This realization struck Maizie with the force of a bullet. She woefully gave up and boarded the next train to Runnymede. Within four hours, she stepped out onto the familiar siding, the faint smell of creosote hovering over the tracks, the stale-water smell from the steam. She thanked the porter for her suitcase and lugged it into the station.
It was as though she had never been in the Runnymede station before. The scrubbed floors, worn thin as half-moons at the doorjambs, the iron grating over the ticket windows, the public water fountain on the side wall between the ladies’ and men’s rooms—everything seemed smaller to her. She felt smaller, too.
She hadn’t called her mother or father. No one knew of her dismal arrival.
Her head throbbed. She crept through the main room, pushing open the front door. No welcoming car awaited her, no chatter from Patience Horney, who worked her hot-pretzel stand the early-morning and the evening shifts. The afternoons Patience went home to sleep.
Luscious tiger lilies, blooming late this year, blanketed the bank opposite the parking lot. The clickety-clack of the departing train took her dreams with it. Maizie Trumbull, all of twenty-one, felt a failure as she trudged up the alleyway to the Clarion building. Her heavy suitcase dragged the ground. The bumpety-bump further dispirited her. She thought about calling a cab but didn’t have the money. Of course, she knew every cab driver in Runnymede. All she had to do was ride up to her mother’s door and borrow the cash. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit she was flat broke.
She was so overwhelmed by what she thought she had lost, that she had no time to realize what she had found. A limitation can be as valuable as a victory if one learns how to use it. And Runnymede teemed with life, with music and drama at its own pace. Every hamlet, town, village, and city moved at a special pace, exhibited a personality. Maizie belonged here. She’d found her heart’s home.
At that precise moment she took no solace in it. She sat down on her suitcase and had a good cry. Then she removed her clothing and ran around the Clarion parking lot. She gobbled like a turkey until Harper Wheeler rolled up in his squad car, summoned by Walter Falkenroth. Harper made her put her clothes on. He’d turn his back, she’d take them off again. Finally, he handcuffed her, half undressed, to the inside of the car door. She couldn’t do much with one hand. All she could do was unbutton her blouse. She did manage to throw her shoes at him.
She screeched the whole way to Louise’s door. Harper called ahead. To be safe he also called Pearlie in case she turned violent. He didn’t want to hit a woman.
By the time he rolled into the driveway, Juts and Chessy awaited. Louise had called her sister, who in turn had called her own husband.
Maizie opened the door and swung her bare feet out. She shouted, “I’m home, you goddamned sons of bitches. I’m home and I hate everybody.” She started taking off her clothes again.
Louise hurried over to restrain her. Maizie, with her free hand, slapped her squarely in the face.
“Don’t you hit your mother.” Juts grabbed her right hand as Harper unlocked the handcuffs.
“Maizie.” A shocked Pearlie put his arms around his daughter’s waist as she twisted and screamed.
Chester grabbed her arms. His reward was that she bit him.
“Louise”—Harper’s voice was oddly tender—“I’ll get Doc Horning over here right away.”
Her face bone-white, Louise mutely nodded as Harper picked up his handheld transmitter. “Car Twelve, Car Twelve. Esther, find Dr. Horning. Now. Ten-four.” He waited. “Doc, Harper. Can you get to Louise Trumbull’s right away? Maizie’s hard up. Better bring something to help her out. Speed. Don’t worry about a ticket.” He reached back into the car and hung up the hand-sized black transmitter on a small hook under the dash.
“I’m never going to mass again,” Maizie announced, a note of triumph in her voice.
“Let’s get her inside.” Harper picked up Maizie’s feet because she’d dropped to the ground.
Doc Horning arrived as the men were carrying her through the front door. They held her tight while he knocked her out with a sedative. She screamed bloody murder when that hypodermic needle hit her. They carried her to the sofa. The drug worked quickly.
Louise was shaking so hard that Juts put her arms around her.
“Has she ever behaved like this before?” the doctor asked, his rimless spectacles sliding down his nose.
“No,” Pearlie answered while Louise shook her head.
“No rebellious period? Hanging out with the wrong sort?”
“Back talk, but nothing more. Mary was the difficult one.” Louise allowed Julia to walk her over to a chair. She also made no mention of the fire incident at the convent school but, of course, Doc Horning knew. Hard to keep something like that quiet over the years.
“Well, takes ’em this way sometimes. You make sure she takes these pills for the next two days.” He handed Louise a small vial. “Bring her in to me Thursday if she’s cooperative and I’ll run a few tests on her. If she’s not cooperative, with your permission, I’ll take her over to Dr. Lamont in Hagerstown.”
Both parents nodded.
“What’s wrong with her?” Juts stuck right by Louise.
He folded his hands together and flicked them inward, cracking his knuckles, although he hadn’t intended to do that. “I don’t know. My hunch is she’s in good health, just got a little confused. The mind can shut down like a machine on overload—you know how some things will shut down before they break? She’ll most likely be fine. I suggest you don’t prod her. Don’t ask her questions. Just let her sleep and if she screams at you, ignore it. You know where to find me.”
“Thank you,” Pearlie and Louise said in unison.
Chester walked Harper out to the squad car as Pearlie accompanied Dr. Horning.
“Chester, you’re bound to hear talk. Maizie took her clothes off and ran buck naked around the parking lot at the Clarion. Walter Falkenroth’s the one who called me. I leave it to you to inform Louise. May be less embarrassing coming from you.”
“You think she’s flipped her lid?”
“I don’t know. The longer I live, the less I know and the more see.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Chester ran his hand over his brow, an unconscious gesture of worry.
“Oh, almost forgot. Heard from Baltimore. That old license plate? It was a company vehicle for Rife Canning. I rode on over there and asked Teresa to check through company files, which she did.” He paused. “She said that was the plate for a 1938 Ford. She didn’t recall the vehicle but there was a record for it.”
“That was that?”
“As far as she was concerned. Not as far as I’m concerned. No one reported a car or a truck stolen back then. I can’t imagine Napoleon or Julius Rife taking kindly to losing a vehicle like that. Tell you what I’m going to do, Chessy. I’m going fishing tomorrow. Want to come along?”
60
A light drizzle created perfect circles in the deep creek. Harper, Chessy, Pearlie, and Noe dragged fishnets. Chessy had Nickel with him since Julia was needed by Louise. Maizie behaved under sedation, but as the drugs wore off she’d begin to gobble like a turkey again. She did keep her clothes on because Louise took a switch to her. Mary, working at the Bon-Ton these days, promised to help after work.
Because of the unseasonable heat no one wore a raincoat. The drizzle felt good. Chessy, Pearlie, and Nickel trolled out of a little flat-bottomed boat. Sheriff Harper Wheeler and Noe Mojo moved faster; their boat had a hull bottom, and the outboard motor was bigger.
“Daddy?”
“What, honey?”
“Will the fish bite?”
“Not today.”
“O.B. says rain’s the best fishing.” She quoted the stableman.
“He’s right, but we’re looking for a truck.”
“Do trucks swim?”
Pearlie smiled. “Not this one.”
“Oh.” She dropped her hand into the cool water and
watched the small waves.
Fannie Jump Creighton drove down the road to the small dock. She rolled down her window. “How long you been out here, boys?”
“Sunup,” Noe answered.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Haven’t found squat. Why waste a nickel?” Harper Wheeler replied.
She checked her diamond-encrusted wristwatch. “About time for lunch. You want to come in or you want me to bring you something from town?”
“We’ll be in. Just another minute or two.” Harper shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth. It wasn’t lit, but sucking on it soothed him.
“Daddy?”
“What, honey?”
“There’s a big fish over there.” She pointed, the water dripping off her forefinger.
“That’s nice.”
“Look.” She sounded cross, because he wasn’t paying attention to her fish.
“Where?”
“There. Bet it’s a giant catfish.”
“Bet it’s not.” He waved to Harper. “Buddy, over here.”
As Harper and Noe approached, the small waves slapped against the side of the flatboat.
“Over there.” Chessy pointed.
Pearlie squinted. “Whatever it is, it’s big.”
“It’s a whale,” Nickel said authoritatively.
“Nicky saw it first.” Chester praised his girl.
“Hard to see at all in the rain.” Harper grumbled as the rain fell harder now.
“Why don’t I drop over a hook?” Noe sensibly suggested.
He lofted the hook over his head, a circle, then delicately cast it into the deep side of the creek. A moment later he tugged. “Got something.”
It took the rest of the afternoon with Harper commandeering Yashew Gregorivitch’s tow truck. They pulled the rusty truck out of the creek. The words “Rife Canning” on the side had been painted over. The license plate was missing.
Fannie, mouth agape, stared as the truck was hauled up from its watery parking space.
“How’d it get down here?” she asked.
“Well, it was bound to drift some in seven years, even though it’s heavy. Remember, we had all that rain the last couple of springs.”
“You’d think someone would have seen it.”
“Not if whoever drove it dumped it in the deepest part of the creek, which would be off Toad Suck Ferry.” The old ferry station was about a mile and a half north of the meat plant and Sans Souci. No longer in use, the station was located in the widest part of the creek and the deepest water was around it.
Fannie slowly walked around the dangling truck. “That’s it. I swear it. Sure a waste of a good machine, too, the walleyed son of a bitch.” She remembered Nickel. “I’m sorry, Nicky. Aunt Fannie needs her mouth washed out with soap.”
“Why would the Rifes have wanted to burn you out?” Harper fanned himself with his sheriff’s cowboy hat.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh come on, Noe, you must have pissed them off.” Harper was irritated that he still hadn’t solved the motive behind the 1941 arson attack.
“I hardly even talk to the Rifes. Why would they have been mad at me, other than the obvious?”
“That’s not it.” Pearlie leaned against the tow truck.
“There’s got to be a reason, dammit!” Harper put his hands on his hips. “People don’t burn each other out for no reason.”
“It was Pearl Harbor.” Noe shrugged.
“Daddy, what’s Pearl Harbor?” Nickel whispered.
“I’ll tell you later.”
She reached up for his hand, satisfied that he would keep his promise.
“You don’t know for certain that it was the Rifes. It could have been an employee of theirs or someone who stole their truck and had a grudge against Noe. Or, well, maybe it really was Pearl Harbor. After all, that’s what we thought at the time,” Fannie said.
“If a truck had been stolen from Rife Canning, don’t you think I’d have heard a squawk the minute it was missing?” Harper shook his head. “No, no, those two were in on this.” Then he added, “Well, boys, we found our truck. Just what comes next is a point of solemn conjecture.”
“Oh, for Chrissake.” Fannie spit on the ground, an unladylike gesture but a fitting one, for Popeye Huffstetler was bearing down on them in his old car.
“That blistering idiot!” Harper slapped his hat hard against his leg. Chessy picked up Nickel, placing her on his broad shoulders. “Hansford used to say Popeye could screw up a wet dream.”
The men and Fannie exploded in laughter.
“Daddy, what’s a wet dream?”
“Uh—I’ll tell you later, honey.”
“You know, Hansford said something a little strange when I questioned him. What the hell did he say that time?”
Popeye pulled up, reporter’s notebook in hand as he switched off the engine with the other hand. He was firing questions before he had both feet on the ground. When he caught sight of Pearlie he blurted out, “Louise wouldn’t give me a quote about Maizie causing a disturbance yesterday. And—”
“Huffstetler, shut up!” Pearlie’s face reddened.
“Hey, news is news and your daughter was exhibiting herself at the Clarion and—” He didn’t finish because Pearlie socked him with a right cross.
“You print a word about my girl’s troubles and I’ll knock your teeth out, you stupid shit!” Pearlie advanced on the staggering Popeye, whose notebook and pencil lay in the sandy loam.
“Now Paul, you have to realize that everything people in this town do or say is news and I have a responsibility to the citizens to—” Backing away, he fell over a log.
Paul straddled him, fists doubled up. “I won’t kick a man while he’s down, which is more than I can say for you.”
Popeye scrambled to his feet. “News is news,” he repeated. “It’s all over town. Give me your side of the story.”
Pearlie lashed out with a left jab, his hands fast for an amateur. Popeye ducked and moved sideways.
Harper, in no hurry to intervene, ambled toward Pearlie. “Pearlie, let me handle this.”
Chessy was now on the other side of Pearlie. “Come on, Pearlie. I’ll carry you home.”
“Paste him away, Uncle Pearlie!” Nickel clapped her hands with glee.
Pearlie, tears in his eyes, let Chester put his arm around him and guide him back to the car.
Fannie waited at the car.
Nobody heard what Harper said to the reporter but they heard Popeye’s loud “Yes, sir.”
The sheriff rejoined the group. “Noe, I told Popeye he can come when we dig around your plant. That suit you?”
“Since when are we digging around the plant?” Noe tilted his head, puzzled.
“Since I remembered what Hansford Hunsenmeir told me.” He hitched up his belt and sauntered past, winking at Nickel.
61
I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Mary checked her small wrist-watch as they strolled along the tree-lined street.
“If I’m that boring, just go home.”
“Don’t be tetchy. It’s close to Billy’s quitting time.”
“Well, I am tetchy. Everyone’s staring at me with goggle eyes. Okay, so I took my clothes off and ran around the parking lot. I didn’t shoot anyone.”
“No.”
“Well—” Maizie noticed that Orrie and Noe Mojo had painted the shutters of their house dark green. Slanting rays of sunlight fell across the enticing green of the lawn. “When did they do that?”
“The week you were in New York. Billy painted it for them, making up for the times he comes to work late.” Mary sighed. “Daddy gets on his nerves sometimes and he gets on Daddy’s nerves.”
“He’s surprised everyone,” Maizie stated, not indicating exactly how Billy had surprised people.
“Not as much as you have.”
Maizie shrugged and turned on her heel to head back down the street.
/> Mary hurried to catch up, reaching for her sister’s elbow. “I didn’t mean to sound snippy. God, I hope I don’t sound like Mom.”
“No. She keeps jamming those pills down my throat. I spit them out when she leaves the room. Boy, they have a bitter taste.”
“Nothing is worse than milk of magnesia.”
“That’s the truth.” A blue jay squawked overhead.
“I love this time of year. Billy and I like to walk out in the moonlight and smell the leaves turning.”
“No one is ever going to fall in love with me.” Maizie cast down her eyes.
“That’s not true.”
“Would you fall in love with a woman who took her clothes off and ran naked around the Clarion?”
“I don’t know.” Mary hesitated. “Why’d you do it?”
“Felt like it.” She took a giant step forward. “You know what it is, Mary? I’m bored. Ever since I can remember, someone’s been telling me do this, do that, say this, say that, don’t get your dress dirty, wash your hands, don’t talk with your mouth full, don’t air your dirty linen in public, don’t kiss on the first date, don’t hang out with the wrong sort, blah, blah, blah—I hate it. I hate listening to all these old farts talk about the past. Is there one square foot of Runnymede that isn’t drenched in somebody’s memories?”
Mary, not an inquiring sort of person, was surprised by her sister’s outburst. “Gee, I never thought of that.”
“A thousand invisible threads are tying me down.”
“If you don’t have something tying you down, you float off.” Mary nervously laughed.
“You have Billy and the boys.”
“Yes …I just wish we had more money.”
“That’s another thing I’m sick of: money, money, money. Ever since I can remember, Momma has worried about money. And when she had that damned old beauty salon she’d tote up the money from the cash register every single day. Remember? She’d stuff nickels in red cardboard tubes and the bills in a canvas tote and hurry to the bank. Money, money, money!”
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