The woman frowned. “We don’t go to church.”
The woman turned a little as if she heard something inside the house.
“You don’t need to go to church to take something.”
The woman snapped back to look at him. “Are you accusing me of stealing? From a church?”
“No, ma’am.” Les ran his finger around his shirt collar. “It’s just that I did think that maybe your daughter—well, do you know where your daughter was last night?”
The woman turned again to look inside the house.
Les figured it was one of the children who had been distracting the woman, so he wasn’t surprised when he heard her whisper to someone. “Just be patient. Mommy will be right there.”
The woman turned back to look at Les. In all of the turning, the door had opened a little farther. “Becky was here with me last night.”
The woman was wearing an old beige robe that was zipped up to her neck and she didn’t have any makeup on her face. She had strong bones, Les noticed. And a weariness to her that made him think she’d come through a long patch of hard times. He couldn’t let his sudden sympathy for her change what he needed to do, though.
“Was your daughter with you for the entire night?” Les could see into the rest of the large room behind the woman. The windows were all covered so the room was in shadows, but he could make out most of it. Not that there was much to see. Except for a wooden sitting chair, there was nothing there. Maybe the family’s furniture was still coming on a moving truck.
“Of course, all night. Where else would she be?” The woman was looking straight at him now. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me these questions. You came straight to my door. I saw you. You’re not asking everybody. Just because we don’t have blond hair and blue eyes like everyone else around here, it doesn’t mean we stole something.”
“No, of course not.” Les was bewildered. Did everyone around here have blond hair? He hadn’t noticed. Still, he’d come to do a job and he might as well get it done. “I’m talking to people because someone stole one of the Nativity figures from the set in front of the church.”
“That has nothing to do with us.”
Les nodded. “I just wondered, because whoever took the figure wanted to trade it back to the church for a Suzy bake set.”
A little girl’s squeal came from behind the door. Les couldn’t see the girl, but he could hear her as she said, “A Suzy bake set! The one with the cupcakes?”
“No, dear, I don’t think so,” the woman said with her face turned to the inside of the room.
Why was it that the line of a woman’s neck, when she turned to look over her shoulder, always reminded him of a ballet dancer? Les asked himself. Marla—well, Mrs. Gossett—had a beautiful neck.
The woman turned back to look at Les. She even gave him a small smile, which made the knot in his stomach relax. No one who was guilty would smile. But then, maybe the mother didn’t know what the daughter had done.
The woman continued, “I’m sorry. I think every little girl everywhere wants that Suzy bake set in the cupcake edition. It’s quite the thing. I don’t know if you can even find it in the stores anymore.”
Les nodded. Maybe that’s why someone had written the demand note. Maybe they thought the church would have extra pull with a store. “Whoever took the shepherd left a note.” He held the paper out to her. “I think a girl might have written it.”
The woman didn’t even look up to read the note. She just shook her head. “If that’s where you’re headed, you should know my daughter is only four. She can’t even write her name.”
“Oh.” Les had not known the girl was so young. He didn’t think a girl that age could even lift the shepherd figure. The thing was plastic, but it was heavy enough. And it was bulky.
“She’s going to learn to write her name,” the woman continued, as if she was making a point. “We believe in schooling. She’ll go to preschool a couple of days a week in Miles City after the holidays. Most kids here probably already know how to write their names, but Becky didn’t get a chance to go to preschool in Los Angeles. If she’s behind, she’ll catch up.”
“I’m sure she’ll learn to write in no time,” Les said just to put the woman at ease, since her daughter’s schooling seemed important to her. “Kids learn fast.”
Les hoped he was speaking the truth. What did he know about kids? He knew he should forget about the kids and say goodbye, but he found he didn’t want to rush off. Not now that, with the sun fully up and spreading its sunshine all over, Les noticed that some of the shadows were gone from the woman’s face.
He wondered if she would go out to dinner with him after all. Now that they were talking about education instead of crime, she seemed a little friendlier.
“I—ah—” Les swallowed. “We have a good school in Miles City. You don’t need to worry about that.”
The woman smiled. “I’m glad to know that.”
Les wasn’t prepared for the woman’s full smile.
He swallowed again. “Thanks for talking to me. Let me know if you see anything suspicious. It’s probably just some kids playing a prank. Wanting to see if I can figure out that XIX clue they left. I wonder if it’s part of a math equation.”
Les had been ready to turn and walk away when the smile fell from Mrs. Gossett’s face and something in her eyes shifted. She’d suddenly gone tense.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.
She shook her head. The weariness was back on her face. “The XIX. Where was that?”
“At the end of the note.”
The woman bit her lip nervously. “Are you going to be in town for a little while?”
Les didn’t flatter himself that she wanted to see him again, but he nodded. “I’ll be at the café for another half hour or so. If you think of something that might help, let me know.”
She nodded.
There wasn’t anything more to say, so Les gave her a goodbye nod. “It was a pleasure to talk with you, ma’am. And welcome to Dry Creek.”
Les turned and left. He hoped Mrs. Hargrove would be happy with his little welcome speech at the end. He’d even meant it.
Marla barely waited for the man to step off her porch before she closed the door and locked it. Of course, turning the lock was just habit. She had nothing to fear from the reserve deputy sheriff. Although, if her suspicions were right, she might not want to hear what he had to say to her and her children if she had to take her son over to the café in a few minutes.
“Sammy,” she called.
Becky was happily walking around with her bunny slippers and frog pajamas on. But it was almost seven o’clock and Marla hadn’t heard from her son yet this morning. Usually he was up by now even though it wasn’t a school day. She’d thought earlier that he was sleeping in. Now she knew he was just hiding out.
“Sammy, come out here.”
Marla leaned back against the locked door and looked around. For the first time she wondered how she could have fooled herself so completely. She could paint the rooms in her house with gold leaf and the people here wouldn’t respect them. Not if Sammy had stolen the Nativity shepherd from the church and tagged that note with the 19th Street gang symbol. Her family would be marked as troublemakers regardless of how their house looked or what their ethnic background was. People were scared of gangs, and rightfully so. If they figured out Sammy had wanted to be in a gang, there would be no new start for them. The whole move up here would have been