readings from the instruments."

"It sounds good, Doc, but I don't think Mark was around the table to move the book."

"Actually, he was. No one noticed it, because he was untangling the equipment cords along the floor. I checked it out. We were standing on the other side of the room at the time. That table, from that angle, is behind the side of the couch. As we were talking, he was working his way along that wall behind the couch by the floor, untangling as he went. Our attention was fixed on the photo at the time, and all he needed was a moment to take advantage of the opportunity."

"Why didn't we see him?"

"Because he was kneeling; he was briefly out of sight behind the couch. By the time you discovered the book missing, he was already up and back where he'd started. Next to you. Which also took suspicion away from him."

She looked doubtful.

"Not convinced?"

Smugly, she reversed his words, giving them back to him. "Well, it's probable but not possible."

A furrow appeared between his brows. "How so?"

"You see,
I
checked it out as well, and the cables did not run all the way in that direction. The power cords wrapped on the other side of that couch, the one closest to us. I don't think he went anywhere near that book or side table."

That gave Tyber pause. "Hmmm."

"Uh-huh." She grinned like the Cheshire cat. Let Mr. Left Brain deal with that. Right now, she was completely beat. Besides, she loved having the last word. Her eyes started to close.

"Shall I light a fire down in the parlor, Captain?" Blooey came back in from the kitchen where he had placed the pies Todd had given them to take home. They had jokingly declined the savory buns.

Tyber observed Zanita stretched out across the step; she was already fast asleep. He had never met a woman who could fall asleep as fast as Zanita. "I don't think that will be necessary tonight. We are all ready for bed."

"Aye, Captain, me and Hambone are plumb tuckered out."

"Why don't you go off to bed. I'll see to Zanita."

"Sounds fine, Captain." He turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. "I was proud to serve with ye on this mission, Captain. It was a pure pleasure seeing you in operation again."

Tyber coughed a warning, glancing over at the steps. Luckily, Zanita was fast asleep.

"Aye. In any case, I'm sure Hambone feels the same. You're a right fine captain, Captain!"

"Thank you, Blooey. You both were"—he searched for diplomacy—"very helpful."

Blooey beamed. As he scooted off to his room, Hambone raised his head, watching him. Tyber crossed his arms and waited, knowing what to expect. Sure enough, the tabby jumped down from the bench, following the little pirate to bed. It wouldn't be long before they both had their nightcaps on. Literally.

Tyber fondly watched both of them leave. There was not a doubt in his mind that Blooey and Hambone would give their all to aid him if they thought he was in trouble. Of course, the resultant effect would probably be Stoogean—but at least their hearts were in the right place.

Slinging the travel bag over one shoulder, he bent down to get his wife. Scooping her up, he slung her over his other shoulder and headed up to their room. Zanita bounced on his back as he trod easily up the stairs. When his baby was out, she was out.

Entering their bedroom, he kicked the door closed and gently laid her down on top of the oyster-shell bed. Carefully he undressed her so as not to awaken her—even though that was highly unlikely. She was in the first stages of afterburn. He chuckled at his own pun while neatly pulling a thick flannel nightie over her head, poking her arms through, one at a time. The old house was still chilly from being empty and would take a while to warm up to its usual temperature.

He unpacked their stuff, then lit a fire in the fireplace, which was across the room from the bed. He always loved a fire in the bedroom. In more ways than one. The entire time, seven pairs of fish eyes watched him as if this were the most interesting thing they had ever seen. As usual, the little guys were lined up in a row, floating in the middle of the aquarium.

Task accomplished, he went into the adjoining sitting room, snapped on the TV, and settled back in a comfortable love seat that was mostly cushions.

Picking up the remote, he began flipping through stations until he found what he wanted. A "B" sci-fi movie from the fifties. His favorite kind.

Attack of the Killer Eggplant. Yeah. This promised to be quality entertainment. He put his stocking feet up on the wide hassock. The movie started off better than expected with the eggplant from outer space making wrap sandwiches out of several remote mountain villagers. Mountain villagers always got it first. More choice courses were sure to follow.

Tyber often wondered about the select minds that had come up with his great stuff. Surely they were the warped creative geniuses of our time. Neither begging excuses nor offering any. Tyber liked to call it cinema confuse.

The announcer came on and informed the late-night viewing audience (consisting of five individuals other than the M.I.T. dorms) that this was to be an all-night megamonsterhorrorathon.

Which was good, because for some reason, Tyber was not very tired.

This curious state had a name.

It was called unfinished business.

After the stellar eggplant film came The Killer Pups, followed by The Woodstock Vampire Project followed by One Flew Over the Pterodactyl's Nest. Zanita is going to be really disappointed she missed this, he thought.

Zanita
.

The reason he was still awake. He did not like unfinished business, and as far as he could tell, their challenge had not been completed.

Curls needed to throw in that proverbial white towel. His masculine orneriness demanded it. Despite everything, he knew that a part of her was scared. His nonlinear love was not afraid of commitment; she was afraid of uncommitment. It made no logical sense, but this was Zanita; he had figured it out.

Sure, he more than suspected that she had set him up even while he was setting her up. That was one of the reasons he loved her so much. She always surprised him—

He stopped.

Just as she loved for him to surprise her. It couldn't have been too hard for her to come up with this fear-based challenge. But it was unfounded.

What she was afraid of would never happen.

The way they continually surprised and refreshed each other was part of their very makeup. It was intrinsic to who they were as individuals and as a couple.

The fact that they were always going to be different was never going to change.

Analyzing that statement boggled him for a moment. He was positive it was a paradox.

A beautiful paradox.

He watched the movie while one part of his mind worked on the problem that was no problem, and how to solve it. For a man like Tyber, who lived to solve the unsolvable, this was close to paradise. Being in his Zanita's embrace was paradise. He was not going to give up until the last T was crossed.

Finally, at three a.m., right in the middle of the pterodactyl nest, he had it.

A broad smile etched its way across his face, ear to ear.

Yes, that would do it, he acknowledged.

That would do it just fine.

He snapped the TV off and tugged on his boots.

Zanita felt something fiddling with her feet. Even in her sleepy state, she recognized those sensitive hands.

"Tyber, wha' are you doin' with my feet?" she mumbled groggily.

"Putting some heavy argyle socks on them."

" 'Kay." She started to fall back asleep, but the response nagged at her semi-unconscious mind. "Why are you doing that, Tyber?" She still hadn't opened her eyes.

"So your 'feets' won't get cold when we go outside."

"Oh."

Her eyes popped open. "What do you mean, when we go outside? What are you doing?"

His hands slid under her, lifting her up into his arms. "You'll see, baby," he promised.

"But it's freezing out there!" She squirmed in his arms. As he walked by the love seat in the sitting room, he grabbed a green chenille throw, draping it around her like a shawl.

Carrying her securely in his arms, he proceeded to descend the stairs. With a determined step, he negotiated his way through the halls and kitchen to the mud room in the back of the house, right out the door into the night.

"Where are we going?" She glared up at him.

"Shhhh."

His boots crunched through the snow as he hiked across the back fields. The land was rolling, with small hills and gullies. At one time, it had probably been used as pasture.

Forest surround the perimeter of the vast estate, making a black silhouette against the dark night sky. A full moon lit their way, causing moonbeams to dance on the glistening snow.

Their warm breaths made spiraling streamers of white mist in the cold air.

"Are we going to the woods?"

"Nope." He reached the center of the pasture and stopped. There, he inexplicably pivoted around on a boot heel. "Tell me what you see."

Zanita gave him a look that questioned his sanity, then observed the rear view of My Fathers Mansion. The grand old Victorian was bathed in silvery light. Blooey had left a few night lights on. Illumination also came from their bedroom and sitting-room windows. Even from this distance, she could see the flickering shadows cast by the lit fireplace in the bedroom.

As always, the house filled her senses with warmth, calling out a silent welcome.

It was an extraordinary haven created by two very eccentric scientists.

"I see the house," she replied carefully, wondering what he was up to and why he had brought her out here in the middle of the wintry night, wrapped in a blanket.

"Look again, baby."

What was he seeking? She looked again. "All right. I see a home."

The corners of his lips curled slightly. "Better. Try once more."

She exhaled heavily. "I don't know what you—"