Night Wind

by Mertz, Stephen

  A woman close to the front called up irritably, "How can an insane murderer elude the police in a town this size? We all know each other!"

  Various voices were raised in agreement.

  The Chief made a placating gesture. "We're doing the best we can, folks. In the meantime, please exercise extreme caution in whatever you do and wherever you go, especially at night. It's safe during the daytime, seems like, but after dark parents should know where their children are and you ladies shouldn't go out alone until this is cleared up. And don't let anyone you don't know into your house. Call us immediately if you see the slightest thing that looks out of the ordinary. Don't you worry, folks, we'll get through this if we stick together. Now, I'd like to bring on Mrs. Lufkin, the head of this Committee, who has a few things she'd like to say."

  Robin looked around for a vacant seat and found one next to Connie Silva. Her spirits lifted as she and Connie exchanged smiled greetings, their attention remaining centered on the podium where Mrs. Lufkin prepared to speak.

  Robin's landlady looked almost munchkin-size following, as she did, the heavy-set Chief of Police. Mrs. Lufkin cleared her throat.

  "I just want to say that this town has plenty to deal with and that we'd better start doing a better job of dealing with it than we have been." Her voice was reedy, but underlying the words was the fiber of a reed strong enough to bend and survive countless storms, some worse than this one, over the course of her seventy-plus years. "There's plenty to be concerned about," she went on. "The fear, not knowing who to trust—but we must work together to deal with this. Otherwise, it will only get worse. We must openly discuss our fears with one another. They shouldn't be swept under the rug. I've spoken with Reverend Kroeger and we're going to establish a support group. An office will be set up at the Town Hall and beginning next Monday, trained people from Las Cruces will come to counsel adults and children who feel they're having trouble coping. The important thing is that we remain friends and neighbors to each other. We've weathered tough times before, and we'll weather these. Thank you."

  This brought a round of applause, and Robin and Connie joined in. Robin tried to ignore a sense that, beneath the strength she'd heard in Mrs. Lufkin's words, she'd also had to lean closer, like others she observed in the audience, to hear the older woman. Mrs. Lufkin's speaking voice sounded weaker than Robin remembered.

  As Mrs. Lufkin returned to her chair, Connie leaned closer to Robin. "You're renting from Mrs. Lufkin, aren't you?"

  "That's right. She's quite a woman, isn't she? She certainly drew these people together and inspired them."

  "Mrs. Lufkin is very special. I've known her since I was a little girl and most of the people here in town have had dealings with her or are her friends, or both. Everyone loves her. She's done a lot of good things for Devil Creek over the years."

  Next up to the podium was Reverend Kroeger of the Community Presbyterian Church, a mild-mannered, middle-aged gentleman of slight build, nearing sixty, with a thinning thatch of white hair. Robin surmised that many of those present today probably were members of the Reverend's flock.

  "My friends, Mrs. Lufkin is quite right. After the killer himself, the biggest threat to our community is fear. We must not let this get out of hand. Whenever there's a big unknown out there, fear can escalate to an alarming point."

  Robin found herself only half-listening to the preacher. She had been raised in the Protestant faith. She considered herself a spiritual person, though not necessarily a religious one. She did, however, have a long-standing interest in the religions of the world. Her readings had led her to the conclusion that all religions basically addressed the same three fundamental human needs: the need to deal with the fact of mortality; the need for a moral code by which people can coexist in a society; and the need to personally relate to the majesty of a world which is so obviously greater than any individual.

  But, rather than pledge her faith to a single religion, instead Robin had addressed these needs within herself by drawing on common threads of wisdom she'd found throughout her wide-ranged reading. She considered it her responsibility to pass on the wisdom thus gained to Paul mainly by example. She was not particularly partial toward getting a sore tail bone from sitting and listening to a man of the cloth drone on when she could be at home sleeping in, especially this Saturday morning.

  Realizing that her mind was wandering during the Reverend Kroeger's remarks, at one point she happened to glance along the row of seats across the aisle from her. She spotted Mike Landware sitting there, three chairs in. Their eyes met and they exchanged neighborly smiles and short nods.

  The Reverend was saying, "Fear has a way of feeding on itself. Fear eats away at the moral fiber of a community from deep within before anyone knows what's happening. Fear breeds suspicion. Suspicion breeds hate and hate turns neighbor against neighbor, family against family, friend against friend. We must not allow that to happen in our town."

  He went on to enumerate steps that the Committee had implemented. There would be a community barbecue the following afternoon. Plans were under way for teen activities. In addition, the high school weight room would be open to the community three nights per week.

  Reverend Kroeger was the final speaker. With the program completed, the audience rose and some impromptu conversations began. Robin was glad it was over.

  Next to her, Connie stood to leave, her usual cheery smile brightening her face. "See you Monday. Time for me to head home."

  "Don't be in such a hurry." Robin decided that this would be a good time to get to know Connie better outside the classroom. "Why not follow me over to my place? I baked a pie last night and if we're lucky, Paul and his friend left us a couple of pieces. What do you say?"

  "Gosh, Robin, I'd really like to. Maybe one day next week after school, okay? My kids will be in daycare then. Today I've got a sitter watching them and you wouldn't believe the prices they charge."

  "Oh yes I would. Well, let's do it soon. And bring your kids along."

  "Sounds great. See you."

  "See you Monday."

  As Connie moved toward the exit, Robin next caught sight of Mike conversing with the man who owned the hardware store. On the stage, Mrs. Lufkin was saying goodbye to Reverend Kroeger. As Mrs. Lufkin stepped down from the slightly raised stage, Robin observed something tentative about her movements. The elderly woman placed a foot gingerly on each step, not at all the spry, confident old-timer Robin recalled. She intercepted her near the stage. "Mrs. Lufkin, are you feeling all right?"

  The woman replied with a wan smile. "Bless you for asking. Matter of fact, I did wake up this morning not quite feeling myself. It's nothing for a soul to fret about, though. I'm quite all right, thank you."

  "Would you like me to drive you home?"

  "Heavens no. I'm certainly well enough to drive. But you're a dear to make the offer." She rested her fingertips, feather-light, on Robin's arms. "How are you and Paul doing in your new home?"

  "Oh, fine, fine."

  A semblance of her former sharpness shone in Mrs. Lufkin's eyes. "There's something, isn't there, dear? I can tell. Now tell me. What is it?"

  "It's nothing really. I, uh, was going to ask you about the history of the house. That can wait until you're feeling better."

  "What is it you wanted to know?"

  "Well . . . I want you to understand that it doesn't change my mind about the house. Paul and I are both very happy there. We like it a lot."

  "I'm glad to hear that."

  "It's just that, well, Paul told me something that he'd heard. I was curious to know what you could tell me about it. Do you mind if I ask how long you've owned that house?"

  "I've owned it since it was built. What did Paul tell you?"

  "That there was a murder and a suicide there. In the kitchen. One of Paul's friends told him about it at school."

  This brought a weak smile. "Paul's friend is pulling your son's leg and yours, my dear. Nothing like that ever happened in that ho
use."

  "He said it was a soldier from the Korean War. The man shot his wife, then killed himself."

  "Well, there you are, you see. The house was built in 1961, years after the Korean War."

  At that moment, Mike walked over.

  "Hello, ladies. Uh, Mrs. Lufkin, are you feeling all right?"

  "Lord, I must be a sight. Robin just asked me that same question. I'd better get home and fix myself a cup of tea and rest for a spell."

  The three of them strolled together out to the parking lot.

  "Why don't you let me follow you home?" Mike offered. "That will ensure that you get there safe and sound."

  Mrs. Lufkin emitted what could only be described as a lady-like harrumph as they reached her Datsun. "Robin has already volunteered to nursemaid me, Mike. I don't much cotton to being fussed over."

  Robin said, "All right then, we won't fuss over you." A glance passed between her and Mike, a private sharing of bemused affection for this woman. "But I will stop in on you later this afternoon, if you don't mind, to see how you're doing."

  "I'll be doing fine," Mrs. Lufkin said tartly, "but company is always welcome. You drop in any time." She paused before opening the door of her pickup truck. Her hand resting on the door handle, she looked up at the hazy sky that had turned a darker shade of gray. Her eyes traveled to a bank of ominous clouds hugging the craggy mountain peaks that overlooked the town. "If I didn't know better," she said in a faraway voice, "I'd swear those were snow clouds moving in. But it's way too early for snow."

  Then she was in the pickup cab. She switched on the engine.

  Mike was observing her closely. "Are you really sure you feel well enough to drive home?"

  "I'm fine. Really. I'm just feeling . . . I don't know." The older woman raised fingertips to massage her temples. "I do feel . . . tingly. A tad feverish. You're both dear souls for caring. I feel lucky to know both of you. 'Bye now."

  She drove off, leaving Robin and Mike standing side by side, watching the Datsun turn slowly onto the highway.

  "I'm glad you'll be checking in on her," Mike said. "She's a tough old bird, but maybe not as tough as we'd like to think."

  "Don't let her catch you saying that."

  "I won't. How's Paul?"

  "My son and I are about to have a little conversation about not believing everything you hear."

  "From your tone, I'd say Paul's in the dog house."

  "It's nothing serious, but he and I are going to have a talk. One of those parent-child issues that comes up from time to time. He was disappointed when he heard that we weren't going on that hike because of this meeting. I told him we could do it next weekend, if you're free then."

  He grinned. "For you two, I'll make myself free." He paused, and lowered his eyes in a way that she found appealing. He swallowed audibly, and his eyes met hers again and said, "I've, uh, found myself thinking about you quite a bit, Robin."

  She'd known he was going to say something like that. A part of her wanted him to say something like that. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite gotten around to figuring out what she would say if this occasion arose.

  She began by saying, "Mike—" and that was it. Further words wouldn't come, and she became acutely embarrassed, and tried not to let it show.

  "I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he said quickly, lowering his voice for her ears alone, "and I don't want you to get the wrong idea. But, well, uh, I just wanted you to know. You've been on my mind since our barbecue." The corners of his mouth crinkled self-consciously. "I guess you've been on my mind some every day since Mrs. Lufkin introduced us." He drew himself straight up and met her gaze straight on. "There, I've said it. Hope you don't mind."

  "I don't know if I should be saying this," she found herself saying, "but you've been on my mind, too. There's a nice comfort zone between us, Mike. I like you very much."

  He chuckled, a sound she found pleasant. "Then would I spoil things if I suggested—"

  And the old fear factor kicked in, making her say with a smile and a touch to his arm with her fingertips, "You might. For now, let's leave well enough alone, and let things flow."

  The smile and the touch had their effect, and he was gallant enough to take the rebuff gracefully. "Right. Well, uh, that's more than I was hoping for, if you want to know the truth, so I'll take it."

  She couldn't help chuckling. "Mike, you're fun. And funny. Thanks for making me smile. I think I need that more than anything at this point in my life."

  "You make the world a prettier place when you smile, if I may be permitted to say so," Mike smiled with exaggerated courtliness. "Okay. Well then. Right now I'd best get over to the paper and write up this meeting."

  "You mean this conversation we're having right now?" she chided.

  "I see a twinkle in those eyes," he said. "You know what I mean. I have a feeling you might read me better than I read myself. Are you one of those women, Robin?"

  "Depends on the man."

  "Good answer. Talk to you soon."

  "Good," she heard herself say.

  He walked away, and she watched him walk away, liking what she saw, the way he moved. She felt drawn to this intelligent, introverted, creative neighbor of hers, and it had been fun to flirt. But she was wondering if she would regret it. With Jeff's phone calls, her SOB of an ex-husband had reestablished himself in her life in a way that was ugly and mean, and made her feel unclean. Given that, maybe it was too soon for her to harbor even the imaginings of romantic feelings for anyone no matter how attractive and available.

  She walked to her car. The sky was growing more overcast by the minute. The temperature hadn't dropped much. It still felt in the mid-seventies. But observing where the clouds were darkest as they moved in, as they continued building behind the mountains, Robin decided that, despite what the calendar and the warm recent temperatures indicated, Mrs. Lufkin was right.

  They did look like snow clouds.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Charlie Flagg stopped by the Clarion office while Mike was putting the finishing touches on his article. There were dark purple pouches under Charlie's eyes. The eyes were bleary as if from lack of sleep or intoxication, or both. His red beard was unbrushed, his hair tangled and oily. His clothes looked as if they'd been slept in. He stayed for less than a minute, acknowledging Mike's presence only with a gruff grumble as he came in. Avoiding eye contact, Charlie went directly to his desk where he stood, his back to Mike, just long enough to glance through the morning's mail.

  Initially, Charlie had seemed to Mike to be your average, friendly, good old country-boy type. Mike hadn't been able to place Charlie's accent exactly. It was Midwestern, not southwestern, he could tell that much. But the West was full of people who had moved from somewhere else. Charlie's manner at first had been amiable, pleasant. But during the course of the week, he'd become more and more as he appeared today: distant, introverted, and preoccupied. Much like everyone else in town, Mike reminded himself.

  On his way out the door, Charlie finally spoke. "About those Indians, were you going out to check up on old Gray Wolf and that grandson of his today?"

  "Matter of fact I was going to drive over there this afternoon."

  "Great." Charlie paused in the doorway. "Uh, look, Mike. Sorry if I've been out of sorts around here lately."

  "Forget it. This is some bad stuff that's going on around here. Everyone's been thrown off by it."

  Charlie nodded. "Think I'll go home and get drunk. Do the same if you want. The hell with following up on those Indians. The hell with everything."

  "Thanks for the offer, boss. Think I'll stay on the job." He was talking to the door that Charlie had already slammed shut on his way out.

  When Mike left the newspaper office ten minutes later, there was a subtle bite to the wind coming down off the mountains, a nip that penetrated the light shirt he was wearing. He decided to stop home and change into something more suited to the changing weather before driving out to see Gray Wolf and
Joe Youngfeather. At home he changed into a flannel shirt and blue jeans and decided, as long as he was there, to fix himself a quick ham sandwich. He washed it down with a Pepsi, grabbed a denim jacket, and was out of the house and halfway to his Jeep when he heard raised voices from the patio of the house next door.

  He heard Robin saying testily, "I don't care if your friend Jared was bored playing video games. With everything that's been happening, I wouldn't have gone to that stupid meeting if I'd thought you were going to be here alone."

  "Mom, I can't help it if Jared wanted to go home." Paul's response was plaintive and defensive.

  "The point is, Paul, we'd agreed that you wouldn't be here alone, that you'd be with your friend. I get home and you're here alone."

  "Aw, Mom, you're just mad because I told you what Jared said about those people being killed here. I thought it was true when I told you."

  "I'd give that boy a piece of my mind if he was here. Filling our heads with that talk!"

  "Maybe that's why he went home before you got here."

  "Don't you get sassy with me, young man. I think you'd better go to your room and stay there for awhile."

  "Aw, Mom—"

  "Go to your room. Right now."

  Pretending not to overhear any of this, Mike noted out of the corner of his eye that Paul obediently went into the house. Sliding his key into the ignition, Mike next realized that Robin had seen him. She was walking in his direction.

  She wore the same loose-fitting T-shirt and jeans as at the assembly, and she looked as good to him now as she had that morning. That was to say that even in a T and jeans, this woman was a knockout. The wind played attractively with her chestnut hair. He was suddenly very glad that he had never touched the whiskey bottle stored in his kitchen cabinet. A woman like this would have no use for a drunk. There was something about her that made him feel good, made him feel things he hadn't felt for another woman . . . since Carol.