by Dana Mentink
Dr. Soloski shot her a rueful look as he was dragged away.
The computer finally finished its cyber cogitation and the screen popped up with several articles on the infamous Hangtown Fry. True to Indigo’s description, the dish was indeed a scramble of eggs, bacon, and oysters. One tale about the recipe attributed it to a condemned man who requested the dish for his last meal, figuring the difficulty in acquiring the rare ingredients would provide him a stay of execution.
“I wonder if it worked for him,” Ruth muttered. Sadly, she noted, the shellfish were such a hit, many of the oyster beds were depleted by 1851. Abalone suffered the same fate. Another case where humans had disrupted God’s careful balance.
A kick from her belly button region spurred her to turn off the computer, pack up Alva’s shell, and head to the stacks. She grabbed a couple of books on Pacific Coast ocean life and one about famous shipwrecks before she sat down to read. Settled in the sunny corner on a padded chair, Ruth made it all the way to page two before she fell asleep.
She awoke an hour later with just enough time to scurry home, grab the relevant pages from Indigo’s life story, and make it to the beach for rehearsal. As she hurried up the path to the film site, Maude waved from her position at the head of a half dozen gray-haired ladies. Ruth tried to dodge in the other direction, but it was no use.
“And this is Ruth Budge. She’s a feature actor in the project.” Maude beamed. “As you can see, she’s expecting. Twins, can you believe it? At her age. Though she’s sick all the time and obviously bloated, she shows up nonetheless. She’s an inspiration to us all. Ruth, won’t you share a few words with my tour group?”
Ruth wanted to share a few choice words all right, but she managed to control her temper. “It’s been a very interesting project. Thanks so much for coming.” She tried to edge by a disappointed-looking Maude.
“Oh, come now,” Maude said. “No time for modesty. Ruth is also somewhat of a sleuth. I’m sure you heard about the murder at the Fog Festival? The balloon crash?”
The gaggle of women nodded, wide-eyed.
“Well, Ruth here was the one who solved the crime. With plenty of help, of course, not a little of which came from yours truly. Isn’t that right, Ruth?”
She gave Maude a dark look. “I’d rather not relive it, thank you.”
“And then there is the body of Reggie the cameraman tossed up on our gravelly shore only days ago. The police are very close lipped but there’s no doubt it’s”—Maude dropped her voice to a whisper—“murder.”
The word elicited gasps from the ladies.
“And once again here is our Ruth Budge, deep in the thick of it. How does that make you feel, Ruth?”
She sighed. “The only thing I feel at the moment is queasy. Enjoy your visit.” She dodged around Maude and headed to Ethan and Sandra, who sat at a card table going over some papers. “Who knew you’d have tour groups coming to see your project before it was even finished?”
Ethan sniffed. “Who indeed? I told them they had to stay back at the edge of the grassy area and so far they’re following orders.”
He wore long pants so Ruth could not see where he had been injured. “Ethan, are you okay? Sandra told me you cut yourself last night.”
He nodded at her. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Great.” She thought out her words before she dropped them. “You know, my son was out for a jog last night, and he saw you two ready to dive. Were you doing some photography for the project?”
Ethan’s eyes widened and Sandra’s mouth fell open. “No,” he said firmly. “We weren’t diving. Your son must have been mistaken.”
“Hmm. Night diving is such a bad idea, nobody around here would try such a thing. Bryce was pretty convinced it was you two.”
His dark eyes bored into hers. “Of course it wasn’t us. Diving at night is ludicrous, as we learned the hard way with Reggie. Must have been some tourists or something.” He shuffled his papers and smiled at her. “Let’s get to work, shall we? We wouldn’t want to disappoint our tour group.” He gestured to the gaggle of women who smiled and waved at him.
Sandra walked her over to the shelter of some eucalyptus where they had erected a shack to represent Indigo’s hideaway. She helped Ruth slip on a blousy tunic and rough boots. Ruth noticed Sandy’s hands shaking. “So it really wasn’t you and Ethan diving last night?”
Sandra jerked as if she’d been slapped. “No, no. Just what he said, we were walking. It’s nice here for walking.” She fiddled with the tie on Ruth’s tunic. “A lovely town, even at night.”
Ruth considered. “You know I’ve been reading my script and it seems Señor Orson had some kind of treasure on board the Triton when it went down.” Ruth eyed her closely.
Sandra blinked several times. “Treasure? Oh yes, we caught that reference. Here’s your hat.”
“What do you think it was?”
“What?”
“Señor Orson’s treasure. What do you think it was?”
Sandra attempted a smile. “Beats me. Could be figurative. Maybe he was referring to his wife. It could have been an heirloom that meant something only to him. You know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I’ll go tell Ethan you’re ready.”
As Ruth waited for Sandra to return, she watched the afternoon sun catch bits of metallic sparkle in the crushed rock under her feet. She tried to picture the spot as it had looked in the 1800s, with the glittering pathway of broken oyster shells. Sandra was right, one man’s trash was another man’s treasure, but she was more and more convinced that Sandra and Ethan were in search of something more precious than a historical reenactment. She resolved to keep her ears open for more information.
They worked through the scene several times. At the end of the session, Sandra helped her remove the costume. “Good work today, Mrs. Budge. We should be able to wrap up in the next few days.”
“Really? So soon?”
“Yes. We’ve decided to abridge the project a little.” She fingered the costume’s worn material. “Actually, we should probably get the script back from you so we can go over it and see if there’s anything we missed.”
“Don’t you have a copy?”
“Oh, well, sure we do, but we’ve made notes on both and it’s just good practice to be thorough. Right?”
“Of course. I’ll bring the whole thing back tomorrow.”
“I’m going to be out later today. I’d be happy to come by and get it.”
Ruth smiled sweetly. “No need, Sandra. I’ll bring it tomorrow.” Right after I read every word of it.
Ruth met Monk and Bryce that evening for dinner. She hadn’t had time that afternoon to finish the script since Carson arrived to replace the ravaged sheetrock. Though he was a small man with a wild mop of curly black hair, he made more noise than a high school football team.
A knock at the door just after six made her jump, but Monk only smiled. “Excellent. They really do deliver quick.” A uniformed man stood on the doorway chomping on a wad of gum. He handed Monk a clipboard.
Monk scrawled his signature and the parade of packages began. A massive carton with a picture of two blissful babies sleeping side by side in a crib came first, followed by two car seats, two inflatable baby bathtubs, and a pair of bouncy seats.
Monk beamed as he arranged the wall of boxes in the middle of the sitting room. “Take a look at this, Ruthy. The bouncy seats vibrate. It’s supposed to jiggle ’em around so they fall asleep. Quite an invention. Amazing, huh?”
“Sure, amazing,” she answered weakly as the mountain of boxes grew.
Bryce lent a hand to carry in several unmarked cartons and an enormous package containing a changing table complete with a colorful clown mobile.
Ruth gasped. The pile of baby things grew along with the tension in her stomach. She felt closed in by a cardboard prison. “Where are we going to put all of this stuff?”
Monk whistled happily as he returned from the
garage with a toolbox. “Don’t worry, hon. I’ll get it all assembled, and we’ll put the nursery to rights.”
Ruth stepped over a box boasting a set of teddy bears that made noises similar to a mother’s heartbeat. If the thing was realistic, the heart would sound like a jackhammer right about now. “But, Monk, we haven’t even painted the nursery yet. Carson hasn’t finished the patching up yet. Don’t you think we should do that first?”
That caused him to pause. “Oh. Well, no matter. We’ll store the gear in the garage until he’s done. How’s that?”
“I can help you paint,” Bryce offered.
The room continued to close in on her until she could stand it no longer. “Fine, fine. I’m going to take the birds out for their walk. I’ll be back soon.”
Monk didn’t look up from the pile of screws and washers and an ominous-looking set of directions. “Okay, honey. Be careful. I’ve got this under control, Bryce. You go on with your mother.”
She got her coat and made sure there was a bag of Fritos in the pocket before she let herself out into the yards. The birds milled around, eager for their nightly stroll. Bryce joined her as she headed down the drive.
“Mind a little company?”
“Of course not.” Truth be told, Ruth would have preferred to be alone with her dark thoughts. Her house, her life was being transformed into baby playland before her very eyes. She should be joyous, welcoming every tiny toy and tool. But she wasn’t. God help her, she wasn’t.
They walked in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the quiet scratch of the birds’ feet on the earthy shoulder that ran next to the road. The sky was almost dark, the creeping cool of night whispering in as they strolled.
Bryce’s phone rang, the sound harsh in the quiet of the evening. The conversation was short. “Yes. Yes, I’ll look for it. Okay. Right.” He hung up, his face a mask of rage. “That was Roslyn. She is faxing the papers for the sale of the house. Apparently we’ve got to make it snappy so she can start her new life with flower boy. I need to go meet with a lawyer.”
Ruth sighed. “Where will you go after the house is sold?”
He shrugged.
The words came out straight from her heart before she had time to think better of them. “Maybe you should come out here.” Seeing his face change, she regretted the comment as soon as she said it. Meddling, Ruth, meddling.
“Mom, that’s just why I left,” he snapped. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t like to have my life managed for me.”
She felt like she’d been slapped. “I guess that wasn’t my business. I apologize.”
He didn’t answer.
Suddenly her hurt changed to anger. “Bryce, what about your baby?”
“My baby?” His eyes shone in the gloom. “There is no baby. Roslyn miscarried, remember?”
“I know. And you’re grieving about that, I can tell. So this baby, this life that you never even met, you felt something for, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
“So let yourself imagine for a minute, if you can, what you would feel for a child that has actually been born, Bryce. It’s everything to you. It’s your heart walking around outside your body and you try to keep it from getting hurt. I know I protected you too much. I managed you too much, but I did it because I love you, and I would think that creating a child of your own, you could understand that in some small way.” Her voice quivered, her breath coming in pants. She clamped her lips tightly together.
He was quiet for a minute as they walked.
Now he will really be chomping at the bit to leave, she thought miserably.
Finally he spoke. “I guess you’re right, Mom. I was out of line. I–I’m sorry.”
Her eyes filled inexplicably with tears. “Me, too, Bryce. I wish I hadn’t tried to keep disappointment away so much. Maybe it would be easier for you now.” She reached out her hand for his.
He squeezed her fingers. “I think it would still hurt just as much.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to go to San Francisco to finalize the divorce.”
How sad he looked. How unutterably sad. She was so overwhelmed by the swirl of emotion she did not hear it at first.
The roar of an engine coming from behind.
There was no time to escape.
The last thing she saw was the startled look in her son’s eyes as the car bore down on them both.
Chapter Fourteen
Jack’s ears were still ringing as he pulled up to the Budge cottage. Monk had bellowed into the phone that someone had tried to run down his wife. It didn’t matter that Jack was off duty for the evening. Cops were never really off duty in a small town. Not that it made a speck of difference. The thought of Ruth being in the path of a hit-and-run driver was more than enough to send him back into cop mode.
“Thanks, God, for Louella,” he whispered, as he had many times before. The woman was sent directly by the Lord, he was sure, to pull his bacon out of the fire on a regular basis. Nonetheless he hoped Paul wouldn’t wake up and find out he was gone again.
He pulled on a windbreaker against the night, which was thick with clouds that screened the pale moonlight. Hints of an early summer storm hung in the air. His fist didn’t quite make it to the door to knock before it was yanked open and Monk ushered him inside.
The big man looked completely unglued, face flushed, brow sweaty. “I’m glad you’re here, Jack. I can’t believe it. I should have been with her, not doodling around with the crib. To think what could have happened. I’d never forgive myself, never.”
Jack gripped his arm. “Let’s not play any blame games now, Monk. I need to know what happened.”
Monk led him to Ruth, who sat on the sofa with a blanket on her lap and an untouched cup of tea on the coffee table, holding a gauze bandage to her elbow. “Hello, Jack.”
“Hi, Ruth. I thought I’d be visiting you at the hospital. Are you sure you don’t want to go get checked out?”
She raised her chin a fraction. “No. I’ve been through this already with Monk and Bryce. Bryce pulled me out of the way and I landed on top of him, poor guy. I only scraped my elbow. He took the brunt of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some broken ribs or something.”
“Are you hurt?” Jack asked.
Bryce shrugged from where he stood next to the fireplace. “No. Like she said, I pulled her to the side and we both went over backward, but no harm done. The birds managed to get out of the way, too. We couldn’t see who was driving.”
“Do you think it was intentional?”
Ruth shook her head. “I’m sure it wasn’t. It was dark, we were near a turn. The driver probably didn’t even see us. We shouldn’t have been walking late, but there are never really any cars on the road there that I’ve ever encountered.”
Bryce looked at her but didn’t say anything.
Jack caught his eye. “Is that what you think, Bryce?”
“No. I think it was deliberate. Whoever it was turned off their headlights as they accelerated and drove onto the shoulder on purpose. Sorry, Mom.” He shot a look at his mother, who blanched.
“This is intolerable.” Monk’s face flushed even darker. “Who would do such a thing? To Ruth. To the babies.” His hands balled into fists. “If I ever get my hands on the driver—”
“Leave that to us. We’ll find out who did it. Any impression about the car make and model? Color?” He looked from Ruth to Bryce and back again.
“It was small,” Ruth said. “That’s about all I can say.” “I agree with Mom. Some sort of compact model, dark color, is about all I picked up. We were too busy trying to get out of the way to pay much attention.”
Jack fiddled with his pencil as he looked at Bryce. “Have you had any problems since you came to Finny?”
“Me? No. I left my problems behind in Chicago.”
Ruth gave Monk a smile as he pressed her hand. “Why do you ask?”
Bryce gave his mother a dark look. “He’s wondering if the guy w
ho tried to run us down tonight might have been after me.”
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
“Who would want to run you down?” Ruth’s voice had a slight quaver.
“I don’t know, Mom, but in a way, I’d rather somebody was after me than you.”
Ruth’s cheeks pinked and she blinked hard. “This is crazy but, maybe, I mean I’m not sure or anything, but I wonder—”
Jack waited patiently.
“Well, I have this feeling the college people are up to something. Bryce saw them suiting up for a night dive but they denied it, said they were out walking. That’s odd, isn’t it? Of course, it certainly doesn’t mean they would try to run either of us down. I’m sure they wouldn’t do that. They just don’t look like the kind of people who could be capable of such a thing.”
Jack smiled. “That’s why I like you, Ruth. You never seem to think people are capable of the terrible things they do.”
Monk kissed Ruth on the forehead. “I like that about her, too.”
“Okay.” Jack sighed. “It’s not much to go on, but maybe somebody else saw something. I’ll check with the locals along that strip of road.”
Monk stood with him and lowered his voice. “I am going to keep a close eye on her, Jack. I’ll take some time off.”
“Oh, no, you won’t.” Ruth put down the cup with a sharp clank. “You are not going to take time off to babysit me. I am perfectly fine. When I have to walk the birds, I’ll take someone with me. Bryce, you’ll go, won’t you?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
“And if he’s not home, I’ll take Alva.”
Monk gave her a dubious look.
“Or Bobby,” she added hastily.
“Nothing against your son or Bobby, Ruthy, but I think it would be better for me to stay with you.”
Ruth stood awkwardly. “You need to work, Monk. Otherwise who will pay for all this?” She waved a hand at the mountain of boxes. “Besides, it will drive me crazy to have you hovering all the time, as much as I love you.”