by Vicki Delany
As if on cue a police car drove slowly past once again. This time it stopped and two officers, one male and one female, got out. They both shifted their hips and adjusted their gun belts as they crossed the street.
“I gotta go now. I’ll be needed back inside.” The woman slipped around the back of the building and was swallowed up by the darkness.
Elaine let out a long breath as they watched her go. “Well that was a real treat. I feel like an extra in a seedy private eye movie. The dumb blond who hasn’t a clue what is going on. Not a hard part to play. Are you going to tell me what all that was about?”
“Let’s go home-I’ll tell you on the way.” Joanna led them out of the alley. “I’ll pay you for the gloves and the hundred dollars.”
“Forget it,” Elaine said. “I’ll consider it the cost of admission. It seems to me that offering bribes must have been a lot easier in the days before debit cards, when people actually carried cash. What might she have wanted off me if it was summer? My sandals, my sports bra, maybe?”
Joanna laughed and linked her arm through her friend’s. “Thanks for being here with me.”
They crossed the street, but in the winter darkness Joanna did not recognize the shrouded shape of Nancy Miller scurrying down the street and into the bar.
She was well familiar with teenaged girls and their habits so it was not until late the following afternoon that Joanna asked Elaine to entertain herself for a while, and drove the short distance to Maude’s house. Maude was out doing the weekly grocery shopping, and Tiffany was just getting up. Rocky greeted Joanna with much enthusiasm. Tiffany was considerably more subdued.
“What do you want?” The girl stood in the doorway still wearing her pajamas, hair tousled and eyes heavy with sleep. “My grandma’s not home now. Come back later.”
Tiffany started to close the door but Joanna pulled it back. “I would like to talk to you, if you have a few moments.”
The teenager shrugged, but stepped out of the way. “If you want, I’m not doing anything else right now.”
Rocky ran the length of the living room to greet the visitor, tail wagging in joy. Tiffany plopped into a chair and sat sideways, her knees hooked over the arm. She glared at Joanna. “So talk,” she said.
It was difficult to find a place to begin; Joanna did not want to betray Tiffany’s friend’s confidence. “I want to talk to you about the breakin at my cabin. I have a feeling that you weren’t responsible. Am I right?
Tiffany looked up, her eyes glimmered with interest, but she remained silent.
Joanna sat down opposite Tiffany and held out her hands. “I would like us to be friends, really I would. But we have to talk about this.”
Rocky ran up to Tiffany, a tennis ball clutched firmly in his massive jaws. He dropped the ball at her feet and scooted away, glancing over his shoulder as he ran. She picked up the ball and tossed it against the far wall, the dog leapt after it as it bounced and quickly snatched it up.
“Don’t tell my grandma,” Tiffany said. Rocky dropped the ball at her feet and danced back to await another throw. The girl scooped it up and feigned a throwing action. “She doesn’t want me and Rocky playing ball in the house.”
Every part of the big dog shivered with excitement as he awaited the throw, his tail wagged with delight and his strange blue eyes gleamed. Tiffany let go of the precious object. It sailed over Rocky’s head to bounce off the fireplace wall. Long toenails scrambled for purchase on the wooden floor as the dog took off in pursuit of the toy.
He attempted to stuff his bulk under the antique piecrust telephone table in pursuit of the ball. Joanna opened her mouth to reprimand Tiffany for giving the dog the chance to wreck the delicate table, then cursed herself for a fool and sat silently as they both watched the dog’s antics. His ample rear stuck up in the air and his back legs were stretched almost flat as he wiggled his muzzle into the furthest reaches of the little table in search of the prize. That the girl would ask her to keep a confidence, not to tell Maude about a secret game of catch with the family dog, overwhelmed her with a tidal wave of emotion. Tiffany was reaching out, trying to make an ally of Joanna, and almost treating the older woman as a friend. One wrong word now would spoil everything. “I won’t tell,” she said. “Would you like to come back to my computer lessons and some games as well?”
Rocky secured the ball and managed to get out from under the table without breaking anything. He proudly carried his prize over to Tiffany. She wrenched the ball out of his massive jaws and wiped the animal’s saliva onto her pajama pants. For the first time that day she looked into Joanna’s eyes.
“Why do you want me back? Why do you all of a sudden think that I didn’t break into your cabin? You were pretty quick to accuse me in the first place.” She tossed the ball from one hand to another, Rocky whimpered in frustration waiting for another chance to play.
“I had a chance to think about it. I have some experience with teenagers, you know. When I thought about it carefully, I realized that you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
Tiffany shrugged, and rolled the tennis ball across the room. Rocky scrambled after it. “I’m going to make myself something to eat. I’m hungry.” She swung her legs off the chair onto the floor and stood up. “You want something?”
“A cup of tea would be nice, if you’re making.” Joanna followed Tiffany into the kitchen. Like the rest of Maude’s home the kitchen was immaculate. The appliances were old, the Formica table and vinyl chairs dated from the sixties, maybe even earlier, but everything was spotless. Linoleum designed to look like brick was worn until the pattern had almost disappeared in some places, but it shone as if it had been laid yesterday. Joanna would have happily eaten off the floor. Yellow tieback curtains hung over the kitchen sink and a crisp row of African Violets in full bloom lined the windowsill.
Tiffany pulled strawberry jam in a mason jar and margarine and homemade bread out of the fridge. She sliced the bread into thick slabs, popped them into the toaster and filled the kettle with water and placed it onto the stovetop to boil.
Joanna sat down at the kitchen table and watched the girl work; her movements were compact and organized. She methodically laid out tea things on a tray and immediately wiped up a few breadcrumbs that had fallen off the loaf.
“Your grandma keeps such a clean house. I wish I were more like her. I have never been able to get myself organized.”
Tiffany shrugged and spread margarine onto her toast.
Joanna cursed herself again. Babbling on about the tidiness of one’s kitchen is not the best conversational gambit with a rebellious teenager. Tiffany’s invitation to breakfast was a breakthrough, a sign that the girl wanted to talk. She was desperately afraid of blowing it, of forcing Tiffany back into her shell of indifference.
Rocky brought the ball into the kitchen and dropped it at Tiffany’s feet. Noticing that the preparation of food was underway he forgot the game immediately.
“You remind me a lot of my youngest daughter, Alexis,” Joanna spoke hesitantly. “She also liked to experiment with different colors, for her hair and her nails. She would have loved that purple shade of your hair. Some of the things she did. Her hair was a lovely dark blond, but she hated it.”
“Is she dead?”
Joanna was startled. “No, no she’s not dead.”
“Then why do you talk about her in the past tense? You said her hair was blond.”
Joanna had always been the most private of people, she had few friends, she rarely spoke of her emotions and she never allowed anyone too close, except for Elaine. But she wanted to confide in this confused, troubled girl. Her voice took over and she felt like a stranger standing by watching someone speak.
“She’s not dead, but sometimes, I think that she is dead to me. She lives in California now, with some sort of a cult. The day she left she told me she never wanted to see me again, and she hasn’t. I only found out where she was because, strangely enough, she sent a birthday card to he
r brother, James. Just one card, that one time. She hasn’t contacted anyone else. I have written, many times, sometimes they come back, unopened, with ‘NOT WANTED’ scribbled on the envelope, in what I think is someone else’s handwriting, but I can’t be sure. Some letters are not returned, and I hope that she reads those.”
The kettle emitted a shrill whistle as steam poured out the spout. Silently Tiffany removed it from the stove and poured the hot water into the waiting teapot. It was a traditional old brown betty, beloved of antique collectors everywhere. She slid a plate of her breakfast toast, thickly coated with homemade strawberry jam on the table in front of Joanna.
Joanna picked up the toast absentmindedly. She chewed carefully. The heavenly homemade jam might have been sawdust for all the taste she noticed. “I worry about her all the time, I feel so helpless.”
“Maybe she’s okay.” Tiffany carried the teapot to the table and poured a cup for Joanna. Unasked she added milk and several teaspoons of sugar.
“I hope that she is. But I hear all the time about these cults and what they can do-look at Waco, look at Jonestown. They have taken control of her heart and her mind, she wouldn’t even talk to her dad when he tried to see her in December.” Rocky sat on the floor beside Joanna’s chair whining for a bite of toast, tail thumping loudly. They ignored him and he whined all the louder.
“What’s so scary about these cults is that they do take control of the person. She might not even know her own mind any more. I keep asking myself why she would get involved with people like that. Why would she give up control, I mean. I tried to bring up my kids to be strong and independent. Where did I go wrong?” Joanna sipped her hot, sweet tea as silent tears welled in her eyes.
“What was she like before she went away?” Tiffany asked. “You said she was like me. Was she?”
Joanna smiled through her tears. “Oh, yes. Very much like you. Not just the hair and the clothes and all the external things. But the attitude, the personality, the hostility, the anger. You have a lot to be angry about, your father and your mother deserted you, I can imagine how tough that must be, but your grandma loves you very much, Tiffany, I can see that so clearly. Please don’t break her heart the way that my daughter broke mine.”
“I don’t want to hurt my grandma.” Tiffany got up from the table and put more bread into the toaster. Joanna had eaten all of hers. Rocky thumped his tail in anticipation.
Joanna wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
“Why don’t you go and see her?”
“What, see who, what do you mean?”
“See Alexis. Why don’t you go to her?” Once again Tiffany buttered and spread jam on the toast and put it on the table. Once again Joanna ate it without thinking. Tiffany tossed a piece to Rocky and sliced more bread.
“I…I couldn’t. Suppose she wouldn’t talk to me. I don’t think I could face that. I guess that’s what hurts the most, that after all those years she could turn her back on us and never want to see us again.”
“Maybe she would talk to you. I think that you were a good mother, Joanna. I wish you were my mother,” Tiffany mumbled into her chest. Joanna failed to hear. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. Some kids go wrong, you know. Not that your Alexis has gone wrong, I don’t mean that.”
Joanna smiled. “I know exactly what you mean.”
The front door slammed and woman and girl jumped, as if they had been caught doing something wrong. Rocky ran to greet Maude and Joanna and Tiffany both got to their feet.
“Goodness me,” Maude exclaimed, “company. I hope you haven’t been waiting long, Joanna. I just popped into town for a few groceries.” She plopped two bulging shopping bags down on the kitchen table with a sigh.
“Let me help you, Maude. Do you have any more groceries in the car?” Joanna said. Tiffany poked through the bags looking for treats.
“Thank you, dear, that would be very nice of you. There are just a few.” Maude sunk into the chair recently vacated. “Is that tea fresh? I would love a cup. For some reason it was so busy in the store today. I don’t know where all the people are coming from. Poor Nancy was run off her feet, her Uncle Jack didn’t show up at work this morning. She told me she tried to hawl him out of some bar last night, but he would have none of it.” As she talked Maude scratched Rocky lazily behind the ears. The dog wiggled in ecstasy.
Joanna carried in the last of the groceries. She said her good-bye’s quickly, somewhat embarrassed by her emotional display in front of Tiffany. She paused on the doorstep, fastening her coat and pulling on mittens. “See you on Friday, Tiffany. At the regular time, okay?”
Tiffany nodded and flashed a broad smile. Maude looked back and forth between them. “You mean Tiffany is going back for the computer lessons. That’s wonderful. But what brought that on?”
“It appears to have been nothing but a little misunderstanding.” Joanna returned the smile. “All sorted out now.”
She drove home full of cheer. Funny how she had hoped to get Tiffany to open up a bit, but in the end she, Joanna, was the one to do all the talking.
Chapter 27
First thing Monday morning Joanna called the North Ridge police station and explained to Staff Sergeant Reynolds all that she had learned about Tiffany’s jacket and its disappearance at the time of Luke’s murder. Reynolds listened to the details and told her that he would report her story in full to Inspector Erikson.
It was hard to settle back into routine after Elaine’s visit. Joanna wondered if she was really suited to this life of solitude that she had chosen. After the shared laughter of her friend’s visit, the isolation seemed oppressive. It was difficult to concentrate enough to settle in to work and she wandered aimlessly about the little cabin, searching for something to do. She never would have believed it possible in her past life, but she was actually getting tired of reading. She remembered all the years when her children were young, how she could imagine nothing more like heaven than to be able to read book after book to her heart’s content.
What do people do all day in heaven, anyway? Sitting around on clouds and strumming harps must get deadly boring after a while. She looked at her pile of computer games but nothing held any interest, she logged on to the Internet but her favorite sites seemed endlessly repetitive. The weather had been lovely for the weekend of Elaine’s visit, sunny and warm with temperatures hovering around freezing, but Elaine had taken the good weather back to the city with her. Temperatures plummeted and heavy snow fell for days. The radio held out no hope of anything better for the foreseeable future, just snow and more snow and ever colder, drearier days. They might even receive record-breaking accumulations, the announcer said cheerfully.
Joanna considered digging out the car and making a trip to the library, even a visit to Nancy at the grocery store and a piece of pie in the restaurant would be welcome. But she couldn’t summon up the energy to drag out the shovel once again and trudge up the hill to clear the driveway. She had better call and get someone to come and plow her out, or she would be stuck here until spring. Enough of trying to be a tough and independent countrywoman.
She slept badly, night after night, tossing and turning as the wind howled outside her window and the cabin shook to its foundations and the snow continued to fall.
The old truck rattled to a stop in front of the little five-and-dime that also served as bus depot. The day had been fair, a welcome cheerful sun glimmered on snow-packed roads and frozen farmers’ fields, holding out the promise of spring soon to come. But it was a false promise and all too quickly the sun disappeared under a blanket of fast-moving storm clouds that would bring nothing but snow and more snow and finger-freezing temperatures.
Inside the truck, no one moved. Three people stared resolutely out the front window as if by the force of their will they could wish the snow and the cold and the town and themselves far away.
The man reached under his seat and pulled out a bottle of beer, and across the w
omen to fumble in the glove compartment for a bottle opener. With a flick of his wrist the cap flew off the bottle to land among the debris at his feet. The women continued to stare straight ahead, at nothing.
The minister’s wife chose that moment to step daintily out of the five-and-dime, two paper bags filled to overflowing with party decorations tucked firmly under her arms. Her sensible black cloth coat was trimmed with gray lamb, just a touch of extravagance, and a lamb hat perched atop her tight gray curls. The man raised his hat to her as she passed the truck, the bottle of beer still clutched firmly in his hand. She lifted her chin higher and gripped her shopping bags even tighter to her chest and snorted as she stared forward and continued on her way.
He pretended not to notice. “Ain’t got all day to be sitting around here, girl. Got chores to do, get out now.”
The girl sitting between the two adults threw him a look of utter contempt, but he was still watching the retreating figure of the minister’s wife as she carefully checked the road before crossing. He missed the force of the girl’s glare but not her words. “Chores,” she snorted. “Like you’ve ever done a lick of work in your life. Drinking to do, more likely.”
He snarled and drew back his hand but for once the woman intervened. “Not now, for God’s sake. Leave her alone this one time, can’t you.” She fumbled to open her door and spilled out into the muddy street.
“Come on now, it’s almost time,” she said softly. The man lowered his hand and the girl sneered at him over her shoulder as she slipped out of the cab. She clutched her worn, cheap, cardboard suitcase to her swollen stomach and walked slowly into the grocery store to wait for the bus.
