Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 07 - Vague Images (23 page)

Ramona handed me a bag, and I steadied myself carefully, concentrating on staying just behind the throw line
. Twenty seven feet is a long distance when you’re throwing a six by six bag of corn seed. The first bag landed on the box.

I relaxed
. No one was watching us, since the Lions were causing a ruckus with a horn that roared. “Knock it off,” yelled Tortino, and the roars stopped.

My next two bags also landed on the box, and the fourth actually went in
. From the congratulations from my teammates, you’d have thought I’d just won at least a bronze medal at the Olympics.

By the time Ramona was up on the second set of throws for our team, the score was tied at eighteen. Apparently Ramona didn’t want to bend over to pick up each of her four bags, because Suzie stood next to her, kind of like a waiter at a cocktail party, except holding corn bags instead of champagne flutes.

It was over in less than fifteen seconds. Ramona must have been waiting for this moment. In four perfectly fluid motions, she took each corn bag and lobbed it at the box. Each flew into a hole. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Lester’s usual unlit cigar dangled from his lip
s and then fell to the ground. As people cheered, Ramona bowed toward him and said, “Ash hooooooooooole.”

I thought someone would have to peel Scoobie off the ground, but he got up on his own and kind of brayed at Lester
. Even Lester’s teammates congratulated Ramona. Lester picked up his cigar and shook it at her, but I could tell he was more astounded than mad.

I felt kind of guilty moving to the Final Four, since the talent clearly came from the other three members of our team
. But not that guilty. Then I saw who our competitor was, and I groaned.

Sergeant Morehouse was apparently part player and part coach for the officers and he moved among them, clearly advising a couple other players on how to throw better
.
Oh boy
. I walked toward the bake sale table and got a cup of water. I drank all of it and took another cup back to the playing area with me.

It was almost four o’clock
. In the summer that would still be really hot, but not so in October at the shore. There still wasn’t much breeze, but it was getting cooler. I wished I’d brought a wind breaker. It never pays to get sweaty and then cold.

“So, the final four.”  George looked glum.

“Who beat you?” I asked.

“Rank and file cops
. They’re playing the Lions.”

“And we’re playing the officers,” I said slowly. “So the final could be the two teams of cops?”

“Yep. I got extra batteries for my camera.”

Scoobie walked up
. He was doing pretend punches and dancing around like a boxer in training. “Want any advice?”

“How do we get rid of hecklers?” I asked.

“We beat them,” Ramona said.

Our third round was over fast
. Morehouse and company made quick work of us. They were too polite to gloat. I saw George hand Scoobie five dollars and made a mental note to find out whether Scoobie bet for or against Ramona’s team.

“Good job, Ramona.”  I nodded toward the food selling area
. “I think I need to spend some time behind the tables.

She grinned
. “We won when it counted.”

I had been working behind the food tables for about fifteen minutes when the game between the Lions and the rank-and-file cops ended to raucous cheers from the Kiwanis, which meant the Lions lost.

Tortino’s voice came through the megaphone. “Okay, folks. Time for the championship. Spectators, please, don’t stand too close to the boxes. We don’t want anyone hit with a corn bag.”  His tone became somewhat strident. “Especially the opposing team members.”

Reverends Jamison and Gibson had their arms wide and were urging spectators to back up a few feet from the boxes
. Father Teehan appeared to be explaining the last round’s scoring to the woman who had been blowing the roaring horn for the Lions Club. She gave a curt nod and walked off.

Scoobie’s voice came from just behind me
. “I hope she accepted the explanation. Otherwise, I heard the Lions were going to boycott the next can drive.”

I glanced at him
. “I can’t believe people are that immature.”

“Oh, right
. Because you never used a squirt gun from under the boardwalk,” he said.

“It was your idea.”

“And I was the one who got you to stop.”  Lieutenant Tortino said that as he walked by, not even looking at us.

“I wish his memory wasn’t so good,” I muttered.

“Come on, I found the best place to watch from.”

I followed Scoobie to one of the picnic tables
. George was sitting on the table top and made room for the two of us. “I had to fight off Ramona and her friends, so I wouldn’t walk over that way.”  George nodded to a cluster of people standing behind the box that the police officers would throw to. Ramona was looking our way and scratched her nose again.

“I never saw her do that until today,” I said.

“Ah yes, the competitive spirit,” Scoobie said.

THE DAY WAS MOVING from twilight toward dark.  All the good baskets had been sold before the match finally ended. Captain Edwards, whom you don’t often see around town, essentially threw the losing bag. If it had hit the hole, the officer team would have won. Sergeant Morehouse looked like he wanted to punch the captain.

I watched Dana Johnson slap two other rank-and file officers on the back, and then I turned to Scoobie
. “It almost looked as if the captain lost on purpose.”

Scoobie shrugged
. “Maybe help with police union negotiations. George’ll have the photos to prove it either way.”

I WAS SO TIRED when the four of us pulled into my gravel patch-cum-driveway that I was out of my car before I noticed the green sedan parked at the curb. I stopped just before I got to the porch and Kim almost bumped into me.

“What the…” Kim began, and then followed my gaze
. “It’s that car.”

Scoobie had not heard us as he walked past us and up the steps, jiggling keys as he walked
. “Why can’t I find a key when I’m in a hurry?”

I spoke to Kim
. “I think so, too.”

Scoobie got the house door open as Lucas reached Kim and me
. He seemed to have heard part of what we said.

“First dibs on bathroom,” Scoobie called, and banged the screen door as he went in.

Lucas squinted at the car as the driver’s door opened. “Is that…?”

Kim caught her breath
. “It is!”  As Lucas started for the green car, Kim turned to me. “It’s our marshal. I hope dad’s okay.”

Lucas reached the sedan and shook the man’s hand
. Then the two of them turned to walk to Kim and me. I hoped the man didn’t have bad news for Kim and Lucas.

The marshal gestured that all of us should go into the house
.

Excuse me, it is my house.

Scoobie walked into the living room from the bathroom as I came into the room with the other three. “Doesn’t look like a party,” he said.

“This is our marshal, Mr. Steuben,” Lucas said.

“Benjamin Steuben,” he said, not looking at me.

Scoobie reached an arm to shake the man’s hand, but the marshal was busy with something on his computer tablet
. Scoobie pulled his arm back and waved at his face. Kim giggled.

I fel
t like telling good old Marshal Steuben that when people show up at my house they usually want to talk to me. I didn’t.

Steuben looked up
. “There’s someone who has something to say to you two.”  He turned his phone so that Lucas and Kim could see the screen.

Lucas said, “Dad,” and Kim said, “Daddy.”

I took in Douglas Householder’s salt and pepper hair and a more lined face than expected for someone in his mid-fifties or so.

Lucas looked guarded and spoke in a low tone
. “Kim’s doing a lot better. Today was…a great day.” 

“I can tell him,” Kim said, but asserting herself, not being petulant
. “I’m going to work on…some stuff Dad. I promise.”

Lucas looked at Scoobie and me
, and his gaze rested on Kim before he looked again at his father. “Are we…going somewhere?”

Douglas shook his head
. “I am. I made a deal. You don’t have to come.”

Kim whispered, “No.”

He looked at her. “It’s time for you two to live openly. At the beach if you want.”  He gave a swift smile. “And I do need to go tonight. I’ve looked over my shoulder hundreds of times since that man came to the house. As far as I know, no one has looked for me again, but they could anytime.”

“And they won’t look for us?”  Something close to anger had crept into Lucas’ tone.

“Not likely. The people who were angriest at me know I can’t hurt them anymore.”

Steuben looked at Lucas with a genuine smile
. “You can join the debate team.”  His gaze encompassed Kim as well. “You two can come, you might even be able to do that if you decide in a day or two. But you know what the rules would be.”

“New names?” Kim whispered.

The man nodded, and kept his voice low. “The statute of limitations has run out on some financial crimes we’re aware of. You were children. There is no reason for anyone to look for you. We have a way of letting the right people know that no one can get to your dad through you. And with the statute of limitations ended, no one really cares.”

Scoobie’s tone held a lot of sarcasm
. “Kind of a deal with the devil?”

The marshal hesitated
. “More like honor among thieves.”

Lucas looked at his father
. “You’re deserting us.”

Before Douglas could speak, Kim said
. “No, he isn’t. He’s setting us free.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Like mom wanted to be.”

Douglas winced
. “Yes. But with stipulations.”

Lucas had adopted his mulish expression, and his father continued
. “You can keep the names you have now, and you have to visit your aunts.”

Kim’s expression could only be described as elated
. “We can?  We really can?”

“Douglas,” the marshal said, “we should cut this short
. You know we can’t be on too long.”

Lucas’ expression had
softened, but I could tell he had a lot of questions. As he started to speak, the marshal said, “Can’t tell you more, Lucas. You’re going to have to be satisfied with not knowing.”

Lucas nodded, with seeming reluctance
. “But Kim will be safe.”

“And you, too, Mr. Bossy.”  Kim had regained her happy expression, and she turned to her father
. “I know I’ll miss you, and maybe someday we can be together. But even more than being with you, I want to be able to be me.”

“Touché,” Steuben said, but softly
. He looked directly at Lucas. “We’ve never done anything exactly like this, but you guys were little kids, and the statutes are up. It can work. Now, we’ve really got to end this call.”

I wanted to ask why it mattered, but for a change I kept quiet.

The marshal shook hands with Lucas and me, and Kim gave him a quick hug. Scoobie had picked up the phone and I wasn’t sure whether it was to avoid shaking hands or if he really had a call.

“I’ll, uh, fix us some iced tea,” I said
. “I’m still hot from all the running around.”

Aunt Madge’s voice came over the speaker phone
. “Not hot tea?”

I smiled at Scoobie and spoke toward the phone
. “Come on over.”

Aunt Madge didn’t respond to that, but her voice moved into what I think of as her take-charge mode
. “Kim, it’s coming on winter, and I have few guests. You’ll have Jolie’s old room for a while.”

“And I live on the
roof?” Lucas said, but smiling.

“There’s an extra dog bed in the basement,” Aunt Madge said.

I felt the tension begin to drain from the room.

He caught the joke and grinned at Scoobie
. “That’ll work. Thanks.”

Aunt Madge talked to Scoobie for another moment and hung up.

“Will you move up here?” I asked Lucas.

He nodded
. “I have to give notice, and I should stay there a few weeks, ‘til they replace me. The hospital I work for has been really good to me.”

Kim looked worried
. “Can you find a job here?”

“I’ve met some people at this hospital,” Lucas said, dryly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I DIDN’T WAKE UP until nine-thirty on Monday, and my leg immediately found a wet spot on the bed
.
I have to stop going to sleep with an ice bag on my foot.

There was a light tap on the door, and I realized there had likely been a prior tap that had awakened me
. Probably Lucas or Kim, who were sleeping on air mattresses in the living room. “Kim?”

“Nope,” Scoobie said
. “Just wanted you to know I’m leaving for work and the kiddies are up.”

“Open the door.”

“If you’re going to be officious about it.”  He turned the handle and poked his head around the door jamb.

I took in his still damp hair and freshly washed scrubs and felt that pang of… what?… again
. “Thanks.”

“No trouble to make extra pancakes,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

“Sadly, I do get you.”  He grinned and left.

I stayed in bed another minute. The sense of relief about Kim and Lucas being safe was coupled with the sense of accomplishment I always feel after a successful fundraiser. But there was something else, and I was beginning to know what it was. What I would do about it, I had no idea.

Apparently certain that I was awake, Pebbles arose from her pet bed in the corner of my room and looked at me intently
. Unlike with a dog, or even a cat sometimes, there is no sense of communication with a skunk. I’m supposed to know when she’s hungry or…

“Yikes.”  I sat up and swung my legs to the floor
. After assessing that I could put weight on my foot, even after standing most of the day yesterday, I stood and walked to my bedroom door and opened it. It’s propped open at night so Pebbles can get to her litter box in the coat closet. Someone must have closed it so I could keep sleeping.

Since I had responded to her nonverbal instruction, Pebbles walked to the door and waddled out
. As she left, Jazz’s head appeared at the door jamb.

“Lucas and Kim let you out?”

“She was out here.”  Kim pushed the door open and looked at me. “Your skunk just came out.”

I wasn’t sure if she was pleased or wary
. “She’s getting used to you.”

“Does your Aunt Madge let her visit the B&B?”

“One of the dogs has met Pebbles, but I don’t think Aunt Madge would be too welcoming.”  Jazz came into the room and wove between my ankles. I reached down to pet her and she head-butted my wrist. “I’m getting you food.”

“Lucas fed her
. Do you want to use the bathroom before I jump in the shower?”

I said no and she called to Lucas to say what she was about to do.

“Keep the window shut,” he said.

MONDAY WAS A REALLY busy day. Lance likes someone to be with him when he counts the money from a fundraiser, and there would be a lot of sorting to do at the food pantry. I didn’t know how much food had been donated yesterday, but I knew it was at least one pick-up truck load because I’d seen Alicia and her friend Clark leaving in his truck.

I checked my email to see if any banks had let us know that an appraisal request was coming, and stopped by the Steele Appraisals office to check for faxes.

A single page was in the fax machine. “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.” 

Lester’s scrawl is unique
. It occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t have sent him a response fax a few days ago. He’d be looking for one now.

I shrugged and wrote, “It is if you know how to keep score,” and faxed it back.

I STOPPED AT THE In-Town Market
. There were more cars in the lot, and I stood just inside the door to take in the people shopping. Two cash registers were open and the screech of a cart wheel that needed oil reached me.

After wandering around for a minute, I found Mr. Markle in the freezer section unpacking a carton of frozen pizza
. I hoped it meant he was short-staffed because of a sudden up-tick in business.

He looked up
. “Kept your promise.”  He went back to unpacking.

“It was more the churches, I think
. I heard something about threats from pulpits if you had to shut.”  I leaned against the freezer door.

“Your body heat will change the freezer temperature
.

Ah, the Mr. Markle I know and love
.
“Are you saying I have a hot bod?”

He looked startled at my informal banter, and then surprised me by smiling
. “You get plenty of donations yesterday?”

“I’m heading over there now
. Looked like at least one…hey, I’ve been too busy to read the papers for a couple of days. Did they ever catch who robbed you?”

“Funny you should ask
. This morning Morehouse called to say they’re beginning to think it was someone passing through.”

“Hmm
. Wonder why they think that?”

“Probably don’t want to admit they can’t catch someone,” Mr. Markle said.

“Did he mention the corn toss?”

“Oh yes
. I wouldn’t want to be Captain Edwards today.”

MONDAY IS ONE of our thrice-weekly days for Harvest for All to be open, and a lot of times it’s is a hard day. People who had little food over the weekend are not happy to start the week on an empty stomach. Today there was pleasant banter among the patrons. Many had been at the corn toss, and Megan had wisely said that if someone needed a can of food yesterday, they could take it.

George had apparently written an article in the
Ocean Alley Press
, because I heard someone say they were in a photo. It hadn’t occurred to me that the paper was missing from my kitchen table for any reason other than there were four people in the house. I began to think it might have been missing because of what it said.

“Do you have the paper?” I asked Megan.

“I wondered when you’d ask. George dropped one off for you.”

I took it and muttered, “I hate it when they do that.”  At her puzzled look I added, “They coordinate
. Scoobie and George. The paper wasn’t in my house this morning. Or if it was it was hidden.”

Megan smiled
. “You’ll see why.”

“Turn to page three,” a patron said
. She was one of a group that had come together on the city bus that picks up people individually, usually elderly or disabled people. I realized she was the woman I’d seen at the hospital a couple of weeks ago who was so concerned about stool softener being available at Mr. Markle’s store.

“Uh, thanks.”  I leaned against the counter and studied the front page
. The fundraiser was featured prominently in the top right column, and a box in the middle of the story said “photos on page 3.”

The article was concise
.

Cops Take the Top

Spot at HFA Games

Competition was friendly but in some cases intense at the Sunday afternoon corn toss contest, held at the OA Community Center. Harvest for All and Shop with a Cop volunteers and supporters either played or watched the competition, which began with sixteen teams.

The article spent most of the space on the final game between the two groups of police. Morehouse was quoted. “Some of the newer officers thought youth was an advantage, but experience tends to even things out, even if sometimes people at the top get a little soft.” 

Uh-oh
.
I was glad I didn’t have to be in the police station this morning.

I turned to page three
. It was all event photos. The editor is generous about this because more pictures lead to more newspaper sales. I hadn’t noticed that Tiffany, the newer reporter-cum-photographer, was there, but most credits were hers. She had managed to include many teams and had a great photo of boxes of food that were piled near the bake sale tables.

It was impossible to ignore the photo in the middle of the page, which featured me, knees bent and ready to do one of my underhand throws
. My arm was drawn back, corn bag in hand. My face didn’t have the kind of scrunched up expression George likes to feature, but the photo did show Scoobie about five feet behind me holding a pair of long bunny ears, like kids have at Easter. He looked quite pleased with himself.

I looked at Megan
. “I didn’t see him with those.”

“You probably weren’t supposed to.”

“Oh my.”  At the bottom of the page there was a photo that showed the expanse of the bake sale and snack table. Sylvia was at the far end, and Scoobie was a couple of feet behind her, again with long rabbit ears. George was credited with both rabbit ear photos.

Megan was already turning back to the counter, but she added, “Someday you guys will grow up.”

I’m not so sure about Scoobie and George
.