Scandal (10 page)

What happened next made me think that Willamina has some similarities to Mayberry,
both being small towns with bare-boned law enforcement systems.

I expected the call to be Len with more of his joshing, but Magda wailed into my ear, "Oh,
Annie! It's awful! Please, can you come?"

"What? Magda, what's the matter?"

"Tommy! He's been here all the time. Come, please!" Her voice escalated in volume, causing
my cell to vibrate. She sounded desperate.

I held it from my ear. "Tommy? Come where?"

"To my place. To the studio. Oh, God. The bear. We thought he was here to scarf up
apples."

She gasped. I heard another woman say, "Take a breath, ma'am."

Which I heard Magda do, while I went through a mental checklist. I'd need gas. I'd not
unpacked from the Cannon Beach trip. Just throw the bag in the car, get gas, and go. Why not ask
Sausage Roll Lena for help, I wondered.

As if she was listening to me think Magda said, "They took Lena to the hospital. She was
having trouble breathing. One of the deputies said something about jail." This last bit came out
again in the wail.

"Jail? Lena? Why would Lena go to jail?" While I was asking questions, I was dragging my
bag from where I'd plunked it down when I came home. I put my cell on speaker phone while I took
out the dirties, replaced them with clean underwear, socks and a couple t-shirts.

Magda kept talking while I moved around the room. "Lena. Me. I don't know. And Tommy's
here. Uggghh!" This last sounded as if she had dropped the phone and was retching.

A man came on the line. "Ma'am, if you're a friend of hers you should come right away. We
need help here. The body in the backyard has got to be taken care of. The dead bear, too."

Oh, my.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." For a millisecond I thought to get Roger, but then I
remembered and damned him for not being here. I told the man--a cop?--to tell Magda I'd be there
as soon as I could, and hung up.

Sam. I sat down on the bed and called him. He answered within a couple rings. Irrationally I
thanked Roger for helping me. Who knows?

"Sam, Magda needs you." I gave him a quick rundown on what I knew--not much--and what
I planned to do. "When I get there I'll call you on my cell and you can talk to her. By then I'll know
what's going on."

"Damn! I wish I had a car!"

I reminded him that he doesn't have a license anymore.

"So?"

I have to laugh. "Okay, Sam. I'll call you in a couple hours, maybe sooner."

"Thanks for letting me know. I'll wait a few minutes and call her myself. I want to know
what's happened."

About to hang up I added, "Thanks, Sam." And felt another tiny pang for thanking him while
resenting Roger for dying early. I get so tired of these conflicting feelings.

"Think nothing of it."

The trip seemed to take forever, but really took only about two hours. I spent the time
re-running our conversation, trying to come up with a reasonable scenario to explain Magda's
frantic call.

When I arrived I had to park alongside the road because the driveway was full of police
cars, one that had
Sheriff
marked on the side. An ambulance was close in to the side
yard.

Magda burst out of the house, followed by a policewoman with her arms out, like she had
been restraining her and Magda had broken free. Her hair was sticking up all over, her eyes were
wide and wild.

I was barely out of the car when she threw her arms around me.

"A-a-a-nnie, Tommy's here, been here all the time. In the backyard. Bear found him. They
think I killed him. Please help me!" Her shriek scaled down to a whisper and I felt her grip lessening
as she began to slip to the ground.

The woman, whose name tag identified her as Deputy Sheriff Avis Bybee, stepped forward
and the two of us half walked, half carried Magda into the front room couch. With her head in her
hands, she gave way to sobs. I put my arm around her and the deputy supported her on the other
side. She said, "Mrs. Buler was just fine until you drove up, when she went crazy again. Maybe too
fine."

A man in uniform came in and handed Magda a cup of water. She seemed barely aware as
she sipped at it, but slowly her sobs stopped and she took several deep breaths.

She looked up. "Wish, you know I didn't do this." Apparently she knew this man whose
name tag identified him as Sheriff Aloysius Kelly.

"Magda, there are certain procedures we must follow. It would be helpful to me if Deputy
Bybee goes through what she knows. I'm sorry I couldn't get here before now. Take another drink
there, Mag."

Deputy Bybee stood up and said, "Mrs. Buler here was working on her quilt. The other
woman--Lena--went into the kitchen to get something. From the window by the sink, she saw a
bear digging at the ground. She had a rifle in her pickup and went and got it. She came back through
the house, past Mrs. Buler here, opened the back door and shot that bear dead. Before they realized
what the bear had been digging up, Mrs. Buler called 911.

"Good thing, too, as it had been digging at the body of her husband. They both were
screaming by the time we got here."

"Her husband? The bear killed him?"

"No. The bear was digging up Mr. Buler. He's been dead for some time."

"In the backyard?" To Magda I said, "I thought your husband was away. Fishing?
Somewhere on a boat?"

She sat up straighter and set the cup down. "I thought so, too. But I was wrong. And they
think I killed him. Buried him here."

Tears streamed down her face. Deputy Bybee went to the bathroom and brought back a
wet washcloth. Magda wiped her face with it, and her ragged breath calmed.

She worried at the cloth, said clearly, "I don't know how Tom got there, but I didn't do
anything to him. Do you think that I'd have come here every day if I knew he was...out there?" She
ran her hand over her head, pulling at her hair--easy to see how she got her scattered look. "Lord
a'mighty." She sank back onto the couch, wiping at new tears.

"Where is Lena?" I said.

"Oh, that damn woman got hysterical when they took her gun away from her. So they
carted her off. Yah, where's Lena? What did you do with her?"

"Your friend..." The Deputy pulled out a notebook.

"...was taken to the hospital first to be checked out, make sure she wasn't about to have a
heart attack. I think they gave her a mild sedative to calm her down. She didn't have to be so
hysterical. Not her husband. Then to the jail in McMinnville, where she is now."

"The jail?" Magda started up from the couch. The full import was penetrating her
shock.

"Oh, she's all right." said Deputy Bybee. When I opened my mouth to protest her tone, she
said, "Sorry. It's just that she caused a lot of trouble, shooting that bear. It's against the law to shoot
inside city limits. Hope she's got a license to hunt bear. Out of season, anyway." An unexpected grin
took the edge off her words. She flipped the notebook shut.

"You'd'a shot him, too! Did you see what he was into?" Magda's hand went to her mouth
and the tears started again. She dabbed at them with the washcloth.

"Sure, I saw. What do you think we're doing here? We've taken a zillion pictures, lots of
notes. Making a record. Called the Tribe at Grande Ronde to come salvage the remains of the bear."
She turned back to questioning Magda. "I do wonder why your friend was so hysterical. Most likely
they'll just book and release her. I'll see." She flipped her cell open and walked out the front door to
the little porch.

While she was gone Magda put her hands on mine. "Do you think you could call Sam? Could
he come? I don't know where my cell is."

He must not have been able to get through. "Sure, I'll call him in a few minutes. I suppose I
could go get him if you want him here." No need to tell her I'm ahead of her on this. The look of
relief on her face told me what I needed to know.

Almost.

I, too, wondered at Lena's hysteria.

I took the washcloth from Magda into the bathroom, refreshed it and myself, and took it
back to her. She was slumped, alone, except for Deputy Bybee. She sat up and her eyes asked a
question.

"I'll go call him now. And then take you home?"

Deputy Bybee said, "I don't think Mrs. Buler will be going anywhere right soon."

Oh.

Magda flashed me the first smile I'd seen from her. Not a real smile, closer to a grimace, but
she was at least trying to surface from this nightmare. I bet she just wanted to go get a needle and
stick it in some cloth, for the relief.

I arranged with Sam to pick him up the next morning, and then went back into the studio.
"Any coffee around this place?" Magda started to get up but I put my hand out. "That's all right. I'll
go make some in a while. First, we must figure out what's going on here."

"It's a mess, Annie. A real mess."

She had that right. I left her with Deputy Bybee, and went outside to call Len.

After I left Len a message to call me back, the sheriff suggested I take Magda home.

"We'll call when we need you," he said to her. "You are what we call, 'a person of interest'. I
could detain you, but no need. I know where you live."

That was where I learned about Tom.

We sat at the table in the dining nook, to a dinner of canned soup and sandwiches I'd made
with what I found in her cupboards and fridge. She was in mental shock.

"Tommy's drinking just turned everything to mush between us. Once he hurt me and I
called Wish. Well, I called the sheriff and Wish came. After that, Tommy and I didn't trust each
other. His words smashed all my feelings for him. He beat me down until I got to a point where I
hoped he would die. Finally, it became unbearable."

Magda had been eating automatically, but with those words she put down her spoon. "His
drinking dominated our lives. He became someone I didn't know and didn't want to have around.
He was always into some scheme or other to make money, and he decided he wanted to be a
commercial fisherman. I liked the idea. Maybe he would die at sea, or even better, make some
money.

"He needed a boat to go fishing when and where and for as long as he wanted. And I
wanted that too, for me. It was freedom, of a sort.

"We saved and borrowed, put every bit of cash into getting him a boat. Meantime he
worked on other boats, to make money towards buying his own, learning what he needed to make a
living at it."

"It?"

"Being a commercial fisherman. What to fish for, when, and where. How to store fish on the
boat, what prices to expect for what fish. All the basics of taking care of a boat. It always needs
work. That part was good for him. With his temper he had a hard time keeping a crew. Had to do
most of the work himself."

"So, he makes a living fishing, now?"

She looked at me. "Not now."

Embarrassed, I took a look around. The house didn't feel like a fisherman's. There wasn't
an old rowboat in the side yard or fishing gear lying around. Quilts and surfing equipment
decorated her walls. In a corner was a large shelf with old lady stuff, knick knacks, little china
chicks, a couple cows.

The surfboards intrigued me. Three of them hung from large hooks on the wall.

She smiled when I asked if Tom surfed. "Sure, he taught me how. We spent a lot of time at
the beach. One of those boards is his. Two are mine. I was pretty good on a board. That was some
years, and several pounds, ago. We loved doing that together, looking for that gift from the ocean,
the curling roll of the perfect wave."

That set me to thinking about Roger and I, and Len and how I always seemed to be putting
off our reunion. Was I waiting for a different wave?

I brought us back to now. "I wonder if they've taken him out of the back yard yet."

"Oh, God. Tommy's body. The sheriff said he needed to take photos of it in place and lift it
carefully so's not to disturb any evidence that might show how it got there." Her lips turned down
in despair. "I've been thinking and thinking. When was it I last heard from him? What'd he say? He
was coming home, I know.

"Then he didn't." She lifted her tea mug, and then set it down without taking a drink.
Distracted.

She rose from the chair so rapidly that it teetered.

I grabbed it, set it right.

"I gotta go back there!" Her eyes were wild again. "Will you go with me? Take me?"

"Sure. But calm down. Why do we need to go back there?"

"He's my husband. I want to know what happened. And if they took him to Treeline yet."
Treeline was the local mortuary. "There are things to do."

My cell rang. The ID told me it was Sam. "Yo," I greeted him. "I'm here with Magda. We're
going back to the studio. Here, you talk to her."

She took the phone with a huge sigh. "Oh, Sammy. I can't wait 'til you get here." She
listened. "You can stay at my place. Not a motel." She gulped and I feared she was going to start
wailing again, but no. She pulled herself together and said, calmly, "I need you here."

So easy for her to say. Did I feel that way about Len? Roger had been the right guy but he
hadn't stuck around.

Magda had had the opposite problem. She couldn't get hers to stay away. Until now. I
remembered seeing that in a poem once:

Why do the ones we want
to go,
stay?
And the ones we want
to
stay,
go?

A good question.

We arrived just as they were lifting the body from the ground. Deputy Bybee led us through
the house to the small cement patio. "Don't go any farther, you understand? Are you sure you want
to be here?"

I wasn't, but Magda held her hand to her mouth and nodded. I'd hoped he would be gone to
the morgue. An old quilt was wrapped around the body. It was tattered and torn. By the bear? Or
time?
Ironic,
I thought, as even I recognized the pattern.
Wedding Ring
.