CHAPTER 23

WAKED FROM a bottomless pit of sleep by a pleading whimper and a cold nose, Rosemary lurched to her feet, dealt with her dog, and tumbled back into bed having barely opened her eyes the while. When she surfaced again, tangled in sweaty sheets, her bedside clock told her it was nearly eleven A.M.

“Yes yes,” she muttered to Tank, who greeted her with eager bows and madly wagging tail as she got up once again. “I’m alive. I fed you earlier, I believe. And my God, I even opened the door and let you out. Without looking.”

Almost an hour later, clean and dressed and fortified by a bowl of microwaved oatmeal and a glass of orange juice, she made a second cup of coffee and carried it to the living room, trying to remember some of the almost-rational thoughts she’d had between dreams. Something about a trail in the woods. And Tank.

The blinking light on her telephone penetrated her mental fog, and she sat down at the desk and touched the “play” button. The first message was a hang-up; the next produced Gray Campbell’s voice. “Hi, Rosemary. I tried you again last night, and got no answer, so I assume you were either out or asleep. Now it’s a little after seven and I’m about to leave for Hayfork. Probably be there a day or so and then on to Davis, planning to be home Saturday in time to cook dinner. Anyhow, take care, and I’ll talk to you when I get back. I’m eager to hear the rest of the Conroy story.”

“But I’m not eager to tell it,” said Rosemary, and then, “Shit!” as the phone’s ring startled her. The sheriff’s office, no doubt summoning her in for a signature. Or something worse. She punched that button on the third ring. “Rosemary Mendes here.”

“Gus Angstrom, Rosemary, and I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“You didn’t. In fact, I was just about to call you,” she said not quite truthfully.

“So do you feel up to coming to the office to sign your statement?”

“Gus, could that wait for, oh, maybe an hour or a little more? I haven’t taken Tank out for a run yet, and I’m still pretty foggy myself.”

“No problem. I’ll see you, say, around one-thirty?”

“Fine.”

“And listen, you don’t need to worry about anybody coming after your dog. Not gonna happen.”

“That’s wonderful. Thank you, Gus. And I’ll be there at one-thirty.” She broke the connection, had a sip of coffee, and was trying once more to gather her thoughts when the instrument sounded again. no name showed on this call, just a number that was local. Should she or shouldn’t she? “Hello?”

“Rosemary, this is Debbie Grace. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to you last night.”

“Thank you, Debbie.” Rosemary let her tight shoulders relax. “Almost happened is the way I’m trying to think of it. I came away from the ordeal with only bruises, a hole in my basement door, and gratitude for my neighbors. And my dog.”

“The sheriff said he probably saved you. Actually, I wasn’t surprised to hear that,” she added. “When I saw him out there in the woods blocking any approach to his dead lady, I thought about trying to grab him by the rope around his neck and drag him away. But I looked at those bared teeth and those muscles and decided the smart move would be to wait for doc Campbell.”

“There was a rope round his neck?”

“Yeah, about three feet of what looked like nylon clothesline with a chewed end. Doc Campbell had a leash and collar with him, so he just cut the rope off and tossed it.”

“That’s interesting,” said Rosemary, mostly to herself. And then, “Debbie, thank you for calling. It’s nice to know I have friends.”

“Yes ma’am, you do.”

“So, does that really make any difference?” she asked herself as she put the phone down. After a moment’s thought, she picked it up again and made one call, and then a second, and finished none the wiser for her efforts.

She drank the last of her coffee and took her cup to the kitchen. ideally, the person she should talk with now was Gus Angstrom. But not until she’d done a lot more thinking, and a little research. And had a long chat with Kim Runyon.

“Okay, Tank, walk time,” Rosemary called, and was startled, and offended, by her immediate gut reaction to that idea: No no, stay at home where you’re safe! “And how safe were we yesterday?” she asked Tank. “Besides, she’s in jail.”

She pulled her red anorak on over a heavy sweatshirt and went out into weather more like the early October she remembered from last year, sunny but breezy and chilly. good walking weather. As they went up the road past Kim’s place, Rosemary noted that neither Steve’s truck nor Kim’s was there. But on the way home from their hike to a nearby creek, she saw Kim’s truck in its usual spot and sent a silent plea in that direction: Please, Kim, don’t go away. I’ll be back.

AS she was pulling into the parking lot at the sheriff’s department a short time later, she was struck by a thought that nearly caused her to drive right through and head back home. What if she walked in and found Congressman Conroy there? “If he is, I’ll simply turn around and walk out,” she said aloud. She pulled into an open space, said, “You stay and be good,” to Tank, and got out to head for the now-too-familiar door.

“I’m Rosemary Mendes,” she told the woman behind the glass, not a uniformed woman this time. “Sheriff Angstrom asked me to come in.”

“He’s waiting for you, Mrs. Mendes.” She left the desk and went to open the door that led into the hallway. “Just go right on down.”

As Rosemary stepped through, Gus Angstrom appeared in the doorway of his office and came to greet her. “Rosemary, thanks for coming. you look good; I guess you were able to get some sleep after all?”

“I got a lot of sleep, in and among some nasty dreams. Sheriff—”

“Gus.”

“Gus.” She was moving toward the chair she’d occupied the day before, but he took her arm and guided her to a Danish-style sofa against the far wall. “Thank you. As I drove in, it occurred to me that Congressman Conroy might be here.”

“Count your blessings, he’s not. He has been informed about what happened to you, however, and sends his regrets. Sincere regrets, I think he said,” Angstrom added as he moved to his desk to pick up a clipboard.

“Has Steve Runyon signed his statement?”

“Yup. Read it and signed it. Here’s yours, which you’ll want to read. Then you can tell me if there’s anything in it that you don’t remember, or don’t agree with.”

She read the four pages, which seemed brief for the amount of time they’d spent here the night before. The statement was straight-forward, and made no reference to the later conversation she’d had with Angstrom alone. “Fine,” she said, and signed it and handed the clipboard back. As he went to put the statement in a file, she folded her hands in her lap and said, “So, is Ms. Andre safely locked up for the moment?”

“She is.” He pulled one of the visitors’ chairs over and sat down facing her. “She’s got a lawyer coming tomorrow, and she’ll appear in court before Judge Bagliotti and enter a plea. After which he may or may not recommend bail.”

“Oh dear. I was just beginning to think about putting my rifle away.”

“He might decide against bail, Rosemary. Or set it very high, more than she’ll be able to manage. I don’t think her former employer is going to rush in with buckets of cash. But there’s been kind of an interesting development.”

“Well?” she said when he didn’t go on.

“I’m trying to think how to put this. Ms. Andre is apparently very sorry about what happened to you.”

“Happened is not an appropriate word. It’s what she did to me, and intended to do. She can’t possibly be as sorry as I would be—would have been—if she’d succeeded.”

“True. I may be misstating her exact words. Anyway, she says the loss of her job—unjust loss was the way she put it—had sent her into emotional turmoil, also her words, and she wasn’t in her right mind when she decided to attack you. She wants to see you so she can apologize in person.”

“No.”

“Just ‘no’?”

“Just no. If she wants to straighten her head out, she can look for a therapist. If she wants forgiveness, she can take it up with her pastor or priest or whichever. Besides…” She let her voice trail off.

“Besides what?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. But I do know that so long as it’s my choice, I have no intention of seeing Sammie Andre.”

“Rosemary, please don’t be angry with me. I’m just passing on a message, not recommending any action.”

“Okay, sorry. I’m not angry with you.” She managed to produce a smile.

“Whew.” As she got to her feet, he rose, too. “It’s not too late to get some lunch, if you’d like to join me.”

“Another time,” she said, and her face relaxed into a real smile. “I had a late breakfast, and I have quite a few things to do.”

And maybe not much time to do them, she thought to herself some minutes later as she waved good-bye to Gus Angstrom and pointed her truck for the highway. Since her assailant’s actions had not proved fatal, or even very damaging, it appeared that bail was a real possibility; she had no idea what weight the courts would give to apparent but ultimately frustrated intentions. And she’d be surprised if the woman didn’t have access to funds, some way or another.

KIM’S truck was still in her yard. Rosemary parked her own truck in her own yard, put Tank in the house, and headed up the hill on foot.

“Rosemary!” said Kim when she opened the door. She gave her neighbor a hug that lifted the smaller woman briefly off her feet before leading her inside. “You look good. Are you okay? Did you get any sleep? I wanted to call, but I didn’t want to wake you up. Would you like some coffee? Tea?” she added as she closed the door.

“I think I’d like to sit down,” said Rosemary, who’d suddenly realized that her head and her elbow—in fact, her whole body—still ached. “And tea would be nice, thanks.”

“Is that woman going to jail for about a million years?” Kim asked when they were seated in the living room. With Tyler napping, the trailer was peaceful and quiet.

“We can but hope. Actually, she’s saying she was suddenly taken crazy and is now very sorry.”

“Bullshit!” said Kim. “That is one mean bitch, and it’s a good thing you’re tough and smart.”

“Am I? It’s good to think so. How’s Steve?”

“Still mad enough to chew rocks. He’s convinced that woman stole his messages from Eddie.” Her voice roughened as she spoke her dead husband’s name. “But I’m happy to say that for the moment at least, he’s not giving me his usual kind of trouble.”

“Really?”

“I mean, who knows about men? Turns out he now sees me as his cousin’s sainted widow instead of just another broad to hit on.”

“That’s good news. is he still in town?”

“I think he’s staying a couple more days, at least. He wants to see what happens to that woman. Why?”

“I’d like to know more about Sammie Andre. Maybe I’ll go talk to him.”

“He has plenty of opinions there, for sure.” She leaned back in her rocker and set it in gentle motion. “For instance, she’s been running the Conroy political operation up there in Modoc County and in Washington for years. She does all the hiring and firing—or did till now—handles the payroll, sets up appearances. decides who gets to see the boss. Basically sounds like she’s the mama-bear for the whole operation. And anybody who doesn’t kiss her ass, according to Steve, is out,” Kim added. “in fact, I think Eddie met her while he was up there. he didn’t mention her name, that I recall, but he made a remark about this skinny bitch who was basically Steve’s boss.”

Rosemary made a mental note of this interesting fact. “What I’d really like to know is how the son, the new congressman, feels about all this.”

Kim shrugged. “Steve kinda likes the old man, says he’s a big, tough, country kind of guy. All he said about the son is that he’s a lawyer instead of a rancher.”

“I see. Kim, how are you doing, yourself?”

“Oh, mostly okay. For one thing, I didn’t realize it but Eddie had kept up this life insurance he started when I got pregnant the first time. For Tyler if he himself ever got hurt, he said. it’s not huge, but Tyler and I will be okay for a while,” she added with a sigh.

Rosemary had a sip of tea while she shaped some questions that might be disturbing to the new widow. “Kim, I’ve been wondering what it could have been that so upset Eddie over that last week or so. have you any idea at all?”

Kim shook her head sadly. “no. I mean, he’s not—he wasn’t—a real happy guy, but he had up times as well as down. Then suddenly he got just real paranoid. All edgy, I couldn’t say boo to him, even Tyler set him off.”

“Maybe about the time Mike Morgan’s body was discovered?”

Kim sat up straight and glared. “He didn’t have anything to do with that! No way!”

“Kim, I believe you. Look, he’d always been, oh, not friendly, but polite enough, with me. But from the day I ran into him out at Mike Morgan’s cabin, he was really hostile.”

“He was that way with everybody. I don’t know why, Rosemary, I really don’t. But I know he didn’t shoot anybody.”

“Except my truck. We think.“

“Okay, but that’s not a person. And talking about his work,” she said in a tone that signaled a determined change of subject, “reminds me that I need to go by Rob’s to pick up Eddie’s last check. I’ve been kind of avoiding that.”

Rosemary remembered too well those futile attempts to put off finality just a while longer. “Was Eddie a full-time employee at the station?”

“Pretty much, like about forty hours a week on different shifts. He talked about finding something better, but that station is the busiest in town, right there on the highway, and the pay was more than he’d have got for anything else around here.”

And that was the sad tale of the young and uneducated, particularly in a small town. “Kim, I have some errands to do in town. if you’d like to give me a note, or just call to say I’m coming, I could pick up the check for you.”

“Oh God, that would be really nice of you. I go in myself, I’ll have to take Tyler along, and that would be just another place where he’d expect to see his daddy. Hang on a minute and I’ll give Rob a call.”

THE gas station was busy, but by the time she had filled her tank, there was a bit of slack in the action. She pulled her truck to one side, went in to sign the credit slip, and asked if the manager was available.

“Right back there in the office,” said the clerk with a nod, and Rosemary stepped around the front desk and past several stacks of boxes and rapped on the doorjamb.

“Oh, Mrs. Mendes. Come on in,” he said as he stood up and came around his desk. “I’ve got Mrs. Runyon’s check ready for you. It’s nice of you to help her out.”

“She’s my neighbor, and a nice woman.”

“She is that,” he said as he handed her an envelope. “I guess you had a little trouble yourself last night. Some woman attacked you, I understand.”

A small-town gas station right on the main drag was no doubt a fine place for exchanging the latest news and gossip. “True, and Kim—Mrs. Runyon—heard the noise, and she and Eddie’s cousin came running. I might not have survived without them.”

“That’s good to hear, Mrs. Mendes, neighbors watching out for each other. Did you know the woman who attacked you, or was she just some crazy person?”

“She was a stranger, just a skinny woman probably in her forties with wild Gray-and-black hair. She coasted her black Porsche Cayenne into my yard in what felt like the middle of the night and crept up to my door intending to kill me.”

“Jesus God,” he breathed.

“And now she’s in jail, for the time being anyway.”

“Good, good. Black Porsche Cayenne, you said?” He paused. “you know, I think I had one of those through here not too long ago—maybe three, four weeks back.”

“Did you see the driver?” Rosemary managed to keep her tone politely conversational.

“All I remember, it was a woman. It was a real busy evening, and I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention.”

And I’d be wise to leave it right there, Rosemary told herself. “It’s getting busy now,” she said, with a glance out toward the pumps, where several cars were lined up. “I’d better let you go. Thank you for your time.”

Kim thanked Rosemary for the check with a hug and an invitation to dinner.

“Thank you, Kim, but I think I’d be better at home for an early bowl of soup and an equally early bedtime. I didn’t get much real sleep last night.”

“I bet. Okay, another time. But if you start seeing—what is it my grandmother calls them, ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggety beasties…”

“And things that go bump in the night,” Rosemary finished for her.

“Right. Any of that, you just call me and I’ll come and chase ’em off.”

“Thank you, I’ll certainly keep that in mind. But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

But she wasn’t. The little house in its big yard felt vulnerable, and she felt vulnerable in it, especially after darkness fell. A glass of wine didn’t help, nor did a bowl of soup. Television, a last resort, proved to offer very little of either interest or amusement on a Tuesday night. She kept hearing noises that turned out to be unimportant or even nonexistent; and the edginess communicated itself to Tank, who moved from door to door, listening, and finally came to sit before her and put his head on her knee.

“Sorry,” she told him, and considered calling Gray until she remembered he was out of town. Thought even more strongly of calling Gus Angstrom, but didn’t want to talk to him quite yet about her day’s discoveries, if that’s what they were. Thought of putting on her warmest coat and perching on her front steps with her rifle across her knees, sturdy ranch woman watching for…rustlers?

“Gaaah!” She put on her nightgown and warmest bathrobe instead, and got another glass of wine and watched something stupid on cable TV. Finished the wine and turned off the TV and the lights—and reconsidered. Would it be better to have the house illuminated and thus a better target? Or have it be dark and empty-appearing and that kind of target?

The insanity of all this finally bored her, and she checked all the locks, turned off all the lights, and went to bed.