The Obituary Society (17 page)

“I thought you should know, I opened the book.”

“
Huh?” Lila asked.

“
The book from Mr. Whiting's office, Sheriff Larson set it down on the front desk.  That's what Carl caught me looking at.”

With all that had happened, Lila had forgotten about the book.  “What was in it?”

“White powder.  I'd guess it was drugs.  I knew there was something I didn't like about that man.  You're not going out with him again, are you?”

Lila laughed.  “After I broke into his office, went through his things, and probably got him busted for possession of an illegal substance?  I don't think so.”

Gladys looked pleased.  “Good.”

If anything, Lila felt more sorry for Asher.  With all the pain he was hiding it wasn't a surprise to her that he might have a drug problem.  But then she remembered the Snapple, and how afraid he was that alcohol would turn him into his father.  Would he so carefully avoid one vice only to fall into another?

Lila, Ada, and Gladys walked around the building to the Cadillac.  A couple of quiet minutes later they were in Ada's driveway.  Ada stopped at Lila's window before going inside.

“
Don't worry, dear.  Everything's going to be alright.  Sheriff Larson talks tough, but he's a big puppy dog.  I'm sorry we got you into such a mess.  We're just a bunch of silly old women.”  The false cheerfulness fell out of her voice.  “Perhaps it's time to let things be.  I'll see you after you drive Gladys home.  Will you be okay walking back alone?”

Lila thought about staying in the old house again.  Ada had let her know it was time for her to go.  She didn't want to impose on her any longer, and she could use some time alone.  But Isaac's house certainly didn't want her around.  Anyway, she knew Ada would worry.  She'd stay with Ada a little while longer, until she made a plan and got the house up for sale.

“Yes.  I'll be fine.”

Chapter 23

Betrayed

It occurred to Lila that Fall was a deception.  It felt like a life-giving breath of air.  The warm and vividly-colored foliage provided a pleasant distraction.  The Society ladies welcomed a rest from battling the weeds in their gardens.  A bounty of corn and squash spilled from gardens and produce stands after the last tomatoes had been gathered and suspended in rows of glass jars on pantry shelves.  The cool, rejuvenating air was a relief to sunburned skin, and the wet blanket of humidity lifted.  Lila watched the kids in town, bubbling with dread and anticipation at the thought of a new school year.  How easy it would be to forget that Fall is not a new beginning but a winding down.  The warm, golden sun looked back on its glory days.  The scarlet and yellow of the leaves bid a final farewell.  Soon the trees would reach bare branches toward a bleak sky.  When the gourds were all plucked and the corn stalks stood lifeless and brittle, the gardens would be barren.  Fall was an elderly person who noticed every detail, every childish laugh, and relished in every delight, aware that her life cycle would soon come to an end.

Lila was not fooled.  She felt the end of the nourishing seasons in her bones.  But she wanted to make the best of the time she had left in Auburn.  She cleaned the old house again, then packed up her belongings, including the things she'd borrowed from Ada.  She paused at the door with her last armload and looked at the Spectre-Grey living room, and the dining room, where fragments of paper still hung from the walls.  Usually she saw unlimited potential, but this time she only saw the mess she'd left behind.  She sighed before closing and locking the door, then carried her things to the truck to take them back to Ada's, where she'd been staying since the night she'd been run out of this old house. 

Lila had enjoyed helping Ada again.  Her days were spent changing light bulbs, raking leaves, and running errands.  She'd done her best to put behind her any unpleasantness from the night she'd forced Ada to talk.  They'd stayed up late together drinking herbal tea, playing rummy, and chatting under the yellow kitchen lights.  She'd stored away any information Ada offered about Issac and Phoebe, Phillip and Elaine, and the people she'd met over the summer who made up this town.  The comfort she'd felt on those nights made the ache of leaving grow stronger.

Two days after the break-in, she'd mustered the courage to visit Asher.  She wanted to apologize to him, and find out how much trouble she'd gotten him into.  She also wanted to tell him she was leaving, and give him the opportunity to buy the old house if he wanted it.  Opportunity?  Maybe that wasn't the right word.  Who would buy it after the rumors it was haunted?  And he'd admitted it was a money pit.  Besides, she guessed he was just being charitable when he'd offered to take care of it for her.  She wouldn't dream of asking him for a favor now.  But on the off chance that he really wanted it, it was his.

She'd found the law office locked up.  No one knew where Asher was, and he wasn't answering his cell.  The thought that he was that angry, or that he was in enough trouble to take off made her sick to her stomach.  He was one of the first to extend kindness to her, and she'd repaid him by running him out of town.

Auburn was all out of lawyers, but not realtors.  If she didn't hear from Asher in the next couple of days she'd list the house with one of them before going back to her mother's place in Montana.  It was a step backward, but she needed somewhere to land while she got her bearings again.  She'd get a job there, or go back to school, and hopefully get an apartment of her own. 

The money Grandpa Isaac left her was almost gone, but if the house ever sold it could give her a  very good start.  The thought of giving up on her grandpa's treasured house and selling it to a stranger so she could go back to a lonely life in Montana made her feel guilty and hopeless, so she tried not to think about it.  'Things don't always turn out the way we want them to,' she told herself.  Grandpa Isaac knew that as well as anybody, otherwise he never would have gone to Wyoming.

Lila parked The Beast in Ada's driveway, cursing it as it jolted to a stop, causing half her things to fall onto the floor.  She scooped up an armful and scooted out of the truck.  Her eyes didn't clear the top of the pile, so she craned her neck to get a peek at where she was going. 

Struggling to balance her load toward one hip, she pulled open the kitchen door.  Lila screamed, dropping everything when she found herself face to face with a leering, round-faced figure in overalls standing inside the kitchen door. 

A laugh burst from her throat as she realized it was only a scarecrow.  She covered her mouth, staring at the painted pumpkin face and sightless eyes.              

“
What
is
that?”  She tried not to look repulsed.

Ada popped her head around the door frame.  Her eyes crinkled.  “It's my gourd scarecrow, Gourdon.  Isn't he cute?  I made him for the gourd competition at the Fall Festival tomorrow. 

Lila took a moment to inspect the creation before her.  Its face was a painted pumpkin.  Straw stuck out from a floppy hat.  His strangest feature was his arms, which seemed to be made out of bluish-tinged gourds roughly the shape of corkscrews.

She forced a smile.  “That is really something, Ada.  I'm sure he'll get a lot of attention at the festival.” 

Her stomach sunk at the thought of the festival.  Couldn't she just stay holed up at Ada's until the situation with the house was under control, and then leave town?  There were goodbyes she wanted to say, but saying goodbye to Max would be complicated, especially since she was too humiliated to speak to him.  She didn't know what she'd said to him after he carried her out of the woods, but it couldn't have been good.  He and Juniper may well have saved her life that night, though.  It would be nice to make peace.

After gathering her possessions off the steps and dumping them in the living room, Lila made another trip to the truck.  When everything was brought in, sorted, and put away, she joined Ada for lunch.  Ada made cucumber sandwiches and sliced a large beefsteak tomato from the garden.  She sprinkled sugar over it before offering it to Lila.  It was hearty and dark red, and surprisingly good with sugar.  Some foods, like peaches and tomatoes, Lila had only ever bought from a grocery store.  Eating them fresh was like trying a completely new food. 

Lila spent the next couple of hours packing and cleaning in her room.  When the scent of baking pie shells wafted upstairs she came down to help Ada cook.  The kitchen counter was covered with scraps of pale dough and a thick dusting of flour.  Ada finished filling the last pie tin with dough.   

“
I should have watched you make them,” Lila said.  “I'm terrible with pie crust.”

“
We'll do it again some time, dear.”  Ada's face fell as she said it.

Lila wanted to put her arms around Ada, but then they'd both be blubbering in the kitchen, and Ada would probably rather not let Lila see her cry.  “Of course.  I'll be back to visit.”  She forced a smile.  “What kind of pie are you baking now?”

“Those are just shells, for the caramel pies.”

“
That sounds delicious.”

“
It is.  I'll show you how to make them.  It's an old and very tricky recipe.  It requires patience and perfect timing.  Oops, I'd better get those crusts out of the oven.  This new one gets hotter than my old oven.  I have to pay attention or I burn things.”

“
I'll get them.”  Lila grabbed a knitted potholder and pulled the golden crusts out of the oven.  “Do you want me to put more in to bake?” 

“
No, these others are for apple pies.”  Ada brought a basket of apples to the table.  “Would you help me peel and cut these?”

“
Of course.” 

Ada showed Lila how to use what looked like a torture device to peel the apples.  It clamped to the edge of the table and she spun the handle, cutting a long, curling strip of bright green peel. 

“Lou Wilson called,” Ada said as she deftly sliced through an apple.  “He wants that old truck for some reason.”

“
Are you going to sell it to him?”  Lila had mixed feelings about the truck.  In a way, it was a thing of beauty.  But considering the lengths to which both Ada and herself went to avoid driving it, it didn't do anyone much good here.

“
My father loved that truck, so I held on to it for sentimental reasons.  A couple of times, near the end, I found him sitting in it.  'It's the only safe place,' he said to me.”  She looked up from her work.  “He got paranoid sometimes.”

Lila handed her a peeled apple and Ada continued.  “After my Thunderbird died a year or so ago, I thought it might be useful.  But I can't drive that old thing.  Might as well let it go and find something I can drive.  I guess I'd rather forget those dark days anyway.”

There was a knock on the front door. 

“
I'll get it.”  Lila wiped her hands on a towel and went to open it. 

Sheriff Larson stood on the porch.  He smiled stiffly, which concerned her more than the troubled look in his eyes.  “Lila.  I was hoping you'd be here.  Could I speak with you for a minute?”

“Sure.”  Lila said, closing the door and joining him on the porch.  She didn't know if this was something Ada should hear.  She gestured to two white wicker chairs on Ada's porch and they sat down.

“
Lila,” he started, and paused as if he didn't know how to continue.  “Have you seen Asher Whiting lately?”

She frowned.  “No.  Why?  What's happened?”

“Nothing's happened to him, that we know of.  Actually, no one's seen him since the . . . uh . . . incident at his office.”

Guilt washed through her again.  She looked away, holding her breath as she waited for the sheriff to continue. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the book you found.  I suppose you realized it wasn't actually a book.”

She bowed her head, resting her palm against her forehead.  “Yes.”

“When I mentioned an illegal substance in my office you looked surprised.  But I'm guessing you put the pieces together?”

Lila nodded.  She chose not to mention that Gladys had done it for her.

“You know there were drugs inside.”  He waited for her affirmation.  “But when we had it analyzed it wasn't quite what we expected.”

She guessed there was no cause to be relieved, otherwise the sheriff wouldn't be here.  “What was it?”

“The substance was not cocaine.  It's called,” he pulled out his pad and peeked at his notes, “Diphenhydramine.  Basically like Benadryl, but concentrated.”

Why was the sheriff concerned about Asher having Benadryl in his office?  Lila squinted, picturing the hollow book.  “I don't understand.  Why would he hide Benadryl?”

“I'm told a large enough dosage of a drug like that would cause some serious hallucinations.  Didn't you suffer from something like that shortly after having dinner with Mr. Whiting?”

Lila's blinked to keep back stinging tears as his implication set in.  “You think Asher did that to me?  Why?”

“I hoped you could help me figure that out.”
She shook her head, dumbfounded.   There had to be another explanation.  Who's to say Carl Snyder hadn't been biding his time, just waiting for an opportunity to make Asher pay once he found out it was him rather than Clint who had given his wife legal counsel?  Maybe Lila had given him that chance when she'd sneaked into Asher's office and found the book.  If he was prepared he could have slipped the drugs inside.  It would be an elaborate frame, and not one that would even guarantee jail time.  She wondered if the sheriff was right, and she was giving Carl too much credit.  He looked mean but he didn't come across as particularly smart. 

Then she remembered how she'd always felt there was a dark side beneath Asher's perfect veneer;  a quick flash of anger quickly covered by the contrived smile.  She had a tendency to be naive about people, but she had to admit she'd noticed it.  She just didn't want to believe it.  She'd even brushed aside Gladys's intuition, which she usually trusted.

Asher had encouraged her suspicions about the pond and the house.  Maybe he had slipped her the drugs, hoping her fears would take form as they did.  Or maybe he hoped something worse would happen.  She could have killed herself falling down those stairs, or drowned in the pond. 

And of course there were the multiple offers to manage the repairs and sale of the house.  Was it possible that he'd wanted her out of there all along?  There was one reason she could think of that might explain why Asher Whiting wanted that derelict house.

She stiffened, remembering how the ladies had told her they suspected someone may have killed Clint to keep him from meeting with Lila.  Asher wouldn't have wanted Clint to tell her he believed there was something of value in the house.               

Sheriff Larson interrupted her thoughts.  “You don't have any idea why Mr. Whiting would do something like that?” he pressed.  “The two of you have a fight?”

“No.”  Lila glanced at the sheriff, but found she couldn't look him in the eye.  “Well, nothing serious.”  She didn't want to share her suspicions with the sheriff yet.  She needed to think about it awhile.  And while she wanted to trust Sheriff Larson, her instincts hadn't been dependable lately.