“Maybe, maybe not, but it was good thinking, Polly.”
Morrison sneered at Becker’s tone and looked away. Then he laughed, a short, sharp bark. I followed his gaze and found he was looking directly at the puppet-head I had finished the night before, after Becker had left. It was a pretty accurate portrait, if I do say so myself. I had been proud of it up until then, but now I would have done anything to have it disappear off the face of the earth.
“What’s your problem, Morrison?” Becker said. He hadn’t noticed the head yet. When he did see it, I knew he would be uncomfortable—maybe flattered, but more likely just embarrassed. It would be like seeing your name scrawled in someone’s math notebook in high school. Your name ringed with hearts and flowers and mottoes. I cringed.
“No problem, Becker. None at all,” Morrison said, surprising me no end. He moved his bulky body between Becker and the work table, blocking his partner’s view. I could have kissed him. I owed him one and he knew it, too.
Becker brought his gaze back to the baggie with the note inside, and Morrison caught my eye. He winked.
On the way back down to George’s, Becker again tried to convince me to shack up with George for a while. I answered him the same way I had George. Both cops seemed to think I was just being stubborn for the sake of it.
“It’s not like you have to prove anything, Polly,” Becker said with some exasperation. “We all know what an independent, self-sufficient woman you are. But this…” he shook the squirrel-baggie, “is proof that someone wants to hurt you. Being up there in that place with no phone means you’re a sitting duck.”
“Maybe she’s holding out for some twenty-four-hour-a-day police protection,” Morrison said, an innocent smile on his face. I shot him a look, but he let it slide right over him.
“I don’t need protection,” I said. “I have the dog, okay? Just drop it, would you please?” Becker dropped it, but, while Morrison was stowing the baggies in the trunk of the cruiser he tried again, very quietly.
“Be extra careful, please. I don’t want to pick you up in a body bag tonight.”
“Charming image.”
“Charm is my strong suit, eh?” He smiled in a way that left my knees feeling funny. “I’ll see you at seven-thirty, with another statement for you to sign. You’re creating too much paperwork. Cut it out.”
“Okay. I’ll wait until you catch up,” I said. “See you later.”
I watched the cruiser bounce and swerve its way down the potholed sideroad and then went to ask George for the truck. Francy was waiting for me, and after visiting her, I planned to look in on Freddy at the dump. Not to do any detecting, mind you. Just to pass the time of day, that’s all.
Eighteen
I should have known
the shufflings of strangers
would unhinge me.
—Shepherd’s Pie
Blood sure stains, eh?” Francy said. She was on her knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. We had argued over who would actually do the dirty work. I thought it would be too much for her, emotionally speaking, if not physically, but she insisted. With both of us doing it, it wasn’t so bad, like we were spring-cleaning before a visit from relatives.
“Yup. It’s the protein,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. Protein meant meat and I suddenly saw John’s body again. I was collecting beer bottles and sweeping up the broken glass. The morning sun streamed through the window and Beth sat in her carrier in the sunlight, playing with the dust in the air, batting at it with her tiny fists.
“Of course, any woman with her period knows that blood stains, I guess,” Francy said. “Once something has blood on it and it dries, you can never get it out.” It felt like we were in a Pinter play.
Cleaning up the kitchen didn’t take us that long, once we got started. Francy poured bleach over the remaining dark patch on the floor-boards and I made tea while we waited for it to soak in, staring at it like it was a Polaroid we had just taken.
“How are you feeling, Francy? Were the police hard on your?”
“I’m okay. The police were very nice, actually. The big guy especially.”
“Really?”
“He was the one who did most of the questioning. I was a real mess the last time I saw you, you know. Still in shock, I guess. But your aunt, she straightened me out.”
It still hurt that Francy had sneaked away from me to be with Aunt Susan instead, but I didn’t say so.
“Susan’s good at straight-talk,” I said. “Did you remember what happened?”
“Not really. At least, nothing more than what I already told you. I was drunk and pretty high when Eddie came over, and we had a couple more beers before John came home and started beating on me. Then we took off to the Schreier’s place after Eddie clobbered John over the head. God, Polly. You should’ve seen Eddie go for him. It was like a scene in one of those Kung-Fu movies where the nerdy guy goes nuts. When John went down—I said this to the cops too, so don’t worry—I did wonder if Eddie hit him too hard. Just wondered. Maybe that’s why my head went blank after that. That’s still all I remember.”
“And you told the police all this.”
“Yup. They didn’t push it. It was a relief to know that Eddie didn’t kill him with the wrench, though. The big cop said if he hadn’t been shot he would’ve needed a few stitches, but the head-wound didn’t kill him. I’m real glad about that.”
“Did the cops ask you any, you know, leading questions? Anything that might incriminate you?”
“I dont know. I don’t know what might do that. They asked about money. About how we were doing financially and if we owed money to anybody. Of course we did. We owed money all over the place, but not to anybody who would kill for it, I said.”
“Was there anything pressing, though? Like a gambling debt?”
“They asked that, too. I told them about John selling that stuff to Rico. John said he wanted to get some new piece of machinery for the shop.”
“You let him sell your table for a piece of machinery?”
“He said it was important. “
“Did you believe him?”
She looked at me and smiled a little. Her face was still swollen, the eye still half-closed. “It was never smart to show him you thought he was lying,” she said. “Best thing to do was take him at face value. I told you I was planning to leave him anyway. That table didn’t mean anything to me anymore. I was gonna be out of here.”
“What about now?”
“Now? Dunno. Now maybe I’ll stay. We’ll see.”
“How much money did John say he had to raise for his machinery?”
“Four hundred, he said. He got it, too, for the table and that old washstand that was in the hall. Amazing what old furniture is worth these days, eh?”
“So did he buy whatever he was going to buy, do you think?”
“I doubt it. He probably drank it or gambled it away or paid back whoever he owed four hundred bucks to. Unless he hid it somewhere and it’s still here. Hey. You think it is?”
“Could be. We could look.”
Francy stood up quickly. It was the most animated I’d seen her in a while. “Let’s do it. I could use that money real bad right now.”
We