Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 02 - Rekindling Motives (21 page)

“I just want,” I paused, not sure what I wanted, “you to know I can’t find him.
He’s with me almost every day and…” I stopped. If I said more I thought I’d cry. Where did that come from?

Morehouse came in through the back door, which led to the parking lot, and our eyes met.
Dana had seen my attention was drawn elsewhere and she and I both greeted him as he walked up to us. “What have you done now?” he asked.

That banished any tears of worry.
“Nothing! I’m looking for Scoobie.”

“Scoobie?
You don’t know where he is?” As I shook my head, he said, “He’s been working with you at the First Prez Pantry, right?” I nodded. “Wasn’t that his backside in the paper today?”

“Yes, and he was supposed to meet me there this morning.
He always comes.”

Morehouse’s interest had gotten more of Dana’s.
“He didn’t act like he was coming down with anything, did he?” she asked.

“No, and I know he’ll be mad at me for looking for him, but I’ve checked everywhere I can think of.”

Morehouse thought for a minute. “OK, I’m not going to do anything official, but I’ll ask the guys to keep an eye out for him and just call me if they see him. Not talk to him or anything.” I don’t think he expected me to kiss him on the cheek, because I think if he had he would have deflected it.

“Don’t you know it’s flu season,” he grumbled as he turned to walk toward his small office.

Dana smiled at me. “I bet he’s okay.”

“I hope so.”
The officer at the counter buzzed me out and I walked into the light snowfall that had started while I was in the police station.

When I got back to the food pantry there were stacks of food behind the counter, so many sacks and small boxes that it was hard to move around.
Aunt Madge offered to stay so I could be free to come and go, but I said no. I had done all I could. It was time to practice Scoobie’s Serenity Prayer. “Go on home,” I said. “He might even show up there.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IT WAS AFTER SIX O’CLOCK when I locked the door. I had sent Megan and Sylvia home at four-thirty. We were supposed to close at four but there was still a line, so we stayed open longer. Even after I locked the door at five people would peer in and I’d let them come in. I had spent the last hour and a half restocking the shelves and worrying.

I was halfway to Aunt Madge’s when I pulled over to let two fire trucks roar past me.
Idly I hoped it was just a grease fire or something small, nothing to disrupt a family’s Christmas. When I turned onto D Street I saw the plume of smoke rising from the business district.
Damn. That would ruin a …
In the middle of my thought I gasped and pulled behind the second fire truck, matching its speed. The smoke was coming from an area near the old Bakery at the Shore.

IT LOOKED AS IF THE
FIRE had started at the back of the building and was moving toward the front. I couldn’t think of anything in there that would start a fire, and I thought Aunt Madge had talked Annie into doing nothing until the building was rewired.

When you read about a chill running through someone when they’re scared, it’s true.
I ran up to a firefighter who was pulling on his boots. “There’s a closet. Look in the closet!”

“Stand back, miss.”
He put out an arm to block me from going further.

“You don’t understand, someone might be in the closet.”

The next two minutes were a blur. The firefighter hollered at the man who was directing the effort and they asked me exactly where in the smoke-filled building the closet was. I stood with tears running down my hot face until a hand pulled me backwards and I saw Sgt. Morehouse. He said nothing.

About ten seconds later two firefighters came out, each holding one side of Scoobie, who had his arms apparently tied behind him and was unconscious.
Morehouse kept tight hold of my arm until I stopped screaming, and then he turned me to face him. “Let ‘em work on him,” he said, referring to the paramedics.

I nodded, not speaking, and turned my head toward the ambulance.

“Can I let go?” he asked.             

“Yes.”
All I could do was stare as a paramedic put an oxygen mask on Scoobie and another one yelled, “Let’s go!”

I turned toward my car and Morehouse said, “I’m driving.”
He took my keys from my hand and tossed them to a bystander. “Move that car down the way, and drop the keys at the station.” The man caught the keys and nodded.

“Buckle up,” he barked at me as he started to drive
the police car. I started to sob and couldn’t stop.

“Jolie, listen to me.
If he was dead they wouldn’t be in such a hurry.”

It took me a
couple of minutes, but I got control of my sobs and fished in my pocked for a tissue. “Thank you.”

Morehouse parked right by the emergency room door and kept his hand on my elbow as we walked in.
I guess he thought I’d try to get into the patient cubicles. He asked the clerk at the desk to “keep him posted” on the guy they just brought in. When the clerk looked confused, he added, “The one from the fire.”

Morehouse’s phone buzzed and he picked it up, listened a moment, and said, “She’s with me.”
He shoved it back into his pocket. “Two guesses. Well, one.”

“Aunt Madge,” I whispered.

Even before she got there a man in scrubs opened the locked entrance to the patient area and motioned to us to come in. “Looks like he’ll be okay,” he said to Morehouse, “but we need to watch him. Quite a bump on the head.”

He gestured us into Scoobie’s area.
I almost burst into tears again. Scoobie had an oxygen canella in his nose and his face was darkened with soot. One nurse was wiping soot off his face and another was adjusting an IV.

Scoobie saw me and tried to sit up.
The two women each threw an arm across his chest and the taller one said, “Down!”

He obeyed and looked at me without saying anything.
He looked exhausted more than anything.

“Your buddy here knew something was wrong,” Morehouse said, tilting his head in my direction.

“I figured you would,” he said, his voice hoarse, “then it got later and I smelled the smoke…” His voice trailed off.

“If you hadn’t talked about that damn Serenity Prayer I would have kept looking.”

At that he gave a full smile and looked at Morehouse. “And you thought she wasn’t teachable.” His voice was still hoarse, but his words sounded more like Scoobie.

Both nurses had stepped out by now, and Morehouse pulled his notebook from a pocket.
“What can you tell me?”

He closed his eyes.
“Not a lot. I remembered Jolie and Lester saying they left the back door unlocked, and…”

“Lester, Lester Argrow?”
Morehouse turned to me, the more familiar look of irritation on his face.

“He’s the real estate agent for the place.” I said, defensively.

Morehouse snorted. “Go on.”

“I couldn’t sleep.
All keyed up from working at the food pantry, I guess.” He took a breath. “Went over there about seven-thirty this morning, and the door was open. I wanted to look around for myself.” He stopped and swallowed and asked for some water.

“He didn’t go in with us,” I explained to Morehouse as I took a Styrofoam cup next to the sink, filled it, and plopped a straw into.
As Scoobie took a couple or sips, I added, “He thought going in there was a bad idea. I should have listened to him.”

“Should have listened to myself.”
He put his head back onto the pillow and winced. “Got a bump on the noggin.”

“Did you see who hit you?” Morehouse asked.

“No. I was standing to the side of the bar, looking at that great old mirror, and that’s the last I remember.”

“And you woke up before the fire?” Morehouse asked.

“Yeah, hours ago. But my hands were tied behind my back and there was a gag in my mouth. I kept kicking the wall, but the buildings on either side are vacant.”

You couldn’t stand up, let someone see you from the street?” Morehouse asked.

“I was in that closet, and the door wouldn’t push open.”

Morehouse made a note.
“Locked you think?”

“I couldn’t tell…” his voice trailed off.

“Adam.” Aunt Madge was in the curtained doorway. She looked much more distressed than any time I’d been in the hospital.

“He’ll be all right, Madge,” Morehouse said.
She nodded and sat in one of the two plastic chairs. I avoided her eyes.

“So, you smelled the smoke or what?” Morehouse asked.

“I heard the crackling first, I guess I’d been dozing.” He opened his eyes. “I think I smelled gas, well, not really gas, but something sort of like gas.”

“Yeah, not likely natural causes,” Morehouse said, dryly. “Anything else?”

Scoobie started to shake his head and winced again. The blood pressure cup on his arm started to inflate and he asked me to take it off. “No,” said Aunt Madge. And that was that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE DOCTORS LET US TAKE Scoobie back to Aunt Madge’s late in the day on Christmas Eve. I remembered Aunt Madge had spoken harshly about his parents, so I gathered he did not spend holidays with them. Without really discussing it, she and I had brought him back to the B&B and put him in the room, next to mine.

“I can stay on the couch,” he said as we climbed the stairs.

“You don’t go with the Christmas décor,” Aunt Madge said. She had placed a pair of men’s sweat pants and a t-shirt on the bed. “Jolie and I will step out while you get changed.”

We waited outside, not speaking, while Jazz pawed at Scoobie’s door.
I knew Aunt Madge was really mad at me, even though she said she wasn’t. I figured she thought that Scoobie wouldn’t have been almost killed if I hadn’t led him astray.

Thank goodness for Megan taking charge at the food pantry.
She told me later she called every member of the committee and they all came in to work.

I fielded calls from people all morning.
Even Joe Regan had called. Ramona had been at the hospital for a few minutes the night before. Daphne wanted to know if she could put up a sign at the library saying Scoobie was okay and would be back after Christmas. I told it was probably all right, but to be sure to take it down before he did get back.

Even Gracie heard and called.
She also informed me that neither she or her mother had found the deed for the Fisher house and she was going to “let go of it.” I suspected the happy pills enabled this attitude.

“I’m dressed,” Scoobie called, in a silly falsetto.
I gestured that Aunt Madge should go in before me. He was lying on the top of the quilt, and Jazz ran in before either of us, hopped on the bed, and walked up to Scoobie’s head and sat down on his neck, seemingly daring Aunt Madge to make her move.

“At least she’s not putting her b…tail in my face,” he said, pushing her to the side, but rubbing the top of her head.
He looked at both of us. “I really am okay. I’m just here so you’ll have company at Christmas.”

Aunt Madge looked out the window.
“It will be a quiet one,” she said.

My parents
are in Florida. My sister Renée and her husband and two children were supposed to come down for Christmas lunch, but there were about three inches of snow on the ground accumulating toward a foot of the white stuff. Aunt Madge insisted they not be on the roads and we said we’d get together New Year’s Day instead.

“I’ll make us a pot of tea with honey,” she said, and left the room.

When she was gone Scoobie looked at me. “How pissed is she?”

“I think we really scared her,” I said.
“But it’s me she’s angry with, not you. She figures I got you into this.”

He looked at Jazz as he stroked her.
“I should have followed my own advice and stayed out of there.” Jazz walked onto his chest and plopped down. “On the other hand, we know for sure someone has something to hide.” He gave me a grin that was more like his usual self.

“I FIND IT ODD,” Aunt Madge said as we ate crab soup for Christmas lunch, “that Annie Milner hasn’t called.
You’d think she would want to know why Adam was in there, if nothing else.”

“Me, too,” Scoobie and I both said.
We were sitting at Aunt Madge’s large oak table, which had a poinsettia and set of Christmas candles festooned in the center. Aunt Madge had gone to church that morning, saying that eight to ten inches of snow wouldn’t stop her. I had planned to go with her, but we agreed that someone should stay with Scoobie.

“I suppose Annie could be away.”
She stirred a few oyster crackers into her soup.

Scoobie’s and my eyes met and looked away.
We had talked at length in the morning, before going downstairs. Who else but Annie would be in the building? Though, as Scoobie pointed out, the door had been unlocked. Several homeless people stay in Ocean Alley during the winter – most go south – but even if one of them had come into the building to sleep they wouldn’t have any reason to hit Scoobie, much less tie him up and set the building on fire.

Suddenly she gave us both a stern stare.
“What do you know that I don’t?”

Under normal circumstances I’d give her a smart answer, but this time she wouldn’t have stood for it.

Scoobie spoke first.
“We don’t really know anything.” He looked at me and I shrugged. “Jolie and I thought maybe Peter Fisher killed Richard and put his body in the closet. But how that relates to what’s going on now beats me.”

“What I care about,” I said slowly, still thinking,” is who killed Mary Doris.
”

There was a loud bong from the front door chime, and we looked at each other.
Aunt Madge does not accept B&B guests between Christmas Eve and New Year’s. She started to get up, but I gestured she should stay down and I went to the door. The dogs seemed to know this was an odd time for a visitor and escorted me, one on each side.

Lance Wilson stood there, collar turned up against the wind and what looked like a tin of fruit cake in his hand.
As I greeted him Aunt Madge and Scoobie came out and she and I made a fuss over him, telling him to come in and get warm and have some crab soup with us.

He agreed with no hesitation and as Aunt Madge was ladling his soup he turned to Scoobie and said, “I’m so sorry about what happened to you.”

“Thanks.” Lance continued to look somewhat uncomfortable, so Scoobie added. “I’m going to be fine.”

As Aunt Madge sat back down he smiled at her and said, “I make a mean fruit cake.
They usually get eaten before anyone can use them as a hammer.”

I couldn’t imagine why Lance had come.
You generally don’t just drop in on someone on Christmas day. I broke the silence. “You did a lot of work at the pantry this week, you must be tired.”

He swallowed some soup.
“Yes, but not from that. I’m just…bone tired.”

I didn’t say anything.
I could guess what was weighing on him, and he finally spoke. “You see, I knew some things I should maybe have told a couple of people. But, it didn’t seem right.” His voice trailed off.

Aunt Madge reached over and put a hand on his.
“Lance. Whatever it is, I’m sure you did the right thing.”

He set his spoon down.
“I thought I did. Well, how could I have known?”

“Known what?” Aunt Madge and Scoobie said together.

He cleared his throat. “You see, Mary Doris, well a long time ago she had a baby.”

“Had to be a really long time ago,” Scoobie said.
Aunt Madge gave him a look.

“She had Richard Tillotson’s baby and gave the little boy up.”

Scoobie and Aunt Madge stared at him for several seconds. “Those were,” Aunt Madge seemed to look for words, “different times.”

“Yes, they were.
The thing is, it was not what you would call a stranger adoption.”

I could see Scoobie wondering where this was going, but Aunt Madge got it right away.
“Annie’s father, no have to be grandfather.”

He nodded.
“I thought I was the only person she told. She only told me about 10 years ago maybe. About the baby. I didn’t know who it was until after she died; she left me a letter. Now I’m wondering,” he paused.

“If Annie knows, maybe she doesn’t want all this brought up if she wants to run for office,” I said.

“That doesn’t make…” Aunt Madge began.

“It makes total sense,” Scoobie said, at the same time.

“Yes, it does,” I added.

Aunt Madge gave me a sharp look.
“You knew.”

“I told her a few days ago,” Lance said, “and made her promise not to tell anyone. It was selfish of me, but when Mary Doris died the way she did…”

Aunt Madge’s expression relaxed, but Scoobie kept staring at me.
All he said was, “Wow.”

“Where is Annie?” Aunt Madge asked.
“They said in the paper this morning that Mary Doris had owned the building and it would likely pass to Annie, but I don’t recall her being quoted in the article.”

“I saw Sgt. Morehouse at church this morning – he’s always there at Christmas – and he said she can’t be found.
But,” Lance took a spoonful of soup, “If she was going to be away for a few days for Christmas she may not be following local news.”

Lance stayed until early evening.
He said he had had lunch with Mary Doris at the nursing home for the last several Christmases, and he hadn’t realized how lonely he would be without her.

We were in the middle of a two-team Scrabble game – girls against the boys – when Harry Steele called.
I remembered Aunt Madge said he was going to spend Christmas with a son and his family in Maryland. Aunt Madge looked a little flustered when she came back to the table, but all she said was that Maryland was getting a lot more snow than we were.

I took the dogs for a walk in the snow about
four o’clock, and while I did that Scoobie napped for a half-hour. At supper time we had grilled cheese sandwiches and more crab soup. Aunt Madge had decided to leave the turkey in the freezer until New Year’s Day dinner, and I had stowed the pecans and molasses I’d bought for pie until then as well. After we each had one more piece of Lance’s fruit cake he headed home. He said it had been a very nice day.

Scoobie went to bed early, saying his head didn’t so much hurt as throb.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” Aunt Madge said as I wiped the counter in the kitchen.
“I figured I wouldn’t say anything until after Christmas.”

“I don’t blame you.
I should never have gotten Scoobie involved in any of this.”

“It was one thing to help Gracie with the attic, but anything beyond that was just busybody work,” she said.
“And then some.”

“I know.
I just…” I stopped for a few seconds. “I guess I should learn to leave things alone. It’s just hard for me to walk away sometimes.” I crossed the room and gave her a hug. “Don’t stay mad too long, okay?”

“It’s not likely I will,” she said.
She walked over to the pantry and took out a box-shaped item that looked like some sort of a cage. “Live animal trap,” she said. “I’m going to get those chipmunks one way or another.” She put a few sunflower seeds in it and set it next to the washstand in the hallway, with much help from Jazz, who kept trying to get in the trap.