THE FERAL STRUT

Chapter 41

"What a mare's nest," Louisa said. "I had no idea."

"What did you two talk about last night?"

"The memorial service. I think it's asinine. I never liked the man. And from what I know now, Donald simply doesn't deserve to be. . .celebrated."

"Even if he was dead," Mary added. "What did Rozier say?"

"That he had an obligation. Not, I gather, a willing one. Despite the fortune they made together, Donald seems to have served him rather badly. I didn't know the part about Yvonne. What a horrible thing. She's really rather nice— was, at least. But he claims that Donald has promised that after the memorial service he'll go. And never come back here again."

"What's the guarantee?" Slim said. "He's broken promises before this."

"Temple was vague— determinedly so. But I gather it involves a good deal of money. That's how Donald intends to finance his resurrection. He has a place picked out— even Temple doesn't know where. But Donald has one last awful scheme."

"Worse than the videotapes? I can't wait," Mary said.

"It involves the tapes. At the memorial there'll be a table, to collect donations— some fake charity. For those who pay up, there'll be a package waiting when they leave."

"The tapes," Slim said. "Wow! That is. . ."

"Evil, unspeakable, wicked, foul, abominable, vicious, depraved, beastly, disgraceful, ungodly," said Mary, running out of breath.

"I can see why your songs are so— interesting," Louisa said. "Krista plays me the demo tapes. I've become quite a fan."

"What if Ginger's. . . hurt. Can't play or sing. O God!" Mary put her head in her arms on the table, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Louisa and Slim converged, to comfort her, while Gris nudged her under the table. She lifted her face, which had gone stony and pale.

"If she doesn't get better, I'll find him. And kill him with my bare hands."

"I believe you would," Louisa said.

"Are you going tomorrow?" Mary said.

"To the memorial?" Louisa's jaw hardened. "I should say not."