The chairs were almost all taken. The room buzzed with low-voiced conversation. I spotted the new editor of the local paper, which featured a gardening column, and wondered if any other media people had sneaked in. I doubted Bianca had invited reporters.
I was back at my post by the door, waiting, when Angie came up behind me.
"I'll take over now."
I turned. She was wearing a silver-gray jumpsuit in washed silk. She greeted me without warmth. "I hear Carol talked to you."
"You were a fool not to tell the police you were with her."
She shrugged. "I knew I could if I had to. I was hoping I wouldn't have to."
"Any word on Mary?"
Her mouth tightened. "No. And I wish this farce was over."
"You and Trish."
Her eyes widened but she didn't say anything. The doorbell chimed again. I left her to answer it and went in search of Jay.
The service was scheduled to start at seven. At seven fifteen, Bianca walked across the room and stood on the raised hearth. When the buzz of conversation had ceased, she made a nice little speech about Hugo, omitting any reference to murder or missing students, and asked the priest to say a few words. His name was Kramer, and he obliged. Considering the encounter with Trish, I thought he comported himself with dignity.
He offered half a dozen platitudes in a pleasant baritone, concluding, "In the midst of life we are in death. Of course, the reverse is also plausible. In the midst of death, we are in life, and a gardener must know the truth of that paradox. By all accounts, Hugo Groth was a good gardener and a good man. God rest his soul."
Several people murmured "amen." I noticed that the sound system was still playing. Fortunately, the music was classical and unemphatic.
The Dean is a sociologist by training and speaks like one. At Bianca's request, he offered some sad generalizations about the prevalence of violence in America, and some positives ones about the utility of hands-on education. He affirmed the college's support of the sustainable agriculture program.
Jay shifted in his seat, and I suppressed a grin. When one of the college authorities announces support for a program in public, the program is in deep trouble. Bianca's internships could continue without the college's backing, but there was no doubt that academic credit and the tie-in with an accredited degree were an inducement to students. I wondered if Bianca understood the Dean's subtext. Her calm face betrayed nothing.
When the Dean finished his benediction, Bianca returned to stage center. She reminisced a little about the commune, though she didn't call it that, introduced Trish, who thanked everyone for coming in a nearly inaudible voice, and made a smooth transition to Keith. The sound system fell silent, and Keith brought his guitar up to the hearth. Jay shifted again. I imagined I could hear his teeth grinding.
Keith was rather good. It's true his guitar-playing was rudimentary and his Scots accent, when his used it, was awful. But his voice, a light tenor, was flexible and pleasant, and most of his selections made sense. He did "Amazing Grace" and "All Things Bright and Beautiful" which even pagans tend to know. The audience warmed to him and joined on the refrains. Next, he sang an English ballad about ravens and a dead knight. That was fine, if a little odd. It probably went over a treat in his ballad seminar.
Then he sang a Scottish lament for the departure of Bonnie Prince Charlie. The verses seemed irrelevant to Hugo's life and death, but it was clear from the intensity with which Keith sang that the song had private meaning for him.
"Better loved ye canna be.
Will ye no' come back again?"
A simple enough refrain, with a good high passage for a tenor. Keith's voice broke on the chorus after the third verse. I stared at his handsome, bearded face and wondered what was going through his head.
He collected himself and finished with "Study War No More." That was a suitable conclusion for Hugo, who had exchanged his sword and shield for a ploughshare down by the side of a particularly beautiful river. It's a rollicking song, despite the seriousness of the subject matter, and the elderly gardeners really swung into the last chorus. Trish cried, but everyone else seemed to find the song cheering.
And that was that. Because of her condition, Trish retired at once to Hugo's old room. Bianca thanked everybody for coming and said there were refreshments. Marianne stood in the arch to the dining room. She served coffee, punch, and cookies to anyone who wanted to stay and chat. Half the people left immediately, among them the Dean. The other half included the interns, the president of the Garden Club, and Lt. Colman, who had been one of the last of the guests Angie showed in.
Bianca and Keith stood by the fireplace in an informal receiving line, in case anyone should be so old-fashioned as to expect one. A number of the gardeners did. They left gradually. Angie was minding the door. Del and Marianne stayed in the dining room with the interns and a handful of gardeners. Del was on his best behavior, but he kept blinking like an owl. He said Mike was out controlling traffic.
Jay and I drank punch, sampled Marianne's cookies, and drifted back to the living room. As the last of the gardeners departed, we began folding and stacking chairs. After a few minutes, Del joined us. I wondered why he was being so helpful. Keith and Bianca were deep in conversation with Lisa Colman.
"Where were Jason and Bill?" Jay asked.
Del said, "Bill don't like funerals. Jason didn't like Groth." He gave a half-hearted bark of laughter.
Jay carried a stack of chairs to the inside wall. Del folded the remaining row and followed suit. As they returned together, Angie stalked in from the hallway, hands in the pockets of her jumpsuit.
"Is that the last of them?" she asked.
I peered into the dining room. "I think so."
"Thank God."
"Thank God," Del said at the same moment.
Angie scowled at him. Del blinked.
Lisa Colman was shaking hands with Bianca. When she saw Jay, the detective gave him a wave, a mere flip of the hand. Jay nodded, and Keith and Bianca escorted Colman out.
We stood in the middle of the empty room in a silent clump, waiting. I could hear Carol's voice in the dining room and the flat burr of Adam Carlsen's. Marianne came out, looking tired but not displeased, like a woman who has done her duty.
Angie said, "Any coffee left?"
Marianne nodded.
Bianca and Keith returned. Bianca said, "I'm glad you're all still here. I want to talk to you. You, too, Angie."
Angie had taken a step in the direction of the dining room. She shrugged and came back.
Bianca glanced around. "Let's shove the easy chairs back near the fireplace."
The men leapt to comply. When they had re-created a conversation area, Bianca sank onto her favorite hassock. I sat in the chair beside it, Keith took up his station on the hearth, and Jay remained standing.
Del wandered to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a neat whiskey. Nobody followed suit.
Bianca said, "Keith and I talked with Lt. Colman."
Angie shifted in her chair. "We saw that."
"Why the hell didn't you say you had an alibi? Why did you lie?"
Angie said sullenly, "I didn't lie. I just didn't mention that I was with Carol."
"Carol!" Del exploded, his drink slopping. "Carol Bascombe?"
Keith smirked. "Miss Congeniality."
Del shook his head like a bull shaking off a fly. "Not Carol. She's can't be--"
"She's not," Angie snapped. "Carol and I were looking at nurseries. It was strictly business."
"Business?" Del seemed to be suffering from echolalia. He wiped whiskey off his hand with his handkerchief. "Funny business, you mean, you two-faced bitch. By God, kick a man in the balls for a little plain language, and then go off and...and corrupt that innocent kid." Del's historical sequence was muddled. "You ought to be shot."
Angie rolled her eyes.
"What price sexual harassment?" Keith said to the ambient air.
"Yeah." Del leaned forward
, hands clenched on his knees. The drink wobbled on the arm of his chair. "Yeah, bitch."
Bianca's intense eyes flickered from one face to another.
Jay said, "You're overlooking something, Wallace."
Del gaped.
"Whatever Ms. Martini and Carol were doing together that Sunday afternoon--and Carol is well over the age of consent--we know they weren't killing Hugo Groth."
"Look, fella, whose side are you on?"
"The students'," Jay said crisply. "If Carol has a complaint, I'll listen to it."
"What complaint?"
Our heads swiveled.
Carol, hands on her hips, stood in the archway. She wore a dead-black wool dress that ended halfway up her perfect waxed thighs, and her hair had been teased to the status of Importance. She wore three gold chains.
Bianca said, "How long have you been listening, Carol?"
Carol ignored her, eyes on Del. "I know what you're saying, Mr. Wallace, and you're full of shit." She stepped down into the room and took two long strides toward us. "Excuse me, but you're really pissing me off. Angie showed me this cool place in Raymond, and we talked to the lady that her and her husband own it. She says I can come back whenever I like."
Del snorted.
"Unlike some I could name," Carol went on, "she didn't make me feel stupid every time I asked a question. She was a real nice lady. Angie and me looked at two other nurseries and then I went home. That's what happened."
Del said, "D'you expect us to believe--"
"I don't give a shit what you believe." Carol's chains swung as she turned to Jay. "Angie never came on to me, and she never came on to Mary or Letha either, but I know who did."
Angie said, "Don't overdo it, Carol."
Carol ignored her, too. "Letha and me know how to deal with old guys, so it wasn't a problem for us, or not much. But Mary's a real baby. She doesn't know diddly about men. She used to cry and ask us what she was doing wrong. It helped some when Mr. Groth talked to her--"
"When?" Jay cleared his throat. "Excuse me for interrupting you, Carol. When did Groth have this talk with Mary?"
She shrugged. "A couple of times. Once in the fall and once in February during the lambing."
Jay said, "I see. Go on."
Del was spluttering.
Carol turned back to him. "Me and the Carlsens have been talking, Mr. Wallace. There's two things bothering us. Where's Jason and Bill? They said they'd be here tonight, and they weren't. And where's Mary?"
"How the hell would I know?" Del roared.
"I don't know." Carol tossed her important locks. "I'm asking."
"We're all very distressed about Mary, and I'm sure the police are doing their best to find her." Bianca's voice was a smooth as silk.
Keith said, "Did somebody call Jason?"
Carol nodded. "Adam's in there now, trying again. I called and got Jason's answering machine. I recorded his message, you know? On the tape? So it was, like, creepy to call up and get my own voice. Bill's Mom said he was out with Jason."
Jay headed for the hall. "I'm going to phone Dale Nelson, if Adam doesn't get through."
Bianca got up from the hassock. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, Carol."
Carol twisted a strand of hair. "That's okay, Mrs. McDonald, but there's one other thing."
Bianca closed her eyes briefly and opened them. "What is it?"
"I spoke my mind. I don't want Mr. Wallace evaluating me."
Bianca said, "We'll arrange something, Carol. Don't worry."
Carol expelled a breath that fluffed the strand of hair over her left eyebrow. "Okay. That's all, I guess."
Angie said, "Thanks, Carol."
Carol blushed. "It's all right. Bye." She turned and went back toward the dining room.
We stared at each other. Del got up and left the room. He didn't say anything. He just picked up his drink and walked out. Marianne watched him go, her face impassive.
When Jay came back a few minutes later he looked worried. "I got through to Dale and told him to check out the usual student haunts. I called the Johnsons. The boys took Jason's pickup, as usual. They were planning to attend the memorial service."
Bianca rubbed her arms as if she were cold. "God, I hope nothing's happened."
"The kid drives like a maniac," Keith said.
Jay nodded. "He's had two DWIs, big fine the last time. They should lift his license."
There was a commotion in the hallway. Mike came in, dripping. "Hey, where's Dad? There's a TV crew down at the gate." He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt front. "Channel Five!"
Keith and Bianca exchanged glances. Keith said, "I'll go get rid of them."
"Don't say anything." Anxiety sharpened Bianca's voice.
He nodded. "I know better."
Jay ruffled his moustache with one finger. "Lark and I ought to leave, Bianca. Dale will phone you when he finds Jason."
"Okay." Her mouth quivered. "Lark..."
"I know." I was resigned. "You'll need me tomorrow. Call me in the morning."
She gave me a tremulous smile. "Thanks. And thanks for coming."
"It was a good memorial service," I said by way of consolation.
Once he threaded his way past the TV lights, Jay drove home like a bat out of hell, and he didn't turn the windshield wipers off even once. He didn't say much, either.
As we slowed for the Shoalwater turnoff, he muttered, "You saw Carol this afternoon, so I suppose she didn't surprise you."
The wipers whirred. "What she had to say didn't surprise me, but, yes, Carol surprised me."
He grunted.
He was halfway into the house by the time I had disentangled myself from the seatbelt.
It was only nine. Bonnie's lights shone across the street--she and Tom laying plans, no doubt. I thought about running across to tell her the latest then thought again. Bonnie could wait.
Jay was on the phone when I came into the kitchen area, so I went upstairs and changed into sweats. I stood a while looking out across our little balcony at the ocean. It was dark, but I could make out the white crests of combers rolling in. A light rain spattered the windows. Bonnie's lights flicked off.
Down in the kitchen, Jay was still on the phone. I made myself coffee and put the kettle on for tea. Since his side of the conversation consisted of unintelligible noises of encouragement, I couldn't make out the subject. Jason and Bill was not a bad guess, however.
The kettle shrieked, and I poured hot water over a teabag. Jay could have drunk decaffeinated coffee, but he said it tasted like warm spit. I thought the herb gunk he favored tasted like stewed hay.
He finally hung up.
I brought him his tea. "Heavy conversation?"
"Thanks. I wanted to find out whether Bill and Jason had classes this afternoon. I had to roust somebody to access the registration files. They had a biology lab from two to five."
"On a Friday?"
"We're hurting for lab space. There are labs on Saturday morning, too."
"Ugh."
"Lots of absentees. I called the lab tech. He said Bill and Jason were there, horsing around in his words. They left at four thirty." He toyed with the cup.
I had poured myself a mug of coffee. I sat beside him and sipped. Too hot. "Is the lab important? The memorial service wasn't until seven."
"Bill lives in Shoalwater."
"And Jason rents an apartment near the college?"
"Right. Bill's parents said he hadn't been home, so the two of them probably went to Jason's place and had something to eat. To drink, too, if I understand Jason."
The college lies on the east side of Shoalwater Bay. As the crow flies, the distance between our house--just outside Shoalwater--and the campus isn't far, but the bay is large. The drive around the south end takes Jay forty minutes on a good day. It was still raining out, and it had rained hard earlier.
I sipped my cooling coffee. "How long does it take to drive to the farm from Jason's apartment?
"
"Almost an hour on the highway."
"There's another way?"
Jay rubbed the back of his neck. "I think so. Something McDonald said once about a short-cut. If there is one, and if those guys went on horsing around, there's a good chance Jason used the shorter route. Do we have a county map handy? There's one in my car."
"Drink your tea."
He ruffled his moustache. "I hope I'm wrong, but I'm feeling a lot of urgency about this. I took it for granted Bill and Jason had just skipped out on the service, but Carol expected them to show up. If I find out they drove over to Raymond and spent the evening boozing and playing video games, I'll skin them alive."
"Drink your tea," I repeated. "I'll find the map."
Easier said than done. We had lived in the house for a year, but, what with assorted renovation projects, our belongings were not well-organized. The map finally surfaced in a drawer in the hall closet where we dumped car junk.
Jay got out his reading glasses and stuck his nose into the east county. "Jeez, I don't know. Looks like a logging road." He picked up the phone again. This time he called Dale. Without result.
"You could call Carol."
He stared at me then gave a sharp nod. "I'm a dolt. She lives in the same apartment complex."
I found the number for him, and he dialed. Carol must have picked the phone up on the second ring.
"This is Jay Dodge, Carol. I have a couple of questions for you. Yeah, okay." He covered the mouthpiece. "Turning the stereo down."
When Carol came back on the line, he said, "Have you checked to see if Jason and Bill are at Jason's apartment? They're not. Okay. Listen, Keith McDonald said something once about a shortcut from campus to the farm. Do you know about it?"
Carol spoke at length. Finally, Jay thanked her and hung up. He looked worried.
"There's another road?"
"Yes. She says it's pretty primitive. There used to be a fishing resort up there--steelhead--before the clear-cut. The road was paved, and the county patches it, but it's in poor shape--unlit and winding. It's icy in winter and the drop-offs are steep. Carol doesn't use it, but the others do when they're late for a work session."
Meadowlark Page 14
