The Unbidden Truth

30

On the way home that evening Frank said, “She stirred the viper’s nest with a stick today. And they’re mad. Bailey, maybe from now on you should pick up Shelley and bring her to town, then drop her off on your way home.”

Bailey nodded. “Easier that way than trying to follow in fog like this.” It was already thick and would become thicker by the minute, the way it always happened this time of year. “No ticket today,” he said then. “But the cop was keeping an eye out for me. Hated to disappoint him.”

“Let’s keep doing it that way,” Frank said. He was uneasy, more so than usual, he realized. He had seen the look on Larry Wenzel’s face and also on Nora’s. Vipers, he thought again.

Herbert met them with his big Texas smile, his big Texas “Howdy!” and his big Texas belly, Frank thought when they entered the house. Morgan grinned his dog grin and wagged his tail in greeting. The house smelled spicy and fragrant with cloves and cinnamon, lamb and a lot of onions. Herbert motioned to Frank.

“Want to show you what I’ve been up to,” he said genially. “Wine’s on the dining-room table,” he said to Barbara, and walked ahead of Frank to the kitchen.

Barbara grinned at Carrie. “Want a glass of wine?”

“No, thanks. I just want to stretch out for a few minutes. I don’t know how you do what you do and stay on your feet. I’m wiped out.”

“I’d be too if I had to sit still all day,” Barbara said, going to the dining room.

In the kitchen, Herbert motioned Frank and went out the back door. “See, this package came today for Barbara, and Morgan here, he said, don’t even touch it, partner. So I tossed it in your barrel. Sorry, Mr. Holloway. I’m afraid I ruined your rain barrel.”

The barrel was in splinters, the remnants of a package strewn about, charred and twisted. Frank felt a rush of ice water surge through him and was grateful for Herbert’s hand on his arm. “Christ on a mountain,” he whispered. “Did you call the police?”

“Nope. It came about fifteen minutes ago. I figured I’d wait for y’ all to get back and let you decide what to do about it.”

“How in God’s name did you detonate it?”

“Not hard. Morgan sniffed it out and told me explosives were wrapped up nice and neat, and I looked for a string, or a funny little bit of tape, or something like that, and found it. Just added my own nice long bit of string and tossed it in and ran like a jackrabbit.”

“You could have been blown apart, you damn fool.”

“Wasn’t though.” His grip tightened on Frank’s arm. “Y’ all get the meanest fog I ever saw. Wants to dig in right to the bone.” He turned Frank and they went back inside.

Barbara entered the kitchen just as they were coming in. “Hey, you two, what’s—Dad! What happened?” She rushed to him.

“He’ll tell you,” Frank said, taking her glass of wine from her hand, then sitting down in the nearest chair. He watched Barbara and Herbert go back outside, and drank her wine. Gradually the ice that had claimed his veins warmed up, or retreated to wherever it kept itself, and he drew in a long breath. Herbert came in alone.

“She said she’ll be in directly.”

“Where’s Alan?” he asked.

“He came out when the bomb went pop, looked things over and went back to bed.”

Frank nodded, stood up and went to the wall phone to call Bailey on his cell phone. He kept his message short. After telling the bare facts about the bomb, he said, “Go in with Shelley and talk to your man out there. If his dog isn’t trained in sniffing explosives, get one that is. Intercept all packages. You know the drill.” He listened a moment, then said, “No, don’t come back. This place will be crawling with police. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Barbara came in then, her face set in furious lines. She marched past Frank to the dining room and brought back the bottle of wine and another glass. “Hoggarth,” she said. “Do you have a number where I can reach him without going through a bunch of troglodytes first?”

“I’ll call him,” Frank said. He took the wine from her and poured for them both. She seemed to have forgotten to take that next step. “You’re too mad to talk to anyone.”

“And a bomb squad,” she said. “No flashing lights, no sirens, and for God’s sake no reporters!” She practically snatched the glass from his hand and drank as if it contained water. “I have to warn Carrie,” she said, setting the glass down hard. “My God, I want to go shoot that goddamn bastard!”

“I’d better make us up some snacks,” Herbert said, watching Barbara stride out with an awed expression. “She knows the words and she knows the tune, if you get what I mean. And she used them all out there. Anyways, dinner’s going to get on the table a little bit late, I reckon.”

Frank went to his study to look up Lt. Hoggarth’s cell phone number and make the call. Milt Hoggarth was in homicide, but if Barbara had been the one to open that package, that was exactly the investigative squad who would now be on the scene.

Later, the lead detective in the bomb unit talked to Herbert in the living room while the technicians set up bright lights and went to work at the site of the shattered barrel, and Hoggarth sat with Frank and Barbara in the study. Morgan set up a din when the men all arrived, and subsided when Herbert gestured to him. Herbert did not introduce any of the detectives, and Morgan watched and quivered from time to time, but he didn’t bark again.

“Frank, give me something to go on,” Hoggarth was saying in the study. “You can’t stonewall something like this.” He was red-faced, with a red scalp, and previously red hair fading to gray in a tonsure. He kept rubbing his hand over his head as if he couldn’t believe it was bare.