Goose in the Pond

by Earlene Fowler

  The tiny crazy quilt the man slept under was incredibly intricate and not any bigger than a Fig Newton. It was a separate piece, appliquéd onto the bed with only the back of the man’s head showing. For some reason, I had the strongest urge to see what was under that quilt.

  I dug through my purse and found my Swiss army knife and with its compact scissors carefully snipped at the delicate stitching along the edge of the blanket and slowly lifted it up. Involuntarily, I held my breath, not knowing what I’d find.

  There was nothing there.

  Staring at the plain muslin fabric, I let out my breath and laughed at my own silliness. What was I expecting to find?

  You’re really getting a sick way of looking at things, I told myself. Just because one time the clue was in the quilt doesn’t make it automatic. I looked in dismay at my handiwork. Though it wasn’t obvious when you stood in front of it because the square was on the highest row, if anyone studied it carefully, the side I’d snipped would be obvious. I’d have to take the whole blanket off and restitch it to make it look right. Even then Evangeline might notice. But she’d certainly notice if I left it the way it was. I glanced at my watch. I was fifteen minutes late already for the meeting at Angelo’s, so I couldn’t resew the blanket now. I’d have to swing by here afterward and repair it before the exhibit opened tomorrow.

  On the way out, I told the security guard that I would be back to finish up some work, so not to worry when he saw my truck later on tonight.

  Angelo’s Big Top Pizza was wall-to-wall students, office workers, and noisy kids by the time I arrived. Knowing that Wednesday night was popular ever since Angelo started his “All-you-can-eat-pizza-and-spaghetti-feed” to attract more weekday business, I’d reserved the small back room they normally used for birthday parties. When I arrived, Roy was busy playing a pinball machine with Grace cheering him on, while the rest of the group had already finished two pitchers of beer and was starting a third.

  “I called the order in from the museum,” I said, flopping down on the redwood bench next to Jillian. “Hope four large pizzas are enough. I ordered two thin, two thick crusts. Pepperoni, sausage, vegetarian, and black olive.”

  “Sounds good,” Ash said. “Want a beer?”

  “No, thanks.” I held up my Coke. “Sorry I’m late. Had a few last things to take care of down at the museum.” I deliberately avoided Evangeline’s smiling face, afraid I’d give away my silly and presumptuous escapade with her quilt.

  “You’ve done a great job with the festival,” Jillian said, patting my hand. “I honestly don’t see how you pulled this all together.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I didn’t do it alone. Believe me, it would not have been possible without all of you. We’ve collectively done a good job and now we can hopefully enjoy the fruits of our labor. So tonight, even though we still have a few strands of barbed wire to repair, I want us just to have fun and prepare ourselves psychologically for tomorrow.”

  “Here, here,” Roy said, turning from the pinball machine and lifting up his mug of beer. “Let’s just all have a good time. That’s what storytelling is all about.”

  “As well as teaching truth,” Peter said, speaking up for the first time. “And for passing on the survival wisdom the next generation is going to need to keep from having to live in a totally concrete, strip-mall world.”

  “Ah, put a lid on it, Greenpeep,” Roy said. “The only reason you guys want to save the environment is so you rich kids will have something to play in while the rest of us poor working slobs who can’t even afford one of your expensive yuppie climbing ropes are working to pay the taxes that buy those greenbelts and open space you all want.”

  Peter glared at him. “That’s not true. The greenbelts and open-space lands bought by the conservancy are for everyone—”

  Roy interrupted. “Sure, everyone who isn’t working fifteen hours a day to make ends meet and can’t even afford to buy a condo in Santa Maria.”

  “The pizzas are here,” I said brightly. “C’mon, eat up, everyone, before they get cold.” I gritted my teeth and wondered if there was anyplace in this town I could go where someone wasn’t fighting.

  Roy and Peter glared at each other, then sat down at opposite ends of the long table. Grace gave me an apologetic look, turned and whispered sharply to Roy.

  “Nice save,” Ash said, sitting down next to me. “Pepperoni?” He picked up my paper plate.

  “Sure,” I said absently. He pulled off two slices and slipped them on my plate. I stared down at it, my appetite suddenly gone.

  “Don’t worry, darlin’,” Ash said. “Those two aren’t going to ruin the festival. They’re just snappin’ at each other for the pure fun of it.”

  I picked up a piece of pizza and bit off the tip. “It’s not fun to me. I’ve got enough to worry about without them sniping at each other.”

  “Like finding Nora’s killer?”

  I finished chewing my small bite, studying his face warily. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “Just that being the police chief’s wife, I figured you have the inside track on information.”

  “You’re wrong there. Gabe and I agreed from the beginning of our marriage that his work life and home life are completely separate.” I looked back at my pizza, hoping my face wouldn’t give away that blatant lie. Composing my features into what I hoped was a neutral expression, I looked back to him and answered, “You probably know more about it than I do.”

  His eyes blinked rapidly, though his slick smile never lost a kilowatt. “I doubt that.”

  I took another bite of pizza and didn’t reply.

  “You became pretty good friends with her, didn’t you?” he asked.

  “We weren’t best friends or anything, but I liked her.” At least I liked who I thought she was.

  “Did you know she was the Tattler?”

  “Oh sure, Ash. I even helped her write the columns.”

  His eyes widened slightly.

  “For cryin’ out loud,” I said when I realized he was taking me seriously. “I’m kidding, Ash. I was as much in the dark as anyone else. Why are you so nervous? Did she have something on you, too?”

  His hand froze on the handle of his beer mug. My stomach flip-flopped when I realized that I hit the fence post square on the head. I laughed, trying to cover up that I’d noticed his reaction. “Ash, she probably made up something about all of us. Don’t forget, she was a storyteller.”

  He gave me a long look, rubbing his thumb absently on his chin. “Yes, but her stories hurt people. That’s not what storytelling is about.”

  “I agree. Stories should build people up, not tear them down.”

  “It would be well for more people to remember that.”

  “Yes, I guess it would.”

  His gaze remained steady. “Seems to me anyone who could write the stuff the Tattler did ... was a completely cruel and heartless person.”

  “I’m not sure I agree with you there. All the facts aren’t in. The whole story of her life and motivations isn’t known yet.”

  “But you’re going to make sure it is.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Your face did.” He drained his mug of beer. “I’m going to get another one. Want anything from the bar?”

  “No, thanks.” I pointed to my half-empty glass of Coke.

  “Just remember one thing, Benni. It was something that Nora obviously had a problem with. ‘A prudent man keeps his knowledge to himself, but the heart of fools blurts out folly.’ ”

  “Sounds an awfully lot like a proverb.”

  “Chapter 12, verse 23. I’m not as decadent as I look.”

  “Even the devil quoted Scripture,” I replied flippantly.

  He grinned. “Touché, darlin’. You’d best remember that.”

  I stared after him as he walked toward the bar.

  “What was that about the devil and Scripture?” Evangeline said, scooting closer to me. She offered me
the vegetarian pizza. I declined, pointing at my still-uneaten slices. “You and Ash looked like you were debating the world’s problems. Was he trying to put the make on you? That man sure has the nerve.”

  I picked up my cooling piece of pizza and took another bite, trying not to look Evangeline in the eye. If what everyone said about me was true, she’d be able to tell in one glance that I’d ripped apart her quilt looking for a clue. I needed to get a handle on myself. My mind was beginning to work like one of those characters in a mystery novel, looking for clues in everything people said and did.

  “No,” I replied. “He was just shooting off his mouth, like usual. He’s gotten it in his head that I know more about Nora’s case than I do.”

  She looked at me thoughtfully. In the background, Bonnie Raitt sang from the jukebox: “Let’s give them something to talk about. . . .” She listened for a moment. “I’ve always loved that song.” She drank from her glass of iced tea. “It could be about my life.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head and gave her musical laugh. “You know, life, love, men. I always seem to pick the ones like Ash. The smooth talkers. They’re like irresistible honey to me.”

  I looked at her curiously and asked, “Did you and Ash ever have anything going?”

  “No. At least I was smart enough not to fall for that one. Not that I wasn’t tempted. He does have a certain charm.” She swirled the ice around in her tall plastic cup. “But that man is definitely a serpent d’eau.”

  “A what?”

  “Water moccasin. They bite without warning, and next thing you know you’re floating in the water facedown.”

  Before I could answer, Ash walked up, Dolores glued to his side. They sat down across from us.

  “What are you fine ladies whispering about?” he asked. Dolores gazed up at him with what could only be described as adoration. She definitely needed to have a long talk with Evangeline.

  “Nothing important,” Evangeline said.

  Amusement crinkled his eyes. “I thought maybe Benni was tellin’ you all the inside scoop about Nora’s murder that she wouldn’t share with me.” He said it loud enough for everyone to stop chattering and stare at me.

  “I don’t know any more than anyone else,” I said, glaring at Ash. I crumbled my paper napkin and threw it on my plate. “Let’s start this meeting and get any problems solved so we can begin with a fresh slate tomorrow.”

  “I agree,” Grace said.

  I pulled my notebook out of my purse and quickly ran through the list of things that still needed to be done. After everyone had their assignments, had voiced their complaints and problems, and I made note of them, I closed my notebook and stood up.

  “I’ll see all of you tomorrow night at Farmers’ Market. Remember, our storytelling booth opens promptly at six. The first story is at six-fifteen. Everyone is clear on their time, right? We want to attract people to the festival and show how storytelling is a means to promote peace and brotherhood. Let’s keep it civil.” I looked pointedly at Roy and Peter. Peter stiffened his bottom lip. Roy grinned and saluted me.

  “Okay, then, good luck and knock ’em—” I stopped and rephrased my thought. “Uh, break a leg.” A nervous laugh rippled through the group.

  “Leaving us so soon?” Ash said, his arm still draped over Dolores’s shoulder. She rested her dark, shiny hair on his shoulder, her eyes glowing.

  I glanced down at Jillian, who’d been unusually quiet during the evening, picking at her pizza and casting an occasional furtive glance at Ash. Had Ash officially dumped her? Was he with Dolores now? Or was he playing them against each other in a bid to . . . what? Jillian had financially helped both Ash and Dolores. Did seeing them hang all over each other like this make her regret it? I glanced around at all the people at the table and felt a dull headache start to smolder behind my eyes. Secrets. This group was full of them. Secrets they were afraid would get out. Secrets that apparently Nora knew. Secrets, or at least one secret, worth killing for.

  I slipped out of the pizza parlor as everyone said their good-byes. I was opening the truck door when Grace caught my arm.

  “Benni, have you got a minute?” Her red hair appeared an odd clownish orange under the parking-lot lights.

  I shut the truck door and leaned back against it. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “It’s about Roy.”

  She fiddled with her hair, and I waited silently for her to go on. In the distance the sound of raucous laughter came from the weight-lifting gym that occupied the second floor above Angelo’s. I glanced up at the thick-necked guy in black bicycle shorts and a yellow tank top standing in front of an open window. He gave a Tarzan yell and beat apelike on his rippled chest.

  “He was questioned by the police again today,” she said, her clear green eyes darting up at the sound then back at me.

  “He was?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  I felt my jaw tighten. “Grace, how many times do I have to tell people? Gabe doesn’t confide in me about his work. You know that better than anyone.”

  “You said he was getting better.”

  “He is, but he’s deliberately keeping me out of this particular investigation because I’m working with all of you.” I paused for a moment, then compulsively asked, “What exactly did the detectives ask Roy?”

  She shifted from one boot to the other. “They found out some stuff, and it . . . it doesn’t look good.”

  I touched a hand to my forehead, not certain now if I really wanted to hear this. But I was involved with these people. They were my friends and also major players in the storytelling festival. It would be easier to put out fires if I had some idea about what started the flames, and of course, I was a bit curious. . . . “What stuff?”

  “There was something he didn’t tell the police. He saw Nora that night . . . the night she was killed. But he didn’t do it! I swear, he was with me the whole night. And he’d never kill anyone. I know him.”

  “He saw her?” I repeated. “Where . . . what . . . ?”

  “He went to the library after it was closed, and they got into this big fight. She was going to back out on the deal they’d made about Zar unless he signed away his part of the insurance money for their son. She’ d been drinking, he said, and she was always irrational when she drank. I guess she’d seen us earlier in the day. Saw him give me a kiss or something, and that set her off again. We’d been careful, but sometimes you forget and . . .” Her voice broke. “The police.” She looked at me accusingly. “Your husband thinks Roy did it, case closed. They’re not even trying to look for anyone else. They’ve confiscated all his ropes to see if any fibers match. Can they do that? Should I get him a lawyer? Benni, can you talk to Gabe? Talk some sense into him? Roy didn’t do it. He didn’t.”

  “How did the police find out about the fight?” I asked.

  “Someone saw it all and called the police. He said he parked on the other side of the park so no one could see his truck at the library and start up a bunch of gossip again. I guess it could have been anyone, but it was late, past ten o’clock. The library had been closed for an hour. They argued outside, next to the employees’ entrance.”

  “Why was she there?” I asked, though I knew, having heard Nick’s story.

  “She told Roy she’d borrowed Nick’s keys and was using the computer room in the children’s department because it had a color printer. He called her on her cellular phone, and they agreed to meet at the library.” She gave a bitter laugh. “We’re barely able to buy oats for the horses, and she’s carrying a cellular phone. Guess she had to be available at all times for that final offer from the developer.”

  “Who did you say reported their argument?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to Roy and Nora’s last encounter. Was it Nick? Jillian? I didn’t want to scare Grace, but if I were her, I’d certainly be thinking about finding a lawyer. Fast.

  She shrugged. “The proverbial anonymous caller. They apparently were
convincing enough to make the cops question him again, and this time he broke down and confessed.” Her nails bit into my forearm. “Benni, you have to do something. Everyone’s more than happy to let the blame fall on Roy, but it wasn’t him, and that means the real killer is out there and getting away with murder.”

  I didn’t know how to answer her. What I really wished right at that moment was that I’d never started riding at Grace’s stable, never become friends with her. My life was complicated enough without being torn between helping a friend and being loyal to my new husband. With my long ties in this town and his position, it seemed this situation was one that was destined to crop up between Gabe and me time after time. “I’ll ask Gabe what’s going on, but you know I can’t guarantee any answers.”

  “Thank you,” she said, loosening her grip on my arm.

  I glanced at my watch, trying to tactfully hint that I had someplace to go. “I’ll get back to you. I don’t know when, but as soon as I can.”

  “You’re a good friend,” she said, her voice embarrassingly grateful and humble. “Sometimes I feel like you’re my only friend.” Her words made me feel like a real jerk after my own thoughts about our friendship.

  I touched her hand briefly. “I’ll do the best I can.”

  She nodded mutely and went back across the street, where Roy leaned against his truck, waiting.

  It was past nine o’clock when I arrived at the museum. All I wanted to do was repair Evangeline’s quilt and go home as quickly as possible. I informed the young security guard we’d hired that I’d be about a half hour and would lock up after myself. Inside the museum, I turned on only one set of track lighting in the main hall. I took down her quilt and carried it to the co-op studios, where there were quilting supplies and a place to sit. As I carefully tried to match Evangeline’s neat, even stitches, I lambasted myself for seeing clues where there weren’t any and for being so nosy. Let the police find Nora’s killer, I told myself. You have other fish to fry. It was so quiet in the co-op, I could hear our ancient refrigerator cycle and buzz. Under the building’s eaves, birds rustled and chirped, settling in for the night. I’d clipped off the last thread and was studying my stitches when I heard the noise. An unmistakable crunch outside the curtainless window. My blood froze in my veins as I stared up at the window, expecting a grotesque face à la Jack Nicholson to fill the window.