All he saw was Maddie standing up out of her rose garden, disentangling herself from the thorns, dragging her sleeping bag after her like Linus with his blanket. She looked dirty, hollow-eyed, and frightened. As she jerked the sleeping bag free of the branches, she kept her head down and her shoulders hunched. Obviously she knew she was under scrutiny.
Mrs. Butenschoen huffed. “I’ve tried to talk to her about the pitfalls of an unscheduled existence, but she stares as if I’m speaking a different language. It’s not as if she’s some kind of undocumented immigrant, you know. She is from Connecticut, a perfectly good East Coast American state.”
“Colorado,” he said.
“What?”
“She’s from Colorado, a perfectly good Midwestern state.”
Mrs. Butenschoen ruffled up like a grouse, then subsided under his stare. “If she’s going to live off her brother’s money, why can’t she do what the rest of us stay-at-home ladies do and care for her house?”
“Looks okay to me.”
In forbidding tones, she said, “There is moss on the roof, the lawn has dandelions, and let me tell you, I went inside that house once, and it was a disgrace. Why, when Mrs. Kenyon lived there, you could eat off her kitchen floor. Right now, the poor lady is probably spinning in her grave.”
“If she’s in the afterlife and she’s worried about the state of her earthly linoleum, she’s probably also got a problem with flames shooting up her ass.”
Mrs. Butenschoen seemed not to appreciate that this was the longest speech he’d given since his return from Korea. “Mr. Denisov, I really don’t enjoy you using that kind of language around me!”
“What kind of language?”
“You know. The ‘A’ word.”
“Ass?” He could hardly believe this woman. “You’re going to be really upset when I say fuck, aren’t you?”
Mrs. Butenschoen actually lost color. “Mr. Denisov, I understand you are recovering from a trauma.”
Recovering? That was news to him.
“So I forgive your crudeness. But”—her head turned again—“oh, my dear heavens.”
Mrs. Butenschoen looked so horrified he wouldn’t have been surprised to see her head spin in a circle.
Maddie was back outside, dressed in jeans and a wrinkled, long-sleeved T-shirt, and she was hacking at one of the bushes up against the house. With scissors.
“That is not how you trim a rhododendron. I told her … but does she listen?”
Maddie stepped back and stared at the bush, then went after the bush with renewed fury.
“I’m going to call the police.” Mrs. Butenschoen’s head wobbled.
Cool. It really was going to spin in a circle. “Because the neighbor is trimming her bushes?”
“She is a known criminal. She was involved in a mass murder, then she was put in a sanitarium, then she was involved in the murder of her fiancé, then she moved here where nobody knows her, and now she’s using scissors!”
Abruptly, he was done with Mrs. Butenschoen. He disliked her more than anybody else he knew. And he didn’t like anybody.
He shifted the pie so that he was no longer holding it by the rim. Instead, he held it balanced on the tips of his five fingers like a TV comedian about to toss the cream pie into her perfectly made-up face.
Mrs. Butenschoen’s words faded to nothingness and she lifted her hands to protect herself. She eased backward. “I’m going to … to talk some sense into Maddie Hewitson … and if that doesn’t work … I will get the police involved. I’ll see you later.” She fled.
Not if I see you first.
CHAPTER TEN
The trouble with being a cop was—Kateri couldn’t simply park her car, walk into the Oceanview Café, and have a cup of coffee. First she had to cruise the street to make sure everything looked normal. And by normal, she meant—all the jaywalkers seemed properly horrified at the sight of a law enforcement officer, no one was attacking the meter maid over a ticket, and no obvious drug deals were going down in Town Square Park.
Next Kateri had to park in front of city hall in the space reserved for the sheriff. She got out and grabbed her walking stick; she had been working nonstop for far too many hours to think she could keep her balance without it. She walked half a block and crossed the street at the corner, hoping all the while she could get inside the Oceanview Café before a concerned citizen collared her to complain about the jaywalkers, the meter maid, or the drug deals.
Today she made it to the door with only one detour to hustle after Cheryl Morgan’s three-year-old when he ran into the street. Kateri and Cheryl reached him at the same minute. Most mothers would say Thank you. Cheryl shot her a resentful glance, said “I’ve got him!,” picked up the boy, and huffed away.
Cheryl was nineteen. Like Kateri had had at her age, she had confidence issues and authority issues. Only Kateri had never had a kid to go with them.
She got inside without another incident, and breathed a sigh of relief.
She had been coming to the Oceanview Café, on and off, for most of her thirty-four years, and during that time the place had remained exactly the same … until the earthquake. That had brought about a forced remodel; the black-and-white-checked linoleum had been changed for red-and-white-checked linoleum, the red Formica tables had become white Formica tables, the overhead light fixtures had become recessed and used energy-efficient LED bulbs. But the breakfast counter hadn’t changed and the place still held that same rustic charm that invited people to eat too many fries, drink carbonated colas out of a glass bottle, and say yes to ice cream on their homemade blueberry pie.
The most important accouterment of the Oceanview Café was Rainbow Breezewing, waitress here for more than twenty-five years. In the Oceanview Café, it was Rainbow’s personality that brought customers to their knees. She knew everyone. Every Virtue Falls newcomer, every tourist who stopped by for fish and chips, every senior citizen who claimed a special spot at the geezer table.
Plus Rainbow was … well. Today Rainbow wore purple-and-pink-striped stockings, brown leather knee breeches with suspenders, and a starched short-sleeved embroidered pink shirt. Kateri wondered if they were celebrating Switzerland National Alpenhorn Day. Yet all in all, for Rainbow, she looked pretty normal.
Rainbow glanced up from taking an order to nod acknowledgment to Kateri, and when she was done she whipped over and said, “I called about Cordelia. She keeps muttering she ought to talk to the sheriff, but the sheriff never believes her.”
Kateri turned toward the table in the corner.
Cordelia was either their town weirdo or their town eccentric genius. Or both. She worked for the government doing something top secret security clearance related, and she did it all on her computer while sitting in the Oceanview Café. When she took a break, which she did twice a day at precisely the same times, her hobby was intercepting and reading phone texts sent to and from folks in Virtue Falls. Not that she admitted to that, but once she had solved a crime before it happened … with unexpected consequences. Now there she sat, working on her computer, frowning in concentration.
As Kateri gazed at her, she got that sick feeling in her gut, the kind that warned her trouble loomed ahead. “I don’t want to know.”
“Yes, you do. But first, you need to remind her there’s a new sheriff in town.” Rainbow put her hand on Kateri’s arm and glanced at the clock. “Hold off for three minutes and forty-two seconds. Then it’s time for her pie. Once she’s not working, she’ll be easier to talk to. Anyway, you’ve got trouble at the geezer table.”
“What?” Kateri glanced over to the table in the other corner where Mr. Setzer, Mr. Edkvist, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harcourt spent their days together, drinking coffee, spying on the customers, and complaining about illegal immigrants, Congress, and kids nowadays. They even called them that—“kids nowadays.” Being around them was like a flashback to the sixties—and not a warm, nostalgic flashback, either.
Deputy Bergen sat with them.
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“Why is he over there sucking up? Those guys wouldn’t vote for me anyway.” She was a woman and that was one strike against her. She was half Native American. Strike two. And she was a former Coast Guard commander who had lost a cutter, her reputation, and some said her sanity. That was either strike three, or maybe strikes three, four, and five. But with all-white, clean-cut, hometown deputy sheriff Bergen running against her, she didn’t stand a chance with those guys.
“I believe,” Rainbow said, “that Mr. Caldwell is Deputy Bergen’s campaign manager.”
“Really? I thought Bergen’s wife was running the show.”
“I did, too, and maybe she was, but Sandra was in here a couple of days ago. With school ending and the kids off for the summer, she wants to stay home with the girls and work in the garden. Bergen indulges her as much as he can.” Rainbow cast him an affectionate glance. “He’s a nice guy.”
“A nice guy with Mr. Caldwell as his campaign manager.”
“Mr. Caldwell knows his politics. He was a state senator.”
“He’s a jerk.”
“All the more reason you have to go say hello. You can’t pretend you didn’t see them.”
“I sure can!”
“Really? Kateri Kwinault, you can no more back down from a challenge than you can deny your visions.”
“Not visions!” Kateri elbowed Rainbow. “They’re insights. Let’s call them insights.”
“My insight says you’re taking the challenge.”
Kateri glared into Rainbow’s twinkling eyes. Squaring her shoulders, she sauntered over.
As she arrived at the table, Bergen stood up.
She asked, “Going somewhere, Deputy?”
“Standing is a show of respect,” he said.
Snarky as ever, Mr. Setzer said, “Respect for the uniform, right, son?”
In a pleasant tone, Kateri said, “Mr. Setzer, it’s too bad you’re so old I can’t pop you a good one without breaking you.”
Mr. Setzer reared back, offended.
Mr. Edkvist, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harcourt all laughed.
“You always were a smart-mouth kid.” Mr. Setzer was not smiling.
Bergen cut in smoothly, stopping the fight before it got started. “Gentlemen, I got to my feet to show respect for the sheriff. It’s been a rough couple of days, and Sheriff Kwinault has worked more hours than anyone.”
“Damned generous of you, considering you’re running against this girl for the office,” Mr. Edkvist said.
The geezers nodded.
Nice gesture that turned out well for Bergen. Not that Kateri was cynical.
“Where’s Moen?” Bergen asked.
“He was drooping. I sent him home.” Because according to the well-known law of physics, a guy who was ten years younger and ten times healthier than she was could whimper one hundred times more than she believed possible.
In one unexpected moment of camaraderie, Bergen said, “God, yes, that kid is a whiner,” and offered his chair.
“You’d better sit down, Sheriff. I get shaky when I stand for too long, and I’ve only had one hip replacement.” Mr. Caldwell offered Mr. Setzer a fist bump.
Mean old man. To Bergen she said, “Thank you, I’m on a call.”
“The doughnuts called you, Sheriff?” Mr. Setzer asked.
The old guys guffawed again.
In her most pleasant voice, she said, “Mr. Setzer, what I really need to remember is—if I popped you, I’d have to put myself in jail.”
Mr. Edkvist nodded and patted her hand. “Good girl. You don’t have to put up with trouble from these cantankerous old farts.”
Mr. Harcourt said, “You know, Howard…”
Howard was Mr. Caldwell.
“Making fun of a young woman who served in the military, and who has had two hip replacements and God knows what else … that makes you an obnoxious SOB.”
Kateri was so taken aback by this defense, she didn’t know what to say.
From the looks of them, neither did Mr. Setzer and Mr. Caldwell.
Rainbow sashayed up with her coffeepot and the kind of benign expression intelligent people found alarming. “Sounds like you boys are giving our acting sheriff a rough time. It would be a real shame if your bottomless coffee cup got cold and your free Wi-Fi was cut off. So maybe you ought to shut the fuck up.”
The geezers did shut up. Or they were momentarily speechless, Kateri couldn’t tell.
Rainbow grabbed Kateri’s arm and steered her away from the geezers’ table, leaving four extended coffee cups waving in midair. “It’s almost time,” she said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rainbow walked to the refrigerator, pulled out the whole milk, poured a glass, and put it in the microwave for fifty-three seconds. While it was heating, she got the pie, measured a width of crust, cut the piece at precisely the right angle, put it on a plate, got a fork and wrapped it in a napkin. She took it to Cordelia and said, “Here you go, hon. The milk is exactly a hundred and forty degrees. The pie is two inches at the crust. It’s strawberry today.”
Cordelia said “Thank you” in a monotone, and began her ritual of unrolling the napkin, polishing her fork, placing the napkin in her lap, and smoothing the napkin repeatedly. Cutting two bites of pie, she dropped them into the glass, stirred until the warm milk turned pink, then poured one quarter cup of the milk and pie mixture onto the plate. She set her computer timer for one minute, waited, and when it dinged, she began to eat.
At a nod from Rainbow, Kateri walked over and put her hand on the back of the chair opposite. “Cordelia, do you mind if I sit down?”
Cordelia looked up, affronted, then relaxed. “You’re Kateri Kwinault.”
“That’s right. I was in school with you.”
“I know. I never forget anything. But I don’t usually let people sit with me while I work,” Cordelia said.
“You’re not working now,” Rainbow said. “I asked Kateri to come to talk to you about … whatever you saw that made you so uncomfortable.”
Cordelia stiffened. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m perfectly comfortable. Or at least I was, until you interrupted my routine.”
Rainbow wasn’t going to let her get away with evasion. “You said you needed a sheriff. Kateri is the sheriff. She’ll listen to you.”
Cordelia rubbed her head fretfully. “The sheriff doesn’t listen.”
“Sheriff Foster didn’t listen. I do.” Kateri pulled out a chair and sat without permission. Prying information out of Cordelia could take a while, and whatever else Mr. Caldwell was, he was right. Kateri needed to get off her feet. “Now—if Rainbow says you saw something that makes you uncomfortable, I believe her. If Rainbow says you should tell me what it is, I believe that, too. Because Rainbow is a pretty name, but she really should be named Storm, because she’s a force of nature, and I wouldn’t dare to defy her. Would you?”
Cordelia thought for a moment. “You are using a simile to describe Rainbow.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re trying to create a bond between us by pointing out that we both know Rainbow.”
“Again, right.”
“I do find it oddly comforting.” Cordelia took a long breath. “You know about my hobby.”
“Of randomly reading texts.”
“I have rules. I only read local texts, and I never know who sends them. I find it entertaining to try to figure out who is doing what to who.”
To whom. But Kateri figured Cordelia was smart enough to know that, so she merely nodded encouragingly. “That’s how you discovered that…” She skidded to a halt. Best not to remind Cordelia of those awful events. “Reading texts is how you discovered the last crime you … discovered.”
Cordelia seemed oblivious to Kateri’s attempts at tact. “Correct. But the last crime was murder, and so much easier to figure out than … this. In fact, I’m probably wrong. I shouldn’t even be telling you. Except it sounds like someone’s in trouble and I’m starting to
imagine bad things.” Earnestly, she said, “I never imagine anything.”
“What kind of things?”
“Like there’s a girl out there somewhere who is being kept in a cage against her will.”
Cordelia had Kateri’s complete attention. “What texts make you think that?”
“I started seeing texts about a year ago, a few texts every few weeks. They were … stuff like … She won’t get away this time. And … She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. I never saw a reply, which means the texts were going out of the area. Which is even more fun for me, because it makes figuring out who is texting even harder.” With a fair amount of pride, Cordelia said, “I’m getting pretty good at two-sided conversations.”
“I would imagine you are.” Kateri played with her spoon. “Those texts didn’t bother you?”
“In retrospect. But I’ve discovered a lot of suspicious-sounding texts are … harmless.”
“Like?”
“Like the time the guy said, I lost my cock and I thought, Oh, no! The other person said, LOL! Your cock? And the guy said, Stupid autocorrect. My cap. I lost my cap.”
“Yeah. Stupid autocorrect.”
“At the beginning, I didn’t know all those texts that sounded suspicious were coming from the same person. But I’ve gotten to know her shorthand, the abbreviations she uses, and there’s this tone of, I don’t know, rage or meanness or … it’s like she likes being cruel and whoever it is she’s writing to is scared, and that makes her madder.”
“Do you know for sure it’s a she?”
Cordelia seemed to wrestle with the question. “No. No, I … last time, it was a she, so this time I think it’s a she again. But there’s no reason for that except my own prejudice.”
Made sense. “What made you decide to talk to Rainbow?”
“I didn’t decide to. She talks to me like she knows me.”
“Does she?”
“Does she know me? I guess so, because she knew I was not happy about—” Cordelia got distracted by something outside the window.
Kateri looked, and saw Noah Griffin crossing the street. He was young, handsome, a news reporter turned writer turned her campaign manager.