The Dead Past (22 page)

Lowell handed me his hat and said, "Here, you'll catch pneumonia."

I put it on and wasn't surprised to discover that a family of four could have lived comfortably inside. "Do I get my plastic badge and two-way wrist radio now?"

He ignored me. "I don't know who spread the word already but the big newspapers got hold of your name. I have no idea how they arrived here so quickly, but they're waiting to talk to you."

"Not again."

"Yeah, I know how well you get along with hordes of pretty reporters sticking microphones in your face."

"Depends on how pretty they are," I said, scanning the crowd. "Is the blonde from channel thirty-five around? The one with the cute overbite?"

"Yep," he said, "and not only is she more attractive but she's more polite than the rest, too. Handed me her card and requested that I ask you to do a formal interview." He took it out of his pocket and handed it to me.

"Hm. How formal do you think she means?"

"I'd say very. She's got a rock on her ring finger the size of a Buick."

I gave the card back to him.

He looked at it for a second and crumpled it, knuckles cracking, and let it fall. "What a mess."

"Did you pick up Willie?"

"Yeah."

"How's he doing?"

Lowell squinted into the flashing lights and cameras. "A zombie," he said. "He's all brass on the outside but he's tin in the center. He and Karen were close but they never seemed to rely on each other much, always did their own thing. Sometimes those are the ones who depend on one another the most, down at the bottom, where it counts."

"Where is he now?"

"He didn't want to go back to the house. Couldn't face that yet. His folks are dead and no other relatives live in the county, so I brought him to the
Hobbes'.Doug
is out of town until tonight, but at least he's got Lisa."

"She'll help," I said.

He turned to the kids playing in the fields. Some skaters were practicing double axels on the far end of the lake. "I could have Roy run you home."

"I think that would be best."

"Me, too."

Roy was not thrilled to have Anubis in his cruiser, even if the dog sat in the back seat behind the grille. He drove us through the throng of reporters and they ran at the car and yelled questions at me. Anubis also declined to comment.

Roy took the long way around to Anna's house to shake news vans that might be following. There weren't any. We toured the side streets and retraced a portion of our route before turning down Anna's block, where I could still hear them beyond the brush. I felt like we were picking up ransom money. We pulled over to the curb and he said, "We'll do our best to keep 'em from the house, but they'll show up soon."

"Thanks for trying, Roy," I said. I left his coat and Lowell's hat on the seat.

"Why I'm here."

Anna opened the front door as the dog and I came up the ramp. Anubis ran to her like a child who'd found his mother after being lost in a department store. She patted his thick forehead. It was clear to me that she wanted to get into a deep discussion. I did not want to talk. The phone had already been unplugged.

She broke into a humorless smile, one composed of consolation and tinged with a private joke, as if only she and I understood a particular family saga or curse. "Of course you know I heard what happened, Jonathan."

She often made statements pertaining to what I knew. I only wished I knew everything she said I did, or that knowing it was ever a matter of course.

"What did they say on the news?" I asked.

Her hair shined as she moved past the front window; the setting sun giving her a vermillion aura. "Nothing really, mere speculation and promises to keep their viewers further updated as the story continued to unfold. Channel thirty-five mentioned your name and held 'interviews' with bystanders, who were mostly children and teenagers. They gave accounts of playing with Anubis, witnessing your struggle in the park, and its grim ending. Several vulgar youths first described and then graphically portrayed your attacker's death throes." She sneered. "Garish little beasts."

"Cripes," I said.

"And because of your involvement, interest in the
Degrase
case has resurfaced, and retrospectives are planned. The story has also broken in New York City. Debi called twice, 'Boss.' She is extremely worried."

"All this in a couple of hours."

"The media is nothing if not prompt," Anna said, "and intrusive. They'll be here soon, no doubt.”

“And we still don't know anything."

Cleaning the dog got first priority. I couldn't stand the smell much longer. I lifted Anubis and stuck him in the bathtub, soaped and washed him down hastily and soaped him again, taking my time scrubbing out the deep filth. Blood and dirt streamed into the drain; he worked his mouth as if trying to spit up the taste of a dead man, or else he was just getting hungry. Anna wheeled herself in behind me and said, "You should not mask your feelings, dear. I believe I understand what's on your mind."

"Really," I said.

"Yes," she said.

"Then you know why I prefer to mask my feelings."

"I do." The thin rubber tires squeaked on the tile floor. She had a book rack beside the toilet, filled with first editions and rarities I could've made a mint on at the store. How she kept them in such good condition in the bathroom, I couldn't guess. "But I fervently wish it were not so. You did not kill that man."

Anubis sniffed at the bubbles and sneezed. He stood ready to shake off and I forced him back into the water. "Technically speaking, no, I didn't."

She was not in the mood to converse, but rather to dictate. "You did not cause this."

"The guy said differently." I shifted on the edge of the tub and threw handfuls of warm water over the dog's back. "He said I made it happen by being nosy. He told me it—whatever
it
was—was an accident."

"Richie's death?"

"Or leaving him in your trash," I said. "Or Margaret dying. Or Karen's involvement. I wonder which?"

"I do not believe that all these answers can be found in a note that the sheriff may or may not have received and be hiding."

"It's a good starting place. Did you speak to him this afternoon?"

"Yes," Anna said, slightly frustrated, caught between two topics. She let out a breath in a gentle whistle that jerked the dog's head up; maybe he thought she wanted him to tear somebody else's throat out.

Picking up her original train of thought, she said, "You are not accountable. You certainly did not invite him to ambush you, Jonathan."

"No."

My grandmother did not mean to be redundant or to keep at me; it was the way it happened, at times like these, when she was worried and her exterior softened and I put up a wall or two around my usually sensitive self. We temporarily traded positions, which made us both equally uncomfortable. We would work through it quickly, but not quite fast enough to completely suit either of us. "You did not force him to attempt to kill you."

"That's true," I said. "However, something did. We touched a nerve."

"Thus spurring him to action. He came clear from the shadows because he was frightened. Why? What prompted his attack? If he was afraid of exposure, why would he so clumsily expose himself? What can you recall about him, his manner, his characteristics?"

"Just his haircut," I said. "And hostility. He knew how to use a knife. He had a terrible calm in his eyes."

"Anger directed solely at you, as if you had somehow upset his scheme."

"I guess." My thoughts kept turning back to when he had asked,
Why didn't you stay out of it?
He'd almost been pleading. "It was like he was just throwing a temper tantrum. He was vicious. Demented, maybe, but I don't really think he wanted to kill me so much as he wanted me out of the way, and was willing to kill me to do it."

"He was fueled by venom," she said.

"More like he was a brat. He seemed to take my interference personally, but only so far as he had to get past me before he could go on to something else. He must have thought I knew more about him than I did."

"Then we can assume he had a specific goal he had not yet achieved. The deaths of Margaret, Karen, and Richie were means to an end."

"To what? And was he working alone?"

"I would hazard to guess no," she said.

"So would I. He was probably dropped off at the park, and, considering how fast he got out of
Raimi's
the other night, he had somebody waiting for him in the parking lot. Nobody could remember serving him. He walked right in, saw me, grabbed a bottle off some table and picked a fight to put me out of the game."

"Whatever he was doing, I do not think it was a game."

"Whatever he was doing," I said, "he didn't think he'd be staring at the ceiling of the morgue tonight with most of his face gone."

Anna handed me a towel and I dried Anubis. He was ready to go back and finish our run in the park, the incident placed aside. He went to the front door and thumped a paw, and looked mildly irritated when I did not open it for him. Anna wheeled herself near the reading table. After a moment, Anubis resolved himself and lay down behind her.

"Thank you for attempting to salve my conscience, Anna," I said, "but I don't need any. It's not easy watching a man—even one who is trying to kill me—die in front of my eyes. I don't feel guilty. If the dog hadn't come along, I would have stabbed that bastard through his heart. I was ready to do that. I think most people would have been." She stared and slowly blinked twice. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Yes, dear," she said softly.

I went upstairs to my room and got clean clothes, stripped off the cruddy sweats and got under the hot spray. I was out in two minutes. I didn't feel that dirty or chilly. In fact, I felt pretty good. When I returned to the living room, Anna was putting
The French Powder Mystery
back onto the shelf and was taking down Ed Gorman's
Blood Moon
.

I laid out on the couch with my legs on the pillows. I felt some strain in my calves, my chest hurt, and crew cut had gotten some more jabs into my gut. "What did
Broghin
have to say?" I asked.

She sniffed. "First I went to his office, where I learned he was off duty, so I continued to his home. We spoke for less than half an hour before the call came which took him to the park."

"I always remember
Broghin
being at the station, all the time, but apparently he's been taking a lot of time off."

"Yes," she said.

"Did you ask him about the letter?"

"No," she said.

"Wasn't quite as easy as you thought it would be."

Anna continued to hold
Blood Moon
in her hands, noticed and put it down on the table. "Well, I couldn't bring it up in polite conversation while sitting with Clarice. She's taken up baking as of late. A hobby, really, to help pass the time. If her cheesecake is any portent I'd say she's better off inclined towards other recreational avenues. Masonry, perhaps."

"Another wash-out."

"Not entirely," she said. "I did notice the house was recently repainted."

Nobody paints in February, when snowstorms raged around every corner.