Sugar Town

  “Just a station matter, Thea. Nothin’ to concern yourself about.”

  “A station matter that needs police?”

  “Help comes in lots of forms, Amalthea. Move back from the vehicle now, eh? Ye’ll get a fine view o’ the fire from over that way.”

  “No, Alf. I don’t think so.”

  She tries to step around him and he moves quickly to be in front of her. He pushes back his helmet, clearing the shadows from his face. Behind him, other firemen turn unfriendly eyes on her.

  “Don’t make a fuss, Thea. I’m askin’ ye nicely. Jus’ do like yer told, eh?”

  She looks up at his broad, expressionless face, at those impatient ones assembled behind him, and wonders what men like them think when they look at girls like her. She shakes her head.

  “No, Alf, I don’t think so! Tell me who it is! Tell me . . . and then I might go.”

  He folds his arms in refusal. She folds hers in defiance. The fire roars and the beams of the house roar back as ancient pockets of pitch bubble out of them. In the study, the floorboards give way and the Reverend’s burning desk tumbles like a bomb to the concrete below.

  * * *

  A massive gout of sparks hissed out into the street, causing the crowd to cry out with a single voice, like a hallelujah chorus, and I turned to the place where Amalthea had been standing. Finding her gone, I scanned quickly and recognised her back, her hair, the confrontational stances of both her and Rosemary. Facing off with Alf Caletti. Together, Kevin and I began to slide in her direction.

  Seeing our approach, Alf beckoned us on.

  “Truckie!” he called to Kevin. “Mate! Get her outta here, will ya? We got no time for this right now.”

  “Yeah, Truckie!” Amalthea spat. In the half-shadow and the shimmer of light, her eyes glowed like a cat’s. “See if you can get the girl outta here, would you! Alf hasn’t got time to be ‘The Man’ just now!”

  We looked at her blankly and she raised her voice, loud enough for the knot of firemen to hear.

  “They’ve caught someone! They’re holding him right there! I saw Sergeant Morrow. I just want to know who it is!” And back to Alf she said, “A lot of things get covered up in this town, Alf. This isn’t going to be one of them! So just tell us! Tell Ruth! Who are you holding!”

  The men in the human shield glanced nervously at one another and began again, still pressed together, to shuffle into the shadows behind the truck.

  “Just a hint!” Amalthea hollered and heads in the crowd turned our way, even as the knot of men edged out of sight. Then only Alf remained, impassively, silently before us.

  “There were valuable papers in that house, Alf!” Kevin half-shouted. “Clues about what happened to Bridie, and her grandmother! We were coming to get them. Another hour and they’d’ve been safe!”

  Part of the crowd began to edge in our direction, straining to hear and Alf held up his hands, a quieting gesture.

  “I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about. But if it’s that bloody important to ye . . . if ye hafta know, I’ll tell ye this much. It ain’ no arsonist. ’S jus’ one of the volunteers, showed up a bit pissed! Orright? An’ we’re keepin’ him back from the fire to keep him from hurtin’ himself. Orright? Good enough for ye?”

  We stood, facing off with him, and I could see that he wasn’t about to relent. And I thought, if that’s all it is, what does it matter? Suddenly though, Frieda joined the group. She shouldered between us and bared her teeth toward Alf.

  “Where is he?” she demanded.

  Alf’s quieting gesture remained in place, palms patting the air around Frieda’s breasts. “Now don’t you worry, Frieda. He ain’ getting’ anywhere near the fire.”

  “I should’ve known straight away,” she scowled. “Two things he never could resist. A fire and another round.”

  “No danger at all!” Alf continued. Damping down; always damping down. “The Sarge’s got ‘im in tow. Havin’ a chat with ‘im behind the truck. Outta sight o’ the constituents ‘n’ all. Now you go easy on ‘im, Frieda! Bloody good man, is the mayor! Jus’ a little under the weather for what we need tonight.”

  “He’ll be under my fookin’ heel when I get ‘im home!” And Frieda, possibly the only woman in town who could, pushed Alf Caletti aside and stomped off around the truck, looking for the mayor.

  * * *

  Half a block away, Kevin, Amalthea, Rosemary and I could still feel the heat of the fire on our backs.

  “Poor old Lyle!” Kevin was saying. “Caught out in public like that! You’d think he’d know better, wouldn’t you? Sitting in the pub all afternoon! Not a good look for a mayor, let alone a volunteer firey!”

  “Yeah. In the pub all afternoon,” Amalthea seethed. “Except for the hour or two he went missing! Remember? The call Frieda got at your place? He’d left the pub and disappeared!”

  “Yeah? And you’re suggesting . . . ?”

  “I’m suggesting that an hour ago we had exactly one source of clues to take us to the bottom of all this. And now we’ve got none! I’m suggesting that it’s more than a coincidence that the police records disappeared the same way! I’m suggesting that ‘accidents’ in this town have a way of being provoked!”

  “But no one knew about those notes!” he said. “You only found them this morning!”

  “Right! That’s right! So there’s our first clue! Apart from us and Frieda, did anyone else know about the notes?” She looked at me through narrow, I-told-you-so eyes. “Who did, Ruth? Who else knew?”

  “No one! No one but Bridie!”

  “No one but Bridie? And . . . ? Sergeant Morrow!"

  “Oh now listen!” scoffed Kevin. “I know what we said earler but . . . I’d be happier accusing the mayor of arson than Masher Morrow! And I’d be happier accusing . . . I don’t know . . . Rosemary, than either one of them!”

  Amalthea pounced on the opportunity to argue.

  “Why? Tell me who looks bad in this picture! Bridie gets attacked on the street. Morrow doesn’t arrest anyone. Bridie’s grandmother is murdered. Morrow doesn’t arrest anyone. Isak confesses to murdering Les Crampton. Morrow doesn’t arrest him! Years later, we think the records should be re-examined and they can’t be because, under Morrow’s watch . . .” she paused for emphasis, hooking her fingers in the air, “. . . they got burned up! Who’s the common denominator?”

  “Fine! Fine! So riddle me this, then! What would Morrow’d have to gain by destroying evidence?”

  “I don’t know! Covering up the fact that he’s an incompetent arsehole? I mean look at it! Les was gone, Gracie was gone, Bessie was gone, the evidence was gone, Bridie’s memories were gone . . . and guilt-stricken Isak had drunk himself into oblivion! All without him raising a finger! Then the Reverend’s notes turn up, having been right under his nose for years! He has a peek, he finds something and whoops! Up it goes in flames! Come on, Kev’! Doesn’t that scream bullshit to you?”

  “I don’t know! Maybe! So what are you saying? That Lyle lit the fire, in some kind of drunken haze, and Morrow tried to hustle him away? Or that the two of them lit it together? Or that Morrow lit it and just happened to be handy when the volunteers needed help with Lyle?”

  “Sure! Why not? Why not one o’ those?”

  “Or . . . why not rats in the wiring, shorting something out? Or a power surge after the other night’s outage! It doesn’t have to be that someone’s to blame!”

  “Sure, yeah, fine! It doesn’t have to be! But tell me this! Are you willing to bet on the rats? Or do you think you should consider visiting your friend Bessie and laying out the other possibilities? That someone very dangerous – possibly dangerous to her – could be on the verge of breaking?”

  * * *

  Behind us, another explosion rocked the night. Perhaps the bookcase tumbling through the floor. Perhaps the roof caving in. The amazed cry of voices followed. We stopped and looked back at the renewed bloom of sparks, leaping into the blackness.
Then we moved on.

  Amalthea scuffled her feet, absently holding Rosemary’s ear as we walked, the argument still tumbling through her mind.

  “He wasn’t in uniform!” she said, half a dozen steps later. “Just now, at the fire. Except for his hat. And I didn’t see his car anywhere! How likely does it seem he’d show up on foot to a fire?”

  Kevin shook his head determinedly. “Even cops – even cops in one-cop-towns, have a night off now and again, Thea. Maybe he was taking a walk. Taking in the night air. Maybe the car’s broken down. Maybe his uniform’s in the wash and he just likes to wear his hat. Maybe lots of things. I’m not saying you’re wrong! Just that it’s smart to scout out a landing area before you jump to conclusions. In case you miss!”

  Another half dozen steps.

  “You know, I’ll bet Bessie Crampton knew about those notes! Living there as long as she did; keeping house for the Reverend! Maybe she’d even read them, you know? Cleaning the house? The book’s open on the desk! Oh yeah, she’d have known!”

  ”Ah!” It’s another avenue whose end Kevin can’t see. “And after ten years,

  she decides to come back and destroy them? Why? What would prompt her to do that?”

  “In fact,” Amalthea said, ignoring the question, “I bet she’s another one who knows more than she’s telling! The only person ever implicated in the rape, after all, was her husband! So he never talked in his sleep? Or got drunk and boasted, like he did in the pub to Grace? He never brought mates home? Accomplices? For all we know, Bessie heard the whole story, told at her kitchen table! What if she’s covering for someone?”

  Kevin’s defensiveness blossomed.

  “Thea, stop! You’re getting crazy! Look, if Bessie’d come back to burn the Reverend’s house, she could’ve stayed quietly anonymous as Madame Zodiac and not drawn attention to herself. But she didn’t! And another thing! Just remember that Bessie put her life on hold for the McFarlane family – for years! If she knew about those notes and they worried her, she could have destroyed them then, ten years ago, with no one the wiser!”

  We walked on. In front of the hospital, under the streetlamps, Amalthea stopped again.

  “Okay. How ‘bout this then? What if the fire had nothing to do with the notes? What if someone’s just erasing a chunk of the past? I mean, everyone in town would’ve known by sun-up that Bridie was in hospital! That she’d taken an overdose! And that her being raped years ago was out in the open at last! Ruthie’s already been asking questions! Maybe the fire’s a warning! Somebody’s way of saying, ‘Back off! Let it lie!’”

  “Mmm.” His scepticism was less sharp this time. And so was mine.

  * * *

  Dana was hovering near the reception desk, waiting for us.

  “Sorry!” she wheezed, gathering us into an urgent huddle. “I didn’t know who else to ring! She’s awake! Doc’s having seven fits! He was planning on keeping her sedated at least until tomorrow but . . . holy crap, what a night! He’s blaming us nurses, which is nothing new, we always get the blame! But like, when I tried to tell him what happened he wouldn’t have a bar of it! Hey, what’s with the siren? You mob know what’s going on out there?”

  Her agitation only grew as Kevin explained about the fire.

  “Holy crap! That’s awful! That’s the last thing she needs right now! Last thing any of you need!” She rubbed consolation on my arm. “Jeez! Maybe Matron should let the doc’ put her back to sleep! You shoulda seen ‘em goin’ at it, Matron and Doctor! Neither one of ‘em gives up easily but holy crap! Matron was like a bloody tigress! And Asa’ was just as bad! Christ! Like a ferret on steroids! No way either one of ‘em was gonna let him near her! An’ I tell you what anyhow! I don’ know what kinda dose he’d o’ had to give her to keep her asleep! I mean Christ! By all accounts, she should be . . . !”

  “Wait on!” said Kevin. “Dabney and Matron argued in front of her? Over how to treat her? In front of her and Asael?”

  “Yeah! No! I mean, they started on the ward! The whole hospital could hear ‘em! Then they took it into the back office. I think Matron’s had a win for the moment, but she’s walking the halls now like nobody’s going to fart without she knew it was comin’! Anybody wants to get near that girl tonight without goin’ through her’s got Buckley’s!”

  “She won’t let the doctor treat Bridie?” Amalthea repeated. “That’s just too weird!”

  “Yeah, well, weird is as weird does, sister mine! Weird was watching Asael wake her up! I mean, she was drugged out, girlfriend! We put enough sedative into her to put the town band to sleep! But I’m in there checkin’ on her an’ Asa’s asleep in the chair. An’ suddenly the kid jumps up! I mean one minute he’s muttering his way through a dream o’ some kind an’ the next he’s on his feet! Practically popped outta me panties, I did! An’ then he like, waggles his fingers in the air, grabs onto Bridie’s feet! Ka-ching! She’s awake! Jus’ like that! Awake and talking! Large as life! Ye coulda knocked me over with a sparrow’s fart! Shrugged off those drugs like they were sugar water! That’s weird! Man! I’d give my favourite freckle to know what that was about!”

  I was dying to get to the room and see Bridie and Asael, but Dana was so agitated that she actually hung onto me.

  “Hey, Jeez! Your house is on fire? Christ! That’s awful! Morrow’ll be onto that like a rat up a rope! If he’s capable, that is! He was back here just earlier, asking Doc’ for something to settle him down! Doc’ told him he should be checked in here – not out walking the streets! Not after that shock he got this morning! Hey! I jus’ gotta ask youse! I mean, after seein’ Asael wake Bridie up like that! What’s goin’ on? Talk is, you lot found that meteor an’ that Asa’s been like, communing with it and nobody else can get near it or touch it and he like, warned Morrow off but Morrow went ahead an’ it nearly killed him but then Asa’ like . . . he used it to bring your goat back to life! Holy shit, guys! What’s that about? What’s he got, like some weird mental channelling thing happening? Has he like, become the Yoda of Sugar Town or something?”

  She was breathless and bug-eyed. I wondered if she’d be capable of taking her own pulse at that moment, let alone anyone else’s. Amalthea reached out to stop the flow.

  “Dana? Listen to me! You said Sergeant Morrow was here, tonight? How long ago?”

  “Yeah yeah! Maybe an hour and a half! Maybe two hours!”

  “After Ruth and I saw him at the house!” Amalthea raised her eyebrows to Kevin. “After learning about the notes! And before the fire! Talking to Doctor Dabney!”

  “Yeah,” Kevin agreed. “Keeping in mind that, like Dana said, he’s had a shock to the system today and where else is he going to go for advice?”

  “Did he talk with anyone else while he was here?” Amalthea demanded of Dana.

  “Nup! Well, I guess he wanted a word with Bridie! Gotta investigate her little pill-excursion, as well as get himself sorted! But she wasn’t awake then. He checked in on J. C. – him an’ the doc’ together. Yeah! Don’ know what that was about – the plane crash, I guess – but they all had the shits up with each other in pretty short order. Tell you what; for old friends, those three sure don’t like each other much, you know? Doc’ finished up stormin’ off on one of his walks!”

  “Walks?”

  “Yeah, he stomps off around the block sometimes when things aren’t going his way. And man! It’s like a monkey house with the door left open these days! Like, he mis-diagnosed ol’ Isak Nucifora the other day an’ the old geezer scampered on us! Might be dead in the cane somewhere for all anyone knows! And then this business with Bridie and what prescriptions she’s been given an’ whether she shoulda been given ‘em at all an’ how she’s woken up too soon! An’ there’s that bloody ol’ goblin, Morrow, goin’ round and round like a milkin’ stool, askin’ this, refusing to do that! I reckon Dabney’ll be losing faith in himself!”

  “So he left the hospital? Just in the last couple of hours?” You had to admire A
malthea. She was like a falcon, counting off the pigeons.

  “Well, yeah! Just around sundown, I guess. Best time for walking and thinking, eh? Anyhow, I sort of figured, poor bloody Bridie! She takes a dose to forget her troubles an’ wakes up to all this carry-on . . . Asa’ all smug and self-satisfied, Matron all mother-goosey! I started going through her phone, looking for your number, Ruthie. But then she started askin’ for you, Kev! And for Bessie someone-or-other. So I rung you! Hope you don’t mind! Hey, girl, I think the goat’ll have to stay outside or something. That okay?”

  The combined pressure of the three of us finally got Dana moving. During the time we’d been in the reception room, I noticed it had become ringed with hospital workers feigning busy-ness in order to listen in. That’s one of the ways Sugar Town works – one of the ways we look after one another, according to Kevin’s theory.

  Down the breezeway, sitting in an alcove, we came across Matron, seated primly with a stack of charts on her lap. She was staring at the opposite wall, lost in thought. When she looked at us, it was as though we were just four new spots on the wall. Then she rose, placed the charts on the chair, brushed wrinkles from her skirt and held out her hand to me.

  That gesture frightened me a little bit. ‘Gentle’ Matron, ‘Thoughtful’ Matron, ‘Touchy’ Matron wasn’t someone I was familiar or comfortable with.

  “Oddly enough,” she said, holding onto my hand but looking to Kevin and Amalthea, “I was just thinking of you two!” She looked meaningfully over Kevin’s shoulder at Dana. “I expect Nurse Goodrich has filled you in on all the hospital gossip along the way?”

  Dana blushed and looked to the floor.

  “Loose lips sink ships, Nurse! If your mother didn’t point that out to you on a weekly basis, then she’s done you a disservice. Off you go now, about your duties. I’ll take them the rest of the way.”

  She waited quietly, watching until Dana was out of sight and hearing. Then she said to me, “Bridie’s room is the next one down, on the left, dear. Asael’s with her. Why don’t you go ahead. Mister Truck and Miss Byerson and I are going to have a chat for a moment.”

  In all the years I’d known him, I couldn’t remember hearing anyone refer to Kevin as ‘Mister Truck’. And I had to rattle my head a bit to remember who ‘Miss Byerson’ was. Still, I was impressed. Seeing a black man blanch, I thought, must be a rare sight indeed.