Through all this, Greg remained silent. He fussed with the facecloth, continuing to pat down and clean my various injuries. I stopped him.
“It’s okay, honey, I’ll just take a hot shower and survey the damage.”
He looked me in the eye. “No, Odelia, it’s not okay.”
I ran my hands through my hair. A few leaves and twigs fell out. “I’m fine, Greg. Just cuts and stuff. Mostly, it just scared me.”
He tossed the facecloth in my lap and rolled away. “And damn well it should!”
“It’s not like I went looking for this, Greg. I was just out getting some exercise.” I could tell by his face that he wasn’t placated. In my usual bullheaded way, I pushed. “Whatever happened to just go with it—life’s easier that way ? Isn’t that your new motto?”
Mrs. Friar started to her feet. Willie helped her. “Perhaps Mrs. Stevens would like some tea. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll make her a pot.”
When she was gone, Greg answered me. “Bravado over pizza is one thing. It’s quite another to see the woman you love nearly become roadkill.”
I looked to Willie for support, but he had turned away. “And what do you say, Willie?”
He glanced back around. “Sorry, I never get involved in domestic squabbles.” To make his point, he started for the stairs. “Just let me know who gets custody of me in the event of divorce.”
Greg and I remained silent, not looking at each other. I patted a few of the deep scratches on my arms with the cloth and wondered what to say without my usual foot-in-mouth disease.
“Greg,” I started, “I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you, but I honestly don’t know how not to get involved. Especially when it’s someone close to me.”
He took several deep breaths, his solid chest rising with each. Then he squared his strong shoulders and turned back around, wheeling up to the sofa next to me again.
“I know you don’t.” He took my hand. “I’m actually angry at myself.” He swallowed hard. “You see, sweetheart, I’m a fraud. The truth is, I rather enjoy bumming around with you on these adventures.”
I started to speak. He gently placed a fingertip against my swollen lips, stopping me.
“It’s true. It’s like playing some fantasy sleuth game. Digging around for clues, interviewing people, and uncovering bad guys. It’s fun. Until something like this happens, and it always does.” He squeezed my hand. “I came here for two reasons, Odelia. One, to take care of you, first and foremost. And second, because I didn’t want to be left out of the game.” He looked down. “How selfish of me.”
I pulled my hand away from his and stroked his face, running my fingers from his soft hair down across his cheek and through his beard until they rested on his chin. I lifted his face up and gazed into his lovely blue eyes.
“You’re not being selfish, honey. And I’m so happy you did fly out.”
“But it’s no game, Odelia. I’d forgotten that until I saw you stagger in here all tore up. It wasn’t a game in El Segundo, and it’s definitely not a game now.” He clutched my hands and brought them to his mouth for a kiss. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, Odelia.” His voice cracked.
“Danger or not, Greg,” I told him in a soft voice, “I have to finish this.”
“Then we’ll finish it together.”
We both leaned forward, our mouths meeting for a few quick kisses, followed by one long, deep one. Kissing was painful, but I didn’t care.
After two cups of soothing tea, I hauled my sorry ass into the shower. Then I pulled on the only dress I’d brought with me. With my black eye starting to blossom, my fat lip, and numerous scratches, scrapes, and bruises covering me from head to toe, I thought the dress might at least help me to feel a little pretty, but it didn’t; instead, I felt grotesque. I changed into khakis and a shirt.
I was drying my hair when Greg stuck his head in to say that Clark was in the parlor. Clark would want to know every detail, and I was trying hard to remember them all. After popping some ibuprofen and taking one last glance in the mirror, I made my entrance.
Willie and Greg were waiting for me, but instead of Clark, a young uniformed policewoman I’d never seen before was with them. Greg and Willie were nursing beers from a six-pack Willie had picked up on his way back to the inn earlier. He’d stopped by the Rielleys’ but no one had been home, so he’d come back to the inn. I was glad he had. I sat in a chair near Greg. He took my hand. Except for the beers, the two of them looked like they were at a wake. The young officer sat stiff and official.
“We made you a fresh pot of tea,” Willie said. “Unless you’d like something stronger.”
“Tea’s fine.” I looked at them each in turn. “And I’m fine, guys, really. Where’s Clark?”
Greg nodded in the direction of the young officer. “Clark got called away, sweetheart. He’ll be back later. This is Officer Marlaine Burbank. She’s going to be taking your official statement.” Officer Burbank stood up and came to me, offering her hand. She was in her thirties, trim and tall, with medium brown hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. After greeting me, she sat back down on the sofa and pulled some papers from a folder.
“Anything new about Grady?” I asked the cop.
“We’d like to get your statement out of the way, Mrs. Stevens, if you don’t mind. I believe the chief will fill you in on the rest.”
For the next hour, I retold the events of the attack to Officer Burbank, trying to remember and relate every detail of the truck and my attacker as clearly as possible, including the earlier threat made by Clem Brown.
“Who knew that you took these daily walks, Mrs. Stevens?”
“My husband and Mr. Carter, of course. And Mrs. Friar.” I paused, then added. “And Brenda Bixby. She has stopped me during my last two walks. I thought it was her again this time.”
I seriously doubted that Greg, Willie, or Mrs. Friar had anything to do with my attack, but Brenda was another story. Was my attacker Grady? My own brother? I didn’t think they saw me lurking around the motel last night. Then I remembered the man watching me from his cabin window—the man who’d been with Tara Brown. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I was skulking around a sleazy motel in the dark and almost didn’t say anything, but I knew Clark would want me to be honest with the officer and in my report. When Greg squeezed my hand, I knew he was thinking the same thing. With her head down in concentration, Officer Burbank scribbled detailed notes while I talked.
Afterwards, she, Willie, and I trekked out to the road so I could show them where the truck had slammed into the bushes. I spotted the water bottle I’d dropped during my leap to safety and picked it up. We followed the path of the truck’s several attempts to hit me. Officer Burbank marked each spot for further investigation. Then we walked through the woods, trying to follow the path I’d taken during my flight. Along the way, I spotted something on the ground that didn’t fit in with the usual forest debris. It was my iPod. Like the water bottle, I’d forgotten all about it.
Before I showered, Greg had taken photos of my battered face and body with a digital camera borrowed from Mrs. Friar. While we walked through the woods, he was going to upload those to his laptop and sent them to the e-mail address the officer had given him.
When we returned to the inn, Officer Burbank gave me her card and told me to call if I had anything to add. With a final reassuring smile, she left.
I looked at Greg. “No word from Clark while we were outside?”
“Just a quick call to see how it was going with the report. Clark said there’s been no sign of Grady or Brenda. They’ve even gone to the North Woods Motel. Brenda’s stuff is still in the cabin, but there’s no sign of her or her car. Manager said he doesn’t recall her being with a man—Grady or otherwise.”
I let out an unladylike snort. “Places like the North Woods would lose their customer base if they paid attention to things like that.”
My stomach growled like a mean dog guarding a junkyard. It was mid-aftern
oon, and breakfast was almost ancient history. “I’m starved. How about you guys?”
“Want me to go get some take-out?” Willie offered.
“Sounds good to me,” chimed in Greg.
I thought about it. “Why don’t we go to the Blue Lobster?”
“No way.” Greg moved in close and fixed me with a determined eye. “I know that look, and it’s a lot more than hunger. You want to spy on that vegetable stand. Haven’t you had enough for today? Or are you looking to get the other eye blackened?”
“I told you I’d take you to the Blue Lobster, didn’t I?”
“No. If the Browns see you there, who knows what they will do next time.”
“You’re assuming it was one of them who attacked me, Greg. It could have been that guy at the motel, or even Grady.”
“Maybe so, but the Browns are at the top of my suspects list.” He looked from me to Willie. “And don’t tell me they aren’t at the top of yours.”
Willie got up and stretched. “I was actually thinking of going to the Blue Lobster later today myself.”
Greg narrowed his eyes at him. “I thought you didn’t get involved in domestic squabbles.”
“Not when it doesn’t suit me.” He laughed. “Today is Sybil’s last day at the place. It would be kind of nice to go see her and mark the occasion. She’s been there ten years.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s a long time. She have a new job, or is she just going to work at the Kettle?”
Willie gave us a sly smile. “Neither. She’s coming with me.”
“What?” I looked to Greg, but he was silent, his mouth hanging open like he’d been scared to death.
“That’s where I went this morning after breakfast, to talk to her.”
Greg shook his head in disbelief. “You just asked her to drop her life and follow you? Does she know anything about you?”
“I told her everything. And, yes, she’s closing up her house, leaving her two dead-end jobs, and coming with me. For how long, who knows, but she was ready for an adventure.”
I smiled to myself, remembering when Willie had invited me to do the same. Then a worry scuttled my happiness.
“Willie, can you trust this woman? You haven’t known her very long. What if she turns you in for some reward?”
“That’s the chance I’ll have to take, little mama. So far, the cops have only shown up here looking for you.” He winked at me. “That’s a good early sign, at least for me.”
Greg wheeled over to Willie and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“This is only the second time I’ve asked a woman to come with me.” He looked my way before continuing. “It’s not something I do lightly. I’m pretty sure Sybil is just as trustworthy as the first one who turned me down.”
Willie left for the Blue Lobster. I told him we’d meet him there after I plastered some makeup over my still-swelling face. I finally gave up before the layers of foundation turned me into the bride of Chucky. On the way in the car, Greg extracted the promise from me that I would leave the vegetable stand and the Browns alone. He had no worries there, but I did wonder if Clem was sporting a concussion this afternoon.
“Were you the other woman Willie asked to go with him?” From the way Greg had switched his eyes back and forth between Willie and me back at the inn, I knew it wouldn’t be long before that question popped out.
“Yes, Greg. I was the one he was referring to. The first one.”
“He knew about me when he asked, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but it was after the shooting incident, when you and I were sort of on the outs. More me than you.”
We rode a mile or two in silence before he asked the next expected question. “Why didn’t you go with him?”
“Couple of reasons.” I glanced over at my husband. “But don’t think it wasn’t tempting.” My eyes went back to the road. “Willie didn’t love me; he was lonely. And I was in love with someone else.” Greg reached over and gently squeezed my thigh. “And, while my moral standards might be a bit on the goosey side, they weren’t loosey-goosey enough for that lifestyle.”
We were almost to the Blue Lobster when my cell phone rang. Greg dug it out of my bag and answered. It was a woman asking for me. Greg put it on speaker.
“This is Odelia,” I said, aiming my voice at the phone while I drove.
“This is Stacia Spaulding.” The woman snapped off her name like she was breaking a stick. “Chief Littlejohn hired me to watch Grace today.”
I yanked the car over to the side of the road and parked. “Is Mom okay?” I took the phone from Greg.
“I tried calling the chief, but they said he was on some police emergency. He had given me your number as backup.”
“My mother, is she okay?” My voice was shrill. Greg leaned in to hear better.
“That old woman needs to be put away, if you want my advice. She’s been throwing tantrums ever since I got here.”
“About what?”
“I’ve had enough, I tell you. She threw a book, and it hit me in the back of my head. About knocked me out.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Spaulding.”
“Sorry isn’t enough. You tell Chief Littlejohn that he’s not to call me anymore. I never want to see the old witch again.”
“We’ll be right there to relieve you.”
“You’re crazier than she is if you think I’m sticking around. I’m already on my way home.”
I gave the phone to Greg. While he called Willie to say we’d be late, I turned the car around and headed for my mother’s house.
On the way, we hatched a plan. Greg would stay in the car while I went inside and nicely invited Mom to lunch—emphasis on nicely. In reality, we were getting her out of the way in case Grady did come for the money. Once she was with us, we’d call Clark and let him know where she was. Problem was, I didn’t expect my mother to come willingly, but I was prepared to do my best to woo her into it. I promised Greg that clubbing her would be my last resort.
I went to the back door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again; still no response. I tried the door and found it unlocked. Opening it, I called to my mother. There was no answer. I could hear the TV blaring in the living room. I dashed inside, expecting to see her sprawled facedown on the floor. Instead, I found her in her rocking chair watching TV, as composed as a pastor’s wife sitting in church.
“You didn’t hear me calling to you?” I asked in a raised, vexed voice.
Her face remained turned towards the TV. Her hands were in her lap, clutched around the TV remote. “Didn’t want to miss my program.”
When the show went to a commercial, my mother’s eyes remained glued to the TV.
“Mom, Greg’s outside in the car. We want you to go to lunch with us.”
“Why?”
“Why not? You’re my mother, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again after I return home.” I moved into her line of vision. “Come on, it will be nice. We were going to meet Willie at the Blue Lobster.”
No response.
I glanced at the TV. “Could you turn that down while we talk?”
When she made no move to do so, I pushed on, determined to remain calm and nice. Nice, Odelia, I reminded myself. The operative word here is nice.
“Or we could go someplace else. Anywhere you’d like.”
“Haven’t been to the Blue Lobster in years.” Her voice held no emotion. “Doctor won’t let me have fried food.” She turned to me with a scowl. “I’ll bet Clark took you there, didn’t he? He’s not supposed to go neither, but I know he sneaks off every chance he gets.”
“They have other food besides fried stuff. Come on, it will be fun.”
She turned back to the TV. The commercial was over, but a different program had come on. “No. You only want to grill me about the maze. That’s all anyone wants me for these days, to question me about things that are none of their business.”
I scrunched down to get eye-to-eye with her. “No, Mo
m. We’ll just have a nice lunch. I’ll button my lip about the murder. I promise.”
I was selling my soul making that promise. There was so much I wanted to question her about. But, then again, the promise was for during lunch. I didn’t make any such promise about questioning her after we ate.
She turned off the TV and started to rise. “Well, all right, but no questions. I like to eat in peace. And I’ll want a lobster roll and fried scallops both, doctors be damned. Won’t be around much longer. Might as well go out with a happy belly.”
After fussing with her hair and locating her purse, Mom was ready. We shuffled out the back door, across the deck, and down the wide, easy steps. When we came around the side of the house, I felt like I’d dropped into the Twilight Zone.
Greg and the car were gone.
“Maybe Greg took the car for gas.”
I spun around from the empty driveway to face my elderly mother. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Mom, Greg’s in a freaking wheelchair!”
Seems nice had flown the coop, along with my husband.
“There’s no need to yell at me, Odelia.”
I spun back around to where I’d left the rental car and studied the empty space, half expecting to see it there. That maybe I’d had a moment of insanity or early senility. It was there, after all. Had to be. How could I miss seeing something that weighs two thousand pounds?
But it wasn’t there.
Walking over to where I’d last seen the car and Greg, I spied something on the ground. It was a cell phone. No, correction: two cell phones, mine and Greg’s, side by side. They were acting as paperweights, holding down a piece of paper. I stared at the paper like it was a bomb before finally bending down and picking it up. On it was just a single telephone number, no message or instructions.
Standing in the middle of my mother’s driveway, I studied the number. It wasn’t familiar, and it wasn’t the local area code. I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I call the number? Do I call Willie? Clark? I started to cry, my salty tears burning the scratches on my face. I reached for a tissue, then realized my tissues were in my bag—in the car.
“What?” I screamed down the road in front of my mother’s house. “You couldn’t leave my damn bag?”
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