I pulled to the side of the road directly opposite the drive. From this perspective I could see only the top of a chain-link fence. I turned off the engine and silenced the car radio. The only sound now was the wind rustling in the trees and the scampering of little creatures in the woods nearby, perhaps the squirrels the town was named for. Then I heard dogs, more than one or two, barking in the distance.
Now that I was actually here, my nerves jangled and I felt a level of dread. This did not feel like a very welcoming place. I climbed out of the car and walked slowly up the drive. At the top of the rise, the land leveled off. The rest of the way was blocked by a high chain-link gate and fence that continued in either direction into the dense trees. The chain-link was topped by barbed wire. Not a great advertisement for a welcoming religious community. In spite of what the sheriff had indicated, the gate itself was unmanned and secured by a chain and padlock.
Inside the perimeter of the fence, the road curved down toward the right. Clinging to the fence and standing on tiptoe, I could just make out the tops of a couple of primitive cabins. Hopefully, there were more promising buildings out of my line of sight. I called out but no one answered or appeared. I waited a few more minutes and hollered out again. No response.
Frustrated, I returned to the car. The sun had disappeared behind bleak clouds as the day shortened. I huddled into my jacket, turned on the engine to start the heater, and waited, very glad I had thought to put on socks and thick-soled tennis shoes. I wasn’t sure what to do next. It was late afternoon and just possible the Prophet’s followers were doing something productive like praying. As tasteless as the coffee was, it had helped to keep me warm, but I knew it would soon do its other magic and force me to search for a restroom. There was no way I was going to trudge into the woods to find a private spot. I just might get buckshot or worse in my rear end.
As the minutes passed, the overhead pines and bare branches cast a deeper gloom over the road. I hunkered down into my jacket a bit more and waited. Three-quarters of an hour passed and just as I was about to throw in the towel, I heard a car. From my vantage point, I saw the top of the chain-link gate open. I put the Geo in reverse and backed up a discreet distance, to a spot partially hidden by bushes on the shoulder of the road.
A late-model sedan that needed a paint job and sported splashes of mud on its sides moved slowly down the drive, cautiously inched onto the road, and turned in the opposite direction from me. A lone woman was at the wheel. As she turned, she pulled a white cap from her head and threw it on the seat next to her. I started the engine and put the car in gear. Waiting for a few moments, I followed from what I thought was a safe distance. As I passed by the dirt drive, I caught a glimpse of a man in jeans and western hat winding a chain around the opening of the gate.
The sedan was ahead of me, disappearing occasionally as the road curved. I stayed a good distance behind. Only one other car passed in the opposite direction as I kept the sedan in my line of sight. The last light of the sun was disappearing quickly as we headed east. The sedan took a fork to the south and I followed. I realized we were heading back to town from the opposite direction.
This road led to a street that paralleled Powell. The car turned right on a side street and then pulled into a parking lot behind the same diner where I’d bought coffee earlier. I slowed and then pulled in at the far end of the lot. I shut off the engine and pretended to rummage in my glove compartment while the other driver got out of her car, slammed the door, and walked purposefully toward the back entrance to the diner. She was wearing white nurse’s shoes and a white uniform under a dark gray jacket.
I counted to twenty and then entered the diner through the same rear door. Christmas carols were playing on a boom box at the end of the counter. I made a beeline down the main aisle to the restrooms, grateful the nurse had chosen a spot with facilities. I washed my hands and splashed some water on my face. The towel dispenser was empty, but at least the restroom was clean. I dried my hands on some toilet paper.
The woman with the two young children and the elderly man were gone. Two men in overalls now sat in a corner booth. Other than the men, the waitress, the woman I’d followed, and myself, the diner was empty. The nurse sat alone in one of the turquoise vinyl booths halfway down the aisle. I took a seat at the counter a few stools away, where it was easy to keep an eye on her. The same waitress was still on duty. She dropped a menu in front of me, giving no indication she’d seen me an hour or so before. She reached under the counter and placed a heavy white cup and saucer in front of me. Then she poured coffee from a full pot without asking. Something greasy and wonderful was frying on a grill in the rear and I realized I was starving.
“What’ll it be?”
I ordered the special—meat loaf and mashed potatoes with gravy. Comfort food. It came with a side dish of peas and tiny carrots. I skipped the vegetables and dove into the mashed potatoes and gravy. They were real potatoes and real gravy, and the whole dinner was delicious. I must have inhaled my food, because when I glanced up, the waitress had just served a plate to the nurse in the nearby booth. I left some bills next to my plate, enough to cover the meal and a tip, and walked over to the booth carrying my coffee cup in hand.
“Excuse me. Could I talk to you for a moment?”
The woman looked up, surprised. She had a long angular face and dark eyes. Dark straight bangs covered her forehead, and the rest of her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Have a seat.” She seemed curious but reserved. Tiny lines around her eyes tightened when she looked at me.
“My name is Julia. I’ve driven up from San Francisco and I’m hoping to locate someone who might be at the Prophet’s Paradise.”
She was buttering a roll. I noticed her hesitation as I mentioned the compound. She shot a look at me and returned to buttering her roll. “Why don’t you talk to them?”
“I would if I could. I went out there, but I couldn’t find anyone and the gate was locked.” She’d ordered the same special I had. She picked up her fork and, unlike me, ate her vegetables first. I waited, but she offered no further information.
“You work there.”
She stared at me. “So? A lot of people do. How do you know that anyway?”
I hesitated to tell her I’d followed her. Either she already knew that, or she assumed there were no secrets in a town like this.
Ignoring her question, I ploughed ahead. “I’m looking for an elderly woman. Her name is Eunice. She disappeared from her home yesterday.”
“A relative of yours?”
“My friend’s aunt.”
“Maybe you should call the cops.”
“We have. They can’t do anything. She left a note.”
The woman shrugged. “There are lots of elderly people out there.”
“Have you noticed anyone who might have arrived recently? Today maybe? Or last night? She’s a tiny woman, white hair. Her name is Eunice.” I was repeating myself.
“I can’t help you.” The nurse wiped her mouth daintily with the rough brown napkin and started rummaging in her purse.
I had run into another wall. What was it with this town? “Look, I wouldn’t be bothering you if I had another option. I get the distinct feeling they wouldn’t let me in there anyway. I don’t know who else I can ask.”
“I told you. Call the cops.” Her voice had risen slightly. The waitress stopped in her tracks and stared across the counter at us. The nurse threw some bills on the table, placed the salt shaker on top, and scooted out of the booth, heading for the back door. I thought about going after her and giving it one more try. The compound couldn’t possibly be that large. If they used the services of a nurse, surely that nurse would know of any new arrivals. On the other hand, she seemed fairly determined to get away from me. I took a last sip of my coffee and slid out of the booth. The waitress was standing with her arms folded, staring suspiciously at me as I left through the back door.
Outside, the sun had sunk below
the horizon. The wind had come up and the temperature was dropping to a frosty level. I got back in my car, turned the key in the ignition, and cranked up the heater. I pulled out to the main street. The few retail shops had all closed. I passed by the Sheriff’s Station, dark now except for an overhead light above the front door. Further down the street, flashing multi-colored Christmas lights outlined the blacked-out windows of the local bar. I heard a blast of country music emanating from within as I cruised by.
The biggest light source in town was the Frosty Freeze, empty except for one teenage clerk wiping off the counter. He looked out the window as my car drove by, as if yearning for something to happen. What did kids do at night in a town like this? For that matter, what did the big people do? I drove out the main road and again headed back toward the Prophet’s Paradise, a misnomer if ever there was one.
The road was pitch dark. I parked my car on the shoulder and walked back to the locked gates. I peered through the chain-link fence, hoping to see or hear something. I wasn’t certain, but I thought I saw light coming from one of the rustic cabins. The gate was unmanned as before. I debated climbing over the eight-foot fence to gain entry. I could probably do it, but the thought of getting cut up on the barbed wire gave me second thoughts. I couldn’t imagine Eunice surviving in a place like this unless the interior of the compound was a lot more comfortable. Most of all, I couldn’t ignore the pattern forming in her chart. I had to find her.
An owl screeched in the tree above. I shivered. I was sure Eunice was here, but I had no way to get to her. As I stood there in the dark, frustrated, going over my nonexistent options, I heard the dogs barking. They sounded like big, nasty dogs that I didn’t want to mess with. Once again, I beat a hasty retreat to the warmth of my car.
What could I do? I could admit defeat and drive back to the city. It would only take a couple of hours. Maybe I could even sleep in my own bed. What a thought! Or I could check into the Bide-a-Wee Motel and try again in the morning. Talking to the Walkers tomorrow sounded like a plan, and maybe I could light a fire under Sheriff Leo and ride along with him. In any case, I wasn’t at all willing to give up. The Bide-a-Wee it was.
I followed the road along the route the nurse had taken. In the dark, I hoped I could find the turnoff to town. I missed it on the first pass and didn’t realize until I passed an abandoned farmhouse that I hadn’t seen earlier. I pulled a U-turn and retraced my route, driving slowly until I spotted the turn. When I arrived on Powell Street, I pulled into the courtyard of the Bide-a-Wee. A green neon vacancy sign hung in the window of the office. I pushed through the glass door and, over the sound of a television blasting from somewhere inside, I heard a buzzer.
I dumped my purse on the counter and waited. A small fake evergreen decorated with tiny lights and mini cookies stood on a table in the corner. I moved in to get a closer look, wondering how long the cookies had hung there. I was tempted to pick one off the tree but worried what the etiquette might be. Did one wait for Christmas to eat the goodies? Or were they packed away to be rehung the following year? I hoped not. While I wrestled with this dilemma, the volume of the television ceased. The door opened. A diminutive woman with glasses on the end of her nose approached the counter. Her head was a mass of tight curls in a color somewhere between her original blond and silver. She smiled when she saw me and raised her glasses to get a better look. She wore a fuzzy yellow cardigan covered with embroidered bees. My heart lurched, remembering Eunice’s collection of jeweled bee pins.
“Hello, dear. I’m glad I wasn’t hearing things when the buzzer went. My hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
I smiled and didn’t comment. Given the volume of the television, it was no wonder. “I’d like a room for the night, please.”
“Just one night?” The overhead neon lights cast a purplish tinge over her hair.
“Yes. I think so.” I hope so.
“Well … ” She pulled a large register out from under the counter. “I can give you room 202. It has a full-sized bed. Would that be all right?”
“Yes, that’s fine. Thanks.”
“Just sign the register and fill out this form.” She slid a piece of paper toward me. “That’ll be $39.50. Oh, and the pool isn’t open this time of year. It’s not heated, so we have to drain it in the winter.”
I hid my disappointment that I wouldn’t be frolicking in an unheated pool in December. I filled out the form and pushed my credit card across the counter, opening my wallet so she could check my ID. She readjusted her glasses and peered at my driver’s license.
“You’re from the city?”
“Yes.”
“What brings you up this way, dear?”
“Just looking for someone.”
“Hmm.” She regarded me more thoughtfully. “Someone in town? Maybe I could help you. I’ve lived here my whole life and know everyone.”
“Well … ” I debated how open I could be with her. “I’m looking for an elderly lady who might have gone to the Prophet’s Paradise. She disappeared from her home last night.”
“Are you a detective?” she whispered.
“Oh, no. Just a friend of the family, but no one could leave to come up here right away.”
“That’s terrible. That family must be so worried.”
“They are, believe me.” I thought about Dorothy and felt a pang of guilt that I hadn’t called her all day.
“I go to a regular church. And I’m not much of a joiner, so I don’t really understand what all the hoopla is with these people. But they seem all right when they come into town. Don’t bother anyone, at least.”
“I understand from the sheriff that some people from the town work out there.”
“Yes, a few. You’ve met our sheriff?”
“Yes, ma’am.” A few more days and I’d be talking like a local.
“Come on down to the office tomorrow morning around ten. You can meet Duane. He’s my handyman. Does odd fix-it jobs here at the motel. He works out there occasionally. Maybe he could give you some information. I’m Gladys, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Gladys.” I reached across the counter and we shook hands. “I’d appreciate any help I can get.”
She indicated the doorway behind her. “I just want to catch my show, dear, but you come on down tomorrow morning. And there’s coffee and donuts here till nine thirty, if you’d like some.”
“Thanks. That would be nice.”
“Good night.” She smiled and scurried away to the room in the rear. I picked up my key and heard the volume of the television return to stun level as I pushed through the glass doors. A chill blast of wind whipped through the entryway as I hurried back to my car. I pulled the car inside the goldfish bowl courtyard and parked on the opposite side from Room 202, better to keep an eye on it if I heard any strange noises in the night. I turned off the engine and dialed Dorothy’s number. She answered on the second ring.
“I was hoping that was you! Have you found anything out yet?”
“Not much. I’ve located the compound and made friends with the sheriff, but I haven’t been able to get onto the grounds. I’m staying at the Bide-a-Wee Motel tonight. So don’t worry that I’m not back in the city yet.”
“Julia, I don’t know how I can ever repay you. And again, I’m sorry I snapped at you last night. My nerves are just frazzled.”
“No worries. And you don’t owe me! I’ll call you at some point tomorrow when I know more.” I clicked off.
Next I dialed Don and got his voicemail. I left a message that I was well and the name of the motel where I was spending the night. I tried Gale’s number. She didn’t answer. I left another message that I was out of town and not to worry. I’d call her in a day or so to explain.
I shoved the room key into the pocket of my jeans, popped open the trunk, and pulled out a down jacket and a scarf I keep in there for emergencies. Swapping it out with my lightweight jacket, I closed the trunk and walked out of the courtyard down Powell Street, heading
for Cowboy’s End.
THIRTY-EIGHT
AS DARK AS THE street was, it still took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the interior of the bar. Rows of bottles that needed dusting were lined up in front of a long mirror. A brightly lit moving diorama advertising beer hung on the opposite wall from the bar. And at the end of the room, a jukebox had pride of place. Two men in jeans and denim jackets lounged at a table in the corner, several empty beer bottles in front of them. One sat with his booted foot resting on a nearby rickety chair. A couple danced listlessly in the center of the floor, clutching each other to the strains of a twanging rendition of unrequited love. Peanut shells and sawdust littered the floor along the length of the bar. I groped for a stool as my eyes adjusted. One woman sat alone at the bar with an untouched beer in front of her, cracking peanut shells in her teeth. It was my nurse. I decided to take another chance.
I sat on the stool next to her. “Hi.”
She turned slightly unfocused eyes in my direction. “Oh. It’s you.”
I raised a finger to the bartender who ambled over. “What kind of wine do you have?”
He snorted. “Merlot and Chardonnay.”
The nurse giggled.
“Merlot, please.”
The nurse turned to me. “What’s your name?” The phrase seemed flat, more like a statement than a question.
“Julia. What’s yours?”
“Edie.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to bother you earlier. I just didn’t know who to talk to.”
The bartender returned with a glass that looked like an empty peanut butter jar filled with a dark red substance. I took a sip. It wasn’t bad, or maybe I was just desperate.
“Better if you don’t talk to anybody here.” Edie cracked a peanut shell in her fingers and popped the fruit into her mouth, washing it down with a swig of beer. “In fact, you’re only the third person who’s talked to me in the seven months I’ve been in this stinking town.”
The Madness of Mercury Page 19
