January Thaw (The Murder-By-Month Mysteries) (14 page)

Thirty-Three

“Can we come in?
It’s cold out here.”

“Taunita?” I guessed. The woman was African American, early twenties, balancing a baby on one hip and holding the hand of another child, both kids so thoroughly wrapped in snowsuits, scarves, hats, and mittens that they had to tip back the top half of their body to see me in the yellow glare of the yardlight. Their names were Timothy and Alessa, if I remembered correctly from our single phone call.

“Yeah. Your dog friendly?”

I glanced down at Luna. She was trying to play it cool, sitting next to me on her haunches, but her tail was wagging against my ankle. She loved kids.

“Yep,” I said, stepping aside to let them in.

“Puppy!” the little boy said when his mom led him into the house. I loved the way kids said that word. It was all wrapped in love and intense surprise, like they hadn’t known until that moment how awesome the world could be. “Puppy!” he repeated.

His mom set the baby on the couch. The little child’s snowsuit was so thick that she could only lay immobile like an insulated taco. Taunita talked while she unzipped and unraveled both children. “I know about Maurice,” she said, “so you can stop looking so worried. I don’t expect you to tell me anything new.”

She’d just met me, and she already knew my worried look? Mrs. Berns must be right about my poker face. “I’m sorry. How’d you find out?”

“Hammer.” She laid the snowsuits on top of each other then stacked the mittens, hats, and scarves next to them. Free of his bindings, Timothy ran over to Luna and hugged her like a champion. He was wearing one of those little matching button-down flannel shirt and elastic-waisted corduroy sets that squeezes my heart. With his curly chocolate-brown hair and wide eyes, he was a perfect, three-year-old doll. Alessa sat on the couch where Taunita had propped her, watching me with serious owl eyes. Her nose was exactly as big as a button, and her curls stood up around her head, recovering from the static shock of her hat being pulled off. I remember Taunita mentioning on the phone that Alessa had just turned a year old.

“He’s not good for a lot, but Hammer at least had the decency to tell me about Maurice being gone,” she continued. “He also said you’re a detective. That right?”

Timothy was trying to crawl on Luna’s back and ride her like a pony. She kept wriggling away and then finally rolled on her back. He trailed his fingers through her tummy hair and giggled. Tiger Pop still hadn’t shown her face. Historically, she liked kids only a little more than she liked baths.

“No,” I said truthfully. “I’m in training, but I’ve got another five thousand or so hours until I’m official in Minnesota. Is that why you came here? To see if I could find out who—” I glanced at Timothy. I didn’t know if he was old enough to understand that his dad was dead. “Who’s responsible for what happened?”

“Oh, I
know
who’s responsible. Somebody who was buying, or somebody who was selling. That’s how that works. Maurice tried to get out of that life and was almost there. That’s why he came to Minnesota, you know? He was gonna look into an inheritance. He must’ve been offered some side work while he was here, big enough to call Hammer and Ray out with him, and he was stupid enough to take it. Last mistake he’ll ever make.” Her words were fierce, but tears sparkled in her eyes. Her face was swollen, as if she’d been spending a lot of time crying.

“How long were you two together?” I asked.

“Five years. We met in community college. I was going for computer programming and he was gonna be a mechanic, and then I got pregnant.”

I nodded. I was frankly at a loss. Timothy had moved on from Luna and was pulling my CDs off the rack and stacking them like blocks. Alessa hadn’t pulled her solemn eyes off me. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“You can heat this bottle up,” Taunita said, digging through a diaper bag. “And you can find Orpheus Jackson for me.”

Thirty-Four

The letter. It was
hidden in the pocket of my winter coat. “If it’s the same Orpheus I’m thinking of, he’s pretty dead.”

The hint of a smile touched her cheeks. “He is. He was Maurice’s great-great-great-grandpa. When Mo’s mom passed two months ago, he discovered the letters from Orpheus. He read them all at least three times, like they were a real page-turner. Maurice thought he had some land due him around here, land that was stolen from Orpheus. I don’t have much else right now, and I’m asking you to help me find out if my kids at least got this.”

I made my way to the microwave, unscrewed the nipple, and popped in the bottle, my brain working furiously, adding up what I knew. The letter Ray had tossed at me was real, or at least a copy of an authentic letter, written by Maurice’s great-great-great-grandfather to his wife. In the letter in my possession, Orpheus had written,
they do not believe the messages I bring
. I didn’t know where the letter had been mailed to or from, but I did know that Orpheus had served in the Civil War with Barnaby Offerdahl.

“Twenty seconds should be good,” she said.

I nodded and jabbed the buttons. Timothy had followed me and was eyeing the bag of dill pickle potato chips on the counter. I’d eaten half the bag a few nights ago, and if I finished the rest, I might need to ask Timothy if his elastic-waisted cords came in larger sizes. “Can he have potato chips?”

“Sure,” Taunita said, not looking up from her diaper changing.

I handed Timothy the bag.

“Thank you,” he said, only it sounded like
tank-oo
because he was tiny and precious.

“You’re welcome.” I retrieved the bottle from the microwave, wound the top back on, shook it holding my finger over the hole in the nipple, tested it on my wrist, then handed it to Taunita.

“You have kids?” she asked.

“God no. Did a lot of babysitting growing up, though. Did Maurice mention where he thought this land was?”

“Battle Lake.” She pointed out the window and made an encompassing gesture. “Here. He thought it might be around where his grandma used to own a cabin, but he found out she just rented it. Guess her grandparents took her there when she was little, too.”

“Anything more specific than that?”

She shrugged, cradling Alessa as she fed her. “He said the letters didn’t say much, almost like Orpheus was afraid someone else was going to read them.”

“Don’t suppose you brought the letters with?”

“Don’t suppose I did. It wouldn’t make any difference, anyways. I read ’em all myself. They don’t say anything.”

“Except that Orpheus was owed land in Battle Lake.”

“Didn’t even mention that. That’s just the return address that was on the letters, and then there was some family legend that they was all supposed to be rich once they got their hands on this land.”

“That’s not a lot to go on,”

“I know.” Alessa’s eyes were growing droopy as she drank, and Timothy was sitting cross-legged near my feet, trying to feed Luna potato chips. “His funeral is gonna be here,” she said softly. A tear coasted down her cheek and dropped onto Alessa’s forehead. The girl’s eyes popped open, then grew heavy-lidded again.

“In Battle Lake?”

“He doesn’t have any family left, except us. Might as well be here.”

I had a thought
. After the Battle
lay open on the coffee table in front of her. “Grab me that?”

She reached over, expertly balancing Alessa, and handed me the book. I walked to my coat and pulled out Orpheus’s letter, smoothing it on the counter. Then I paged through the book until I located the article on the man found hung in the woods. Orpheus had written his letter January 18, 1865. The unidentified body had been discovered March 7 of the same year with the note that it had been hanging for at least two months. Was the hanged man Orpheus, and if so, why had he hung himself? I had some more questions to ask Carter Stone, it appeared.

“I’ll see what information I can uncover,” I said, “but this is a long shot.”

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“Where will you be staying so I can tell you if I find anything?”

She kept her eyes on Alessa. Timothy took that moment to wipe his greasy fingers on my pants leg. An awareness began to dawn on me. “You don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“We’re quiet,” she said. “And clean. I can help you out around here. Your plants look good, but you’ve got some cobwebs in the corners that might need a jackhammer to get them down.”

I looked where she was pointing. How long had those been there? More importantly, how could I possibly live with a stranger and her two little kids? Luna whined, drawing my attention. She waited until our eyes were locked and then licked salty, giggly, boogery Timothy.
I want to keep him
, the gesture said.

I sighed so deeply that I swear the cobwebs that had just been pointed out to me moved. “Fine. You can have the guest room. But I’m not used to living with people. Especially little people.”

Taunita smiled at me, the first unguarded expression I’d seen on her since she arrived. It was gorgeous, happy, grateful. Luna and I lugged in her suitcases and a box of toys out of the back of her Honda Civic and set them up in the spare bedroom. I inflated an air mattress for her and Timothy to share and together, she and I put together the travel playpen for Alessa. By the time we had the room comfortable, both kids were asleep, their faces vulnerable and perfect.

For the second time in four days, I was awoken by the sharp trill of the phone in the kitchen, this time in the middle of the night. My immediate reaction was chilly fear. It was appropriate.

“Mira?”

“Gary?” Even in my dream-fuzzed state, I recognized the deep, measured tone of the police chief. My next words came out like a plea. “It’s one in the morning.”
Please don’t tell me anyone I love is hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He hesitated before continuing. Gary never hesitates.

“Who is it?”

“Curtis Poling has been attacked. He’s in the Fergus Falls hospital. He’s in rough shape.”

I sat up in bed, my heart pounding a sick beat. “What? What happened?”

“You should get there soon. Do you need me to drive you?”

“No,” I said reflexively. I rested the phone in its cradle and looked around my bedroom like it was the first time I’d seen it.

“You okay?”

I started. I’d forgotten that Taunita and her kids were here. She stood on the edge of the kitchen, appearing ghostly in a white nightgown.

“No,” I said.

She nodded. She was used to things not being okay. “You need to go somewhere?”

I stood and began pulling on clothes. “Yeah. The hospital.”

She disappeared and returned with my coat and boots. “I’ll watch your animals. You call back here if you need anything.”

Thirty-Five

Curtis Poling had been
out for a midnight walk, a habit of his that he refused to give up when he entered the nursing home. I’d caught him at it late one August night when I was one of the last customers to leave the Rusty Nail. I’d at first thought real dementia had kicked in. He’d convinced me he was out for pleasure and that he did it every night. He said he never walked far, but that he had to get out because the only time he could think was when the world was quiet. He’d managed to sneak out all those evenings without alerting the nursing home attendants, so who was I to deny him his simple pleasure?

This particular night, however, he’d been attacked behind the Apothecary. It was only good luck that Theadora had found him when she came to check on the alarm that had gone off.

“I thought he was a pile of rags.” She kept twisting the tissue in her hands. “When I saw it was a person, I couldn’t remember the phone number for the ambulance at first. Is that the stupidest thing you ever heard? I couldn’t think of three simple numbers.”

I kept my arm around her. “But you did remember them.”

She nodded. “I was afraid to touch him. He looked so fragile, as if he’d been dropped from the sky. I didn’t even recognize it was Curtis right away, there was so much blood. And someone had stolen his coat. Who does that?”

I had a good idea exactly who had done that. I felt as if my insides had been scoured by metal, like somehow I should have done more to stop Ray and Hammer. Maybe then Curtis wouldn’t be in surgery, which is all the doctor could tell us. And when I say us, I mean me and a significant portion of Battle Lake. Familiar, tired faces had begun shuffling in, people who’d been reached by the phone tree and told that one of their own was hurting. We milled in the waiting room like zombies, our numbers growing, everyone afraid to speak too loudly, possibly afraid of waking one another and realizing this wasn’t just a bad dream.

Theadora had stood by Curtis until the ambulance arrived, covering him with her own coat despite the plummeting temperatures, telling him it was going to be okay, crying. She told me she hadn’t seen anyone else in the alley, just all that blood in the snow like someone had spilled a pitcher of cherry Kool-Aid.

“Weren’t you concerned whoever did this to him would come back?”

Theadora blinked. I could tell it hadn’t occurred to her to worry about anything but Curtis. In that moment, I loved her more than my own heart. I asked her if she needed anything. When she shook her head, I went in search of coffee. I took the corner toward the cafeteria when a familiar voice caught my ear. I tipped back and saw that Chuck Litchfield had joined the Battle Lake contingent. Behind him was Johnny, bedsheet creases still in his face. I kept walking, like the coward I am. I didn’t have it in me to deal with either of them tonight.

I hid out in the cafeteria for an hour, peeking occasionally into the waiting room. The hospital staff eventually had to ask most of the locals to leave, saying they didn’t have room for all of us, and besides, there was nothing we could do here. Once Johnny and Chuck were gone, I returned to the waiting room to beg to be allowed to stay. I would have hidden behind a plant or stolen some scrubs and tried to blend in if they’d said no.

Both Theadora and I were allowed to stick around by dint of our closeness to Curtis—Theadora in finding him, and me in being his closest friend outside of the nursing home. Mrs. Berns was a near second, but she let me stay rather than fight it out. She and Kennie both gave me a hug before leaving, and I promised to spread word as soon as we had news.

A little after eight o’clock in the morning, a nurse with kind eyes touched my shoulder and asked if I was here for Curtis Poling. That “yes” was one of the most difficult words I’d ever uttered. She must have seen the fear in my eyes because she immediately shook her head and told me that Curtis was out of surgery. He was in rough shape and couldn’t have visitors for at least another day, maybe longer, but it looked like he was going to pull through. The tears gushed out of my eyes. I gently shook Theadora, who had fallen asleep on my shoulder. After I shared the good news with her, I used the hospital phone to dial Kennie.

After the information tree had been started, I was at a loss. The nurse had gently informed us that there was no reason to stay. I was too wired to go home or to work. I returned to the phone and called Mrs. Berns.

“I heard,” she said by way of hello.

“Hi.”

“My phone has been ringing off the hook. Are you still at the hospital?”

“Yep. They think he’s going to be okay.”

“That cat’s had more than his share of lives.” She coughed on the other end of the phone.

“Are you crying?”

“Are you stupiding?”

“It’s okay. I know how much Curtis means to all of us.”

I heard snuffling on the other end of the line, then nose-blowing. “What was that old fart doing walking behind the drugstore at midnight, anyways?”

I had that same question. Not why he was out walking, but why he was walking in an alley. “Theadora said the silent alarm was triggered, but that the police haven’t yet found any evidence of a break-in.” I thought of what Gary had told me about the booming pharmaceutical market in the region. “Maybe Curtis interrupted them in progress?”

“Like we did in the alley behind the post office the other night?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Is Curtis talking yet?”

“No. The nurse said he might not even be able to have visitors for days.”

“Well, I’ll watch the library for you.”

“What for?”

“So you can track down who hurt our man and give them a can of hell back.”