23

"ONE DOESN'T CROSS PATHS WITH A WHOLE PASSEL OF UNIQUES in one's lifetime. Name like that stays to mind."

I felt a ripple of excitement. Two of Cruikshank's files contained only coded scribblings. One of those bore the name Unique something.

"What was Unique's surname?" I asked, voice neutral.

"The lady was not on my Christmas card list." Halsey's spine stiffened ever so slightly. "Unique was Cleo's friend. I suppose the two formed a bond, both loving the streets and all."

"What can you tell me about her?"

"Speaking frankly, which I always make it my habit to do, that kitty's brain was centered in her southern parts, if you take my meaning."

"I meant Unique."

"Of course you did. Let's just say our perspectives differed. Our life experiences."

"Oh?"

Halsey lowered her voice, a well-bred lady dissing one who is not of her class. "Poor thing pushed her belongings around in a supermarket cart, bless her heart."

Another Southernism. Hitch the phrase "bless her heart" to its bumper, and any slur becomes mannerly.

"Are you saying Unique was homeless?" I asked.

"Most likely. I never pried. That would be rude." Halsey grinned at Ryan. "Are you certain you wouldn't like a nice sweet tea? Maybe some Snapple?"

Ryan grinned back.

"No, thank you," I said. "When was the last time you saw Unique?"

Halsey tapped her chin with one finger. The joints were knobby, the skin nicotine yellow. "Been a while since I've noticed. These people do change neighborhoods like other folks change socks."

I didn't reply to that.

"Four, maybe six months? My sense of time's not what it once was."

"Did you ever speak with Unique?"

"Once in a blue moon. On occasion I gave the poor creature food."

"How did you learn Unique's name?"

"Asked a neighbor, seeing as the lady had my cat and all. Said he encountered her now and again over to the Catholic cathedral."

"How old was Unique?"

"Old enough she should have been cutting that hair. Long just doesn't work on women of a certain age. But there I go again, judging other folks." Halsey turned to Ryan. "But you know what? I'm eighty years old, and pretty damned good at it."

Ryan nodded understanding.

"A certain age?" I asked.

"Hard to tell for certain. The gal was a bit unkempt. But she wasn't a beneficiary of the youth charities, that's a sure fact."

"Is there anything else you remember?" I asked.

"She had no teeth, bless her heart."

My heart kicked into high gear as Halsey kept talking.

"To be honest, I probably resented Unique, Cleo being so fond of her and all." Halsey's shoulders slumped. "There's simply no telling the feline heart. Cleo could have lived in high cotton with me. Didn't matter a twit. Off she went."

"I have pets. I know that must have made you sad."

"Unique did give Cleo a lavish of love. Strapped that cat to her chest with one of those contraptions young mamas use for toting their babies."

Catching Ryan's attention I shifted my eyes toward the gate. Ryan nodded.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Halsey."

"It's Miss. Never married."

"Sorry," I said.

Halsey mistook my meaning. "Don't be. You can't imagine how little I care."

Ryan and I rose. Halsey pushed to her feet and accompanied us across the courtyard.

"If this dead woman is my Cleo's Unique, it truly grieves me. Isabella Halsey's not one for grudges." The wrinkled face broke into a smile. "Except for that ingrate cat."

Repeating my thanks, I exited the gate. Ryan followed. As I secured the latch, Halsey spoke again.

"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. Isn't that the loveliest thought?"

"It is," I said.

"Do you know who penned those words?"

I shook my head.

"Mark Twain," Ryan said.

Halsey smiled up at Ryan. "You must be a Southern boy."

"Canadian," I said.

Halsey's smile melted into puzzlement. We left her to ponder the wonders of cross-border literacy.

"What do you think?" Ryan asked when we were back in the Jeep.

"Privilege can be inordinately selfish."

"But graciously genteel. Especially here."

"We Southerners pride ourselves on manners."

"You think your barrel lady is this street woman Unique?"

"Cleo was with her. The unknown was edentulous. Unique was edentulous. But there's more." I told Ryan about Cruikshank's two files that contained nothing but notes.

"What was that Unique's last name?"

"I don't remember."

"What was the name on the other file?"

I shook my head. I was dialing my cell phone.

"Calling Macho Gazpacho?"

Eye roll.

Pete answered on the third ring.

"Sugar br-"

"Are you still at Anne's house?"

"I'm great, thanks for asking. The workout was terrific. Boyd says to say hi."

"I want you to find something in Cruikshank's files."

"Am I allowed to know why?"

I outlined what we'd learned from Isabella Halsey, and described what to look for among Cruikshank's folders. Pete said he'd check and call back. Minutes later my cell rang.

"Unique Montague and Willie Helms."

"Thanks, Pete."

I clicked off and gave Ryan the names.

"Worth a visit to the cathedral?" he asked.

"It's just up at Broad."

Leaving the Jeep on Legare, Ryan and I crossed to the church. As we climbed the steps, Ryan indicated one of two stained glass windows above the front entrance.

"The papal coat of arms."

I indicated the other window. "The seal of the great state of South Carolina."

"High cotton." Ryan held the i at least four beats.

"You just learned that phrase from Halsey."

"It's a good one."

"Don't abuse it."

John the B's was quintessential cathedral. Carved oak pews and white marble altar. Windows depicting the life of Christ. Organ the size of the international space station.

Air that smelled of flowers and incense.

Flashback. Sunday Masses. Gran and Mama in chapel veils. Harry and I thumbing mother-of-pearl First Communion missals.

"-try the good father over there."

Ryan's voice brought me back. I trailed him toward the altar.

The priest was small, with high cheekbones, almond eyes, and softly accented speech that employed no contractions. Though he identified himself as Father Ricker, I suspected an Asian connection somewhere up the family tree.

After introductions, I inquired about Unique Montague.

Ricker asked the reason for my interest.

I told him that a woman's body had been found, and that it might be that of Unique Montague.

"Oh, dear, dear me. I am so sorry." Ricker crossed himself. "I am parochial vicar here at St. John the Baptist. Unfortunately, my knowledge of individual parishioners is limited. But I did occasionally speak with Miss Montague."

"Why was that?"

Embarrassed grin. "Miss Montague had a cat. I, too, am a lover of cats. But then, perhaps our brief meetings were part of God's greater plan."

Ryan and I must have looked confused.

"Perhaps the good Lord directed me to Miss Montague so I could later help with her mortal remains."

"Can you describe Miss Montague?"

Kicker's description fit.

"When did you last see her?" I asked.

"It has been awhile. This past winter sometime."

"Do you know if Miss Montague has family in Charleston?"

"I believe she has a brother." Kicker's eyes went from me to Ryan, then back to me. "I am sorry. We spoke only infrequently, when I was on the grounds and she needed water for her cat."

Kicker was friendly enough, but cautious, always taking a few seconds before responding.

"Would the church have records?" I asked. "An address? Next of kin?"