Lye in Wait (29 page)

Ambrose looked at the ceiling and then at me. I ignored him.

Mrs. Gray nodded. "That's right."

"Are you sure?" Ambrose asked.

"Well, it would be, wouldn't it? They look to be about the right
age, sometime around the end of high school or the beginning of
Walter's time in college. Who else would it be?"

"But do you actually recognize the face," he persisted.

"Oh. Well, it's hard to tell. If she weren't with the boys I might
not think of her first thing, but why would I? I haven't seen her in
over forty years. But I do think that's her in the picture."

"Do you happen to remember what Cherry's last name was?"

"Hanover," she said.

"Before she got married. Her maiden name."

"Oh. Um, Dodds, I believe. Yes, her father was Ethan Dodds.
And her mother was Nellie Marston before she got married. I went
to school with her. But I don't think I ever knew what Cherry's
first name really was. Everyone always called her `Cherry."'

"It wasn't her real name?" I asked.

"No, it was a nickname, from when she was just a baby. Because
of her hair. If this were a color photograph I'd be able to tell you
for certain if that's her. She had the most gorgeous red hair, bright
but not carroty. Deeper than that."

"Is there anything else you can remember about her?" Ambrose
asked.

"Not really." Her eyes took on a speculative gleam. "You don't
think she had something to do with what happened to Walter, do
you?"

"We're just trying to find out as much as we can about him,"
Ambrose said.

"Oh. Well, I haven't been much help."

"Now don't you worry about that. You've been able to tell us
more about Walter than we've learned from anyone else," Ambrose
said. Mrs. Gray looked pleased. He put the first picture back in his
briefcase and pulled out the printout from Grace Thorson's driver's license. They had removed the license information and blown
up the picture a little, but not so much as to lose any significant
resolution. "Now, take a look at this one, and tell me if you've seen
her before."

Again Mrs. Gray drew the picture toward her and cocked her
head to one side. "I think so," she said. "That poor dear needs to do
something about her hair, doesn't she?"

"When you say, `I think so,' do you mean you've seen her lately?"
Ambrose asked.

"Oh. That could be it. But there's something else. Good heavens! Let me see that other picture again."

Ambrose removed it from the briefcase again, his face neutral.
I took a sip of tea, shielding my face so Mrs. Gray wouldn't see my
excitement.

Her gaze swung like a pendulum between the two images, now
side by side in front of her. She looked up at Ambrose, then back
down. "This older woman could be Cherry all grown up and
weathered badly."

I put my hand over my mouth and waited for the urge to laugh
to pass. I could just imagine how Grace would like hearing she'd
"weathered badly."

"And her hair is close to the same shade of red. It's a dye-job,
I know, but Cherry was so very proud of that fiery head of hair. I
can see her trying to keep it after time robbed her of it."

The phone rang, and Mrs. Gray rose to answer it.

"What do you think?" I asked Ambrose.

"I don't know. I wish she could be more definite about Grace
Bly being Cherry Hanover, or Dodds, or whatever, but at least she's
being honest. And now that we know that `Cherry' was a nickname
we might have more luck tracking her down. Her name's probably
always been Grace."

"Tootie would know."

"She didn't seem all that, uh, there, when I spoke with her."

"She's there. Let me take the pictures to her. Along with the
others I'll be taking over there anyway."

Ambrose shrugged. "I'm going to give these pics to the state
crime lab guys, let them do their thing with computers. Even if
the subject has aged, they should be able to tell if they're the same
woman.

"How long will that take?"

"Don't know. A few days, probably more like a week. But I'll do
my best to light a fire under them."

"Yes, she's right here, dear," Mrs. Gray said as she entered the
room. She held the cordless phone receiver out to me."

I took it and said, "Hello?"

Meghan wasted no time with preliminaries. "Erin didn't come
home from school with Zoe."

"You're over there now?"

"Yes. Zoe came home by herself. She doesn't know where Erin
is. She went off by herself and didn't tell anyone where she was
going." Her words tumbled over one another, fear raising the pitch
of her voice. My stomach muscles clenched.

"Okay, Meghan, slow down. Zoe said Erin went off on her own?
Not with anyone else?"

Ambrose's head jerked up, but I ignored him, trying to
concentrate.

"They stayed late to help Mrs. Kreagle decorate the classroom
for Halloween. They helped for half an hour, but when they started
to walk home, Erin told Zoe she'd meet her at Zoe's house, that she
had something to do."

I tried to sooth her. "Well, she'll probably be there soon, then."
Ambrose held out his hand for the phone.

"Listen, Detective Ambrose wants to talk to you."

"He's with you? Put him on." I handed the phone to him.

"Ms. Bly? What happened?" He was silent as Meghan told him.

"Is the mother there? ... Good. I'm coming over. What's the
address? ... Okay, got it. I'll be right there." He pushed the disconnect button and handed the phone back to Mrs. Gray, who had
been watching with a worried expression.

"Thank you," he told her. "You've been very helpful. If I think
of anything else I'll give you a call. That all right?"

"Of course, Detective," she said, then, "Is Meghan's little girl
okay?"

"I'm sure she is. Kids'll wander off sometimes, by themselves.
We'll track her down." He was already walking toward the door.
But the look on his face, which I could see and Mrs. Gray couldn't,
told me he was worried. I ran after him.

"Let me get my coat, and I'll ride with you."

He started to shake his head, then said in an irritated tone,
"Hurry up."

I ran, I mean really ran, around the side of Mrs. Gray's house,
skirted the stinking pile of soggy charcoal that had once been Walter Hanover's house and through our backyard, loping awkwardly as I approached the back door, trying to extract my keys from the
front pocket of my jeans. The bruise in the fold of my hip screamed
as I dragged them out. I fitted the key into the lock and turned,
pushing the door too hard so that it banged open. Dashed up the
stairs, through the kitchen and to the front hall where I grabbed
the first thing that came to hand: a fleece vest. Good enough. I ran
back downstairs and out the still open door, remembering at the
last minute to close and relock it.

As I turned, Erin walked around the side of the house. Her
backpack hung over one shoulder and tiny raindrops had collected
in her curls. I stared for a moment, panting and hot, the fleece vest
lying on the ground where it had landed after slipping through my
fingers.

"What?" she said.

Five steps later, I had her wrapped in a tight hug. Only as relief
flooded through me did I realize how scared I'd been, how certain
that Richard and his mother had taken her.

"Mmmph," she said, wiggling in my clasp.

"What?"

"Lemme go. I can't breathe."

"Oh. Sorry." I loosened my hold and backed off a half step, one
arm still around her shoulders.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Where have you been? We were all worried sick about you. Do
you know how worried your mother was? Is. I have to go call her.
C'mon-I'm not letting you out of my sight. You know, I'm sorry
you have to stay at Zoe's for a while. I said I was sorry this morning. But you do have to. You can't come home yet, even though you miss us. We miss you, too, but it's just for a little longer. You
have to go back."

"Jeez, Sophie Mae. I only came home to pick up a book I
needed for school."

"Oh"

"But the key's gone, so I couldn't get in. So I was waiting for
someone to come home. I thought I heard the back door bang
open and came around to see if you'd parked in the alley.

"Oh. Well, you should have told someone where you were."

"Sorry." She didn't sound all that sorry to me.

"Or better yet, called your mom to have her bring the book
to you." By now we were upstairs. I reached for the phone in the
hallway.

Erin said, "What's the big deal? How come you don't want me
here?"

"I... it's not that we don't want you here, Bug."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No!"

"Is this about Grandma Bly? I mean, Grace," she said, remembering her grandmother's admonition to call her by her first
name.

"What did your mom tell you?"

"She said to trust her and go to Zoe's. So she didn't tell me anything, and if I'm going to get yelled at-" She put her fists on her
hips and glared at me. "-then I think I have the right to know
why."

"Oh, God, Erin. I need to talk to your mom. Then-"

"Sophie Mae? Where the hell are you?" Ambrose bellowed from
downstairs.

"Up here," I yelled. "What's Zoe's number?" I asked Erin. She
told me, and I punched it in as Ambrose's footsteps approached.

"How long can it take to get a coat, woman?" He stopped dead
in his tracks when he saw Erin.

"Woman?" I said, amused. The phone was picked up at Zoe's
house. I asked for Meghan, and in two seconds she came on the
line.

"Erin's here," I said.

"Where? Is she okay?"

"Home. She's fine. She just stopped by to pick up a book for
school, then couldn't get in because we don't have the extra key
outside now."

"I'll come get her."
"

I can bring her over," I said, and to Erin, "Go get your book."
She turned and went up the stairs to her room.

"No," Meghan said. "I want to talk to her, and it would be better if it wasn't in front of her friend."

"Yeah. About that. Don't be too mad at her. She didn't know
she'd be worrying you. She doesn't know why you sent her to
Zoe's."

Meghan sighed. "She'd barely talk to me on the way over here,
and besides, I hadn't thought of a good answer anyway. I didn't
want to scare her."

"I know, I know. But she wants to know what's going on. We
have to tell her something. You can blame it all on me," I said.

"It's not your fault." When I didn't respond she said, "Anyway,
I'll be right home."

After we hung up I turned to Ambrose and gestured him into
the kitchen. "You heard what happened?

He nodded. "Everything okay now?"

"Yes. And no. We still have to figure something out to tell Erin
so she'll understand why she can't be here, put her on her guard a
little without terrifying the poor kid."

"Try the truth."

"What, that her mom's afraid her grandmother is going to kidnap her?" The words, finally said, seemed almost silly. Except I'd
seen the look on Meghan's face when Grace was in our kitchen,
and that hadn't been silly at all.

"Well, that's one reason. The other is that someone came after
you, and I suggested it would be easier to learn who did it without
everyone being worried about whether Erin would be safe or not."

"We can't tell her that," I said. "She wouldn't understand."

"Right," Erin said from the doorway. "I'm not stupid, you know.
What did you do, Sophie Mae?"

I glanced at Ambrose, then rubbed my hands over my face. "I
don't know, Bug." Ambrose rolled his eyes. I added, "At least not
specifically."

"Is it because of what happened to Walter? Did you find out
why he died?"

Ambrose threw up his hands. "What is it with the women in
this house?"

Erin smiled at him.

The front door opened, and Meghan came in. She went straight
to Erin and enveloped her in her second bear hug of the day. But
this time Erin didn't struggle, just waited until her mom let her
go.

"I'm so glad you're okay. But we need to talk," Meghan said.

"We sure do. I know someone's after Sophie Mae, but maybe
you could tell me more about Grandma kidnapping me, 'K?"

Meghan turned disbelieving eyes on me, and I went back to
rubbing my face with my hands. Ambrose chose then to clear his
throat and say he was going to go let Mrs. Gray know everything
was all right.

Traitor.

"C'mon, Mom. You can tell me in the car. They eat early, and
I don't want to be late for dinner." She tugged her mother toward
the door, the surliness from earlier in the day completely gone.

I hoped Meghan would regain the ability to speak on the drive
over.

I COULDN'T WRANGLE THE picture of Cherry and the Hanover
boys from Barr Ambrose, but he did allow me to make a copy of
it at the police station. It was a pretty good copy, and, after much
wheedling and begging on my part, he also let me have a copy of
the driver's license picture.