See Also Deception (20 page)

Jaeger parked his International Harvester next to Pastor's sedan.

Shep immediately started bouncing between the front and back seats of the Ford, barking his fool head off. I looked over at Pastor, who had a concerned look on his face. I knew he was worried the dog was going to muck up his car.

“Shep!” I yelled. “Settle down!” But the dog paid me no mind.

Jaeger stopped at the back door of the Ford and looked up at me questioningly as he grabbed ahold of the door handle. I nodded yes, and Shep tore out of the car like he'd been caged up half his life. The dog circled happily around Jaeger as he joined the three of us.

“What brings you here, Pastor?” Jaeger asked. He looked back at the Ford, expecting, I think, to see my truck. “And Mrs. Trumaine? Everything all right?”

The air had a dry, static feel to it. The wind wasn't so pushy where we stood, and the sky had lost all of its early morning threat. Thin gray clouds were glued in place high against the white sky overhead.

Pastor offered an answer before I could. “I was heading out to the South Branch for a little fishing this morning and dropped by to see how Marjorie was doing,” he said.

I hadn't had the forethought or concern to ask why he'd come by the house in the first place. I'd been in such a state that wondering hadn't crossed my mind. I had just been happy to see him.

I looked at Pastor, all dressed in his everyday preaching clothes, and wondered if he waded into the river like that, or if he ever put on a pair of work pants at all. I wondered if he had his gear and fishing clothes in the trunk of the car. But I didn't say anything. I was sure Pastor had his reasons for saying the things he did.

Jaeger looked at me. “Hank all right?”

“As far as I know,” I answered.

He must of heard something in my voice. “You're sure?”

“As sure as I can be. I haven't had the chance to check on him this morning. Somebody cut my phone line.”

Jaeger shivered, and his face withdrew into a tight pale retreat. “Cut?” he said. “On purpose?”

“Cut clean through and through. Never knew of any animal or bug who could do such a thing,” I said. “I'm sorry, Jaeger; I didn't know where else to go.”

“No, of course. I'm glad you came here. What can I do?”

At that second I didn't know how to answer him. I knew there were things coming at me on this day that I would have given anything to avoid, but I knew I couldn't. The truth was, I just wanted to stand there and scream at the world, at Pastor John Mark's loving, plotting, maniacal god for allowing such horrible things to happen, at the wind for not carrying me away, far away to another place and another life that held a dose of happiness and peace in it. But that was impossible. This was my life, and this was the day I had woken up and found myself in.

“Can I use your phone?” I finally said to Jaeger.

He nodded, leaving me no choice but to go inside the house where one of my worst nightmares had begun.

CHAPTER 33

The black plastic phone hung on the wall in between the kitchen and the front room. The perpetually curled cord dangled to the floor, still as a dead snake hanging out to dry. It didn't take much to imagine Lida with the receiver cradled to her ear as she went about making lefse, a Norwegian potato flatbread, for the holidays, or rakfisk from the trout that came out of the Green River out by Gladstone. Pastor had set me thinking about fishing, I suppose, and rakfisk was one of Lida's staple recipes; my mother's, too, as far as that went.

Plain and simple, rakfisk was a salt- and sugar-fermented fish that would last through the winter, served uncooked with onions, sour cream, and dill mustard. It was not a favorite dish of mine, or Hank's, so I hardly ever cooked it, but Erik had loved it; mostly, I think, because he loved to fish nearly as much as he loved to farm. It was difficult being in Lida's kitchen without thinking about rakfisk and lefse. All that was missing was the smell. The kitchen was clean and tidy. Breakfast dishes and skillets were put away but bacon lingered in the air. I was glad that Jaeger was eating.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory. Olga picked up on the first ring. “St. Joseph's Hospital, how may I direct your call?”

“Olga, it's me, Marjorie Trumaine. I need to check in on Hank.”

“Just a second, and I'll see if I can get ahold of one of the nurses for ya.”

Olga's tone was matter of fact, so I wasn't alarmed. Just uncomfortable because of where I was and what had happened to get the day going. I closed my eyes to help keep the ghosts away, but it didn't help. Jaeger hadn't changed a thing in the house. Hadn't moved one knickknack or traded out one picture. I doubted he ever would. The house was a museum to a life that once was.

“Marjorie?” Olga came back on the line, pulling me back into the present.

“Yes?”

“Hank had an easy night. Doc had a baby to deliver this morning, but it's possible he'll get to go home before the end of the day, or first thing in the morning. He sure has rallied since I first saw him come in. Had me worried, he did.”

“Thanks for your concern, Olga. Can you get a message to him for me?”

“Sure thing. Whatcha want me to tell him?”

“Let him know I'm running late. It might be after lunch before I make it to the hospital.”

“Goin' to
that
funeral, are you?”

I drew in a breath and bit my tongue before I spoke. “Can you please tell him, Olga?”

“Sure thing, Marjorie. I just wouldn't go to . . .”

I cut her off. “Thanks, Olga. I have to go.”

I stood in the kitchen, trying to decide what to do next, when Jaeger and Pastor walked in the door. They stopped in unison and stood shoulder to shoulder.

“What's the matter?” I said, looking at them both. They had serious looks on their faces.

Pastor shrugged. “I told Jaeger about your truck. We don't think you should be alone, Marjorie.”

“Did you tell him my thinking about Calla?”

Pastor nodded. “All things considered, I thought it was best.”

Jaeger stood stoically, the scar over his eye a little more noticeable than it had been outside. He always looked on the verge of anger, but that was only because of the structure of his bones, not the makeup of his heart. At that moment, he seemed timid as a mouse, every fiber of his being on alert. I understood completely.

“I'll be fine. But I have to get ready to go into town. I don't want to miss Calla's funeral because of this. And, of course, I need to get to Hank. He might get to come home later today. I'll need my truck for that.”

“Pete'll take him home if need be,” Pastor said.

I shook my head. “That's a hearse and an ambulance. Hank'll only ride in the back of it once. He refuses otherwise.”

A knowing smile flickered across Pastor's face and disappeared as quickly as it had come. “We don't think going back to your place is a good thing to do. At least until you've had a conversation with the police about what's happened.”

I didn't think before I spoke. “Well, I can't go to a funeral dressed like this!”

“You can wear my mother's dress,” Jaeger said, then looked at the floor. “She would like that.”

I wished I hadn't said a word, but that was no surprise. I was always getting myself into something or other without thinking about the consequences.

Erik and Lida Knudsen had been murdered in their bed as they'd slept. I had never seen the aftermath, just imagined it a million times. I stopped at the closed bedroom door and looked at Jaeger, who had his hand on the glass doorknob.

“It's all right,” he said, reading my fears. “We made it look like it always did.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to put you through this.”

“It's okay. Once I decided that I was going to stay here, I had to figure out how to live with what was, not just the way things are. I got too much to do to walk in sadness every day. I think you understand what I mean. If I keep this place goin', it keeps them both alive in a way, and that doesn't make everything all right, but it makes me feel better. It would break their hearts if I sold this place off. It's mine and Peter's now, even if he is away, not breaking a sweat to keep up with it. He'll throw a hand in when he can one of these days; I'm sure of it.”

I nodded, smiled, then looked past Jaeger to the open door of his bedroom. His bed was unmade, the sheets and blankets a tangled mess that looked like the beginnings of a bird's nest. I still worried about him and Betty, but I wasn't going to say anything. Not now. I'd already said my piece once; that had been enough.

I looked at Jaeger a little more closely; there was something I first noticed as he drove up, but I hadn't put my finger on it until that moment. “You should come by when this all settles down. I'll give you a haircut like I used to when you and Peter were boys.”

He reached up to his ear and tugged on the hair. “Nah, that's all right. All of the kids are letting their hair grow a little longer these days.”

I sighed. Even without a television set, I'd heard plenty about the boys from Liverpool that played on the Ed Sullivan show back in February, but I hadn't thought about them changing the world. They were a music band, for goodness sakes. A band named after a bug. I still preferred Bing Crosby myself.

Pastor had gone back outside to wait on me. He was going to take me into town while Jaeger set about getting the Studebaker's tires replaced. I could see him through Jaeger's window, standing next to the black Ford in his black clothes, smoking a cigarette. He looked like a smokestack at a distant factory. It was the first time I had ever seen Pastor John Mark smoke. Stumbling across my mess was a far cry from a peaceful morning spent fishing.

I didn't say anything else about a haircut. Jaeger opened the door to Erik and Lida's room and walked in without hesitating. He headed straight to a wardrobe on the opposite side of the room.

I stood at the doorway, blocked by my own fears. The air in the room smelled stale, but that was all. There was no hint of death or blood to detect, and I was glad of that. The bed was covered with a white chenille bedspread, made up perfectly. There wasn't a wrinkle to be seen. I looked away from the two pillows; they were bleached snow white, no sign of murder anywhere to be seen.

Jaeger stood staring at me. “She only had one black dress,” he said. “I hope you like it.”

Of course she only had one black dress. It was all she needed.
I didn't say that, though. I just smiled the best I could and walked to the wardrobe. Luckily, Lida and I were about the same size. I was sure I could wear the dress, even if I didn't want to.

CHAPTER 34

The parking lot of the funeral home was full, but it didn't require a sheriff 's deputy to direct traffic. Pastor was able to drive up to the front door without any trouble. He put the Ford in park and left the engine running.

“Aren't you coming in?” I said.

He looked at me sadly, then turned his attention back to the entrance of McClandon's. “I can't condone what Miss Eltmore did, Marjorie. Surely, you must understand what my appearance at her funeral would suggest.”

“Then you don't believe me.”

“It's not that.”

“It's that no one else does. That it's not official that she was murdered, that she didn't kill herself. Pastor, if I'm right, then Calla's basking in the glory of heaven instead of shackled in the bonds of eternal damnation. You should be shouting that victory from the roof of the church.”

“I'll pray for her.”

“It can't hurt.” I wanted to say more than that, but I didn't. Now was not the time to debate the rights and wrongs of Christian behavior more than I already had. I had to stop. It was obvious I wasn't going to change Pastor's position. I grabbed the door handle and pulled it up. “Thank you for stopping by this morning. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't,” I said.