The Drifter

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “It looked like him,” she insisted. “I could have sworn I saw him in front of that building.”

  Andy gave her a puzzled glance, then refocused his attention back across the street.

  “Carolyn, I don’t see a thing except about a hundred overweight tourists dancing to that stupid band over there. How in the world could you even recognize anyone?”

  “It was him—I know it was.”

  “Well …” Andy’s smile looked a little uneasy. “So maybe it was him. Is there some reason he shouldn’t be out here if he wants to be?”

  Carolyn snapped back to attention. “No, of course not. I just thought it was strange because he said he was working. That’s all.”

  Andy’s smile grew more perplexed. He looked up into the sky and back to her. “Carolyn … it is dark out here now. There is such a thing as quitting time.”

  She shook her head. She squinted her eyes and tried to study the gyrating flock of tourists, but all she could see was a blur.

  “You’re right,” she mumbled. “I probably didn’t see him. Someone who just looked like him, maybe.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Watching us.”

  “Watching us?” Andy spun in his chair and strained once more through the darkness. “Why would he be watching us?”

  “Andy, how should I know?” Carolyn’s voice came out sharper than she intended. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that I thought he was there, and I thought he was watching us, and it makes me nervous.”

  “Well, he isn’t there now,” Andy soothed her, but there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “And he probably wasn’t there to begin with. So will you calm down and finish your coffee?”

  Carolyn nodded and lifted her cup. She held it to her lips without drinking it. Instead she stared over the rim and scanned the street corner one more time with narrowed eyes.

  “Carolyn,” Andy said gently, “come on, forget about it. If it really was him, maybe he just happened to see us here, and then he ducked out of sight so you wouldn’t think he was staring.”

  Carolyn’s frown was distracted. She swallowed the last of her cappuccino as Andy helped her up.

  “I’ve got to get some change,” Andy said, checking his wallet. “You want to wait here?”

  “No, I think I’ll go over there so I can hear the music better.”

  It was a lame excuse, and Carolyn knew it. She saw Andy give her a knowing look, but he only nodded and went into the café.

  Carolyn crossed the street and stood on the edge of the curb. All around her people were laughing and dancing and keeping time to the music. She let her eyes roam slowly over each face, but not one looked even remotely familiar. She was just about to go find Andy again when a hand closed tightly around her elbow, sending her back with a startled cry.

  “Molly!” Carolyn gasped. “Where did you come from!”

  The strange little woman cocked her head, lips spread wide in a toothless sneer.

  “I remember you,” she mumbled, and she jabbed a crooked finger against Carolyn’s arm. “Nervous you were, and asking questions. About the captain … about his silly, dead wife …”

  “The hook,” Carolyn said quietly. “You were telling me about the hook.”

  “People don’t listen when they think you’re crazy—”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy, Molly,” Carolyn insisted.

  Molly’s bulbous eyes rolled in her head. She lifted her hand and trailed it lightly down Carolyn’s cheek.

  “The face I remember. I do remember faces. And your name was the same as hers—”

  “Yes, that’s right. Carolyn.”

  “And my mind is going round and round. Ever since I saw you with your young man.”

  “My young man?” Carolyn looked blank. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you there!” Molly pulled away and pointed toward the hill leading up past the library. “On the sidewalk. Talking to your young man—”

  “Oh. Yes.” Carolyn nodded uneasily. “His name’s Joss. He’s doing some work for us at the house—”

  “Joss? Joss?” A thin thread of drool oozed down over Molly’s whiskered chin. “I know that face, all right, but his name isn’t Joss—it’s—it’s—”

  “Joss,” Carolyn said again, struggling for patience. “You couldn’t know him, Molly, he just came to the island looking for work. That’s why he’s staying at our house for a while.”

  “But I’ve seen him before.”

  Carolyn stared at the glitter in Molly’s eyes. The old woman’s hand slid to her shoulder and clamped down, making her wince.

  “It’s your medicine, isn’t it?” Carolyn said kindly. “We can talk again when you feel—”

  “I’ve seen him,” Molly whispered, “and I never forget a face. But different somehow. Yes … very different somehow … can’t quite put my finger on it.…”

  She shook her head and tugged on Carolyn’s arm, leading her away from the crowd, over to another street corner that was quieter and completely deserted.

  “Different,” Molly mumbled to herself again. “Different … different … but how? Same face. But something …”

  Carolyn glanced back nervously, trying to find Andy in the crowds. Molly was still muttering, still pulling on Carolyn’s arm.

  “Ah, but I do know!” Molly suddenly hissed, and her mouth drew back in an empty grin. “And he’s a sly one, isn’t he … but not sly enough to fool old Molly!”

  “What is it?” Carolyn was trying very hard to be patient, but Molly was pressing relentlessly on her shoulder blade now—really hurting her—and Carolyn was trying desperately to pull away—

  “Yes, yes! Sly devil!” Molly’s head bobbed up and down, but then suddenly she froze. “Psst! Hear that?”

  Carolyn didn’t hear anything except her own voice pleading. “Come on, Molly, why don’t we go back? I’m waiting for—”

  “Did you hear that?” Molly hissed, and she glanced back over her shoulder in obvious alarm. Carolyn looked, too, but saw only thick trees and shrubbery behind them.

  Molly’s mouth was a gaping black hole, silent words forming that Carolyn couldn’t make out. Helplessly Carolyn shook her head.

  “No, Molly, what are you saying? I don’t understand—”

  “Someone’s watching,” Molly hissed again. “Spirits, stay away from my soul!”

  She whirled around, movements quick and birdlike. Her eyes nearly burst from her head as she stared into the leafy foliage. She picked up her shopping bag and gave the shrubbery a good sound whack, while Carolyn covered her mouth and tried desperately not to laugh.

  “Gone now,” Molly breathed. “Someone was there, but now they’re gone.”

  Carolyn didn’t know whether or not to be scared. Taking Molly’s hand, she finally managed to pull the old woman back along the sidewalk.

  “Please, Molly, let’s go back. It’s too dark over here, and we might—”

  “Blond!” Molly shrieked, and Carolyn shrank in embarrassment as people around them turned to stare. Molly was doing a strange little dance now, hopping from one foot to the other, switching her shopping bag from hand to hand. “Blond, blond—blond!”

  “Molly—”

  “I knew I’d remember, and I did!” Molly faced her defiantly, fairly spitting the words. “He had long fair hair when I saw him last! The night he walked with Hazel!”

  Carolyn froze. She looked down at the old woman … watched as Molly’s eyebrows drew deviously together.

  “What … did you say?” Carolyn whispered.

  “Hair the color of gold that night,” Molly said smugly. “The color of sun in the dark! And him, pale as a spirit, and just as dead.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The night he walked with Hazel by the sea.”

  “Please, Molly, you’re not making any sense—”

  “A secret admirer?” she cooed. “A long-
lost beau? I saw them, but they didn’t see me! Lured her there, he did—calling his own lost name! I hid behind the rocks, and I stayed a long, long time. And when I looked out again, he was walking back, but she wasn’t.”

  “Molly … what are you … saying …”

  The woman’s fingers dug into Carolyn’s arm. Her mouth moved close to Carolyn’s ear, and the smell of rum nearly knocked Carolyn over.

  “But you believe in ghosts, don’t you, my dear?” Molly whispered. “Yes … yes … I do, too, because I saw one that night! The ghost of Matthew Glanton! In his long black coat, he was so tall and still with the wind blowing his hair, and for one quick second when the moon came out from the clouds, I could see his face, too, clear as I’m seeing yours! But he was blond! And today—when you were talking to him—he wasn’t blond anymore!”

  An icy chill shook Carolyn from head to toe. She pulled slowly from Molly’s grasp and took a step back.

  “You’re lying.” Carolyn shook her head, her words tumbling out faster than she could think. “You’re lying to me—just trying to scare me—you really didn’t see him before—you’ve never seen him before—”

  “You’ve let him get close.” Molly chuckled, and her laughter got louder and louder, her horrible fish-eyes only inches from Carolyn’s nose. “Foolish, foolish girl! You’ll never escape him now!”

  19

  SOMETHING ROARED THROUGH CAROLYN’S HEAD—something wild and dangerous and frightening—yet from some remote corner of consciousness, she knew it wasn’t the wind she heard, or the sound of the sea. She started to say something to Molly, then realized the woman was already out of sight over the top of the hill.

  “There you are!” Andy’s voice brought her around with a startled cry. “Hey, what’s up? I was looking all over for you.”

  He sounded so concerned that Carolyn reached out and took his arm.

  “Andy—”

  “Don’t wander off like that, okay? I was worried—”

  “Andy, I was just talking to Molly—”

  “No wonder you look upset. Did she try to sell you something from her bag of tricks?”

  Carolyn was shaking her head, tugging insistently on his elbow. “Andy, she said something about Hazel—about the night Hazel died. She was hiding on the beach and—”

  “Hiding or passed out?”

  Carolyn’s smile was grim. “You were right about the drinking. She smelled awful.”

  “Molly’s always on the beach. Molly’s always seeing things.”

  “But she said she saw Matthew Glanton’s ghost with Hazel and—”

  Andy groaned and pried Carolyn’s hand from his arm. “You’re making me black and blue, Carolyn. I wish you’d stop beating me up every time you’re trying to make a point.” He chuckled and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that same story and so has the sheriff. And you can probably imagine how well it went over.”

  “You mean they didn’t believe her?” Carolyn stared at him.

  “Carolyn!” Andy stepped back, equally amazed. “Are you nuts? Who in their right mind would believe Molly? Her whole life consists of either sleeping or hallucinating! She doesn’t even know the difference anymore between what’s real and what’s not!”

  “But—” Carolyn floundered for words, for arguments. “Andy, she seemed so sure! I mean—”

  “Sure. Uh-huh. About a ghost.”

  “But maybe not a ghost! Maybe what she thought was a ghost was a real person! And he had something to do with Hazel’s death!”

  Andy sighed. “Don’t you think if Molly had any credibility at all, the sheriff would have thought of that already?”

  “But, Andy—”

  “Okay, can we talk about it in the car? I’ve got a really full day tomorrow, and you need to get some rest.”

  They’d started walking, but now Carolyn stopped and blocked his way.

  Andy stopped, too, and groaned. “Now what?”

  “Molly saw me talking with Joss today in front of the library—”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “She recognized him.”

  “What do you mean, she recognized him? Molly wouldn’t recognize herself in a three-way mirror—”

  “She said he was the one with Hazel that night. Except when she saw him, his hair was blond. And she kept calling him Matthew Glanton.”

  Andy stared at her. He stared at her for so long that Carolyn started to wonder if he’d completely tuned her out. Then suddenly Andy threw back his head and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Carolyn demanded, but it was several more seconds before Andy could catch his breath enough to answer.

  “God, Carolyn, listen to yourself! Do you have any idea what Molly sees inside that mind of hers? Just last week she swore to Mr. Bell that all the sausages were glowing inside his meat counter—”

  “I don’t care about her other fantasies!” Carolyn insisted. “She seemed really serious about this!”

  “She’s always serious,” Andy said, shaking his head. “Look, Carolyn, I already told you—Molly’s crazy and everybody knows it.”

  “But that doesn’t mean she didn’t see something that night—”

  “Yeah, okay, but in what other dimension?” Andy put his fists to his head, making a grunt of frustration deep in his throat. “Why are we even having this conversation! I think I’m losing my mind—”

  “And when Molly told me all this stuff, I think Joss was hiding in the bushes listening to us.”

  This time Andy’s face went dead serious. He leaned toward her, put a finger to his lips, and said in an exaggerated whisper, “No! Not in the bushes!”

  “Well, someone was!” Carolyn defended herself indignantly. She shoved Andy back as he started laughing again. “Someone was watching us and hiding. And listening.”

  “Probably some poor guy who couldn’t make it to the bathroom!”

  “Andy, I heard the bushes moving! Someone was there!”

  “Okay, okay, wait a minute.” Andy nodded at her, deadpan. “Joss was hiding in the bushes listening to Molly tell you that he used to be blond when he was the ghost of Captain Glanton and killed Hazel. Right. I think I’ve got it all straight now.”

  Carolyn glared at him. The roaring was subsiding in her head now, and the street and the people and the colored lights were all coming back into focus.

  “I want to go home,” she said coldly.

  She turned and hurried down the street, but she could hear Andy running behind her.

  “Carolyn, wait—come back!”

  Carolyn went faster. In another second Andy was at her side, and he grabbed her arm to turn her around.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. But do you know how ridiculous this all sounds? It’s getting crazier by the minute!”

  “I’m just trying to make sense out of everything, Andy!” Carolyn flung back at him. “Molly said I was in danger—that I could never escape now!”

  “Escape what?” Andy looked lost. “Escape who?”

  Carolyn jerked away from him, but he went after her, talking as he tried to keep up.

  “So what’s going on in that mind of yours? So let’s just say—for the sheer insanity of it—that Molly did see Joss that night. So why would he come back here?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “Face it, Carolyn, it doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “That’s just it—it doesn’t make sense! Nothing makes sense! I’m trying to make things make sense, and you’re not helping me!”

  “What makes sense”—Andy drew a deep breath—“is that nobody killed Hazel and that nobody ever believes Molly.”

  Carolyn stopped so suddenly that Andy ran into her. She whirled back to face him, her face pale.

  “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?” Andy groaned.

  “If Joss killed Hazel, then he just might have pushed my mother down the stairs. He just might have pushed me off the widow’s walk. He just m
ight be a homicidal maniac!”

  “Oh, this is great. Just great! I can see it now—a houseful of plainclothes detectives to check out every guest at Glanton House! Just make yourself at home! While we run a police check and fingerprint you before you sign the guest book!”

  “Take me home,” Carolyn said tightly.

  Andy stared at her. He started to reach for her hand, thought better of it, then walked around her, giving her a wide berth.

  “Okay, fine. Think what you want. Better yet, why don’t you just ask Joss if he killed Hazel. Or wait—this is better. While you’re at it, ask him if he dug up Carolyn Glanton and what he did with her bones.”

  They didn’t speak to each other all the way home. Andy let her off at the house, but Carolyn didn’t wait for him to walk her to the door. Instead she hurried up the steps as Andy yelled from his open window.

  “Does this mean our date’s off for tomorrow?”

  “I might not even be alive tomorrow!” Carolyn threw back at him. “This stupid house might kill me!”

  “Then why are you going inside?”

  Carolyn slammed the door. She stood for a moment staring into the shadows of the parlor, then she took a deep breath and walked farther into the room. A cozy fire crackled in the fireplace, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she realized a lone figure was sitting in the rocking chair beside the hearth.

  “Well,” Joss said, “sounds like you had a wonderful time.”

  Carolyn opened her mouth … hesitated … shut it again. What was she going to do—come right out and confront him with her suspicions? Ask him about Hazel? Ask him why he was sneaking around the village today? Good evening, Joss, and oh, by the way, were you spying on me tonight, were you thinking maybe of trying to kill me, and did you just happen to be on the beach the same time Hazel had her accident?

  “I don’t know anything about you,” she blurted out, and instantly regretted it. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she had the overpowering sensation that his eyes were boring into her, reading her thoughts, probing her very soul.

  After a long silence Joss said, “There’s not much to know.”

  “I thought I saw you in the village today,” she said again before she could stop herself.