Death Waits in the Dark

by Julia Buckley

  Camilla walked back to me. “Cliff is here. He had some questions for me, and then he and Sam got to talking.”

  “Sam is so restless. He was supposed to be lying in here with me. He didn’t get much sleep while I was in the hospital. You probably didn’t, either.” I glanced in the mirror over my dresser and briefly caught her eye, but then she moved briskly away.

  “I’m all caught up on rest. I don’t know about Sam. I agree with you; he is a bit of a restless soul. You’ll have to adapt to that, Lena.”

  “Or put him in a cage,” I said. My voice sounded wistful, and Camilla looked surprised. Then she patted my arm.

  “Shall we join them downstairs?”

  “Yes—not to sound like a teenager, but do I look all right?”

  “You look lovely. A little bit of bed hair. Let me find a comb.” She located one on my dresser and did a quick styling of my hair.

  “I feel kind of grungy,” I said. “I’d love to take a proper shower.”

  “Tomorrow morning you can do just that. Sam Googled information about how to keep a cast dry. He has all sorts of ideas involving plastic bags and duct tape.”

  “Sounds great. Okay, I’m ready.”

  Camilla and I moved carefully down the stairs, our eyes on the dogs who waited below. I could still hear Sam and Cliff talking, but I hadn’t yet made out the words. Sam’s voice was raised slightly. I thought I heard him say, “I’ll do it, Cliff, if I have to,” and then we were at the foot of the stairs and turning the corner, and both men, surprised by our entrance into the hallway where they stood, affected a casual air.

  “Hey!” Sam said, coming forward to kiss my cheek. “You look terrific.”

  “Thanks. Hi, Cliff,” I said. He was wearing his Blue Lake police attire of khaki pants and blue polo with the PD insignia. “Are you just getting off work?”

  “No. Going on duty in about an hour, but I wanted to come by and talk to Sam about this and that. And I had a couple of things to ask Camilla.”

  “No questions to ask the other victim?” I asked lightly. Clearly, I was being left out of the loop about something.

  “Not just now,” he said. “But I do need to get going. I’m heading to Sam’s to pick up something he has for me.”

  “Oh, let me go, too!” The words burst out of me and I realized just how claustrophobic I felt. Cliff and Sam looked at me with blank expressions.

  “Go where?” Sam asked.

  “To your house. Just a short walk. I feel like I need fresh air. It’s been days since I could just go outside and breathe.”

  My three caretakers exchanged a concerned glance, and I groaned. “Oh, come on! I’d be walking between an armed police officer and a very protective boyfriend. And going approximately, what—fifty yards?—to Sam’s driveway.”

  Cliff studied my face for a minute, then nodded. “Of course, you want fresh air. It’s pretty nice out right now, too. Sure, come along, kiddo. Sam and I will flank you like mighty pillars.” He leaned toward me, projecting his “bigness” by puffing out his chest and thrusting his arms out from his sides.

  I laughed, but I noted that Camilla looked unhappy. “Bring her right back, Sam.”

  “I will.” Sam put an arm around Camilla’s shoulders and said, “I promise.”

  “Oh, wait,” I said. “Who will guard Camilla?”

  Camilla looked surprised. “Adam has returned, dear. You were asleep for a couple of hours. He’s in the sunroom, looking through those photo albums.”

  “Oh. All right, then. Sam and I will help him when we come back.”

  “He’ll be grateful, I’m sure.”

  Soon enough we were in the driveway and I was taking deep breaths of Blue Lake air. The men marched on either side of me like affable jailers. Cliff seemed more relaxed than Sam did, but I noticed that Cliff’s eyes, even while he bantered with me, were always scanning the landscape.

  “Did Sam tell you what I said about Luke Kelly?” I said, poking Cliff’s arm.

  “Yup. He’s on the list, as of now.”

  “What more have you and Doug learned?”

  “Not much. Still interviewing people.” He peered down at me. “We’ve got this, Lena.”

  “I know.” But, in the past, they had been more willing to talk to me. Now, because I had been broken, I was being left out. I understood the protective impulse, but I didn’t plan to put up with it for long. We reached the end of the long driveway and turned onto the rocky road that led to Sam’s house. “I certainly have much more appreciation of what poor Jake went through,” I said.

  “Jake? Oh, that reporter friend of Sam’s?” Cliff said.

  “Yes. He broke his leg, very badly, back in winter. I saw it happen; it was . . .”

  “Lena! Are you okay?”

  They were both bracing me; I had nearly collapsed right there on the ground. The memory of Jake’s horribly twisted leg, and his groans of pain, had suddenly overwhelmed me. “I think I almost fainted,” I said, going for a joking tone. “I guess this isn’t the time to focus on gory images.”

  The men exchanged a glance over my head. “The doctor said this might happen,” Sam said, trying to be gentle but also sounding a bit accusing. “This isn’t just a reaction to Jake’s injury, it’s a reaction to your own.”

  “Great. I’m insane now, is what you’re saying.”

  Cliff laughed out loud. “You’re not insane. And I think you’re right—you needed this fresh air. Do you think you can make it to Sam’s without breaking, little teacup?”

  I punched him with my good hand and felt much better. Cliff rumbled out a laugh and even Sam was smiling broadly when we all paused, arrested by a strange sound.

  “What is that?” I said. “Is that—it sounds like a cat.” It was, in fact, a tiny mewing, loud but somehow frail. I looked along the edge of the pebbled road, where summer grasses and wildflowers edged the path. I remembered that, when Sam had driven me home, I had seen something furry that wasn’t quite the color of a squirrel or a chipmunk . . . Finally I spotted a tiny yellow ball, and I lunged in. It was a kitten, no more than seven or eight weeks old, mewing furiously at us. “Oh my goodness!” I said, scooping him up. “Sam, hold him! I can’t cuddle him with one hand.”

  Sam took the tiny cat, who was already purring madly. It nestled immediately against Sam’s chest and closed its eyes, which made Sam laugh. “What a cute little guy! Now, where could he have come from? He’s too little to have traveled far on his own.”

  Cliff pointed down the bluff. “People dump them. Someone could have driven down Wentworth, stopped at the bluff road, and just tossed him in the shrubbery. He looks pretty hungry.”

  We walked the final steps to Sam’s door. Sam handed Cliff his key so that he wouldn’t have to dislodge the little cat. “Poor guy. I guess I needed a pet at this place, right, Lena?”

  “Oh yes! I think that would be wonderful. What would you name him?”

  Sam lifted the kitten to look into its tiny face. The ball of fluff seemed indignant at losing his spot against Sam’s chest, and he let out a fierce (but cute) meow. Sam laughed. “Well, I see that he is a boy. I’m thinking this is Geronimo.”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  Sam seemed to be warming to the idea of a pet. “I even have some kitty litter left over from last winter. I used it to create traction for my car in the snow.”

  “And you have a box here from the mailman. You can cut it down and create a makeshift litter box until you’re able to go out and get one.”

  We walked into his main hall and turned into his big and beautiful kitchen. Sam set Geronimo on the tiled center island and the kitten, now the focus of attention, chose to become casual. He lifted a paw and began to lick it. He was truly lovely, with marmalade-colored fur and pale cream–colored stripes. His face was tiny and sweet, but I could see that Geronimo wo
uld grow into his noble looks. “I have one concern,” I said to the men who looked more like boys as they played with the cat.

  “What’s that?” Sam asked, poking Geronimo in his belly.

  “If someone dumped him, wouldn’t it be more likely that they were dumping a litter? Geronimo was right by that big, hollow log. What if—?”

  Cliff had already jogged down the hall; I heard him slam out of the door. Sam clearly wanted to join him. “Go,” I said, laughing. “Find them, if they’re out there. I’ll watch the baby.”

  Sam kissed me and followed his brother. I took my phone from my pocket and dialed Isabelle, who had programmed herself into it at the hospital.

  “Elle? Is that you?” said her bright voice.

  “It is. Hey, are you working right now?”

  “Nope. Just looked at an apartment. I think it’s a keeper!”

  “That’s great! Would you consider making a quick house call? Sam found a stray and I want to make sure it’s okay. And if you happen to have any kitten chow in your vet-mobile, can you bring some along?”

  She laughed. “I don’t, but I can stop at that little store on Wentworth and get some. Give me directions, I can be there in ten or fifteen minutes, depending on where you are.”

  I thanked her and told her how to get to Sam’s place. Geronimo had started to investigate the edges of the island and I feared he would jump, so I scooped him up and set him on the floor. “Thanks, Belle. See you soon.”

  I found a little bowl in Sam’s cabinet and filled it with water, which I put in front of Geronimo. He took some dainty sips, his pink tongue darting. I heard shouting outside, then laughter, then more shouting. I wasn’t sure what this meant. I studied Geronimo’s little face, now drooping with a water beard. “Do you have a family?” I asked him.

  His green eyes told me nothing, but moments later Sam and Cliff did. They marched in, laughing and euphoric, holding three more kittens: two gray and one black with a white patch over one eye and a scarf of white fur around his neck, along with four white paws. “We’re pretty sure we got them all,” Sam said. “These guys were sticking close together. We think Geronimo was their scout.”

  They set the other kittens on the floor by Geronimo, and the four had a reunion in the form of sniffing and swatting. “I’d better make that litter box,” Sam said, jogging away. He called over his shoulder, “I do not want four cats, Cliff. You’re taking two.”

  Cliff laughed. “Fine with me. I like cats. Since Sam probably wants the one he named, I get first dibs on these other ones.” He did a quick examination. “All male except the black one. They’re pretty handsome little things.”

  “They’re adorable! Who would dump these sweethearts in the woods?”

  We played with them until Sam returned. Cliff said, “I’m going to take these guys.” He held up the two gray cats, who dangled with placid expressions. “Meet Jeeves and Wooster.”

  Sam and I laughed. “Great names,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were so literary, Cliff.”

  “I’m a man of many distinctions,” he said as we petted the soft fur of our new friends. Sam finally scooped them up and showed them all the litter box. “You’ll have to keep them a few days,” Cliff said. “I won’t have my place set up for a while. I can hit the pet store tomorrow morning—let me know what you need.”

  “Meanwhile, I have to feed them,” Sam said.

  There was a rapping at his front door. “Problem solved,” I said. “I asked a vet friend to come and take a peek at them.”

  “A vet friend?” Sam asked blankly. “Do you mean old Arnie Pendragon?”

  “Hang on,” I said. I jogged to the door and admitted Isabelle, who still looked fresh and lovely in her white linen pants. She held a bag of kitten food in the crook of her arm. “Hi, Belle. Come in. I have lots of introductions to make.”

  We moved into the kitchen, where Sam and Cliff both looked quite surprised to see my tall, pretty friend. “Guys? This is Isabelle. Remember I mentioned her to you, the day you put in the air conditioners?” That seemed like a long time ago, somehow. “She just got hired at the Blue Lake Animal Center. She has very kindly agreed to take a look at these kittens and make sure they’re okay. And she brought food.”

  Sam moved forward first and shook her hand. “So nice to meet you! And thanks so much for bringing food. I’ll find a bowl.” He went to his shelves and began rummaging around.

  “Nice to meet you, too, Sam,” said Isabelle, setting the food bag on the island.

  I pointed at Sam’s brother. “This is Cliff Blake.”

  Isabelle shook his hand. “Hey, Cliff.”

  “Welcome to Blue Lake. Congratulations on your new job,” Cliff said, with his charming smile. I remembered him smiling at me in a similar way when I met him for the first time in Camilla’s driveway.

  “Thank you!” Because she was Isabelle, she was already picking up kittens and looking totally at ease in Sam’s kitchen. “Well, these guys couldn’t be more adorable.” She set Geronimo on the island and expertly examined his ears and eyes. “No mites,” she said. “These are lovely pink ears.”

  Sam returned with a couple of small bowls. He opened the bag of kitten food, poured it into the bowls, and set them on the ground. The three kittens on the floor were immediately drawn to the scent and tripped over each other in their eagerness to eat. Geronimo started to squirm, and Isabelle laughed. “Okay, join the party,” she said, putting him on the floor, where he wiggled until he got a spot at one of the bowls with his sister.

  Isabelle grinned. “This town has the most amazing animals. I’ll get to those other three in a minute. The orange guy looks great. Nice teeth, clean ears. He doesn’t have fleas, which tells me he hasn’t been outside for too long. You said he’s a stray?”

  “We think they might have been dumped at the edge of the road there,” Cliff said, pointing toward Wentworth Street.

  “Well, weren’t they lucky? Stroll up a rocky path and find a place in the castle,” she said. “This is a gorgeous house.”

  “Thanks,” Sam said. “How do you and Lena know each other again?”

  “High school buddies,” Isabelle said. “Newly reunited in the unlikely location of Blue Lake, Indiana.”

  Cliff laughed. “It has that feeling, doesn’t it? I felt like I was walking into Brigadoon.”

  She studied him. “You’re not a townie?”

  “No—from Saint Louis, originally.”

  “I went to college at SLU!”

  Cliff leaned toward her. “I lived not far from campus.”

  Sam, his eyes elsewhere, laughed and pointed at the floor. “Look at these cats.”

  Two of them had climbed inside the nearly empty bowls and were on their way to falling asleep. Isabelle grinned. “Don’t move them. I’ll examine them on the floor.” She got down on her knees. “Oh, you are so cute!” she said. I stole a glance at Cliff, who hadn’t looked at anyone but Isabelle since she had walked in the room.

  Isabelle stood up. “Bring them to the center in a couple days, Sam, and we’ll do the full exam. But I don’t see anything to worry about right now. If you notice anything strange about their poop, like an unusually bad smell, then we can check for worms, but these guys seem healthy to me. Guys and one gal, I mean.” She picked up the little black kitten with one white eye, a white bib, and four dainty white paws. “You are sweet,” she said, kissing the little kitty face.

  “I’m taking the two gray ones,” Cliff said.

  “That’s great. I’m so happy you guys are adopting them. Good for you!” Isabelle clapped a congratulatory hand on Cliff’s arm, then studied the logo on his shirt. “Are you a cop?” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I was toying with calling you guys,” she said. “I got so frustrated on the way over here. Some drivers just shouldn’t be on the road.”
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  “How’s that?” Cliff asked. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out to glance at it.

  The black kitten had climbed up to the vicinity of Isabelle’s bosom and curled into a fluffy ball, purring madly. Isabelle supported her with one gentle hand. “There was this guy in front of me, driving too slowly, with a car that obviously wasn’t roadworthy. It was totally out of alignment; he could barely pilot it down the road.” She was laughing as she said it, so she didn’t immediately notice the tension in the room.

  Sam moved closer to her. “Where was the damage? On the front?”

  She looked up from her study of the kitten. “What? Oh—I mean, it must have been. Yes, it was, because when I passed I turned to glare, but got distracted by the smooshed front end. God knows why they were driving that thing at all. Have it towed, I say.”

  Cliff grew official; he seemed to grow taller as he questioned Isabelle. “Did you catch a license number? Or part of one?”

  She shrugged. “That’s why I was tempted to call. They had no plate at all! Isn’t that illegal?”

  “What color was the car?”

  “Blue. A pale blue.”

  “Make? Model?” he asked.

  She hesitated, looking at me. “I—don’t notice stuff like that.”

  “Neither do I,” I said.

  Cliff was dialing his phone with one hand and digging for his keys with the other. “Where were you? Was this on Green Glass Highway? How long ago?”

  Isabelle finally realized that the driver might have been more than just an annoying motorist. “Oh—my God. It was maybe ten minutes ago. Yes, Green Glass Highway, right near that billboard about the guy who sells fireworks. Mad Mike. Yes, that’s where I passed him.”

  Cliff was moving toward the door. He turned back and beamed an intense gaze at Isabelle. “Did you get a look at the driver?”

  She shrugged and sent me an apologetic glance. “No—just—I noticed gray hair. That’s all.”

  Cliff nodded and said, “I’ll be in touch,” as he ran down the hall. I heard him calling the station. “Karla, put out an all-points bulletin . . .” And then he was gone.