Blood Canticle - Anne Rice [95]
“You’ve made a DNA match this quickly?” asked Quinn coldly.
“We didn’t have to. Everybody could see it was the same hair all stuck with her hairspray, you could smell it,” said the sheriff, “but the DNA will be coming if you mean to bury the strands in that little cemetery of yours where you like to bury things and hold séances with big fires and such!”
“Sheriff, please be kind to this boy,” said Cyndy, the Nurse, in a sweet voice, “we are talking about his mother.”
“Yes, please, if we could stick to the facts at hand,” said Nash Penfield, in his deep authoritative voice. His frustration had gotten the better of him. He felt protective of just about everyone, but especially Tommy.
“So the coroner is satisfied?” asked Quinn. “And has ruled it suicide?”
“Well, yes, he would be!” declared the sheriff, “if you’d stop going around the house saying you murdered your mother and threw her to the gators, Quinn Blackwood! And Jasmine here would stop telling everybody Patsy’s come a-crawling up to her window, all full of swamp weed, crying for help, for the love of the Lord in Heaven.”
“She did, she did,” gasped Jasmine under her breath. “Lestat, don’t you let me go!”
“I won’t,” I whispered. “No ghost is going to get you, Jasmine.”
“But Jasmine,” said Quinn, “when did you see this ghost? Was it after you all found this note?”
“No, Grandma just told you, I saw her before I even knew about the letters, she came to the window, crying and clawing. And she’s done it again! And I’m scared even to go to sleep out there. I don’t know what she wants, Little Boss, what can I do for her? Little Jerome is upstairs in Tommy’s room playing video games right now, I’m scared to even let him stay in the back house, what can I do? Quinn, you’ve got to hold another séance for Patsy!”
Suddenly Mona spoke up, and it was as if a light had gone on in that corner of the room.
“The poor creature probably doesn’t know she’s dead,” Mona said tenderly. “Someone has to tell her. She needs to be guided into the Light. This often happens to people, especially if they die suddenly. I can tell her.”
“Oh, please, could you do that?” said Jasmine. “That’s it, you got it, she doesn’t know, and she’s wandering around, all forsaken and lost, coming out of the swamps back of my house and doesn’t know what’s happened to her.”
The sheriff was smirking and raising his eyebrows and squinting his eyes. Nash was becoming extremely uncomfortable as he watched the man.
“That’s what happened with Goblin, wasn’t it?” Big Ramona asked. “You all told him he was dead and he went on. Well, you all have to do it again, you just got to.”
“Yes, it was,” said Quinn. “I’ll tell her to go on. I don’t mind doing it. I don’t think it will require an entire séance.”
“Well, you people ought to do that right away,” said the sheriff, now on his feet and primed to depart, tugging at his heavy belt, “but I must tell you, it is the darnedest thing that every time you have a death out here you have a ghost right smack dab in the middle of it. Sure enough! Do you see the ghost of Miss McQueen carrying on like this? No, you do not! She’s not scratching at any windowpane. Now that was a great lady!”
“What are you talking about!” Quinn demanded in a low voice. He looked up angrily at the sheriff. I’d never seen Quinn take on such an expression. I’d never heard Quinn talk in such a voice. “You trying to give us a lecture on who’s a good dead person and who’s not? Seems like you should wait outside of Jasmine’s window and give that lecture to Patsy. Or why don’t you just go back to your office and dictate a book on manners for the lately dead?”
Big Ramona chuckled under her breath. I swallowed my laughter. Nash was greatly worried. Tommy was afraid.
“Don’t you talk that way to me!” the sheriff said, leaning over Quinn. “You’re nothing but a crackpot kid, Tarquin Blackwood. It’s the scandal of the parish