Dying to Read (12 page)

“We-l-l-l,” Doris stretched the word into multiple syllables, then rushed on. “I do remember how Texie gave Amelia a shove one time when Amelia complained about the oysters Texie served at a lunch. Texie’s in pretty good shape, a lot better than the rest of us. She has a weight machine and works out. It was a really hard shove.”

“Which may have had more to do with Radford than oysters?” Cate speculated.

“Yes! Anyway, it occurs to me that the real reason Texie called was to pump me for information, and the rest of it was just a creative pack of lies.”

Yeah, there was a lot of that going around.

Cate sat there tapping her fingers on Uncle Joe’s desk. Octavia walked around on the desktop, batting at pens and sniffing at various spots on the glass.

“Any thoughts on all this, oh brilliant one?” Cate inquired.

The cat plopped down on the desktop and looked up at Cate expectantly. Reluctantly, Cate pushed the cat aside to see what was under her. There, in teensy-tiny words befitting what was apparently a teensy-tiny town, was a name. Murphy Bay. A law . . . Murphy’s Law! If anything could go wrong, it would.

Which, in an irrelevant aside, sometimes seemed the story of Cate’s life.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Cate scoffed. “With the size of your rump, you covered fifty miles of coastline. With all kinds of town names under you. Florence. Reedsport. Your tail was up in Newport.”

Octavia stood and stalked off with cat dignity in top form, as if to say,
You did ask me. And now all I’m getting is snarky remarks about my weight.

“Hey, wait, you don’t need to get all uppity,” Cate called after her. But Octavia was apparently through dispensing PI advice for the day.

Cate studied the under-glass map. She could drive over to Murphy Bay and back in a day, but how would she find Texie even if she did that? On second thought, how many real estate offices could there be in a town the size of Murphy Bay, especially offices with an agent named Lorilyn? With her cowgirl flamboyancy, Texie might be fairly noticeable to the population there on her own.

A few minutes on the internet told Cate there was only one real estate office in Murphy Bay. She started to dial the number, then stopped. If she talked to Lorilyn, the woman would tell Texie, who might just pick up and run.

Cate left off that search and went after Radford Longstreet on the internet. Her search turned up nothing. No phone number, no address, no property ownership, nothing. She knew Uncle Joe had special databases that provided more information, but she didn’t know how to access them.

The phone rang once more. Cate didn’t look at the caller ID before she answered, this time with a simple “Hello,” because she was still thinking about Radford.

“Hi, Cate, it’s me again. Mitch.”

“You can’t make it on Sunday?”

“I just got to thinking. Sunday is a long way off. How about I do the gutters Saturday morning, and then we could have lunch? Maybe take a hike along the river in the afternoon?”

“I’d like to, but”—as she suddenly realized—“I have some plans for Saturday.”

“Oh. Well, sure. I should have figured that.”

But he was right. Sunday did seem a long way off. Saturday was a whole day closer, and with sudden inspiration she said, “I’m going over to the coast for the day. Maybe you’d like to come along?”

No hesitation or questions from Mitch. “What time?”

Mitch offered to take his SUV, and they settled on 8:15.

By that time, when Cate looked at the clock, she decided it was late enough to visit Willow’s tree. She went to her bedroom to pick up a heavier jacket, but yet another phone call, this time on her cell, changed her plans. Rebecca. Her car had been running fine when she parked it in the hospital parking lot that morning, but now it wouldn’t start. Could Cate come get her?

And by the time she and Rebecca got a mechanic who was willing to come after hours, and did, it was too late to go find Willow. Okay, tomorrow morning, then, and get there before the construction crew arrived. Cate set her alarm for 5:30.

 10 

Octavia opened one eye when Cate struggled out of bed the next morning, but she snuggled up to Rowdy rather than following. Cate took a quick shower and grabbed a bagel and coffee for breakfast. Rebecca was still asleep.

Remnants of storm clouds lingered in the before-dawn sky, but they were rapidly moving off to the east. Rainwater still gushed along street curbs, but that feeling of spring was back in the air. She expected all to be quiet at the construction scene at that hour of morning, but a police car angled into the sawhorse barrier, roof lights flashing. A spotlight from another police car targeted a tree down the street. Willow’s tree! Even at this hour, curious people milled around on the sidewalk, and cars slowed on the street, drivers gawking. Cate couldn’t park at the barrier, so she pulled around the corner to a side street and ran back.

From the lineup of sawhorses, she could see several police officers and workmen in hard hats clustered around Willow’s tree. They were looking up at the spotlight beam in the tree.

“What’s going on?” she asked a bystander frantically. “Is someone hurt?”

“They’ve been talking on a bullhorn to someone up in the tree,” an older man in corduroy pants said. “One of those tree-hugger types. She don’t seem to be comin’ down.”

“Good for her,” a woman beyond him said. “If I were younger, I’d be right up there with her. It’s a shame what they’re doing here.”

“Yeah, well, she’s comin’ down, you can bet on that. If they have to cut that tree out from under her.” The man sounded gleeful, as if he’d happily supply the chain saw. “Dern-fool tree huggers.”

Cate dodged around the end of the barrier, but she hadn’t gone more than twenty feet when a hard-hatted worker stopped her with a raised hand. “Sorry. This area is off-limits to the public.”

“But that’s a friend of mine up in the tree!”

“Could you talk her into coming down?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Wait here.”

Cate could hear the bullhorn herself now, an officer announcing that the occupant of the tree was in violation of a judge’s orders and must come down immediately. He didn’t say what would happen if she didn’t comply. They surely wouldn’t cut the tree down with Willow in it . . . would they?

The officers and several men in yellow hard hats huddled in a conference under the tree. The sky was growing lighter, and someone turned the spotlight off. Maybe they were going to start cutting! Cate dodged around piles of machinery already rumbling in readiness for the day’s work, and almost fell over a chunk of asphalt. Members of the conference under the tree turned to look when she ran up.

“Please, I’d like to talk to her—”

“She’s in violation of judge’s orders,” an officer repeated. “The construction crew needs to get to work here. And she’s throwing shoes at us!” He grabbed a sneaker and held it up.

“Just give me a minute with her, okay? Maybe she’s sick or hurt or something.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her throwing arm.”

Without waiting for an okay, Cate ran to the tree trunk. Looking up, she couldn’t see Willow. What she got was a falling faceful of raindrops collected on budding leaves and branches. She wiped her face with one hand. “Willow, are you up there? Don’t throw any more shoes! Or anything else.”

No answer.

“You have to come down. You can’t save this tree, but there’ll be others you can save.”

No answer.

Cate turned to look at the officer. “Maybe it would help if I went up there. Not to stay,” she added hastily. “I’m not a tree sitter.”

Another conference. A man in a hard hat, apparently a supervisor, waved her upward. “Give it a try.”

Cate spread her arms and embraced the tree trunk with a tentative grasp. She hadn’t climbed a tree since she was in fourth grade, and she hadn’t before noticed how big around this tree was. How had Willow managed to get up there? She tried for a foothold on the rough bark. Okay, that worked. Another foothold. She scooted her arms higher.

She was almost waist high now. So far so good!

Then both feet slipped. She dangled by little more than her fingertips, feet flailing. She struggled to wrap her legs around the tree, irrelevantly aware that she must look like a jeans-clad monkey clinging there. Probably an inordinately big-bottomed monkey. Then she lost a handhold.

And then she was on the ground. In the middle of a puddle she hadn’t even noticed until she splatted into it.

“Better give her some help, Mike.”

An officer strode up and helped her to her feet. She wiped muddy water off her face and tried to ignore the fact that she was wet from the waist down. He bent a leg, offering her a place to put her foot. She stood on his leg but still couldn’t get enough of a hold on the lowest branch to hoist herself up.

“If I could get up on your shoulders?” Cate suggested.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

She climbed awkwardly to his shoulders, balancing herself with a grip on his hair. He stood up, hands wrapped around her ankles. Would this all be written up in a police report? She finally grasped a bottom limb, and the officer shoved her upward with enough impetus to vault over it.

Barely stopping herself from a tumble right over the limb and another splat in the puddle, she looked upward and spotted a dark blob that she presumed was Willow. She took a deep breath and headed upward.

It was slow progress, finding foot- and handholds. More collected raindrops showered Cate’s head and dribbled down her neck. But finally her head was just below Willow’s feet. She could see now that Willow had tied herself to the tree with a piece of clothesline rope.

“You okay?” Cate asked.

“Do I look okay?” Willow snapped. Her hair hung like strands of unraveled rope, her nose was red, and her jacket soaked. She was also definitely shoe-less.

“How long have you been up here?”

“I climbed up about midnight last night.”

“When it was still raining?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I know it’s disappointing, but you should come down now. One way or another, they’re going to take this tree down. Since they got a judge to issue an order about getting you down from here, I’d say they mean business.”

“You think I’m up here now because I want to be?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Last night it was dark, and I just kept climbing. But this morning I looked around, and I’m . . . way up here.” Willow scrunched closer to the tree trunk and looked back over her shoulder. “Way, way up here.”

Cate, who had been concentrating solely on climbing, now looked around too. Willow was right. They were way, way up here. She could see out over the rooftops, out to flashing police lights and traffic on the street. Clouds still blanketed the mountains to the east, and the river cut a dark ribbon through the city. Up here, the tree trunk was slender and flexible, and it wobbled back and forth like a carnival ride with their every movement. Cate’s insides sloshed with the sway. Had anyone ever become seasick in a tree?

“I tried to get down earlier, but it’s even harder going down than coming up. My feet and fingers are numb . . . and I don’t know what to do! I hate heights.”

“Okay, don’t panic. I’ll come right up beside you.”

Maybe not a good idea, Cate realized when she balanced on the branch just below the one Willow was sitting on, and it bent ominously under her weight. Here the branches were small and springy, suitable for birds, not budding PIs.

She had an unpleasant vision of two redheads tumbling to the earth below.
Lord, help me figure out what to do here!

“Are you scared?” Willow asked.

“Of course I’m scared,” Cate admitted.

“I suppose you pray when you’re scared?”

“I pray when I’m scared. I pray when I’m happy. Or confused. Or thankful. God’s always pleased to hear from us. You could pray too.”

“God wouldn’t want to hear from me. I’ve done . . . oh . . . things.”

“God is in the forgiveness business. You don’t have to get your life all straightened up before you talk to him.”

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” The big voice booming through a bullhorn made Cate grab another branch to keep her balance. “Judge’s orders are that this tree be vacated immediately!”

There wasn’t an “Or else” at the end, but Cate figured they had something in mind.

“Okay, we’re coming down,” she yelled back. She looked down, took a steadying breath, and instructed Willow to untie her rope.

“I can’t. I’ll fall! I wish Coop were here!”

“We don’t need Coop. I’ll be right below you. Face the tree. Keep your arms around it and back down, one foot at a time. I’ll guide your foot so you don’t miss the branch. By the way, you have a job waiting when you get down.”

“A job?”

“Amelia’s niece wants you to come back and house-sit for her. Amelia really did just fall down those steps. She was dopey from sleeping pills. And none of her jewelry is missing after all. They found it.”

The news seemed to cheer Willow. She untied the rope, and Cate guided her shoe-less foot to the next branch down. She moved a branch lower herself, then guided Willow’s other foot down another step.

“Doing great,” Cate encouraged. “Don’t look down.”

Then a branch bent and cracked beneath Willow’s foot. She plunged downward, breaking Cate’s grip on the trunk. Cate’s arms windmilled, and she grabbed at branches as they scraped through her hands. Willow landed on Cate’s head. Now she couldn’t even see. They floundered among branches and a tangle of thrashing arms and legs.

A foot landed in the middle of Cate’s midsection. A hand clutched her hair. She tried to yell “let go” but wound up with a mouthful of knee.

Note to self: avoid any future jobs involving trees and/or heights.

A larger branch finally stopped their fall. Looking down, Cate saw a cluster of upturned faces, like the petals on some bizarre people-plant.

“Everything okay up there?” an officer called, this time without the bullhorn.

Yeah. Lovely. Just out for a morning fall.

“We’re coming down,” Cate said. Of that she was reasonably certain; she just wasn’t certain it was going to be a dignified descent.

But now that they were lower, Willow recovered her confidence. “I can make it okay now,” she said, and with Tarzan-like agility she swung down through the remaining branches.

Cate was short on the Tarzan genes. Willow landed on her feet at the base of the tree. Cate, after a slower descent, made another ignominious splat.

She instantly scrambled to her feet. Whatever fear Willow had felt near the top of the tree did not translate into fear of police authority, and a fire of defiance now blazed in her eyes. She’d also reclaimed her shoes, and waved them like floppy weapons, yelling something about these people destroying what God had created.

Cate was gratified to hear Willow give God credit for the trees, but she wasn’t sure this was the time to proclaim it. She grabbed Willow’s arm. “We’re leaving now,” she told the officers. “Thank you for your help.”

“Hey,” Willow objected. “I’m not—”

Cate propelled her look-alike forward. “We’re leaving.” Hopefully before Willow performed some brash action that would result in handcuffs for both of them.

Cate didn’t let go of Willow’s arm until they reached her car. “Sometimes you just have to accept temporary defeat and move on,” she said.

Willow rotated her shoulders and looked down at her feet in muddy socks. “I’ll have a better plan next time,” she vowed.