“You haven’t seen anything,” Nate laughed. “You should see him on …” he spun his head toward his wife. “That’s tomorrow night! We should take them. He’ll be reading the same thing that he does every year.”
“What’s tomorrow night?” Henry asked.
“And it’s Poe!” Joss exclaimed. “Every year he reads The Raven.”
“What’s tomorrow night?” Polly pressed.
“His Speech teams and Thespians always do a drama night. The One-Act kids perform and then do a couple of spooky things for Halloween. Every year he performs The Raven to close the show. It’s really terrific.”
“Would you go with me?” Polly asked Henry. He nodded yes. “Would you guys take us?” she asked the Mikkels’.
“Of course!” Joss said. ” I want to watch it all happen!”
“But I’m still not convinced,” Polly said. “His name should be something a little more Victorian than Kevin, don’t you think?”
Henry was tapping away at his cell phone. He held it up so she could see it.
“Campbell Lock-Stitch Sewing Machine.” Polly took a breath and held it with her hand over her mouth.
She exhaled and said, “Thomas was so close!” Her eyes filled with tears. “He was so close. This breaks my heart.”
“We don’t even know if it’s them,” Henry said, taking her hand. “You can’t get excited until you know for sure.”
“It’s them,” she said. “It has to be.”
“There are a lot of things that need to be just right for it to be them. You can’t say anything to anyone about this,” he warned.
“What do you mean? Who am I going to tell?”
“What if the person who killed Thomas did it because of this policeman’s murder forty some years ago? What if they’re still around? What if they don’t want Thomas’s old girlfriend to come forward and expose them? What if they kill her or kill Kevin and then we find out it wasn’t them at all?”
While Henry was talking, Polly’s eyes grew bigger. Before she could help herself, she burst out laughing. “Henry Sturtz, you can create a conspiracy theory better than anyone I know.”
He raised one eyebrow and wiggled his nose a little. “If you want to tell Aaron, that’s fine, but I think you’re setting up a perfectly normal family. It’s not like Thomas Zeller is unknown. What would happen if his fans got hold of this information and started pounding on their doors to see who it was that broke his heart and made him write sad detective stories?”
“You just won’t quit, will you?” she laughed.
He took a deep breath, then chuckled and looked at Nate. “I’ve been hanging around her too long, haven’t I?”
“I don’t know, man.” Nate raised his eyebrows. “You sound a little crazy. Shall we all cut our palms open and drip blood in the center of the table and make a pact not to talk about this?”
Polly snorted with laughter. “Here’s a dull knife, Henry. You go first.”
“We shouldn’t disrupt someone’s life for no reason. Your life already stresses me out. I don’t want you responsible for someone else. I’ll be exhausted taking care of you all.”
“Have you been reading mysteries lately or something?” Polly asked. “Where did you come up with all of that?”
“I read a couple of your Zeller books this week. They’re pretty good. Did you know that he signed all of your copies?”
“He did?” Polly was shocked. “I didn’t even think to look beyond the first one. That’s awesome!”
“They had some odd inscriptions in them, but he signed them.”
“What do you mean odd inscriptions?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you really have turned me all girly.” Henry dropped his head in his hands. “Help me.” He reached across the table to Nate. “Save me from what I’ve become.”
Joss looked at him in amazement. “Wow. What’s happening?”
“I asked him a couple of days ago if he thought I was turning him girly. He laughed at me then,” Polly said, “but apparently he’s going to use it when he feels the need to be dramatic.”
She pushed at his arm. “You’re embarrassing me.” She’d never really spent time with Henry around people their own age. He was always with her much older friends in Lydia and Aaron, Beryl and Andy. Otherwise they were around his employees or Doug and Billy who were much younger. He’d gotten comfortable with Nate and Joss and all of a sudden he was playful.
“I’m embarrassing you?” he asked. “So I should sit up straight and be a good boy?”
Polly leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You never cease to amaze me. I’m never going to know exactly who you are, am I?”
Henry put his arm around her back and pulled her close, kissed the tip of her nose and said, “I hope not.”
“I’m a little worried about letting the two of you into that comfortable back seat,” Joss giggled. “You have to promise to be good on the way home tonight.”
“I’ll be good if he’s good. I promise.” Polly sat up straight, pulling away from Henry’s arm.
Henry let out a breath and dramatically slumped his shoulders, “I’ll be good. But I won’t like it.”
“Will you really take us to see Kevin Campbell tomorrow night?” Polly chose to ignore his dramatics.
“Sure. What do you think?” Nate asked his wife.
“It sounds great. Do you want to eat before we head over to Jewell?” she said.
“There will be a crew in my building getting ready for Halloween,” Polly said, “but I can get out in time for dinner. What if we meet you at Davey’s and ride together from there?”
The stars were twinkling and the moon lit all the roads that led from Fort Dodge to Bellingwood as they drove home.
“This is one of the things that I love about being in the country,” Polly said quietly. “You can see the night sky.”
“It’s beautiful tonight,” Joss agreed. She leaned into her husband in the front seat.
Henry held Polly’s hands and when they pulled into Sycamore House, he asked if she would mind driving him home.
“Of course I can,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I know you need to walk Obiwan tonight and it’s kind of late. I’m not ready to let you do this alone yet.”
“I’ve been doing it by myself the last couple of nights. Nothing has happened,” she protested.
“But it’s really late tonight. Would you just let me worry about you?”
She wanted to continue protesting, but realized it would do her no good. “Fine. But, after I take you home I will drive back to Sycamore House all by myself and then I will shut the garage door and get upstairs with no problems. Okay?”
“As long as you promise to be careful,” he said. “It makes me nervous that there hasn’t been any more vandalism.”
“Maybe he realized it was useless,” she said.
“I’m not taking any chances.”
“I know, I know. You can walk with me and Obiwan tonight. I’m not going to fight with you about it.”
Nate looked back at them. “You’re getting her trained, man. Now’s the time to pop the question.”
“What question is that?” Polly asked.
“Well, uh …”
Joss swatted his leg again. “He is an idiot sometimes. I’ll take care of him when we get home.”
Nate winked at her, “Do you promise? Will we have fun?”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. I’m the one who married him.”
“And you love me, don’t you!” he laughed.
“And I love you.” she responded, smiling.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
While she was waiting for the last load to dry, she pulled Thomas Zeller’s fifth book down and curled up in the corner of her sofa. Morning chores at the barn had gone quickly. Jason and Rachel were still there, spending time with the horses. It was cold, wet and rainy outside and Polly looked forward to this free time before Lydia and the crew sh
owed up to work on the Haunted Hallway. She pulled a blanket over her legs and patted the top of it. Obiwan lay down and snuggled in as close as he could get.
She opened the flyleaf and read, “Every chapter told her I loved her. Can you see that?”
“Yes, Thomas. Now I see that. Your love for her was on every page. I wish you could have found her.” Polly had been petting her dog’s head, but then she stopped. “That seems like a strange inscription, don’t you think?” He looked up at her and yawned, then lay his head back down on her leg. “No really. That’s weird. I wonder what he said in the fourth book.” Polly flung the blanket over Obiwan’s head and watched him back out of the mess. She went back to the shelves and pulled the book down.
“Always look at the first. You’ll be glad you did.”
“The first what?” Polly asked out loud. She looked back up at the bookshelves and saw that the other three books were gone.
She called Henry.
“Hey pretty girl, what’s up?”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m at home. Do you need something?”
“I need the inscriptions from the second and third books.”
“Why? Do you think there’s another clue?”
“You were right last night. These are odd. Do you have them?”
“I have to go upstairs. What are you doing this morning?”
She heard him walking up the steps and could barely contain herself. Something was going on and she wanted to know what it was. “I’ve just been cleaning,” she said, as patiently as she could. “What about you?”
“Same here. There didn’t seem to be much reason to go outside. It’s awful out there. Okay, here I am. Which book do you want?”
“Tell me what he says in the third one.”
“Okay. It says ‘Letters make words. Words make chapters.’ That seems obvious, but why would he tell you that?”
“I don’t know yet. Now look at the second book.”
She listened as he put the book down and heard pages rustle when he opened the next one.
“There’s more to the story than the story itself.”
“I think I remember what he said to me in the first book, but could you read it again to me?” she asked.
“Sure, just a second. Here it is, ‘Polly, you were right. Authors give you more than you realize sometimes. Never forget that.’”
She took a deep breath. “There is something in these books and I have to figure out what it is now. He was sending Nelly a message in code in his books. I have to find it!”
“Do you want some help?”
“I’m going to need to see those books,” Polly said, and then she stopped. “No, don’t worry about it. I have all of the manuscripts on my laptop. I can figure it out from there.”
“Why don’t I swing by the grocery store and get food for sandwiches. I’ll bring the books and we can sit down with them. Can you wait until I’m there?”
“Don’t bother with the grocery store. I have food here. Just hurry. I can’t wait very long,” she laughed.
“I’m running down the stairs right now.” She heard his feet on the steps. “I’m picking up my keys and grabbing my jacket. Just a second.” Polly giggled as she realized he had put the phone down to slip his jacket on. “Are you still there?” he asked.
“You’re a nut!” she said. “I’m going to let you safely drive over here while I go downstairs and get my last load of laundry. I promise to wait. Just don’t drive into anything on your way.”
“See you in a few minutes!”
Polly hung up and slipped the phone into her back pocket. She carried the two final books in the series to the dining room table and set them beside the laptop.
“We’re going to have company, kiddos,” she said to the animals. “You do your best to look good while I get these towels.” She went through her bedroom and down the back steps to the dryer. She was folding the last towel into the basket when she heard her garage door open and Henry’s truck pull in, so she waited for him.
Henry laughed when he saw her. “I got here as fast as I could. If I’m excited about what you might find, I can only imagine that you are ready to burst.”
“A little bit, but I stayed busy.” Polly tucked the basket under her left arm and opened the door, motioning for Henry to go up first. He tried to take the laundry from her, but she glowered at him and he went on up. She pulled the door shut and followed him, dropping the basket on her bed.
Henry had become enough of a fixture in her apartment that the cats didn’t do anything other than look at him and curl back up. They were snuggled on a blanket Polly had dropped on the chair in the corner by the bookshelves. Obiwan, though, acted as if his long lost best friend had just returned from a year long journey, begging for Henry to give him a little attention.
Henry handed the books to Polly and knelt down. “You know, dog. I’ve never really had a lot of pets in my life and you make me think I missed out.” He stood back up and joined Polly at the table. “He really is a good dog, you know.”
“I love him,” she said. “I can’t imagine life without my animals.”
“You know, Eliseo and I were talking about that the other day.”
“Talking about what?” Polly looked up from the laptop. “Me?”
“You and your animals. You might need to add some more. You’re getting awfully comfortable with what you have.”
“You can stop that noise right now. I don’t have room up here for any more animals.”
“But you do have room at the barn. And if that deal goes through for the pasture land on the other side of the creek, you’ll have plenty of room.”
“For what? Pigs and cows? That’s not going to happen. You two are nuts! I’m getting that land for the horses. I want them to have plenty of pasture land.”
“It was just a thought.”
“Stop thinking it. You know how I feel about these thoughts you have. When you say them out loud, someone in the universe hears you and the next thing I know they become real.”
“You’re a strange one, pretty girl.”
She shrugged, “Can’t help it. You always have a choice.”
“Not anymore I don’t.”
Polly looked him in the eye and saw that he meant it. “I love you too, Henry. Now can we start on this?”
“I’ve kept you from it too long already, haven’t I!” he laughed. “What are we looking for?”
“Let’s look at those inscriptions one more time.” She pointed and said, “First book?”
“Polly, you were right. Authors give you more than you realize sometimes. Never forget that.”
She typed it into a document on her laptop, then shoved the other books at him. “Can you just read them out loud to me?”
“There’s more to the story than the story itself.”
“Letters make words. Words make chapters.”
“Always look at the first. You’ll be glad you did.”
“Every chapter told her I loved her. Can you see that?”
She read them out loud a couple of times. “What do you think?” she asked Henry.
“Let’s start with the first book. Maybe he says something with the chapter titles.”
Polly flipped to the first chapter. “Nope. It just says Chapter One. Maybe it’s the first word of the chapter. Here, you read them out loud and I’ll type them in.”
“Never. Eddie. Leaving. Last.”
“No, that’s not it,” Polly stopped him.
Henry reached across to the laptop and pointed at the third inscription. “Letters. Words. Chapters.”
“That’s it!” she said. “Start with Chapter One. The first letter.”
He flipped back and said, “N.” Then he quickly flipped pages to the second chapter. “E.”
“This is taking too long,” he said. “Let me get my bearings.” He stuck his finger in the table of contents and then flipped to the page for the third chapter. “L.” He progresse
d through the book “L.”
“It’s ‘Y,’” Polly said. “That’s the next letter.”
“You’re right. Now be patient and I’ll get these to you as fast as I can.” He flipped pages and read the letters to her one by one.
“I. S. T. I. L. L. L. O. V. E. Y. O. U. C. O. M. E. B. A. C. K.”
“It really is a code!” Polly cried. She picked up the second book and handed it to him. “Now this one.”
They repeated the same process. “I. C. A. N. H. E. L. P. Y. O. U. S. T. O. P. R. U. N. N. I. N. G. L. O. V. E.”
Each book contained a plea for Nelly. The third one read, “M. Y. S. O. N. I. S. P. E. R. F. E. C. T. T. H. A. N. K. Y. O. U.”
The fourth book’s code was sad. “I. A. M. D. E. S. T. R. O. Y. E. D. W. H. A. T. I. S. L. E. F. T.”
And the book that was published after the last photograph offered a simple message. “I. L. L. W. A. I. T. F. O. R. E. V. E. R. F. O. R. Y. O. U.”
“Do you think there were codes in his latest books?” Henry asked.
“I can look,” Polly said. “I’d be really surprised. He didn’t write another Eddie Powers book after that one.”
She went to the bookshelf and pulled down another stack of books. They opened the first book and she was certain there would be nothing of any interest in these books. Thomas had written them after he sobered up and they were much more of a commercial success than his early stuff, but they didn’t have the angst and pain of the Eddie Powers books.
Henry flipped one of them open to the fly leaf. “There’s nothing here. Let’s just check anyway.”
He began flipping through the chapters and reading off letters. “P. L. P. S. I. I. E. W.”
“No. There’s nothing there. He thought he’d lost her for good after that last photograph.” Polly was trying to hold back tears. “She had gotten his son to adulthood and wanted to protect his privacy from then on. That was an awful time for Thomas.”
“It would be difficult to pull out of something like that,” Henry said. “His heart was broken. How would he rise above that?”
“You know, I think it was his writing that did it for him. He loved telling stories and when he wasn’t writing, he was miserable. Somehow he figured it out and realized that the times he was the happiest was when he was putting words on paper.”
Diane Greenwood Muir - Bellingwood 05 - Life Between the Lines Page 18
