Grave Concern (19 page)

The movies were instructive. Kate watched how cross-dressing actors played the other sex, taking note of body language and tricks of clothing and speech. She dearly hoped it would not come to speech, that she could remain silent and observe. Convincing anyone she was a man through movement and clothing would be hard enough. She had thought of asking Leonard to do the deed and go to the meeting for her, but at no time during their mutual and animated rehearsal of her plan did he offer. This was no oversight on his part, Kate realized, but rather a refusal to release her from a responsibility she had brought on herself. And maybe just a little apprehension on his part? Well, so be it. This was her crazy idea, the masque hers to carry off or piss away.

Leonard did, however, lend her some duds: men's jeans (out-of-date, wide cargo-style, only just bearable around Kate's healthy thighs) and a bomber-style wind shell sporting the name of his softball team. (Another surprise: Leonard was the star pitcher.) His footwear was far too large, but Kate located some old Grebs of her dad's, which were only a couple of sizes too big. A hat of some kind would be important, to cover her hair and hide her face. Kate was happy to see a large-ish ball cap in the bag of clothes Leonard dropped off at Grave Concern. (Her father's wardrobe had offered none; to the end of his days, Dean Smithers wore, without irony, homburgs and fedoras, firm in the view that a ball cap worn off the diamond, like a T-shirt worn in the street, was a social scourge. At times — was she hopelessly old-fashioned? — Kate could see his point.) Kate could only hope Leonard's cap would meet Leonard's collar and hide the feminine neck beneath — at least, what remained of the feminine in the ongoing hormonal crisis.

The night of the meeting, Kate sat in her car, parked beside the river a short distance from the school. From here, she could watch the attendees arrive. When she judged the bulk of them to be imminent, she scooted the car over to a stall in the school lot and joined a rag-tag bunch filing into the specially-unlocked entrance. She noticed the men each politely kept a hand on the heavy door for the one behind. She lowered her head as she passed through, and hoped the guy behind wouldn't examine her hand too closely. They moved, singly and in ragged pairs, down the stairs and along a hall to the cafeteria. Kate struggled to remember to keep her arms out a little from her body and her knees straight over toes as she walked, to bend slightly forward from the butt and fall more heavily than came naturally on each foot — and, above all, not to gawk.

When Kate attended the school, this had been the drama and history wing. She yearned to peer into the old classrooms and around corners, even into the washroom — was school graffiti still basically the same? Or were kids beyond that these days? Maybe all the on-line “texting” and “sharing” and “liking” was a boon for janitors of the twenty-first century. In the event, Kate dared look neither right nor left, nor draw attention to herself in any way. She ached to raise her eyes to the wall above the lockers, to where portrait-sized photos of past graduates lined up in a neat row. Many old friends were up there. Kate felt their presence now. Somewhere along this hallway, she knew, a reasonably pretty eighteen-year-old gazed down on the middle-aged version of herself, skulking along in a ball cap and ill-fitting jeans. Kate wondered:
Would young Katie Smithers be amused — or aghast?

The cafeteria chairs had been moved away from the long tables and set out in rows. Kate chose a seat to one side, near the back, and sat down heavily, remembering to keep her knees apart and her heels off the floor. She fisted her hands and folded her arms across her chest, which hurt a bit. She tugged at the peak of the cap and set one leg lightly bouncing. Okay, the bouncing was too much. Kate stopped that.

The meeting was called to order by Bill Chambers. Beside him, in chairs facing the attendees, sat a familiar crew: Foxy Raymond; Buck Miller, his leg bandaged from foot to calf; Hille's husband, Ron Whatsisname; and another man Kate recognized but couldn't place. Nicholas was, she noted, nowhere in evidence, either up front or in the audience.

“Hi. I'm Bill Chambers, in case anyone didn't know.” A ripple of laughter passed through the group. Chambers went on, “So, I'm the chairman of this ad hoc committee—meaning, a committee we put together for this particular purpose. Now, I don't know if there are any new ones here.” He looked up from his papers and around, and Kate held her gaze steady, praying the ball cap was up to its billing. Chambers's eyes found her for a split second, then moved on. Kate breathed again. “I think there may be a few newbies. So thanks. Thanks, everyone, for comin' out. We need all the help we can get. So you're all welcome. I'll get right to the point, here, so's you can get back to your wives and families. Or the hockey game, whichever comes first.”

More laughter. Someone said, “Hear, hear!” and the cry was taken up around the room.

“We're here meetin' tonight, because, as many of us know, there's something weird going on up at the cemetery. We've had a number of people reportin' seeing something.”

“Smokin' the whacky tabacky, I'll bet!” someone yelled. Everyone laughed.

“Was it Hallowe'en?” someone else called out.

Chambers smiled and said there had been numerous sightings, Hallowe'en included, and they had been going on now for some months.

“Now a few of us,” he went on, “have been spending our Friday evenings after work, right up till dark and after, hanging out up there watching for anything strange. A couple of times we've thought we heard or saw something, but we could never get a good look. Now I know a number of you have your ideas of what it is. A bear, some have said. A wolf. We've had both of these animals around town before lots of times. But there's others, guys that know what they're talking about, say it's not those at all. I've also heard deer or moose. Any of those we'd likely know by now. Especially the hunters in the crowd.”

Someone yelled, “My brother seen it — said it's
bigger
than a wolf!”

Next a sonorous, vaguely English accent: “I myself have seen it, although it was semi-dark. You can rule out bear, not thick enough around the middle. And it's definitely smaller than a moose.”

Chambers held his hands up. “Okay, okay. Thanks, everyone, for your comments. Later, we'll get more ideas from the floor. We're trying to be as fair as we can.” Kate noticed Buck Miller and the man whose name she couldn't recall, turn slightly toward each other, raising their eyebrows skeptically.

Oblivious, Chambers continued. “Now, before we split into groups [at this, Kate's heart sank], I've got a few things written down here that we want you to consider. Don't worry, I've got copies here of the questions to hand out, so you won't forget them. Here they are:

“
Number one:
Does it appear to walk on four legs or two [much laughter and some raunchy banter involving a third appendage]? Now, this may seem like a funny question, but you'd be surprised the things we've heard, including
wings
, if you can believe it.

“
Number two:
Have we had more sightings in the daylight or after dark (well, you can't see in the dark but you know what we're gettin' at)? Does this thing come around more at morning or night? Let's get accurate numbers on this one, folks, because the answer is going to affect number four.

“
Number three:
Considering this creature's disappearin' act, along with its dangerous nature, should the next armed person who sees it shoot to kill even if he can't see exactly what it is? That one's self-explanatory.”

At Number three, the two skeptics took particular umbrage. One (Kate racked her brains for his name) finally sputtered, “If you'll pardon the interruption,” he said, “I believe these are not words agreed on by the committee.”

“Yeah,” someone yelled from the row behind her. “Leading question! Anyone here ever watch Perry Mason when you were kids?”

A tremor passed down Chambers's thick neck, as though he'd swallowed something large. “Okay, okay,” he said. “How should we say it, then?”

A quiet murmur among the attendees grew into a roar. Someone yelled, “I knew it! The fix is in!”

Someone else looked pointedly at his watch and said if everyone didn't shut up and get on with it, he was bloody well going to go out on Saturday morning and shoot the damn thing himself.

A short man wearing an old-fashioned red hunter's cap yelled out that if anyone went out and summarily shot the animal, he would personally go to that person's house and shoot
him
.

Another man cleared his throat loudly, opened his mouth to great expectation, then shut it again.

Chambers's face, by this time, was as red as the little guy's hunter's cap. “Okay, everyone, you know what I meant. Don't let's confuse everyone with words. I'm going to go on, and them that don't like it can leave.”

Kate noticed Buck Miller maniacally working a finger as though trying to unscrew it from his hand. The other man — Gupta, that was it! — pursed his lips and seemed to grab his chair tighter with his ample butt cheeks.

Chambers went on. “ ‘
Number four …
' Okay, before I get to question four, I'll explain that so far, we've kept this whole thing quiet, due to pressure from an adjunct member of the ad hoc committee, a member that unfortunately couldn't make it here tonight. He's down at his head office in Toronto right now, that office being
MNR
. [A murmur swelled.] Anyway, this guy from MNR [why did Chambers speak as though he and half the people here hadn't known Nicholas all their lives?], he thinks, from the thing's
behaviour
[Chambers drew air quotations] it might possibly be a cat, a cougar even.” (Gasps) “That's despite the fact they been extinct from this part of the world for a couple hundred years. MNR wants it kept quiet, so as people don't hunt for trophy, 'specially in town limits, and also not to raise a panic in the general public.”

Someone holding up his iPhone shouted, “Get to the point, Bill! Second period's starting!”

“Okay, Ray, hold your horses. So the question, question four, is, ‘Do we listen to MNR and protect this monster? Or do we take things into our own hands and stop predators creeping around, snatching people's pets and kids?' So that's all. We'll take fifteen minutes. Everyone divide yourselves into groups of four or five, and let's get going.”

At the word “monster,” Kate had heard a gasp. Next thing she knew, a coffee cup, not yet completely drained, landed with a splat near her foot. Assuming she hadn't been the target, she turned to see the Perry Mason aficionado grab the red hunter's cap from his neighbour and pitch it Frisbee-fashion at the thrower of the cup. Kate edged toward the door. Just as she was about to make her exit, a chair landed squarely on Hille's Ron's head, causing him to roar something extremely rude.

“Uh, gotta run,” she said to no one in particular and made for the hallway, struggling to keep her masculinity intact.

Safe at home, if slightly stunned, Kate immediately called Leonard.

“Hey, Leonard,” she said. “That was definitely the strangest meeting of my life. Sort of a vigilante recruitment drive disguised as public consultation.”

On the other end, listening to her narrate the evening's events, Leonard was clearly just as confused. “So what did they decide in the end?”

“Dunno. Nothing. It turned into a bit of a brawl, and I left. Thought I might blow my cover getting involved. You think I was chicken?”

“You should have at least stuck around to see who won! Kidding. You were smart to get out. I sure would have. Overall, I think you're brave. Very brave.”

Now it was Kate's turn to blush, as luck would have it, out of Leonard's visual range.

“So,” Leonard went on. “What now?”

Kate's heart leapt. Just the way he said it implied some kind of future. For them. Together. “Uh. Dunno. But,” she hesitated, “Leonard, did you carry me up the stairs and
put me in bed
the other night?”

“You were falling off the chair,” Leonard said.

“I'm so sorry,” said Kate. “What an ass. Really. I'm not always, uh,
out of it
like that.”

“Obviously,” said Leonard. “But a concussion on top of cracked ribs wouldn't have been much fun, I'm guessing. That's why I took you to a safer place.”

“Anyway, thanks. A lot. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” Leonard said.

At the word “pleasure” coming from Leonard's lips, Kate felt a lick — more like a slurp — of a feeling she tried not to contemplate.