Then the fish came up out of the water and I saw it wasn’t a fish at all, but what looked like a great big snake with the hook in its mouth. It looked me in the eye. I’ll never forget those eyes, black and blank. I was so scared, I lost grip on my rod—the really nice one that Double Al’d sold me—and it slid away like sixty. I saw my rod skim over the water, and I saw that the snake had a huge body, like a lizard, about fifteen feet long, kind of going up and down in bumps before it went under the surface. I’d guess it was about twenty feet long, all told.
I can hardly write this. I can’t seem to stop my hand from shaking.
~~~
After some twenty minutes of running my fingernail along the lines, squinting at the page, I put the journal down. Though the scene the old man had described was a dramatic one, the sheer effort of trying to decipher the wobbly letters had drained away any sense of fear.
I now had a new appreciation for Nimrod and his journal. Its arrival was downright providential, considering the setbacks Alec had recently experienced. Though he already knew about Nimrod’s sighting of the monster, surely this would give my friend a much-needed boost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Several days later, shortly after lunch, as I was meandering along the sidewalk on my way to the public library, I heard the gut-wrenching strains of an electronic rock song. The singer had a strangely metallic quality, if quality is the word I want here. Unfortunately, I could just barely make out the lyrics.
Let’s you and I get wild tonight
Wild child, wild child,
Wild child, wild child, wild child,
Don’t tell nobody . . .
I was only guessing here, but I assumed that the title of the song was “Wild Child.” The so-called music grew louder and the strangest little car I’d ever seen pulled up to the curb beside me.
“Hey, Miss Pre—I mean, Mrs. Dickensen, look what I got!”
The car was abbreviated. I mean to say, it looked like a car, but not all of one. It was a shiny red with silver trim and, from what I could see, contained two people: a large, muscular young man and a pretty blonde driver. There wasn’t room for any more.
They both smiled at me as I leaned down and peeked through the side window. I had to yell over the din. “Serry! Is this your new car?”
The girl reached forward, snapped off the music and beamed at me. “Yeah, it’s called a SmartForTwo. It uses almost no gas and my dad had them add this sick sound system. What do you think? Awesome, right?”
I nodded and smiled back. I knew what ‘sick’ meant. “Awesome, indeed. By the way, what exactly was that, um, song I just heard?”
“It’s the FilthyDirtyBlokes. They’re Australian! I love their music! So edgy! They’re giving a concert at the armory this weekend. I can’t wait!”
The young man smiled his agreement.
Something occurred to me. “Are you supposed to be driving already? You just turned sixteen, didn’t you?”
The answering laughter did my heart good. Not long ago, Serendipity Shea had been battling serious depression. While I’m not a big fan of conspicuous consumption, I was glad to see that the little car had cheered her up, at least temporarily.
“I have a learner’s permit. There’s got to be a licensed driver in the car; that’s how it works. Daddy asked Jason to ride along with me while I practice.”
Jason nodded at me. I recognized him as one of the rather shaggy, outdoorsy young clerks in Shea’s store. Some employees might be offended at being asked to do personal chores for the boss, but I could tell from his expression that this fellow had no objections whatsoever.
“How is her driving, Jason?”
He glanced over at pretty, blonde Serry and shrugged. “Not bad, ma’am. Grinds the gears a little bit and she does have kind of a lead foot.”
“Oh, you!” Serry punched Jason’s muscular shoulder playfully. “I do not.”
He made a pretense of flinching, but I could tell he was pleased.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement across the street. A small gray form was watching the traffic carefully, daintily raising a front paw in preparation for a mad dash to the other side. I’d seen Sam perform this maneuver before when the old cat lived with me. He was quite expert at it, and I’d long ago stopped worrying about him.
There was a grinding of gears and Serry’s voice piping, “I’ll show you my lead foot, Jason!” With a jerk, the little car pulled away from the curb at the same time a gray blur headed toward it.
I screamed, “Stop!”
Sam screamed, too, as only injured cats can scream, and Serry’s brakes squealed as she came to a stop in the middle of the street.
Samuel de Champlain, unmoving, lay beneath her left front wheel.
My legs folded under me, and I landed in a heap on the grass.
Jason was the first one out of the car. He came over to check on me first, and when I waved him away, ran around to the front of the ridiculous little car and knelt beside it.
“Don’t worry,” he called to Serry, “it’s only a cat.”
Serry emerged from the car, clearly shaken. “Thank goodness!”
I crawled to my feet and made my way over to the scene of the catastrophe. “He’s not only a cat!” I said with a sob. “It’s my—I mean, it’s Lily Burns’s cat! He used to be my mother’s cat. Oh, Sam!”
I knelt beside the car’s wheel and touched the soft fur of his paw. Some blood was seeping across the pavement. It was obvious that there was no hope for Sam. In fact, I believed—hoped—that death had been instantaneous.
“Oh, no!” Serry said. “Oh, no, Miss Prentice! I’m so sorry!”
“Back the car up, Serry.” Jason instructed, “We’ll take him to a vet.”
I hiccoughed. “No use, Jason.”
“Gimme the keys,” he said. He moved the car to the curb while a tearful Serry directed cars around the spot where Sam lay. I averted my eyes. I couldn’t stand to look at that poor clump of soft, blue-gray fur any more.
“What should we do?” he asked me.
There was something I could do. “I’ll go back to Chez Prentice and get help. You stay here.”
The pair nodded mutely.
As shakily I approached the B&B, I was relieved to see the truck belonging to Hester’s husband, Bert, sitting in the driveway. “Bert?” I called, coming through the front door, “Bert? I need to talk with you right away!”
The burly handyman emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He threw it over his shoulder as I explained the situation in a low voice.
“Gimme a minute to grab a shovel and bring the truck around!”
He had tears in his eyes as he patted my shoulder. I had been told that Bert had a soft spot in his heart for animals and here was proof.
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
As the door closed behind him, the voice I most dreaded hearing piped up from the kitchen. “Amelia? What on earth is it?” Lily emerged, coffee mug in hand. “What in the world would have you making such a racket?”
A look of alarm crossed her face. She set the mug down on my grandmother’s Chippendale side table.
“The baby isn’t coming, is it?”
I picked up the mug and proceeded into the kitchen. Good. Hester was there. I could use some sympathetic backup.
“No, but it’s, it’s something bad, Lily; I want you to sit down.”
I went to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Tears were beginning to fill my own eyes.
Lily complied slowly. “Is . . . is it . . . is it Alec?” she whispered. She relaxed visibly as I shook my head. “Then what is it? You sound so terrible.”
Hester joined us at the table, concern wrinkling her usually cheery features. “Yeah, what’s going on?”
“It’s Sam,” I began and continued speaking more rapidly as I saw the alarm beginning to spread across her face. “There was an accident. He was hit by a car, killed. You know how he always dashes across Jur
y Street. It was totally accidental . . . Lily!”
My friend had risen from her seat. “Where is he? I want to see him! Get him to the vet! Why did you leave him, Amelia? Where is he?”
She hunted around for her purse and knocked over the coffee mug, spilling a little of the contents on the table. Hester hastened to wipe it up.
“Tell me where he is this very minute!”
I explained that Bert was fetching Sam’s . . . I stopped quickly. I had almost said remains.
“He’s retrieving Sam, Lily. He’s bringing him here. But you must be aware. There is no hope for him. I saw him. He’s already . . . g-gone.” That was when I broke down.
As I knew she would, Hester stepped up to the plate. When she opened her arms Lily and I both moved into her soft embrace and cried like children. For me, this grief was partly guilt, because Sam and I had never been kindred spirits, and partly because he was a connection to my late, beloved mother.
We remained like that for over a minute until we heard a faint tap at the doorframe. Bert stood, quietly pulling off his work gloves and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The poor fellow didn’t have a chance.”
Lily broke from our huddle. “Where is he, Bert?”
“I got him in the back of my truck. In a box.” He shook his head again. “But you don’t want to see him. You really don’t.”
Lily headed for the door, but Hester stepped forward and grabbed her elbow. “Don’t go out there, Miz Burns. I promise, you’ll always be sorry if you do. I sure am. I saw our little dog when they put him to sleep, and it broke my heart. And Flippy wasn’t even, um, injured, if you understand me.”
Nodding, Lily sank back in one of the kitchen chairs and sighed. She grabbed one of the paper napkins Hester always kept in a rooster-shaped holder on the big round table and blew her nose.
“The veterinarian told me to keep him inside, Amelia, remember? Oh, I should have listened.” For a moment she fingered the china cream pitcher decorated with violets, then looked up sharply. “Who was driving? Was it hit and run?” Anger began to replace guilt. “Who ran over Sam? Were they speeding? Cars are always speeding down Jury Street,” she added accusingly. “You said you saw what happened. Who was driving?”
I was caught completely off guard. I hadn’t mentioned the identity of the driver because if my years of experience with Lily had told me anything, it was that no good could come from this knowledge.
“It’s not important, Lily. It was one of those freak things nobody could have prevented.”
My friend was nodding now. “Which means it was probably one of those slimy adolescents you love so much. Or was it Vern? Was it that stupid kid? I told you when he let Sam run away last winter that he—”
This was getting out of hand. “No, Lily. It wasn’t Vern.” I looked at my watch. “I have another tutoring session in a few minutes. Why don’t you stay here and have something to eat, and Bert will help you, um, make arrangements for, um, Sam. Right, Bert?”
Bert shrugged and signaled to his wife to bring him a mug of coffee. “Sure. The gutter repairs can wait a little bit.”
I stepped out on the porch just in time to see Serendipity and Jason pull up to the curb. I hurried down the steps to intercept them.
“Let’s skip the tutoring session for today, Serry. You run along and I’ll see you in a few days.”
I felt sure that if Lily had seen the guilty expression on the girl’s face, she’d have guessed in an instant who the culprit was. This was information that could wait forever, as far as I was concerned.
~~~
The next day, Lily was still in vengeful harpy mode.
“I don’t care about your so-called scruples, Amelia! I demand you tell me who murdered my Sam.”
The diatribe had gone on this way for a full five minutes. I should have hung up on her, but it would only exacerbate the situation.
“Lily, we all cared about him, but he was a cat, not a child.”
“Which is why I’m determined to get to the bottom of this myself. The police were no help at all. They didn’t exactly laugh in my face, but they said that it was low on the list of priorities. It did me no good whatsoever dropping Dennis O’Brien’s name, either.”
“Lily, you didn’t! He’ll be furious.”
“When it comes to my Sam, I’m pulling out the big guns. Why do you refuse to tell me the name of the miserable rat who ran him down? I thought we were friends!”
“Lily, are you hearing yourself? What would you do with this information?”
“I don’t know. Sue, maybe. Haul them into court or whatever. Definitely give them a piece of my mind in public and as loud as I could shout. Whoever it is shouldn’t get away with what they did. I’m surprised at your indifference.”
“I resent that. I’m not indifferent. Remember, he was my cat before he was yours.”
“Right. And you couldn’t wait to unload him on me.”
“Lily, he was a gift. You loved each other. You belonged together.”
I heard muffled crying. “Lily?”
After a long pause, during which there was the sound of much moving around and clunking of the phone against something and the blowing of a nose, she said in a low voice, “Yes. We did belong together. And I mean to see that the one who did this is brought to justice, one way or another. You can’t protect him indefinitely, Amelia.”
“‘Him?’ What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. I know exactly who it is you’re protecting. That nephew of Gil’s is going to pay, believe me. He’s going to pay big time.”
“Lily, don’t be like this—”
“Too late, Amelia. I already am.”
She hung up.
I called the Shea residence. Kevin Shea answered. I identified myself.
“What’s goin’ on?” he demanded. “My little girl is moping around and looking over her shoulder and won’t tell me what’s going on!”
Serendipity’s father was a man to be reckoned with as far as his daughter was concerned. I’d learned this to my sorrow a few months ago.
I explained and heard his sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s all. A cat.”
“I’m afraid I was a little emotional when it happened. Please tell her it’s all right. Tell her it’s an accident that could have happened to anyone.”
“But Mrs. Burns, what does she say? It’s her cat, isn’t it?”
“Well, I’m keeping the details of the incident quiet for now.”
He understood. He was acquainted with Lily.
“Good idea. She doesn’t need to know. Serry’s had enough in her life lately.” His voice was low, hoarse. “We all have.” There was a pause. “Thanks, Miss Prentice. You’re all right.”
I didn’t correct him about my name.
We said goodbye and I prayed, right then and there, Lord, please be in this situation. Let Your loving will be done. I didn’t give Him any suggestions. I had no idea how to work this out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I woke up that Saturday morning feeling better than I had in weeks.
“Wow,” Gil said as he came into the kitchen, “French toast? And bacon.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and kissed the back of my neck as I stood at the stove. “Bring it on! I’m starved.”
“What’s on your agenda today?”
I set his breakfast plate before him. The bacon was definitely underdone, but I had made sure to thoroughly cook the French toast. It was Lily’s recipe, and I’d followed it to the letter, but somehow things hadn’t come out quite as planned.
“Um, not going in this morning,” he said between sips of coffee. “Both the back-to-school/Labor Day supplements and the Halloween Parade insert are finished.” He counted his accomplishments on his fingers. “Furthermore, I’ve done six generic editorials in advance, so I’m giving myself a break. They can call me if they need me. I’m sticking around here.”
I sat down to my own breakfast and murmured our blessing.
“I kn
ow what you’re up to. Remember, the doctor said yesterday it’ll be a couple more weeks before the baby comes, so you can relax.” I flipped my French toast slice over to disguise the burned part and poured a light stream of syrup over it.
Using his fingers, Gil deftly picked out the meaty parts of his bacon and left the translucent fat on his plate. “How about you? Any plans?”
I sighed. “Not really. I don’t have any more tutoring sessions until Tuesday. I thought I might pack my overnight bag just in case.”
“Good idea.”
“I’m going to call Lily, too. She’s still pretty broken up about Sam’s death. No, make that angry, irate, and furious. She thinks Vern did it. That’s not fair. I’m going to have to find a way to tell her it was Serry.”
Gil patted my hand. “All this has been pretty hard on you, too, honey.”
“Well, yes, but I’ve accepted it. Did I tell you that Lily wants to bury Sam in the yard behind Chez Prentice?”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. He could go in that corner by the back fence.”
“She wants a headstone.”
“Oh, brother. How is Etienne reacting?”
“Not well, according to Marie. He doesn’t see the need. And that’s not all, Gil. Lily has decided that we must name the baby Samantha after the cat.”
Gil had taken his plate to the sink, stopping to dump the remains of his bacon in the trash can. He turned on his heel at my comment.
“Our baby’s middle name is already going to be Lillian. Isn’t that enough for her?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already drawn the line.” I sighed. “Sometimes I think this name thing has been the hardest part of the pregnancy. Everybody has an opinion.”
Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) Page 16
