Spider Web

by Earlene Fowler

  HIS MOAN WOKE ME LIKE A GUNSHOT. I BOLTED UP, TRYING TO FOCUS my eyes in the dim light. Scout stood next to the recliner, alert but silent.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered to Scout, then went to Gabe. He thrashed in his sleep, his fists clenched tight.

  “Gabe,” I said, keeping my voice a normal tone. He continued twisting and moaning, caught in that nightmare place. Angry Spanish words tumbled from his lips.

  “Friday, wake up!” My voice raised an octave. Though it went against every instinct I possessed, I stayed out of his physical reach.

  “No!” Gabe yelled suddenly. “Stop! No! There, there . . . no, no, no . . .”

  Before I could stop him, Scout barked, then moved closer to Gabe.

  “Scout, no.” I grabbed his collar and pulled him back. He strained against my hand, sixty pounds of dog ready to defend me if he thought I needed it.

  “Gabe!” I yelled his name as loud as I could.

  Gabe bolted up, his eyes wide and unseeing. In the dim morning light, he looked gaunt and old.

  Scout’s bark turned to a low growl.

  “No, Scout,” I kept my voice firm, calm. “It’s okay.” I placed my free hand on his neck and massaged it. I glanced around, looking for something soft to throw at Gabe, to jolt him from his dream.

  “Gabe!” Scout tensed under my hand.

  “I’m awake.” His voice was sharp, angry. He pulled the recliner upright, staring at me with bleary eyes, finally seeing me. He turned on the lamp. In the soft glow of the light I could see sweat glisten on his upper lip, drip down the side of his neck.

  “Gabe, you were . . .”

  “I know.” He stood up and left the room without another word. His footsteps on the stairs were slow, heavy. I heard him walk into the master bathroom and slam the door. Minutes later, the shower came on.

  The mantel clock said four-thirty. Underneath my hand, Scout whined softly.

  “Sorry, boy,” I said, letting loose of his collar. “I bet you have to go outside, don’t you?” I let him out into the backyard and started a pot of coffee. I’d planned to get up at five a.m. anyway. There was a festival committee meeting at six a.m. inside the historical museum, our designated command post. I needed to run by Stern’s Bakery and pick up the muffins I’d ordered. The muffins, coffee, energy drinks, sodas, fruit platters and energy bars I’d stock in the historical museum’s break room would hopefully sustain the committee through this long day.

  After sticking some canned biscuits into the oven, I went upstairs and dressed for the day, glancing out our bedroom window. The sun was now a hint of pink on a cloudless horizon. Thank you, Lord. I dressed in dark blue Wranglers, an old long-sleeve T-shirt and an off-white fisherman’s knit sweater Aunt Garnet knit for me. Though it didn’t look like rain, according to the weather report last night, it would be a chilly day. The shower had stopped, and no sound came from the bathroom. I considered knocking but decided to give my husband the space he needed.

  While reaching for my watch on my bedside table, I saw the envelope containing Lin Snider’s driver’s license. I pulled it out again and looked at the photocopied picture. I studied it closely, thinking again how it both looked like her and didn’t.

  Before I left, I made a quick call to the Intensive Care waiting room phone to check on Miguel. Ramon answered with a groggy “Yeah?”

  “Hi, Ramon, it’s Benni. Sorry if I woke you. Just want to know how Miguel is doing.”

  “No worries,” Ramon said, giving a loud yawn. “Doc says he’s doing good. Mama’s crazy to get him home so she can nurse him back to health.”

  “Anyone else there?”

  “Nah, I told everyone to take off. They’re all old and looking kinda wretched.”

  I chuckled. Ramon was still in his early twenties while some of his older siblings were in their mid- to late-thirties. “You are such a rock star.”

  “Nah, just tougher than the rest of them. Oh, Sam came by last night. Said he’d be back today.”

  Sam, Gabe’s son, had been down in Southern California helping his mom get settled in her new condo in Newport Beach. She and her second husband had recently divorced. Sam lived and worked at the Ramsey Ranch when he wasn’t attending Cal Poly where he was, at least for the moment, studying culinary arts.

  “Dove said she called him about Miguel.” I guessed she’d also told him about the sniper attacks. Gabe and his son had come to a better place in their relationship where Gabe didn’t try to control him as much and easygoing Sam cut his by-the-book dad some slack. Personally, I thought Gabe should have called his son and told him what was going on, but that was Gabe. It never occurred to him to clue Sam in, which probably was part of their relationship problems. “Say hey to Miguel. Tell him I’ll drop by as soon as this Memory Festival is over.”

  “You’re up way early.”

  “The festival starts at nine a.m., but I have a meeting with my committee in . . .” I glanced at the bedside alarm clock. It was five thirty-five. “Yikes, twenty-five minutes. Are you in a booth today?”

  “I’ll be helping record oral histories in the Everyone Has a Story booth at one p.m. I’m getting extra credit for it for my history class.” Ramon was a senior at Cal Poly . . . still. He’d changed his major four times in three years, much to his parents’ consternation. He was, according to Elvia, enjoying the social aspects of college way too much.

  “Okay, see you at the festival.”

  The bathroom door opened and Gabe came out, toweling his hair. Two places on his face were bleeding from his shave, unusual for him.

  “Hey,” I said. “There are biscuits in the oven. They should be ready by now. Want me to make some gravy?”

  He shook his head. “Biscuits are quick. I need to get back to the office.”

  I wanted to suggest he try to get more sleep. The blue-gray circles under his eyes looked like old bruises. But right now, sleep was the enemy. “There’s a meeting at six a.m. at the historical museum. After that, I’ll be cruising the festival all day. I’ll have my cell phone on.”

  He blinked twice, draping the blue towel around his neck. He looked at me a long moment, then said, “I’m sorr—”

  Before he could finish, I was in front of him, my hand over his mouth. “No, don’t. There’s nothing to apologize for. I think . . .” It was on the tip of my tongue—I think you should see someone. As if he knew what I was about to say, his expression grew cold, halting my words.

  “I’ll call you during the day,” I said, laying my head against his bare chest. It was warm and damp and his heartbeat steady. “Is there anything we should do? I mean, what should I tell my workers to do if the sniper tries again?”

  His sigh was deep, filling his chest. “If you hear shots, find cover. Call 911. That’s about all I can say. We’ll have a lot of police there, not that it seems to matter to this person.”

  I kissed his damp chest, then looked up at him. “Called the hospital and Ramon answered. Miguel’s doing good. Oh, and Sam’s back in town. He went by the hospital. Gotta run. I’m already late.”

  “Maybe I should have called Sam. But I didn’t want him to worry.”

  “He’s a big boy now.” I patted Gabe’s chest. “Be careful, Chief. I love you. Don’t forget the biscuits.”

  “I won’t. Te amo, querida.”

  I swung by Stern’s, picked up the muffins and was only five minutes late to the meeting in the basement of the historical museum. All fifteen committee members were there as well as Dove and Aunt Garnet.

  “I’m so glad you two are here,” I said, hugging Dove, then Aunt Garnet. “If I make it through this day without having a stroke, it’ll be a miracle.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Aunt Garnet said, handing me a mug of coffee.

  “We’ll be patrolling the festival with our canes,” Dove said.

  “Us too,” called out the Crosby twins, holding up their colorful canes. “That sniper better not get near the festival today, or he’ll have us to contend
with.”

  “Our whole class will be out there,” Dove said. “Thirty-six of us.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Thirty-six seniors with cane fu skills they were dying to use were too much for me to contemplate this early.

  I quickly went over my lists, reminding everyone where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to be doing.

  “I’ll be traveling between the booths all day. You all have my cell phone number, so call me if you need anything. The Cal Poly history department and many of the history students are also there to help you. They are all wearing purple T-shirts with Memory Festival Volunteer in big white letters on the back. Their job is to help with moving things, unpacking, getting water or food, whatever you need. Each of you has booths assigned for you to supervise, so tell your people about the volunteers. Utilize them. They are all getting extra credit for participating in this event.”

  I checked my clipboard. “Okay, that’s it for now. Have fun, and to quote one of my favorite cop shows, ‘Let’s be careful out there.’ ”

  As the rest of the committee started leaving to check on the booths under their jurisdiction, I perused the muffins, settling on a cherry-almond. I would give myself ten minutes to eat it and drink another cup of coffee before heading into the fray. The antique clock hanging over the snack table said seven fifteen. The festival started at nine a.m. I inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly, trying to calm my jittery stomach. Everything would be fine.

  I felt a familiar hand rubbing a circle on my back.

  “Honey bun,” Dove said. “How are you doing?”

  I took a bite from my muffin before answering. “Fine.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said automatically, though her tone was light. “Are you sleeping all right?” Her sharp blue eyes searched mine.

  “Sure,” I mumbled around a mouthful of muffin.

  “You look right tired.”

  I swallowed, then took another bite. “Big day. Got up early.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  I wrinkled my nose at her and, like when I was a kid, opened my mouth to display my half-chewed breakfast.

  “You’re a bad girl,” she said, pinching my cheek gently. Then her warm hand moved to my chin, caressing it even while holding it steady so I couldn’t look away. “Whatever you’re going through, you know you can always come to me, don’t you?”

  I nodded, swallowing. The cakey wad stuck for a moment in my thick throat. “I know, Gramma. Everything’s okay. I promise.” Though I longed to tell her what was happening, I also didn’t want Gabe diminished in her eyes. A fierce part of me wanted to protect him, even from someone who loved him as much as Dove did.

  I could smell the flowery scent of her Coty face powder, a smell as familiar to me as my own. “Liar. But you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” She gave my chin a tiny shake. “See you round the flagpole, Sadie.” It was how she used to say good night to me when I was a little girl.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  By eight thirty, I’d toured all the booths, taken care of numerous last-minute problems and now stood on the top step of our outside amphitheater near the mission, where the children’s storytelling marathon would take place. Blind Harry’s Bookstore, the San Celina County Library and the Central Coast Storytelling Guild sponsored the all-day event with storytellers performing every half hour. Though it was still a half hour before the festival officially began, I could already tell the storytelling area would be a popular stop. Parents and kids were already filling the amphitheater seats. I bought a cup of hot chocolate from a vendor’s first batch and watched the final preparations for the storytelling marathon.

  In the grassy area next to the amphitheater, Memory Mountain, a local scrapbooking store, presented a free “make it and take it” scrapbooking class for kids where they could have their picture taken with their favorite storyteller and make a scrapbook page. Storytellers mingled with the crowd. They were dressed as pirates, fairy godmothers, railroad engineers, Native Americans, cowgirls and cowboys, farmers and zookeepers. There was even a man dressed as a dinosaur.

  “Looks like fun,” someone said behind me. “And that hot chocolate looks delicious.”

  I turned and faced Lin Snider. She was dressed in dark jeans, a maroon sweater and a navy wool jacket. My mind flashed back to the person who had walked through the ranch house a few days ago. He or she had been wearing a dark blue jacket.

  “Are you a fan of Elvis Presley?” I blurted out.

  Her blue eyes widened a moment before she regained composure and smiled. “He was never my cup of tea. I’m more of a Beatles fan. Why?”

  My heart fluttered in my chest. What was I thinking asking her that? I sipped my cocoa and asked, “Which storyteller do you think the kids will like best?”

  She contemplated the eclectic group of storytellers. “I’d guess the pirate for the boys and the fairy godmother for girls. But that’s just what my . . .” Her words stopped abruptly, and she coughed daintily into her palm. “What my choice would have been at that age.”

  A group of kids ran in front of us, accidentally bumping me. Hot chocolate sprayed down the front of my sweater.

  “Dang it!” I jumped back, holding the paper cup of cocoa in front of me. “Slow down!” I called after them.

  She dug through her big leather purse and produced a packet of tissues. “I hope your sweater will be okay.”

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the tissues and dabbing at the fist-size stain on the corner of my sweater. “I should remember how crazy kids get at these things.”

  She cocked her head, studying my face. “So, this must be a nightmare for you. All these kids, I mean. Not like the peaceful life you and your husband are accustomed to. Does it make you glad you never had any?”

  I stared at her a moment, thinking, What an odd remark. “It’s not a nightmare at all. I’m glad a lot of kids are here. That’s sort of the point.”

  She stuck both her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “I’m sorry, that was rather insensitive. I should know better. People always assume that those who don’t have children are irritated by them. I . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Not having children of your own doesn’t make a person a childrenhating ogre,” I said stiffly. As another childless person, she should have understood that. The older I became, the more I was annoyed when people assumed things about me before knowing whether their opinions had any basis.

  I shrugged, still a little irritated. “It’s okay.” I glanced down at my watch. “Wow, it’s almost nine a.m. The festival is good to go. You enjoy yourself, okay?” Right at that moment, I needed to get away from her and the worry she’d brought into my life. I turned and started walking toward the mission.

  “Benni, I have a question,” she called after me.

  I turned back around, hoping I didn’t look as impatient as I felt. “You’re really busy today, so I understand if you can’t answer right away, but I’d love another couple of hours on the pottery wheel. Do you know if it’s free tomorrow?” Her face looked almost desperate.

  I do not know what came over me, except that in the last few years, with my unexpected and totally innocent forays into crime solving, I had developed a bit of a criminal mind.

  “What a coincidence!” I said, faking enthusiasm. “Actually, it is free at noon. I just had someone cancel last night. How long would you like?” I actually had no idea if a wheel was open, though there was a good chance that the Sunday right after an event like this the co-op studios would be empty. But even if the wheel was booked, I was ready to beg, bribe or mug someone to make sure Lin would be using that wheel. Because during that time, I was going to finally discover if she was someone for me to worry about. I would find a way into her motel room in Morro Bay.

  “Two hours?” she asked.

  “No problem. I won’t be there, but someone else will.”

  “I sure appreciate it. My good fortune.”

  I
smiled at her, feeling a bit like a grifter. “Yes, it is.”

  While I watched her walk away, I heard someone come up behind me. It was Evangeline Boudreux, D-Daddy’s daughter and a longtime member of our co-op. “Oh, your friend found you,” she said.

  I looked up at Evangeline. “What?”

  She pointed at Lin. “The lady in the peacoat was asking after you.”

  “She was?”

  “Well, asking about you. I was helping Princess Perfecto set up her scepter-making supplies, and your friend kind of just started talking to us. She said she’d seen me around the co-op. I guess she’s a new member?”

  “Not actually. She’s renting the pottery wheel. She’s a friend of Amanda’s.”

  Evangeline mimed wiping sweat from her brow. “Glad to hear that. She was asking some odd questions, and I wasn’t quite sure what her motives were.”

  I felt my breathing slow down. “What was she asking?”

  “Oh, just whether you ever participated in the children’s art activities and if you seemed to enjoy it.”

  “That is odd.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too. I almost asked her if she was investigating you to be a foster parent or something.” She flipped a strand of dark curly hair from over her left eye and laughed. “Are you?”

  I gave a forced laugh, hoping Evangeline wouldn’t notice. “It would be news to me. Did she ask anything else?”

  Evangeline shook her head no. “I told her that you were the one who not only designed all our children’s programs, but that you harassed people for donations and you finger painted along with the kids. That seemed to make her happy. Why do you think she was asking?”

  “I don’t know, but thanks for the good report.”

  After Evangeline walked away, before I forgot, I called the folk art museum and asked one of the docents to check tomorrow’s schedule for the pottery wheel.