The Mill River Recluse (28 page)

“Well, Saturday’s Valentine’s Day, you know,” he said. “No school the next day, neither. Let’s you and me go to Rutland for a night on the town. We’ll go to the King’s Lodge. I’ll make it your lucky night.” He sounded impatient, almost insistent, as if she owed him a date.

Claudia brought out her solid excuse. “The thing is, Leroy, I’ve got plans for Saturday night already, and I’m actually kind of seeing someone right now.” For a fleeting second, she wondered whether one past and one prospective date qualified as “seeing someone” and then decided that now was not the time to worry about it. “But thank you for asking. And thank you again for the roses and card. They were lovely.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Then have a good night,” Leroy said. His voice was dry and frustrated.

“Same to you,” Claudia said, and hung up. Waves of relief washed over her.
That should take care of Leroy
, she thought.

The phone rang again.

Surely, he wasn’t calling back for another attempt?

She would screen the call. After four rings, her answering machine clicked on and began to record. A friendly voice came through the speaker.

“Hi, Claudia, it’s Kyle. I was just calling to--” Claudia seized the phone before he could say anything else.

“Kyle? Hi, I’m sorry about the machine,” she said. “I would’ve answered, but Leroy just called. I thought the phone ringing was him again.”

Kyle laughed. “No problem, I understand. I hear he really did it with the flowers.”

“Yes, it was quite a scene. The office girls couldn’t believe it, especially when the man from the flower shop came back a second time with your rose. Thank you, by the way. It’s beautiful.”

“My pleasure. I asked for red, initially, but the flower shop was fresh out of red roses. I wonder how that could’ve happened?”

Claudia had to laugh at his mock surprise. “I didn’t even bring Leroy’s flowers home. I didn’t want anything to do with them. And just now, on the phone, he reminded me why.”

“So he wanted to get together this week?”

“Yeah, he was pretty disgusting. He wanted to go out sometime this week or Saturday night, and he got a little pushy about it, in the end. Unfortunately for Mr. Underwood, I already have plans,” Claudia said lightly.

“Plans, the plans! Yes! That’s what I was calling about! I got reservations at the King’s Lodge at seven on Saturday. We could go to a movie afterward if you’d like. I could come by for you at about six-thirty.”

“That’s great,” Claudia said.

“I might see you before then. I’m picking up Rowen after school tomorrow, so I’ll stop in and say hello.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Claudia said. “Bye.”

“Yup. Bye.”

Claudia hung up the phone for the second time. All was right with the world.

~~~

The next day was Thursday, and it was on Thursday morning that the brand new Jeep appeared at the police station.

It was parked outside when Fitz arrived to start his shift. Despite the frigid early morning air, he stayed outside for a moment to admire it. It was a polished white Grand Cherokee, so white that it humiliated even the fresh snow caked around the edges of the parking lot. Looked brand new, or close to it. He rumpled his mouth and wondered whose it was. A new Grand Cherokee like that was about thirty grand, maybe more with options. He stepped closer and peered in the side window--it probably had heated seats to boot. The owner of this baby sure was a lucky devil.

Fitz walked around the front of the Jeep, heading for the door to the police station, when he noticed the envelope. It was tucked into the base of the windshield, and
his name was on it.
Taking care not to slip, he grasped the envelope and hurried into the station.

Ron Wykowski was putting on his coat, getting ready to leave. “’Lo, Chief,” he said, and yawned. “Another slow night. I just put some fresh coffee on.”

“Morning, Ron,” he said, but his attention was focused on the envelope. He opened it and pulled out a thick stack of papers and booklets. On top was another sealed envelope, again with his name written on the front. The next item in the stack was what looked like a bill of sale. Underneath that was an owner’s manual. And the last item in the stack was a certificate of registration that listed the Mill River Police Department as the
owner of the Jeep
.

“Can’t be,” Fitz muttered, staring at the registration. “Ron, did you see who parked that white Jeep outside?”

“What Jeep?” He came over to the counter where Fitz had spread out the contents of the envelope. “What’s all this?”

“There’s a brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee out in the lot. You have any idea who parked it there, or how long it’s been there?”

“Nope. I mean, it wasn’t there when I came on shift last night. That was at eleven, and I didn’t leave the station after that. What’s going on?”

“I was hoping you knew,” Fitz said, as he plucked the registration out of the papers on the counter. “Take a look at this.”

Ron’s eyes widened as he read the certificate. “There’s really a new Jeep out there?” He handed the registration back to Fitz and went to the window. “Holy shit.”

“My gut’s telling me this is some cockamamie prank, but this registration looks authentic,” Fitz said. He opened the second, smaller envelope that had been inside the first. It contained a short typed letter.

Dear Fitz,

Please accept this new Jeep as a replacement for the one your Department recently lost. It has been registered in the Department’s name and has been fully paid for. The title should be issued by the DMV within a few weeks. Your Department will need only to cover insurance payments, which should be manageable.

Best wishes,

A resident of Mill River

P.S. Keys are in the glove compartment.

“Ron! Ron, go outside and check in the glove compartment, will you?” Fitz asked. “The doors are open. This letter says the keys are in there.”

Ron was more than happy to oblige, and he returned in a matter of seconds with two sets of keys. “It’s brand new, and loaded,” he reported. “It’s got the new-car smell, and the odometer reads 19 miles.”

“Must’ve been bought in Rutland,” Fitz said. “There’s a Jeep dealership up there.”

“Yeah, but who bought it?” Ron asked.

“Looks like somebody in Mill River,” Fitz said, showing him the letter.

“Somebody who knew about Leroy’s accident,” Ron said, when he, too, had read it. “Course by now, that’s probably everyone in town.”

“I’m going to make some calls. I still don’t believe this whole thing is legit.” Fitz sat down at the desk and pulled out the Rutland County yellow pages. Then he remembered his conversation with Father O’Brien the morning before, and the priest’s confident reassurance that “everything would work out in the end,” and wondered if his first call shouldn’t be to Father O’Brien.

“Well, if this
is
for real,” Ron said, looking out the window again, “I hope you don’t let Leroy anywhere near it.”

~~~

The first thing Father O’Brien did when he awoke on Saturday morning was open the front door of the parish house and retrieve the copy of the Mill River Gazette on his doorstep.

He walked with it into his little kitchen and set the teakettle on the stove. Some mornings, he liked tea more than coffee, and this was one of those mornings. He sat down at the table and removed the thin newspaper from its protective plastic wrapper.

There on the front page, just as he had expected, was a story about the new Jeep. The headline read, “Mystery donor rescues police department,” and next to the story was a picture of the new Grand Cherokee, surrounded by Mill River’s four police officers.

The town was in an absolute tizzy. Word of the new Jeep had spread quickly. Even the Rutland Herald sent a reporter down to cover the story. The article in the Gazette contained several quotes from Fitz, talking about how he had discovered the Jeep, wondering about the identity of the benefactor. The old-timers in town had done their part, too, rehashing the old TV story at the bakery for anyone who would listen. There was a picture of them printed with the article in the Gazette. Father O’Brien skimmed the story, smiling to himself. He was glad to see that Fitz had kept his promise not to reveal any of his own involvement in the matter.

It hadn’t been ten minutes after Fitz’s shift had ended on Thursday when the he knocked at the door of the parish house and asked, “Do you have a minute, Father? Something mighty strange happened this morning, and I thought you might know what’s going on.”

In the end, he hadn’t lied, but he hadn’t told Fitz exactly who was behind the purchase of the Jeep. It was not yet time to disclose that information. He had, however, explained that he’d arranged to have the Jeep delivered to the police station on behalf of someone whose identity would be revealed in due course. That yes, the gift to the police station was in fact a sure and proper thing. Being a man of patience and integrity, Fitz had kept his curiosity at bay and promised to keep their conversation confidential. His interview for the Gazette was proof that he had kept his word.

The teakettle on the stove began to whistle, softly at first, then more shrilly. Father O’Brien heaved himself from his chair and took it off the burner before it sounded its most incessant, high-pitched shriek--something he just couldn’t handle in the morning.

He dropped a teabag into a mug and poured the hot water over it. For a few minutes, he stood at the counter, preoccupied, fishing the teabag up and down in the darkening liquid. Another five days had passed, leaving him with seventeen days until the town meeting. It wouldn’t be long before the agenda for the meeting would be appearing in the Gazette. He would have to make sure that his announcement was included. On the legal side of things, Gasaway, the attorney, assured him that all arrangements were progressing on schedule. He had added the Mill River Police Department to his list of names. The package and the letter still waited, unopened, in his office. Only seventeen days more, and all would be revealed.

~~~

Jean Wykowski was doing dishes on Valentine’s Day.

It was already after noon, but Ron was still in bed, recovering from having worked all night. Unfortunately, he was on the graveyard shift again tonight. Jimmy and Johnny were sprawled on the living room carpet amid a sea of cheap pink and red grade school valentines, taunting each other about who got more from the girls in their classes. In a few years, that teasing would take on a whole new meaning. The boys would actually
want
to receive valentines from girls, and Jean didn’t want to think about that day.

She heard a creaking from the bedroom down the hall, heard the
thump
of Ron’s feet hitting the floor as he got out of bed. After a few minutes, he padded up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

“Morning, hon,” he said and kissed the back of her head. His breath was awful.

“Afternoon, you mean,” she said, turning around and placing a soapy hand over his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise, and he took a step back. “Morning breath, dear.”

“Oh, sorry.” Now he covered his own mouth and disappeared back down the hall. Jean heard running water and the quick, rhythmic scrubbing of his toothbrush. She resumed her washing.

“Minty fresh,” he said, appearing for the second time. “Can I have a Valentine’s kiss now?” She turned from the sink and looked at him standing in front of her in baggy sweats and a T-shirt with his hair plastered straight up on one side.

“Hmm. You do look pretty cute with your hair all messed up,” she said, and puckered up.

“Where are the kids?”

“In the living room, reading their valentines from their school parties. Why?”

“Well, I was thinking,” he said, “just a kiss is pretty weak for today, don’t you think? And since I’m gonna be stuck at the station again tonight...do you wanna fool around?”

Jean rolled her eyes at the ceiling. She wasn’t exactly feeling frisky.

“We can’t do it with the kids in here,” she whispered, but, with eerie timing, Jimmy and Johnny streaked through the kitchen to the back door to grab their coats and boots.

“We’re going to build a snow fort,” Johnny said. “We tried during recess at school yesterday, but we didn’t have enough time.”

“Yeah, and it caved in, anyway,” Jimmy said, pulling on his boots.

“Did you boys pick up the valentines you had on the floor?”

“Aw, Mom, we’ll do it later.”

“Yeah, as soon as we come in, promise.”

“Sure, hon, let them go ahead. It’s only a few pieces of paper,” Ron said, winking and nudging her with his elbow.

She was outnumbered by hopeful faces. “All right,” she said. “If you two promise to clean up the mess in there when you come in, because I’m sure not going to end up doing it.”

“We will, Mom, don’t worry.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

The back door had been closed not even two seconds before Ron was gently pulling her down the hall.

“What if the boys come back inside while we’re right in the middle?”

“It’s not like we won’t be able to hear them come in,” Ron said. “Besides, there’s nothing like the feeling that you might get caught.” They were in the bedroom now, and he was stripping off his clothes with gusto.

“Hmm.” She remembered the time when they were in high school when they had sneaked into his father’s garage, into the covered back of his pickup truck, to fool around. Ron’s dad had come into the garage to get an extension cord and left again without realizing they were buck naked in his vehicle.

Ron turned around, and she found herself looking down at his behind. It still looked pretty good to her, even after thirteen years of marriage. She glanced out the bedroom window facing the backyard. The kids were happily piling up big snowballs outside.