by Mary Logue
“Naw, not really. We were married before I was at the academy. After the divorce, we didn’t have too much to do with each other. I still see her folks in town once in a while, but her dad never liked me that much. To tell you the truth, I’d pretty much forgot all about her. Until this Watkins showed up. So can you give me a good word with her?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
“How is Stephanie doing?”
“I haven’t seen her. Buddy of mine is working the case with Claire. From the sound of it, she got it pretty bad. Beat up with a champagne bottle. You got any idea who might have done this to her? Anyone from her past?”
“Haven’t the foggiest. I don’t think Stephanie liked champagne,” Tom said and then chuckled as if he had made a joke.
“But I guess she’s recovering pretty good. She’s still in the hospital.”
“What hospital?”
For a moment, Billy thought of not telling him. It was sort of confidential information. But Tom was a cop too. He might come up with something. “St. Catherine’s, here in Durand.”
“Listen, if you do see her, say hi to her from me, would you?”
As Claire drove through Fountain City, she saw the bank sign flash the temperature as zero degrees and the time as twelve-twenty. The day was clear and sunny. The coldest days were usually sunny, brittle in their brightness, the snow creaking beneath each footstep. The sky looked like an enameled blue bowl over the white cup of the bluffs.
As she left the town, she saw bald eagles sitting on the edge of the river ice where the water still ran open, waiting to scavenge dead, floating fish.
Claire had thought about calling John Klaus, but then realized that she needed to see him in person. He was Stephanie’s older brother. He was a lawyer. He had been close to Stephanie. He might be Claire’s way in to her. It was worth a try.
Before she had left for Winona, she had pulled the phone records on Buck Owens and Stephanie Klaus. Although local calls could not be retrieved, long distance calls were kept on record. John Klaus had called Stephanie several times in recent weeks. Not so unusual for siblings to do. But there had also been a call from Winona to Buck Owens. It had been made at a pay phone. Maybe it meant nothing, but she would ask about it.
She had almost nothing else to go on in his murder case. The crime lab had found nothing useful in the car. She felt like they were at a dead end. Claire kept coming back to the link she felt existed between Buck’s death and Stephanie’s beating. Maybe she would find it in Winona.
She drove over the river to cross into Minnesota and then located the main street of Winona. The small town, like most of the river towns, was being discovered. John Klaus was a real estate lawyer; if he was able to take advantage of the boom time, he was probably prospering.
His office was in a thirties-style bungalow, a one-story house built of dark brick. She walked in the front door, and the secretary took her name, staring at her uniform. Claire had called ahead for an appointment but hadn’t explained the nature of the meeting. She wanted an element of surprise. She wanted to see how John Klaus behaved when he was caught off guard.
He walked out of his office and held out his hand to her. Even though he looked young, he seemed very confident, and not at all surprised to see Claire in her deputy’s uniform. When Claire got her first look at him, she was surprised at what a handsome man he was. But while the resemblance to his father was striking, there was little similiarity between him and Stephanie. John Klaus was around five-ten, but seemed taller as he stood ramrod-straight. He had thick, sandy hair cut short and was wearing a well-cut suit.
“I didn’t realize you were a police officer,” he admitted as they shook hands.
“Deputy sheriff,” Claire corrected.
“Is this about Stephanie? I don’t know if I can be of help to you.” He didn’t motion her into his office.
“Can we step into your office?” Claire suggested.
“Certainly.” He waved her in.
The room had floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves on one wall. Various diplomas and certificates were hung on the opposite wall. His desk was in the front of a large, many-paned window that looked out onto the street.
He settled behind his desk, and she sat in one of the red leather chairs opposite it. “Your sister, Stephanie, was badly beaten several days ago.”
“I’m aware of that. I’ve been to see her at the hospital.”
“She says she doesn’t know who beat her up. I’m not sure I believe her. I’m wondering if you could shed any light on this incident.”
John Klaus sunk his face into his hands and then came out of them and looked at Claire. “I wish I could. I talked to her about that. She stonewalled me too. When I saw what that creep had done to her with a bottle of champagne, I couldn’t believe it. I’m praying that she will recover her health and her looks. I don’t know if you knew her from before, but Stephanie was a very pretty woman.”
“Yes, she was.” Claire remembered her smile. “Did you ask her what had happened?”
“Yes. But she wouldn’t tell me who had done it. I tried to get it out of her.”
“Can you guess who it might be?”
“Lately Stephanie and I haven’t been as close as we once were. I married this last year, and she doesn’t care for my wife. It’s unfortunate. I fear she might be a little jealous. In fact, it’s been months since I’ve seen her.”
“Did you know Buck Owens, Stephanie’s friend?”
“Never met the guy. Just heard about him from Stephanie. But wasn’t he killed recently when his car went through the ice?”
“Yes. Stephanie’s had a rough time lately. Sounds like your childhood wasn’t that idyllic either. Did your father abuse you both?”
John Klaus stiffened. His easy manner disappeared, and his eyes shifted away from her face and out the window for a moment. When he spoke, Claire detected anger in his voice. “Our father did the best he could. He had a temper. No big deal.”
“What about her ex-husband? Could he have come after Stephanie? Been jealous of Buck?”
“Now, that’s a possibility. She did tell me that he could be very difficult sometimes.”
“Has he seen her lately?”
“Not that I know of, but Stephanie probably wouldn’t tell me if they were in touch. She knew I didn’t approve of him. They married while I was in the service. When I came out, it was a done deal. But she came to regret it.”
“Why? Why did they get divorced?”
John Klaus shrugged his shoulders. “Just not suited at all. Stephanie’s a very sensitive woman. She was lucky to be rid of him.”
Claire could hear the affection for Stephanie in his voice. “Is there anyone else you can think of that Stephanie might have confided in?”
“Not really. She was always kind of a loner. Kept to herself. We had each other when we were growing up, but then I left to join the Marines. She was on her own. I think that’s why she got married. She never made women friends easily.”
Claire had found that to be the case. She had called the women that worked with Stephanie at the W.A.G. factory and the women artists she had shared a booth with at the art fair. They all said she was nice, but quiet. Kept to herself. Seemed a little wary. Never picked up on their overtures to be friends.
John Klaus pushed his chair back and stood. Claire sat for a moment, trying to think of what else she could ask that would get her to understand Stephanie a little better.
“Why would she protect this man?” she asked him.
“Why are women the way they are.”
18
THE next morning Stephanie woke without the pounding in her head. She stood up carefully, and the world didn’t rush in on her. She shuffled to the bathroom and peed and washed her face and hands. The warm water on her face felt good. Then she did the bravest act of all—she looked in the mirror.
She had learned that she always looked the worst about four days after the beating. What a thing to kn
ow. And sure enough, she looked like some kind of nightmare creature. The purple around her eyes had turned nearly black in its bruising. Her eyes were still bloodshot. Her nose was disformed and puffy.
The only feature on her face that had escaped the battering were her lips. They were full and kissable. She smiled. Hadn’t lost any teeth this round either. She had lost three in previous beatings. She hated losing her teeth. But with her health coverage at W.A.G., she was able to have new caps put on all of them.
She knew that tomorrow she would look a little better than today. Her eyesight was close to normal again. She had checked herself on the chart in her room. But she was faking it for the doctors so they wouldn’t send her home until she was ready.
Yesterday she had walked down to the front door and back so that she would know her way when the time came. Her clothes were in a bag in the bottom of her closet. Last night she had washed the blood off her Green Bay Packers jacket and laid it over the radiator to dry.
She had called Sven last night, and he said he would come and get her whenever she wanted. Just say the word, he told her. He didn’t have much to do and so often was looking for ways of keeping busy. She knew it made him feel important that she had called on him for help.
He had hesitantly asked her how she looked.
“Like I got run over by a bulldozer.”
“That bad?”
“I think so.”
“Who did this to you, Stephanie? You gotta let the police know so they can arrest the guy. I’ll testify or whatever I need to do.”
Stephanie thanked him, but didn’t say much more. She told him she’d call him in the next day or two. After she hung up, she looked out the window and thought about being able to walk down the street and not worry about running into Jack. If he were put away, she could have her life back.
Once again, she was seriously considering telling that woman deputy who had done this to her. Deputy Watkins seemed very reliable, like she might understand what was going on with her. She felt so ashamed of herself for letting a man treat her this way and then going back for more. Rather than talk about it, sometimes it seemed easier to just run away again. But she was starting to realize that it would never end.
She worried that wherever she went, he would find her.
An aide walked in with breakfast. The food at St. Catherine’s was as bad as it was in most hospitals, but she was forcing herself to eat it. She needed to get stronger.
Stephanie sat up in a chair, and the aide pushed over the tray on a rolling table.
“Good sign, you sitting up today.”
Stephanie didn’t say much. She didn’t want to get to know these people who were seeing her at her worst. What they must think of her! If she talked to them, they might give her a piece of their mind, and she didn’t want anything to do with that.
Stephanie studied the tray—no surprises—Raisin Bran with 2 percent milk, toast, coffee, and juice. It actually looked pretty good.
Just as she was about to take her first bite, someone loomed in her doorway.
“Good to see you up,” Deputy Watkins said and walked into the room.
Stephanie pushed her tray away. It would keep. The deputy looked uncomfortable and was still all bundled up with her outdoor clothes on, her jacket zipped way up.
“Is it okay if I close the door?” she asked Stephanie.
Stephanie nodded, surprised at the request.
Watkins closed the door and then unzipped her jacket. A little tawny red head popped out with two bright eyes. The dog let out a yelp that tore her heart open.
Snooper.
The deputy had brought Snooper to visit.
“Oh, baby boy,” Stephanie said and reached out her arms for the dog.
Watkins finished unzipping her jacket and then plopped the small dog in his owner’s lap.
He stood on her knees and tried to lick her face. She laughed and tried to resist him, not wanting him to jar her nose. After a couple of good licks, he started to settle down.
She petted him and petted him, not believing she was holding him.
“Thank you,” she said to Watkins.
“I thought you might want to see him. I know I told you he was okay, but I thought you’d like to see for yourself.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Stephanie didn’t know what to say. She knew she was going to cry, but she didn’t want to cry in front of this woman she hardly knew. She felt so vulnerable. Snooper was kind of the only family she had, the only creature that cared about her. He had curled into her lap and made himself right at home. How hard it would be to let him go again.
“Do you want me to step out for a moment?”
“Could you?”
The deputy went out and shut the door behind her.
Stephanie bent her head over and let her blond hair fall on the small dog. Then she cried like she hadn’t cried in many years. What would become of her, and how would she protect Snooper from Jack? As the dog licked her hand, she cried harder and felt like something was being torn inside of her. The affection of this small animal ripped her up like the beatings never had.
Stephanie pulled herself together. She stood up, holding the dog tightly, and opened the door. The deputy was standing right outside her door.
Stephanie didn’t care if the nurses saw. The rule against dogs in the hospital was stupid. They were cleaner than most people and certainly wouldn’t bring in any diseases that were catching to humans.
“Come on back in. I’m okay now. Thank you for bringing Snooper. It just shook me up.”
“You’ve been through a lot. I understand.”
Stephanie didn’t want to argue about that.
“When are you getting out?” Watkins asked.
“They are going to let me go in another two days, I think.
They just want my eyesight to be back good enough so I can drive. I think they’re keeping me in longer since I have no one at home to take care of me.”
“Makes sense.”
The deputy perched on the edge of the bed, and Stephanie sat back down in the high-backed chair. It was the only chair in the room.
“I went and saw your brother yesterday. He’s very concerned about you.”
The deputy had talked to her brother. Stephanie was sure he was as charming as he could be. He’d done so well for himself. Big house, new wife. She hated him. Who knows what he had told the deputy? “I bet.”
“Do you have anything more to tell me about what happened to you on Thanksgiving?” Watkins asked.
“I really don’t. It’s all a blur. I’ve been working on it.”
“But Stephanie, you have to know who did this to you.”
She wanted to be left alone. “Why do you say that?”
“Because this isn’t the first time, is it?”
Stephanie didn’t know how to answer her. She didn’t want to lie to this woman who had been kind to her.
“I’d like to talk to you about who has done this to you,” Claire continued. “I think I can help you. I don’t want you to go back home and not be safe.”
“I’ll be okay. I might go stay with friends or my brother.”
The deputy bought it. “Oh, good. I’m glad to hear that.”
Stephanie nodded.
“Do you know what you were beaten with?” the deputy asked her.
Stephanie tried to remember what one of the nurses had told her. “A bottle. Some kind of glass bottle.”
“Are you sure that’s all you know?” The woman deputy was looking at her intently.
Stephanie shook her head.
The deputy stood up and walked over to her. She was standing too close. It made Stephanie feel very uncomfortable. Then the deputy said, “Your brother knew that it was a champagne bottle. How would he know?”
“Maybe someone else told him. One of the nurses.”
The deputy turned away and walked toward the door. Then she asked quietly, “Stephanie, has he ever hurt you?”
“My b
rother loves me.”
“I can’t protect you if you won’t tell me what’s going on. I need you to tell me if your brother had anything to do with this.”
“My brother would never hurt me. I’ll keep trying to remember.”
“Stephanie, I’ll give you as much time as you need, but I’m not sure whoever’s after you will show you the same courtesy.”
Claire sat in her front room, sewing small stitches in cotton fabric. The quilt covered her lap and legs, a hoop pulled tight over a small section of the border. The room was quiet; the night very still. The accumulated snow muffled any noises from the street, but the town, she was sure, had gone to sleep.
Rich had called a while ago, and they had exchanged news of the day. He had a shoulder that was acting up. He had wished she were there to massage it for him. He was working on a small table and chair set for Meg for Christmas. Meg was upstairs sleeping after finishing all her homework. Claire had checked it over.
It was nearly ten-thirty. She wouldn’t stay up much longer, but she wanted to get a bit more of the border done.
Somehow she had managed to keep the quilt a secret from Meg. She only worked on it at night when Meg went to sleep. But she was steady at it, working every night for an hour or two.
She would be sorry when the piece was finished. Her fingers were pricked so often they bled, but she found the act of quilting immensely soothing. She could sew and think and not feel wasteful of her time.
Tonight, however, nothing seemed to calm her. She felt twitchy from her inability to find out what had happened to Stephanie Klaus. Someone had to know who was abusing her. She just had to find them. She was getting a weird feeling about John Klaus. Yet he seemed to be the good brother.
Or she had to get Stephanie to talk to her about it. Claire felt like she had made some progress today at the hospital, even if Stephanie had moved away from telling her anything at the end of their conversation. It made her crazy to think about Stephanie: a woman nearly killed who won’t tell who was responsible.
Claire came to the end of the thread that was in her needle and made a small knot, then pulled it under the fabric. It held, hidden and secure, tucked into the batting. She threaded her needle again.
