Jane glanced around the big, warm, inviting room. "It sure is."
“. . and even if we wanted to leave, we couldn't," Allison went on, punching some keys on the computer keyboard. "We can't sell it. Well, legally we can sell it, but then the utilities go back to ground zero."
“What does that mean?"
“That anybody who might buy it couldn't use any county water or electricity."
“My gosh! That's horrible. Could they put up windmills or something?”
Allison shook her head. "Nope. Those are structures. Forbidden. Our investment here has become, in legal terms, an enormous white elephant.”
Thirteen
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Jane said. . "Oh, don't be. I wasn't wanting pity. Just explaining the situation. Like I say, we very much resent strangers coming in and usurping our rights. But they're not really keeping us from doing anything that's important to us. Benson and I have no intention of leaving. We came here with the idea of living out our lives in this building. So the fact that the land is impossible to sell is really okay. We have no children to leave an inheritance to, so there's not that concern."
“What about Edna? What if she outlives both of you?" Jane asked bluntly.
“Oh, she's entirely likely to. She is, in her own words, a tough old bird. Edna also has quite a nest egg of her own. She inherited from a spinster aunt who was a whiz at investing. And Edna's no slouch at it herself. That's the only thing she's interested in on the computer. She buys and sells stocks through it. I guess that's really another reason we aren't as upset as we might be. If both Benson and I truly became infirm, we could give this place to a nature reserve and live on Edna's money. She'd like nothing better. She keeps begging us to let her buy something in Chicago and move back."
“And you won't consider it?"
“Not now. Probably not ever, if we can help it. Edna's marvelous and wouldn't lord it over us that we were financially dependent on her, but we don't want that. And it all comes back, in the end, to the fact that we love it here. And we love our independence, even if we have to fight Edna for it," she added with a grin. "So are you interested in seeing the stock program?”
The discussion was clearly over.
“Actually, I'd rather see what kind of games you've got," Jane said.
“A woman after my own heart," Allison said. "Most of them are shareware. I'll make you copies and you can mail checks to the creators of the ones you like. I've got a great graph program, too. Do you knit or needlepoint?"
“Both. Badly.”
Allison laughed. "Well, I can help you make absolutely beautiful charts. What you do with the actual work is your own problem.”
Two hours passed like minutes. Jane went away with a dozen disks with new games and a promise from Allison that if Jane would bring her laptop back later in the day, she'd see if she could figure out a few problems Jane was having with it.
“I have to take a nap after lunch," Allison said, "but anytime after two would be fine.”
Jane went down to the dining room, where people were just beginning to drift in for lunch. Seeing no sign of Shelley, she decided to take her disks back to the cabin before she lost them. It was starting to drizzle and there was, once again, the faint, distant rumble of thunder. So much for bird-watching.
Shelley was in the cabin, changing her sneakers for boots.
“Make anything naughty out of leather?" Jane asked.
“Not unless you consider an eyeglass case naughty," Shelley said. "It was fun, though. The guy teaching it had all sorts of neat stuff to show us. I fell in love with a zippered notebook. I figure by the time I took lessons, bought all the materials and tools, and wasted half of them learning how to do this, I could have a really great notebook like it for just under two thousand dollars."
“Sounds like a bargain to me," Jane said, taking. a towel to her hair, which had gotten damp on the walk back.
“Yeah, so I bought his for ninety," Shelley said. "Take a look."
“Wow, that is neat," Jane said. The notebook, a deep reddish brown leather, had a deeply incised paisleylike pattern all over it. "What are you going to keep in it?"
“You sure know how to ruin a good mood," Shelley said. "I have no idea. Important papers of some kind. Of course, if they're really important, it means I'd have to keep the notebook in the safe and not enjoy it."
“Then keep something really trivial in it.”
"Nothing in my life is trivial, Jane. You know that. So what did you and Allison do?" Shelley asked, fondling her new notebook lovingly.
“Lots of computer things. She gave me a bunch of games to try out. And she's going to dink around with the laptop this afternoon to see if she can't kill that weird error message I keep getting. She's really good at this computer stuff. She's good at a lot of stuff, come to think of it. She's got a quilt set up in their big living room upstairs. Reds and greens. Really vivid, with what looks like thousands of little squares that form interlocking rectangles. She told me something interesting about this property, too.”
Jane outlined the main points of the environmentalists' actions and the results.
Shelley was making little yelps of outrage as Jane spoke. "That's outrageous! It can't be legal! Why, I'd fight that tooth and nail.”
Jane nodded. "You certainly would. And you'd probably win. But they aren't going to fight it. It's too expensive. They'd have to bring it to a countywide vote and promote their view pretty much by themselves. They don't have the money, and Allison's health wouldn't permit campaigning. Or they could flaunt the law and spend the rest of their lives and a fortune watching it grind through the courts. Besides, they don't mind that much."
“What? They can't improve their business and their investment's been rendered valueless and they don't mind? Nobody with the cash to have bought this in the first place can be that laid-back."
“They are. Allison says they have no children to consider. And Edna seems to be pretty well off on her own. And they don't consider their investment useless. They want to live here until they die.”
Shelley shook her head. "I don't believe it. I think they've just decided this is the official line they're taking with us."
“Allison was perfectly sincere, Shelley. I'd bet my bottle of Giorgio on it."
“Maybe so, but we haven't heard Benson's version. He's a very bright, ambitious guy in spite of his aging-hippie appearance. Look at the effort he's put into this sales job on us."
“That's true."
“And nobody gave him this place to start with. He must have paid plenty for it. Or maybe his mother paid," Shelley said.
“I don't think so. Allison made clear that Edna kept offering to move them to Chicago and support them, and Allison said they wouldn't consider it."
“Where do you suppose he did get the money?" Shelley said. "He lived close to us once, didn't he say? And they were going to buy one of those houses that was supposed to go up behind our block. Those were to have been very expensive. Wonder what he did for a living."
“You've got me there. I'll see if I can find a chance to ask Allison. So I've been hiding from the group this morning. Are we still batty outcasts?"
“Nobody's said a single word to me about bodies, alive or dead," Shelley said.
“And have you thought of any new explanation?”
“I toyed with an international spy ring," Shelley said. "But it didn't work out. Couldn't figure out why anybody'd need to fake a dead car dealer. Then I considered a big drug cartel transporting drugs inside the works of new cars, but that wouldn't account for the dead car dealer coming back to life. I can't come up with any explanation that makes the least bit of sense.”
Jane put the damp towel back in the bathroom. When she came out, Shelley was standing by the glass doors overlooking the creek. "Look at this, Jane. Isn't that water getting closer to us? I don't like that."
“Hmm. Maybe. But it's still a long way below us. Don't worry. Your spiffy notebook isn't going to
be washed away in a raging torrent."
“You know what I'm wondering?"
“I can guess. The same thing I am," Jane said. "Could all this stuff about the zoning restrictions have anything to do with our finding what was definitely a dead body?"
“Exactly. Or, even more likely, the environmentalists."
“How so?"
“They're trying to make the point of how much political power they can wield by ruining Benson's business. And he hasn't kept what he's doing a secret. He's invited half the county to come to these classes and demonstrations. Looks like it could be a very successful bid for the school to send their kids here and profit him considerably. That would wreck their plans, wouldn't it?"
“Okay. ."
“So what could be more discouraging to potential `investors,' which we are in a way, than to have one of us killed off?"
“So the victim was to be whoever was the last to leave, not Sam Claypool specifically?"
“Could be," Shelley muttered. "But—”
Jane ran her hands through her hair in a despairing gesture. "I know! I know! It still doesn't explain how he came back to life!”
When Jane and Shelley walked back to the lodge, the environmentalists were out in force. They were dressed in costumes. Animal heads that covered their heads, and black cloaks — for mourning, Jane assumed. They carried signs that said things like THE WILDLIFE WAS HERE FIRST! and ONLY FISH BELONG IN WATER.
“Do you think we could mention frogs also living in water?" Jane said under her breath. "Not to ignore newts and insects and all kinds of slimy things."
“I wouldn't mention anything to them," Shelley said. "I imagine every one of them can do a solid hour's worth of harangue.”
One demonstrator had a large poster with a disgustingly vivid picture of a road-killed possum and the message SHAME! Jane turned away, revolted, and stuck close to Shelley, who was dodging through the line of protestors. In the distance they could hear a siren.
“Poor Benson," Jane said, entering the lodge. "They're trying to wreck this school project for him."
“But we're all smart enough to figure that out," Shelley said. "Still, posters like that picture could be really upsetting to impressionable kids. I hate myself for it, but I'm starting to have real doubts about the wisdom of sending them here.”
Liz was standing by a front window of the lodge, watching the crowd outside. "Not good," she said when Jane met her gaze. "I don't like this kind of terrorism. Have you two had lunch?"
“Not yet," Jane said.
“Then come and sit with me, would you? I've been waiting for Al, but he's probably lost," Liz said. "The man has no sense of direction.”
They got their plates and found an empty table in the far back corner of the dining room. "So how many of the morning-session classes did you get to?" Liz asked.
“Just one," Shelley said. "Leatherwork.”
Liz cocked an eyebrow in disapproval. "Not exactly a 'preparation for life' class," she said.
“But I'm already prepared and have lived half of my life," Shelley said firmly. "And I wanted to know about leatherwork.”
Liz knew another strong-minded, outspoken woman when she met up with one. She turned questioningly to Jane.
“Computers," Jane said promptly, glad she'd put away her game disks before running into Liz.
“That's odd. I dropped in on the computer class and didn't see you there," Liz said.
“Must have been while I'd stepped out to the bathroom," Jane said, smiling innocently.
Liz apparently accepted this and went on to enumerate the classes she'd dropped in on. She'd hit all the "worthwhile" ones. History, nature, wildlife of the area. But she'd also taken a glance at the outdoor, physical-exercise offerings — boating, swimming, gymnastics. Anything that had a hint of arts or crafts, she'd ignored.
Jane couldn't help but point that out. "Don't you like singing or dancing or making things?"
“I love them. Al and I and our kids all sing in the church choir, and he and I used to compete in ballroom dancing contests — until we started stiffening up," she added with a rare smile. She was stunning when she smiled. "I make a good many of my own clothes, and so does my daughter. But these are my pleasurable, leisure-time activities. I don't think they need to be taught in school. But I do try to keep in mind that this is only my opinion.”
Jane smiled. Not very successfully, she thought.
“But this isn't really what I wanted to talk to you two about," Liz said. "I want to know about this body you found last night."
“We were mistaken," Shelley said. "Trick of the light, no doubt."
“That's right," Jane said.
Liz looked at them for a long moment. "Forgive me, ladies, but I don't believe that. What's the real story?”
Fourteen
"Okay," Shelley said. "we did find a dead body. But since we were obviously wrong, there's no point in talking about it, is there?"
“What made you so sure?" Liz asked. "That he was dead, I mean?"
“You don't want to know," Jane said.
“I certainly do. That's why I asked.”
Jane and Shelley exchanged glances, then took turns enumerating the gory details.
“Hmm. Pretty convincing," Liz said, looking sorry that she'd asked.
“We thought so," Shelley said wryly.
“Okay," Liz said, squinting. "There has to be a logical explanation.”
Jane felt a brief flare of anger. Did this woman really think they hadn't even tried to determine what the logical reason might be? Shelley was thinking along the same lines. "Got any ideas?" she asked frigidly.
“Not yet," Liz said, unaware of their hostility. "Oh, there's Al!" She hopped up and went to fetch him from the doorway where he stood blinking amiably.
“Okay, it's war," Shelley said. "We can figure out anything Liz Flowers can figure out, and we will do so first. How dare she question us as if we were a couple teenagers caught skipping gym class?"
“I'm going to do something I promised myself I wouldn't," Jane said. "I'm going to E-mail Mel about this and see what he has to say."
“Jane, he'll have a fit. You know he thinks we're buttinskies. And even if he is a detective, he won't be able to form any opinions without even having been here, much less seen the body. He'll think we're both crazy."
“Yes, but he is an expert on crime. He might have some ideas on how a person could look so thoroughly dead, then turn up alive.”
Shelley shrugged. "He's your boyfriend, not mine. Go ahead if you think the relationship can take it.”
Jane finished her lunch and went back to their cabin. The demonstrators had disappeared without any sign of bloodshed or scuffling. She hoped Sheriff Taylor hadn't planned a nice relaxed weekend at home. If so, it wasn't panning out for him.
After a laborious half hour, she'd written up a succinct description of what had happened for Mel and edited out anything that sounded hysterical. The whole story, she realized as she read it for the final time, was just plain bizarre. There was no way around it, no way to rationally explain the impossible. She plugged in the modem and, with a sigh, hit the Send button.
Then she shut down the laptop, closed its lid, wound up all the various wires, and put it in its case to take to Allison. The rain had picked up again, and she had to resurrect the poncho raincoat, which was, mercifully, quite dry now. She started down the road, head down to keep the rain out of her face.
That's why she didn't see Lucky Smith until she'd literally run into him. She should have been able to smell him coming. He reeked of a mixture of booze, sweat, and industrial-strength body odor. Jane pulled back, tried to get around him. But he grabbed her shoulder.
“I didn't do it!" he said.
Jane pulled away. She was more repulsed than frightened, but there was an element of fear as well, and bundled as she was in the poncho, carrying the laptop, she had no free hand to fend him off if he attacked her.
“You didn't do what
?" she asked.
“Anything. I didn't do anything. Nothing bad. They're saying I did it." He suddenly straightened up, whirled around and headed back toward the lodge at a drunken lurch.
Jane stood in the rain, breathing deeply, waiting for her pulse to slow down. I don't like this place, she thought. I wouldn't come back and I wouldn't let my kids come here. It wasn't Benson's fault, but after the last two days, she finally realized that she couldn't support the plan. Educational philosophy wasn't at stake, it was safety and peace of mind. This was an area under siege.
There had been a mob at the lodge, wolfing down a quick lunch before the first afternoon sessions. But now it was nearly deserted, and Shelley was still sitting where Jane had left her. She signaled at Jane.
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