See Also Murder (23 page)

Hilo's face was puffier than normal, his hatless white hair a muss, even more so than normal, but he was standing on two feet, and his eyes were reasonably clear, more so than I had expected them to be.

I had to catch my breath before I spoke, so we stood there looking at each other for another long moment. The years passed between us and now we shared another tragedy. I had not been able to speak with Hilo when he had responded to the call about Ardith, come onto the property in a rush, then fell to the ground in disbelief as he saw Ardith, murdered and bloody behind the first barn. I was lost in my own hysteria and could hardly bear witness to his. His terror and moan had sounded like a distant train, mournful and lost, about to derail.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. And then the tears came. I couldn't help it. They flooded out of my eyes in rivers, like they'd been building behind an invisible dam. I just couldn't help myself, couldn't hold back my grief, my guilt, my pain, any longer.

Hilo said nothing. He just reached for me as I crumbled into his arms.

CHAPTER 26

I took a deep draw off the Salem and stared past Hilo to the gloaming sky. Dainty pink clouds had stretched out farther to the west, eating into soft yellows, all being chased by a darkening blue that would soon fade to black. Daylight seemed to go on forever in the summer, and mostly that was a wonderful thing for a farmer, but under other circumstances some days seemed to go on far too long. Grief was a heavy, invisible ankle weight that made the easiest step difficult, and the sky was dark no matter the time of day.

A magpie flittered from one fence post to the next, its long feathery tail dragging from lack of wind or enthusiasm. The black-and-white bird eyed us first with suspicion, then with opportunity. We had nothing to offer it that I knew of. The scavenger would have to fend for itself until Hilo rid himself of all the food that was stacking up in the kitchen.

“I brought lefse,” I said, exhaling smoke as I spoke. There was little comfort in the act, and Hilo matched the magpie's first gaze. He seemed suspicious of everything, even me. I couldn't blame him.

“Hank thinks you quit smoking,” he finally said. Crickets chirped nearby, but there was no music to add from his voice. It looked like it hurt him to speak.

We were a good fifty yards from the house, and the voices from inside floated down to us like vibrations from a grand party that we hadn't been invited to, or were trying to escape.

The mention of lefse didn't give Hilo a reason to flinch or show any enthusiasm at all. I was sure the thought of food turned his stomach as much as it did mine.

“Yes,” I said. “But I'm sure he knows I have a cigarette occasionally, he just doesn't say anything. I try not to smoke around him. It's a crutch I need some days more than others.”

Hilo stared me directly in the eye and let a thoughtful pause settle in between us. “It's not your fault, Marjorie.”

“I left her there, Hilo.” It was a broken sigh. The words got tangled up in a bramble of sadness that had lodged itself in the base of my throat from the moment I'd found Ardith. It had never left.

How could I not have regrets? How could it not be my fault?

“How were you to know?” Hilo asked. “I left her there, too.” His voice trailed off down the hill to the riparian tree line that hid the sight of the river, but not the smell. The water added a freshness to the air that couldn't be found anywhere else. Without reason, the crickets stopped chirping. Maybe they were listening to us like we were listening to them.

I looked at the hole in Hilo's shirt, where the badge used to be, and he caught my gaze.

“I resigned,” he said. “If I can't protect my own wife, keep her safe, then how can I expect to keep the people of Stark County safe? I'm finished. Probably should have quit long before now.”

“You told me after Hank's accident not to make any rash decisions, not to rush off and sell the farm. ‘Slow down,' you said, ‘the storm clouds will clear soon enough.'”

“I was right, too, wasn't I?”

“Mostly, but there are days when a first-floor apartment in town, close to the hospital and the library, would be less work, easier. Some days, an easier way of life would be just fine with me.”

“Hank'd never survive the move, the loss of the land. You either, as far as that goes. Be like taking a fish out of a pond and putting it into the ocean. How could you breathe?”

I shrugged and put the Salem's white filter to my lips again. It was already tainted with a light coating of my lipstick, and I suddenly wondered if it needed refreshed. I wore it light to begin with. Then I wondered why I should care.

I took another puff, not so deep. “You're probably right. But I always wonder if a change of scenery would do him good. Especially now.”

“And?”

“We haven't talked about it,” I said. “Not recently. But he's always said the only way he was leaving that farm was in a pine box stuffed into the McClandon's hearse. And you know Hank . . .”

“He means it,” Hilo said.

I nodded, exhaled, and didn't want to consider the thought. But it was too late. I'd held that final image of Hank in my mind a million times, tried to ward it off like the coming of the flu, with happy thoughts, cheerful notes, a warm soup, but it never worked. The grim vision of the simple coffin being lifted out of my bedroom never left me, especially when I was there.

I glanced down at my purse, trying to take my mind away from my own personal pain. “I didn't find much,” I said.

“About the amulet?” Hilo hadn't moved, just stood before me like he was going to catch me again if I fell, if I crumpled to the ground. He was good at reading me.

“Yes,” I said. “Just mythologies that I can't connect anything with— except . . .” I stopped.

“The mistletoe.” Hilo finished my sentence.

“You know about that?”

Hilo shook his head no. A wiry hair spiraled over his ear, and he pushed it away immediately, like it was a mosquito, an insect on the attack. “Not really, not the details. Just makes sense, that's all. First they leave the amulet in Erik's hand, then mistletoe in Ardith's. I don't read much, but I figure I can see a tell as much as the next cop. Whoever done this was leaving a note, telling us that he was there, flipping his nose up at us like he's smarter than all the rest of us.”

“Then you think it was the same person who killed them all then?” I asked.

“I do, but that doesn't mean it wasn't somebody else tryin' to follow along with the Knudsens' murders, copying it. I don't really know anything for certain, Marjorie. It could be the same person, or it could be two different ones. For the life of me, I can't imagine why anyone would do such a thing. Not here.”

“They would have to know, too, Hilo,” I said. “They would have to know what the amulet was and the story that's depicted on it. If it was another person, two different ones.”

“The detail of the amulet left behind hadn't been released to the press, and the mistletoe won't be, either. Not until we . . .” Hilo paused, looked to the sky, then said, “not until
they
solve this thing.”

The cigarette dangled between my fingers, as comfortable there as a red pen was. “I was going to give you the amulet back. I don't want it, don't need it.”

Hilo just stared at me, then stuffed both his hands into his pockets.

The crowd in the house roared with laughter, drawing our attention to it for a brief second. I wasn't upset or offended. People dealt with tragedy and pain in a lot of different ways. Somebody probably told a good joke. Besides, it wasn't my place, my house, to be offended.

Hilo didn't seem to mind the distant laughter. “I'd like you to keep it for now, Marjorie, if it's all the same to you,” he said. “Probably be best that you give it to the new sheriff, whoever that'll be. I'll let you know when I've told them that you have it. No one knows you have it. You're safe.”

I nodded yes, then stopped, and shook my head no. “That's not true,” I said.

Hilo leaned into me and examined my face like it was under a microscope. “I told you not to tell anyone.”

The sudden change in his tight face and his hard voice startled me and made me feel like a little girl caught in a betrayal. “I showed it to Raymond. My cousin.”

Hilo withdrew. It was only a momentary flash of anger. “Right. Hurtibese. The professor,” Hilo said. “Raymond Hurtibese. Your cousin. Of course, you would show it to him.”

“I'm sorry. I thought he might recognize it. He said another professor had some similar pieces stolen recently. Is this connected to that, Hilo?” It was a question I'd wanted to ask him since I'd talked to Raymond, but it had seemed as inappropriate as laughter. I hadn't seen him other than when he came to the farm to see to Ardith, the crime scene, and the emotional wreckage.

There was a part of me that was angry with Hilo, especially if the answer was yes and he hadn't told me that I'd had a piece of stolen jewelry in my purse.

“This wasn't from Professor Strand's collection,” Hilo said. It was a definitive answer. No argument.

“You're certain?” I couldn't help myself.

“I showed it to him before I brought it to you. He was interested in it, of course, because of his own acquisitions from the original collection, and for field study. But he assured me that the amulet that was left behind at the Knudsens wasn't one stolen from him. He'd never seen it before.”

“There's more than one?” I pressed. I felt bad, but I couldn't help myself, even though each word looked to drain Hilo of more energy than he had to start with.

“From what I understand, there were six pieces in the original collection, but they were separated by estate settlements or sold off during years of drought, when the need was great for money, for saving the farm. I'm sure you understand that. Strand has collected them for years. He is distraught that his were stolen, and distraught and deeply upset with the appearance of the new one that was found at the murder scene.”

“I went to see him after I left Raymond's, but there was no one home.”

“I haven't had any contact with him since I brought it to you,” Hilo said. “Other things . . .”

I lowered my head. “Is this amulet one of the original pieces?”

“I don't know, Marjorie. Strand was checking into it for me, too. He was the obvious place to start my investigation. The new sheriff will need to talk to him, and to you, once it all becomes official. I hope you understand.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

Hilo stepped back and stared down toward the trees, to the hidden river. “I'm sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For involving you in all of this. I should have never bothered you with it in the first place. Maybe if I hadn't, Ardith would still . . .” Hilo stopped, then looked up at the house. “I'm tired, Marjorie. I just want to get some rest. It looks like I'm going to have to sleep in the truck.”

“That's awful,” I said.

Hilo forced a smile. “I've been sleeping behind the steering wheel of that truck for years, Marjorie. I guess I should've been paying closer attention to things, that's all.”

“This isn't random, is it?”

“No, no, I don't think so. I kind of wish it was. It would make it easier to think that there's nobody from around here that would do such a thing, that a stranger is wandering through town and will move on down the road. But I don't think so. I don't think it's a monster we've never met. We've looked this one in the eye at one time or another. I'm sure of it.”

I agreed silently but said nothing. I started to turn away, walk back up to the house, leave Hilo to his grief, what was left of his life, but I stopped. I had one more question that I needed to ask him. “What about Roy?”

That flash of anger I had seen earlier returned with the impact of my question. Only it didn't disappear. It started on Hilo's haggard face and twisted into a mask that was nearly unrecognizable. His chest lurched forward, and if I had been standing close enough it would have knocked me to the ground.

“Roy doesn't have anything to do with this,” Hilo growled.

I stepped back and put a broomstick's distance between us. “I'm sorry, Hilo, but I had to ask. Herbert Frakes said . . .”

“I can imagine what Herb said about Roy.” Hilo stepped forward with the rage of a father restraining himself against an intransigent child, and pointed his index finger at me. “You leave Roy out of this, you hear me, Marjorie Trumaine. You just leave him alone, goddamn it.”

It was a rare cuss word directed my way. Hilo looked like he was about to froth at the mouth. There was nothing more I could think to say. I was shocked by Hilo's reaction. I hadn't expected it.

I clamped my mouth shut, turned, and hurried up the hill toward the Studebaker. I wanted to be as far away from Hilo Jenkins as I could get.

“I'm serious, Marjorie. Leave him be,” Hilo yelled from behind me, into the wind, into the coming darkness. “Leave Roy be.”

CHAPTER 27

A pair of beady eyes reflected back at me in the darkness as I sped down Hilo's drive. The sudden yellow glow barely caught my attention; an animal alongside the road was not an uncommon nighttime sight. There always seemed to be something lurking about at the intersection of light and dark in the summer. The windshield was peppered with splashes of bug parts.

My hands were gripped so tight on the steering wheel that I could hardly feel them. I was numb with an emotion that I couldn't quite define or recall ever experiencing so deeply. It bordered on rage: an unsettled anger, fear, and confusion. I wanted to scream, to pound the dash, lash out, but all I could do instead was swerve and barely miss hitting a shiny-coated female coyote as she bounded across the road inches from the front bumper of the truck.