Chapter 61
Vera pulled into the police station parking lot. Honestly. These police have no manners. Why would they hold a soon-to-be eighty-two-year-old woman for questioning about Cookie’s escape?
Just then, through her rain-splattered windows, Vera saw a police car pull around the corner of the lot. It looked like it had a crowd in the backseat. Vera couldn’t resist. She sat in the car and waited. The police were bringing in three Mennonite men. All of them were handcuffed. She couldn’t see their faces. They were keeping their heads low and were wearing wide-brimmed hats. Who were they? It was so odd to see Mennonites in handcuffs. Vera collected herself and looked in the mirror. Her hot pink lipstick was still in place. And she loved her new chestnut-brown hair color.
She grabbed her umbrella and opened the car door and clumsily tried to manage her umbrella and her bag in the downpour and the wind. When she entered the station, she placed her umbrella against the wall. Her feet had still gotten wet, and she hated the feeling.
“Can I help you?” the man behind the counter said.
“Yes. I’m Vera Matthews. I’m here to collect my mother, Beatrice Matthews,” she said.
“Just a moment.” The man turned and said something to another officer who was sitting at a desk.
The three Mennonite men were walked back into the corner, where Vera couldn’t see them.
“I’m sorry, Vera. Your mother is still being questioned,” the officer said. Vera and this particular officer, Dan Reynolds, had gone to high school together. His daughters had danced at her studio for years.
“Can I see her, Dan?” Vera said.
“I don’t know, Vera,” he replied. “I’m not sure what’s going on back there.”
“Well, it’s just Mama,” she said and smiled.
“I think it would be okay for you to go back, Vera. Go ahead. It’s the second door on the left. I’ll let them know you’re coming,” he said and turned to the phone.
“I’m sending Beatrice’s daughter in to see her,” Vera heard him say as she walked through the door and into the office area, where there many other doors off to the side. She remembered being brought in and questioned here, and it was most unpleasant. She grimaced and lifted her bag to her shoulder, then opened the door to see her mother, with chocolate smeared on her cheek, sitting next to Bill.
“Hello there. Come to see your dangerous mother?” Beatrice said and smiled.
“You’ve got chocolate on your face,” Vera said and handed her a tissue from her bag. “Right there. So what’s the deal, Bill? Mama?”
“We’re waiting on Bryant,” Bill said. “Where’s Lizzie?”
“With Sheila,” she replied, sitting down. “So is anybody going to tell me what’s going on?”
“They are just questioning your mom about Cookie’s disappearance.”
“They have no proof of anything,” Beatrice said, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m innocent.”
“Well,” Vera smirked, “I’m not even sure I believe you. I’m sure they don’t.”
“Now, ain’t that something? Even my daughter—”
“Spare me the diatribe,” Vera said. “If you know where Cookie is, you need to tell them. Tell us.” She lowered her voice. “She could be in trouble.”
“Of course she’s in trouble,” Bill snorted.
“I’m really worried about her,” Vera said.
“If Cookie Crandall has gotten this far in her life, I’m sure she is going to be just fine,” Beatrice said, then changed gears. “Have you ever been able to remember how you met Cookie?”
No. Vera was sure of their first meeting. Cookie had a shirt on that said NAMASTE across the chest, and Vera asked her what that meant, and the next thing she knew, she had hired Cookie to teach yoga at the studio. Cookie made a person feel at ease right away, and she had a kind of calming charisma.
“I remember Annie telling me about her,” Beatrice said, before giving Vera a chance to answer.
“Annie?” Vera said.
“Yes. Annie said she met her at the library and she was reading an interesting book. They struck up a conversation,” Beatrice said.
“Yes!” Vera said. “I think it was Annie who brought her to the first crop. But what does that have to do with this, Mama?”
Beatrice’s face went blank.
Vera could see that her mother wasn’t budging. Call it intuition or years of dealing with the old coot. She leaned back in her chair and thought a moment.
“What were you doing up on the mountain, anyway?” she asked Beatrice.
“I told Bill this story already. Cookie asked me to take her scrapbook up there.”
“And do what with it?”
“Put it on a rock.”
“Why? Whatever for?”
“That’s what she asked me to do,” Beatrice said. “And so I did it. Jon, Rose, and I took the scrapbook and placed it where she asked me to.”
“Where was that?” Detective Bryant said, entering the room.
Beatrice sighed. “It was in one of the caves.”
“But what does that have to do with anything?” Vera said. “Really? Why would that help Cookie to escape?”
“I don’t know, but it must have something to do with it,” Bryant said. “Did she say if someone would be picking it up there?”
“No,” Beatrice said.
“I guess I should send someone to have a look around. Which cave is it? The big one?”
“No, it’s the smaller one,” Beatrice said. “But you won’t find a thing. So save yourself the trouble.”
The detective squinted. “What do you mean?”
“The book is gone. It must have fallen into the crevice there.”
“Pretty deep?” he asked.
“Yes,” Beatrice said.
“What happened, Mama? Did you drop it?”
“Not that I can recall,” Beatrice said after a moment.
“What kind of answer is that?” Bryant said, exasperated.
“It’s an honest one. You see, I looked away from it. We all did. The calcite and the lights were glowing. You know how they sometimes do? We sat and watched. And when it was over, it was just gone.”
“Just like that?” Vera said after a few minutes.
Beatrice nodded. “None of us saw it slip. But we did hear noises. I thought it was an animal or something.”
Detective Bryant leaned across the table, getting in Beatrice’s face. “Am I supposed to believe this? How gullible do you think I am?”
“Whoa,” Bill said, standing up. “You need to charge her or let her go. Right now your case is looking pretty flimsy.”
“I ought to throw her in jail and get rid of the key. She knows something, and she’s not telling us. She’s lying,” Bryant barked.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Beatrice said, her voice raised.
“Bea—” Bill began.
“Yes, I am,” the detective said.
“Sit down, fool, and I’ll tell you the truth,” Beatrice said.
“Mama!” Vera said.
“Hush, girl!” Beatrice said. Now she would give them all something to think about. “Cookie is a witch. You know that. Evidently, she’s more than that. She’s learned how to travel through space and time, kind of like a time traveler. I took the book up on the mountain because the coordinates are exactly right. She reached out to me because of my research into quantum physics. Told me all about it.”
“Humph. She’s a time traveler? What she is is an escaped mental patient. We’ve had doctors here looking for her,” Bryant said.
“Oh my,” Vera said. “But she always seemed so together. I don’t get it.”
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Beatrice said. “She told me she had been here before and it was unpleasant.”
“Ms. Matthews, if you believe she is a time traveler, you are sitting in the wrong kind of institution,” Bryant said with a sly grin on his face.
Beatrice folded her arms and set her jaw firmly. “When can I go home?”
That damned Cookie.