Scrapped (24 page)
Chapter 60
“There you are, Ms. Matthews,” a tired-looking Detective Bryant said as he entered the small room at the police station. “You’ve led us on quite a little merry goose chase today.”
“I did no such thing,” Beatrice said, trying not to smile.
After the police had left the hospital, they had gone to her home to question her. Of course, she wasn’t there. And after they waited around for a little while, they figured she was out and was not coming back. So, they called Vera to ask if she knew where her mother was. She told them she was visiting Rose. So the police went to Rose’s house—an hour away from Cumberland Creek proper. And by the time they got there, Beatrice was already back home, having a nice hot bath while Jon was taking a nap.
“So where is Cookie?” the detective said, sitting down on the chair across from her.
“I don’t know,” Beatrice said, looking at him in the eye. And it was true. She was amused to find that Cookie had escaped from jail. She had no idea if it had something to do with the scrapbook she’d placed on the rock or not. But she was gone. Apparently, she’d left her clothes behind—except for her robe. So, if she had slipped into some kind of time-travel tunnel, she was out there running around in her robe. And if she was out on the street somewhere? Beatrice shuddered to think of the possibility. “I’m kind of worried about her. I mean, they told me she doesn’t have clothes, just her robe. She could be anywhere. In trouble.”
He looked at her and squinted. “I think you know more than what you’re telling me.”
“Humph.”
“Ms. Matthews. This is a serious matter.”
“I know that.”
“Can you help me out here?”
“I can’t. I’ve told you that I don’t know where she is.”
“How did she get out?”
“How would I know that? I’ve not been in town, even.”
“You spoke with her the day before she escaped. And you were the only one she wanted to talk to.”
He had her there. But still, she had no idea where Cookie was—or how she’d gotten out. Beatrice took a sip from the paper cup that held her tea.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“Tell me what you talked about.”
“That was a personal conversation. Now, I’m losing my patience. Where’s my lawyer? I don’t need your badgering, young man.”
“Bill’s on his way,” he told her. Then he got up from his chair and left.
Beatrice took another sip from her tea. She was trying to contain herself. But she felt like bubbling over with the news of it. Of course, the only way Cookie could have “escaped” was if everything she’d said was true. The device within the scrapbook had worked and had allowed Cookie’s “magic” to work for her escape. Her “invisible” robe had helped. All this, coupled with Beatrice’s placement of the scrapbook in the cave, had provided an escape for Cookie. Somehow. That made Beatrice’s heart and mind race.
Her years of study on time and the possibilities of travel through time and space were not wasted flights of fancy.
Bill entered the room, looked at Beatrice, and shook his head.
“What’s going on, Beatrice?”
“They think I helped Cookie escape.”
“Did you?” he said, eyebrows lifted, hands on his hips.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said.
He sat down. “You talked to her the day before she escaped. Did she say anything?”
“Bill, what Cookie and I talked about . . . it was personal,” she said, tripping over her words. She was lying to Bill, her lawyer and her ex-son-in-law. For the first time a pang of anger shot through her.
Cookie!
She had placed Beatrice in an untenable position.
Cookie!
She had placed Beatrice in an untenable position.
“I know you very well, Beatrice. If you’re not going to be honest with me, maybe you should hire another lawyer,” he said.
Beatrice squirmed in the seat. Of all the things she was, a liar did not top the list. Lying to the police and lying to her lawyer, even if he was just Bill, was serious business. But she certainly could not tell him the truth.
“I’m hungry,” she said at last. “You got anything to eat? One of those chocolate bars you carry around?”
He dug around in his jacket pocket, pulled out a chocolate bar, and handed it to her.
After fooling around with the wrapper and finally opening it, Beatrice took a bite and looked up at Bill, who was watching her intently. Well, there was nothing they could do to Cookie now. And most of them already thought she was a half-crazy old woman.
“Bill, the only thing I know is that Cookie asked me to take a book up to the caves in Jenkins Mountain. And I did that. When I came back, she was gone.”
“A book?”
“Yes. Her scrapbook. She called it her scrapbook of shadows.”
“What does that have to do with anything? Christ, Bea, you could be in a lot of trouble. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison?”
“Just because I took a scrapbook up to the cave?”
“You didn’t bring anything
in
to Cookie?”
in
to Cookie?”
“No. Like what? A key? How would I get a card key?”
Bill stood up and paced the room. “I think the police are pretty certain she had one. They’ve been looking at the security tapes, and it looks like she, uh, just opened the door.”
“Looks like?”
“Actually, the film skipped. They see parts of it, but not her actually taking a card key and sliding it into the door. One minute she’s there, and the next, gone.”
“Interesting.”
“I’d say.”
“So . . . ,” Beatrice said, clearing her throat.
Damn, this chocolate is pretty good
. “Have they looked at the security tapes from when I was there?”
Damn, this chocolate is pretty good
. “Have they looked at the security tapes from when I was there?”
“Some problem with those tapes, too,” he said.
Beatrice cackled. “Virginia’s finest.”
He nodded. “They’ve not brought charges against you yet, Bea. But I’m afraid they will. They are going to try to prove you helped her escape. This is quite an embarrassment to them. They need someone to pin it on. You know?”
“I’ll be damned if it’s going to be me,” she said, smacking her lips.
Chapter 61
Vera pulled into the police station parking lot.
Honestly. These police have no manners.
Why would they hold a soon-to-be eighty-two-year-old woman for questioning about Cookie’s escape?
Honestly. These police have no manners.
Why would they hold a soon-to-be eighty-two-year-old woman for questioning about Cookie’s escape?
Just then, through her rain-splattered windows, Vera saw a police car pull around the corner of the lot. It looked like it had a crowd in the backseat. Vera couldn’t resist. She sat in the car and waited. The police were bringing in three Mennonite men. All of them were handcuffed. She couldn’t see their faces. They were keeping their heads low and were wearing wide-brimmed hats. Who were they? It was so odd to see Mennonites in handcuffs. Vera collected herself and looked in the mirror. Her hot pink lipstick was still in place. And she loved her new chestnut-brown hair color.
She grabbed her umbrella and opened the car door and clumsily tried to manage her umbrella and her bag in the downpour and the wind. When she entered the station, she placed her umbrella against the wall. Her feet had still gotten wet, and she hated the feeling.
“Can I help you?” the man behind the counter said.
“Yes. I’m Vera Matthews. I’m here to collect my mother, Beatrice Matthews,” she said.
“Just a moment.” The man turned and said something to another officer who was sitting at a desk.
The three Mennonite men were walked back into the corner, where Vera couldn’t see them.
“I’m sorry, Vera. Your mother is still being questioned,” the officer said. Vera and this particular officer, Dan Reynolds, had gone to high school together. His daughters had danced at her studio for years.
“Can I see her, Dan?” Vera said.
“I don’t know, Vera,” he replied. “I’m not sure what’s going on back there.”
“Well, it’s just Mama,” she said and smiled.
“I think it would be okay for you to go back, Vera. Go ahead. It’s the second door on the left. I’ll let them know you’re coming,” he said and turned to the phone.
“I’m sending Beatrice’s daughter in to see her,” Vera heard him say as she walked through the door and into the office area, where there many other doors off to the side. She remembered being brought in and questioned here, and it was most unpleasant. She grimaced and lifted her bag to her shoulder, then opened the door to see her mother, with chocolate smeared on her cheek, sitting next to Bill.
“Hello there. Come to see your dangerous mother?” Beatrice said and smiled.
“You’ve got chocolate on your face,” Vera said and handed her a tissue from her bag. “Right there. So what’s the deal, Bill? Mama?”
“We’re waiting on Bryant,” Bill said. “Where’s Lizzie?”
“With Sheila,” she replied, sitting down. “So is anybody going to tell me what’s going on?”
“They are just questioning your mom about Cookie’s disappearance.”
“They have no proof of anything,” Beatrice said, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m innocent.”
“Well,” Vera smirked, “I’m not even sure
I
believe you. I’m sure they don’t.”
I
believe you. I’m sure they don’t.”
“Now, ain’t that something? Even my daughter—”
“Spare me the diatribe,” Vera said. “If you know where Cookie is, you need to tell them. Tell us.” She lowered her voice. “She could be in trouble.”
“Of course she’s in trouble,” Bill snorted.
“I’m really worried about her,” Vera said.
“If Cookie Crandall has gotten this far in her life, I’m sure she is going to be just fine,” Beatrice said, then changed gears. “Have you ever been able to remember how you met Cookie?”
No. Vera was sure of their first meeting. Cookie had a shirt on that said NAMASTE across the chest, and Vera asked her what that meant, and the next thing she knew, she had hired Cookie to teach yoga at the studio. Cookie made a person feel at ease right away, and she had a kind of calming charisma.
“I remember Annie telling me about her,” Beatrice said, before giving Vera a chance to answer.
“Annie?” Vera said.
“Yes. Annie said she met her at the library and she was reading an interesting book. They struck up a conversation,” Beatrice said.
“Yes!” Vera said. “I think it was Annie who brought her to the first crop. But what does that have to do with this, Mama?”
Beatrice’s face went blank.
Vera could see that her mother wasn’t budging. Call it intuition or years of dealing with the old coot. She leaned back in her chair and thought a moment.
“What were you doing up on the mountain, anyway?” she asked Beatrice.
“I told Bill this story already. Cookie asked me to take her scrapbook up there.”
“And do what with it?”
“Put it on a rock.”
“Why? Whatever for?”
“That’s what she asked me to do,” Beatrice said. “And so I did it. Jon, Rose, and I took the scrapbook and placed it where she asked me to.”
“Where was that?” Detective Bryant said, entering the room.
Beatrice sighed. “It was in one of the caves.”
“But what does that have to do with anything?” Vera said. “Really? Why would that help Cookie to escape?”
“I don’t know, but it must have something to do with it,” Bryant said. “Did she say if someone would be picking it up there?”
“No,” Beatrice said.
“I guess I should send someone to have a look around. Which cave is it? The big one?”
“No, it’s the smaller one,” Beatrice said. “But you won’t find a thing. So save yourself the trouble.”
The detective squinted. “What do you mean?”
“The book is gone. It must have fallen into the crevice there.”
“Pretty deep?” he asked.
“Yes,” Beatrice said.
“What happened, Mama? Did you drop it?”
“Not that I can recall,” Beatrice said after a moment.
“What kind of answer is that?” Bryant said, exasperated.
“It’s an honest one. You see, I looked away from it. We all did. The calcite and the lights were glowing. You know how they sometimes do? We sat and watched. And when it was over, it was just gone.”
“Just like that?” Vera said after a few minutes.
Beatrice nodded. “None of us saw it slip. But we did hear noises. I thought it was an animal or something.”
Detective Bryant leaned across the table, getting in Beatrice’s face. “Am I supposed to believe this? How gullible do you think I am?”
“Whoa,” Bill said, standing up. “You need to charge her or let her go. Right now your case is looking pretty flimsy.”
“I ought to throw her in jail and get rid of the key. She knows something, and she’s not telling us. She’s lying,” Bryant barked.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Beatrice said, her voice raised.
“Bea—” Bill began.
“Yes, I am,” the detective said.
“Sit down, fool, and I’ll tell you the truth,” Beatrice said.
“Mama!” Vera said.
“Hush, girl!” Beatrice said. Now she would give them all something to think about. “Cookie is a witch. You know that. Evidently, she’s more than that. She’s learned how to travel through space and time, kind of like a time traveler. I took the book up on the mountain because the coordinates are exactly right. She reached out to me because of my research into quantum physics. Told me all about it.”
“Humph. She’s a time traveler? What she is is an escaped mental patient. We’ve had doctors here looking for her,” Bryant said.
“Oh my,” Vera said. “But she always seemed so together. I don’t get it.”
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Beatrice said. “She told me she had been here before and it was unpleasant.”
“Ms. Matthews, if you believe she is a time traveler, you are sitting in the wrong kind of institution,” Bryant said with a sly grin on his face.
Beatrice folded her arms and set her jaw firmly. “When can I go home?”
That damned Cookie.
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