Shadow of an Angle (27 page)

I told him I thought I'd hang around for a while just in case Faye might turn up, and before driving away, he showed me how to lock up without a key using the entrance to the empty building.

The books that remained in the bookshop were shrouded in sheets to protect them, and the floor was littered with plaster dust and jagged pieces of wood. The place would have given me an eerie feeling even if I weren't already scared out of my skin.

Still I searched the rows of empty shelves, boxes of books, lifting covers to peer underneath, hoping to glimpse a frightened, runaway child. I even wandered into the empty room where R. T. had been working but found only sawdust, brick fragments, and dirt. The place smelled of damp and mildew, and I couldn't imagine it ever being a restaurant, but if R. T. Foster said it was possible, then we'd have to hope he knew what he was talking about.

The restaurant seemed unimportant now. I didn't even care anymore who murdered Otto or tried to dump me over a railing. The only thing that mattered was finding Faye alive and safe.

Back in the bookshop I noticed R. T's large footprints in the snow of plaster. He had made a trail going back and forth, in and then out to his truck. And then I saw something else. Small footprints. Very small footprints leading to the back of the shop. In my hurry to look under covers, I hadn't noticed them before.

I also hadn't noticed the scent. Strawberries—faint at first, and then stronger as I followed the footprints to the door of the small back office. Augusta was here, and so, I hoped, was Faye.

But when I opened the door, the office was empty. And so was my heart. Was this some kind of rotten trick? I could almost visualize the missing child curled up in the old armchair that had belonged to my grandfather. But the chair was empty. The office was empty. Yet the smell of strawberries remained.

"Don't play with me, Augusta Goodnight!" I said, stamping my foot. And since that didn't get results, I stamped it again.

"Minda?" A sleepy voice spoke from underneath Mildred's big old desk, and Faye, clutching the celebrated zebra, crawled out, dragging a fringed throw behind her. "Did you bring me anything to eat?" she asked.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I
t looks to me like you've already eaten," I said, noticing the chocolate on her face and the candy wrapper under the desk. It was all I could say for the moment. I held her on my lap in the big armchair and let the tears flow.

"Why are you crying, Minda?"

"Because I was worried about you, you silly! We didn't know where you were. Why did you run off like that?"

"That man—he was mad at me for taking Mildred's zebra."

"What man?"

"The man back at school—on the playground."

"What makes you think that, honey?"

"He wanted to know where I got it; I think he wanted to take it away from me."

"Why didn't you tell your teacher? You know she wouldn't let anyone do that?"

" 'Cause I was scared…" Faye rubbed her eyes and began to cry. "Mama told me not to take it, and I did anyway. I was afraid I'd get in trouble, so I hid in the bushes until the man left, and my class had already gone inside."

"Don't cry now, it's all right. And then where did you go?"

"Home. Well, I started home, and this lady came up in a big car and asked if I wanted a candy bar."

"Faye! You know better than to take candy from strangers!"

"But she wasn't a stranger, Minda. I've seen her lots of times. Besides, it was chocolate."

"So you accepted the candy?"

"Yeah, and then I ran away and hid."

"Where?"

"In Mr. Thompson's garage. He's got lots of neat stuff in there, but I didn't bother any of it. Besides, it was cold. I just hid in there till that lady left. She wanted my zebra, too," Faye said, snuggling closer.

"She said that—that she wanted the zebra?"

"Yeah. That's why she gave me the candy. She said she'd give it back, but I didn't believe her. It's Mildred's zebra, and she'd be really mad if I lost it!"

"She be even madder if we lost you," I said. "Is that why you came back here, to return the zebra?"

"Uh-huh. I wanted to, but I didn't know the way. And that lady with the big car kept driving by real slow. I was so afraid she'd see me, Minda! I hid behind a wall once, then got under a tree. I wanted to go home, but she kept going past, and I didn't know how to get there. I cried."

I drew her close and kissed her. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry! But she's not going to find you now. How
did
you get here?"

Faye sat up straighter and bounced in my lap. "Why, the pretty lady brought me here."

"What pretty lady?" I asked.

"I don't know her name, but I was sitting under this tree crying, and oh, I wanted my mama—but I wanted to get Mildred's zebra back first. The lady smelled nice, made me feel good—warmlike, you know. She showed me a shortcut here through people's backyards. I crawled under the desk so the bad people couldn't find me, and she covered me up real warm and cozy and told me to wait for you."

"The man who was working here didn't see you?"

"I was real quiet. I tiptoed. He didn't see the lady, either. Guess he was too busy."

Still holding her close, I reached for the phone. "Everything's going to be all right now, and your mama and daddy are going to be so glad to hear you're safe and sound!"

"Will Mildred be mad, do you think?"

"Mildred will be so happy to see you, I'll bet she'll forget all about that silly zebra," I said.

"But I haven't."

I looked up to see Gertrude Whitmire standing in the office doorway, and she had a revolver in her hand. "I'll take that now," she said.

"No!" Faye clutched the animal closer and grabbed me with a choking hold. "It's not yours, it's Mildred's."

"Mrs. Whitmire, I don't think you realize what you're doing," I said. "You're not well, and you're frightening this child."
And scaring the hell out of me!
Cautiously, I reached again for the phone. "We can get you some help." I spoke as softly, as evenly as I could to reassure Faye and to keep Gert from completely freaking out. Somebody had to be calm—or pretend to be calm. I wanted to throw up.

"I wouldn't touch that telephone." Gertrude stepped closer. Her eyes were abnormally bright. Scary bright. She wasn't Gertrude Whitmire, the longtime teacher students joked about but always respected. She was someone else, someone— something—cruel and loathsome, and I didn't know how to deal with her.

Then, although I couldn't see her, I knew Augusta was there. Her essence was all around me, and I took a deep breath, feeling her presence, sensing her goodness.

"Give her the zebra, Faye," I said. And the child silently put the stuffed animal into Gertrude's outstretched hand.

Did Gert mean to kill us now that she had what she wanted? I couldn't let that happen. Slowly I eased Faye off my lap, meaning to shove her under the desk while I tried to disarm this madwoman. She was bigger, taller than I was, but I had youth on my side. And I had Augusta.

I watched as she snatched up the zebra, clawed at the threadbare fabric, and the sleeve that had been concealing part of her weapon became dislodged. Gertrude's revolver was a hairbrush!

Gertrude Whitmire was so intent on ripping apart the zebra, I had telephoned 911 before she knew what I was doing. The hairbrush slipped unnoticed to the floor. Putting Faye behind me, I braced myself for what this woman might do when she realized what had happened. I knew now it must have been Gertrude who attacked me on the bicycle and at the academy. This person was definitely out to get me, but what could she do now? Shoot me with a hairbrush?

She picked it up and threw it at me instead, missing my head by inches.

Faye peered from behind me. "Minda, what's wrong with that woman?" she asked, crying.

"She's sick, Faye; she's not going to hurt us." I gave her a little shove. "But I want you to crawl under the desk again— just for a little while, okay?"

"You've caused me more trouble than you're worth!" Gertrude Whitmire's words clattered like ice cubes dropped one at a time, and I watched Faye roll under the desk and out of her reach as the woman lunged at me, her hands at my throat.

Instinctively, I threw up my arms in a defensive maneuver I'd learned years before on the grammar school playground, and kicked herin the stomach. Kicked her
hard
.

The breath went out of her with a
whoosh
ing sound, and she sank to the floor and moaned. Maybe she would be out of commission for a while.

I held out my hand to Faye and pulled her into my lap, then grabbed tissues from Mildred's desk and wiped away her tears. "I'm going to call your mama now. Don't you want to talk to her? Tell her you're all right?"

"Mrs. Whitmire, would you like me to call your brother?" I asked after Faye had spoken to both parents, who were on their way, she said. Faye had curled up in the armchair, and I wrapped the throw around her. Now I stood between the child and the woman who had threatened us—but not too closely. I didn't know what she might do.

Gertrude had quieted now, but still sat on the floor, tugging persistently at the stuffed animal's puckered seams.

"Would it help if your brother were here?" I asked again.

"That Hugh? What for? He's already botched things up. If you and your family had stayed out of this, everything would've been all right."

"You mean Otto would still be alive?"

"He was going to tell everything.
Everything!
It would've ruined us! Otto left that message for Hugh, but I heard it first. Hugh wanted to take the easy way out—"

"Like search the bookshop until he found what he was looking for?" I said.

"That wasn't the way! I knew it wasn't the way, so I just took care of things myself. What Hugh didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Everybody thought I was at that church movie thing, but I sat near the back and left well before it was over."

Gertrude laughed. "Otto had so much to drink, he didn't even know what was happening."

"But I thought Otto had quit drinking."

"Otto thought he had, too, until I put vodka in his orange juice. By the time he realized it, it was too late. He kept the juice in a little refrigerator off the library up there. Came in early that night and fiddled around some, had a few glasses while waiting for Hugh to come." Gert smiled and gave the zebra a punch. "But Hugh didn't come. I came. By that time he was drunk as a skunk. It doesn't take much, you know, if you haven't imbibed in a while."

"And he didn't suspect?"

"Not at first, and then he tried to hide. He joked about it, you know. Made light of my grandfather. Why, he said awful things! Guess he thought I wouldn't look for him in the ladies' room, or maybe he was so drunk and confused he wandered in the wrong room. Oh, it was so easy! The fool didn't even fasten the door of his stall!"

Poor Otto! "But the door was fastened when—"

"Oh, I did that afterward. Stood on a chair. Took a little stretching, but walking keeps me fit, you know."

This woman had absolutely no conscience, no regret.

"And then you came! As soon as I got rid of one nuisance, here came another! You and that Mildred dredging up old lies. You just couldn't let it go, could you?"

"But why Sylvie Smith? What has she ever done?" I took a step away from her and reached for Faye's hand. The woman had long arms and a shifty look.

"Sylvia happened along at an unfortunate time," she said, watching me.

"What were you looking for there?" I asked.

"You know." The look she gave me could split a redwood tree. "You know very well."

But I didn't.

Dave, Gatlin, and the police all arrived at about the same time a few minutes later, and after collecting Lizzie and Mildred, my cousins and I had a late lunch of hot dogs (at Faye's request), at the Heavenly Grill.

Later, over ice cream, I told them what Gertrude had said. "I know she was the one who tried to flip me off my bike, then later meant to do me in at the academy," I said, "but how did she have time to get back there after dropping Gatlin off at the bookshop to get her car?"

"I imagine she parked somewhere close by and walked back to the academy," Dave said.

"If Hugh hadn't come when he did, I might have been part of the flooring!" I said, wishing I hadn't eaten all those fries. "Gertrude must have heard him coming and hidden in another room, then sneaked down the back stairs while he was 'unwinding' me. I guess she meant to make it look like a suicide… but she had groceries in her car, remember? How could she have had time to go to the store, then get back to the academy in time to pretend to be so shocked?"

"Those groceries were for the church Thanksgiving collection," Gatlin said. "She probably already had them in the trunk. It wouldn't take a minute to move them up front to look like she'd been shopping. I'll bet if you looked at the date on the receipt, it would prove it."

"Too late now," I said. "But I still don't see how she could've called you on the phone pretending to be your neighbor."

Gatlin frowned. "I think I know. If you'll remember, she went into the bathroom while I was actually talking to the 'neighbor.' I think she called the academy on her cell phone, summoned me downstairs, and then disappeared into the ladies' room to continue the conversation. She didn't come out until I was off the phone."