Ghost Across the Water, page 17
“Done! The corn is good today. It’s bi-color. Sweet Sue.”
Before I could reply, he began dropping ears into a large paper bag. “How about some of my baby green beans?” He was like a fussy grandmother, plying her extended family with food at Sunday dinner. “And tomatoes? They’re Beefeaters.”
Kinder loved vegetables. Last week I’d mixed some of Ira’s green beans into her food. She’d gobbled them and licked her chops, looking for more. I wiped my eyes again and searched in my purse for a tissue, but I’d used them all.
Ira handed me a large white handkerchief. “It’s clean,” he said.
His kindness was my undoing, and I didn’t even try to stop the tears. Finally I was able to say, “I have to find my dog before something terrible happens to her.”
He brought out one of his baskets and began spilling beans into it. “You’re doing all the right things. Did you like my eggplant?”
“It was delicious.”
“Here’s some more...”
I handed him a twenty-dollar bill.
“It’s on the house,” he said.
“No, Ira.” I set the bill on the stand, where the eggplant had been. “I won’t take anything if you don’t let me pay you, and I’d really like the blueberries.”
“Well, you drive a hard bargain, Joanna.” Handing me the basket of produce and a handful of change, he shook his head. “I’m so sorry about your dog, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Whenever Ned’s ghost walks, bad things happen. It’s nearing the anniversary of his death. I for one will be glad when we get past it.”
His words brought a sudden chill to the warm afternoon. I’d swear that he was serious, not trying to convince the newcomer in town that Spearmint Lake was haunted.
My hand tightened on the basket handle. “But that’s just superstition, Ira. Ned Seymour has nothing to do with what happened to me.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“What if someone solves his murder?” I asked.
“After all this time? That’s not very likely.”
“But if they did?”
“Then I guess old Ned would be happy. Maybe he’d climb back into his grave and rest in peace. But Joanna...”
The chill was in his voice now. “That’s one mystery no one’s going to solve. It’s dangerous territory, my dear. Nowhere for a sweet young woman like you.”
It sounded like a warning. But Ira’s eyes were bright with their usual gleam and his broad smile was the essence of candor. Most likely my instincts were off, along with my perception of the world’s color.
But if Ira were warning me about something, I’d better figure out what was going on here and take steps to protect myself.
Twenty-one
In Grandall’s parking lot, I surveyed my immediate surroundings before leaving the rental car, hoping to see a familiar silver Taurus with my collie inside. It wasn’t there.
Nothing looked the least bit threatening today, but a yellow helium balloon with a smiley face lay on its side against the trunk of a maple tree. I was outside a quiet country store frequented by ordinary citizens. It bore no resemblance to a crime scene or nightmare, except for the deep shadow cast by the store’s wall.
Still I hesitated as yesterday’s events replayed themselves in my mind. Again I made myself move. I couldn’t allow the wrenching memories to defeat me.
Among the cars was a dark blue police cruiser, although not the one Mac usually drove. Good. The area would be extra safe today with an officer nearby.
Gathering Clara’s sweater and umbrella and my purse, I locked the car and walked around to the entrance. Although occupied with her customers, Clara gave me a bright smile as I came through the door.
At the bulletin board, I tacked my last notice under an Estate Sale flyer. This sketch was particularly realistic, one of the first I’d done. It seemed as if, somewhere behind the pen and ink likeness, Kinder’s face looked back at me, her dark eyes filled with love and trust.
Hold on, Baby, I thought. I’m doing everything I can think of to find you.
Maybe the bulletin board would bring me luck, as it had with the sale of the credenza. Along with Ira’s stand, Grandall’s appeared to be a busy place among Spearmint Lake residents. As it was the only store of its kind within miles, my plea for Kinder’s return would be more likely seen here than on a pole in North Port.
Picking up a bottle of aspirin, an orange soda, and the Times, I took my place in line. As I waited behind a mustached policeman, I scanned the front-page headlines. There was no account of a stolen car at Grandall’s. Perhaps inside, in the Police Beat column?
Before I could turn the page, the officer paid for his snacks and strolled out the door. Stepping up to the counter, I unloaded my purchases and Clara’s property.
“Are you feeling better today, Joanna?” Clara asked.
At her sympathetic words, I felt the familiar sting of tears. It was strange how gestures of kindness affected me lately.
“A little. Thanks for all your help yesterday.”
“I didn’t do so much.” She set the umbrella down but draped the sweater over her shoulders. It was navy blue, a match for her sleeveless polka dot dress. “I’m asking everyone who comes in to watch for her. Someone saw a black collie over at the Animal Rescue League in North Port, but her owner already claimed her.”
“I didn’t know North Port had an animal shelter,” I said.
“It’s a small, private one.”
“Kinder is brown with white markings.”
“Mac mentioned that.”
Mac? I tried to conceal my surprise. Clara did know him, and apparently not only from yesterday. Although curious, I needed to focus on Kinder. Still I asked, “Was Mac here after we left?”
“He stopped in this morning,” she said. “The police like our place.”
I couldn’t say what I was thinking: “But you once said you didn’t know the local police by name.” Glancing at her engagement ring, I told myself that it didn’t matter. After all, it wasn’t as if Mac and I were involved with each other.
I said, “Would you please ask your customers to read my notice? My address is under the sketch.”
Clara’s face registered alarm. “Oh, Joanna. Wouldn’t it be safer just to give your phone number?”
“The thieves took my cell phone.”
“Oh—yes. I guess it’s all you can do then,” she said. “My husband-to-be is always telling me that you can’t be too careful these days. Roger’s so protective. Too much sometimes.”
“That’s good,” I said, wishing for a moment that I had a protector of my own or someone to tell me what to do. I didn’t know if I was dealing with this crisis as well as I might be, and Kinder’s life depended on my actions.
Clara’s remark had caught my attention. Maybe broadcasting where I lived hadn’t been a good idea. Also I was advertising that I had $500 to give away to the person who brought Kinder home. That definitely wasn’t wise. What other choice did I have?
“People have gone out of their way to help me,” I said.
“There’s something about a lost dog that brings everyone together.” Clara folded the paper, her gaze lingering on the sun symbol in a corner box. “At least we don’t have to deal with tornado warnings today.”
“I posted notices with my friend, Angela Carenton, this morning. Ira Jensen has one at his vegetable stand.”
“That man is so nice. He’ll do anything for you.” With a perceptible change in tone, she added, “You said Angela Carenton?”
“Yes—she’s a tourist from out of town. Do you know her?”
Clara looked down at the counter, carefully setting the bottle in a separate plastic bag. “She’s the lady who got shot in the cemetery a few weeks back. I read about her in the paper. Are you the one who helped her?”
“I called 911.”
“So she’s a new friend who’s returning the favor. My mom used to say that a good deed is like a boomerang. It always returns to you.”
“I hope it’s also true of bad deeds,” I said, thinking of the person who had stolen Kinder.
“Miss Carenton was lucky to have you that day.” With a smile, Clara handed me my package. “Let me know as soon as you find your dog, Joanna.”
A young woman came up alongside me, pushing a stroller and carrying a coloring book. Her little girl began to beg for a candy bar. The annoying whine quickly turned into petulant screaming when her mother refused her demand. Grandall’s was a busy place indeed, but not a quiet one; and my headache was coming back. Thanking Clara again, I picked up my packages and made my escape.
THE STRONG SCENT OF spearmint followed me up the stairs to the front porch. The fragrance was overwhelming, almost nauseating. For a moment I held my breath. Then, unwilling to be intimidated by plants, I went inside the cottage and closed the door. Ordinarily I loved spearmint, so it must be my headache causing this slight queasiness.
The one I waited for wasn’t here to greet me. I never thought she would be, but the images played through my mind anyway: Kinder rising, stretching, coming toward me, ears flattened against the side of her head, tail wagging slowly.
I’d stayed away too long, but she would forgive me. Yet once again.
I’m home now, Kinder-kitten. Let’s go for a walk.
I couldn’t say that. Why think it?
The cottage was too quiet. I longed to hear my dog stirring, tearing through the rooms, barking, even whining. No amount of longing or tears would bring Kinder home, and crying would make my headache worse.
So Joanna, get a grip. For Kinder.
I swallowed two aspirins, took a long, hot shower, and washed the country dust out of my hair. Because it was too early to go to bed, I changed into a yellow sundress that was as comfortable as a nightgown and, in a futile attempt to raise my spirits, added powder and light lipstick. The headache stayed.
Taking a chair and a tomato sandwich on a tray outside, I sat quietly, waiting for the medication to take effect. The spearmint scent crept up to the porch. It seemed to permeate the French bread and even Ira’s prized Beefeater.
What else could I do now? Find the North Port rescue league? Visit shelters in neighboring towns? Make another batch of notices?
Not today. I was too tired, and the sandwich tasted like paste on cardboard. I set the tray down, leaned back on the cushion, and closed my eyes.
If I were living in a Lassie movie, I’d turn my head and see my beautiful collie running down Shore Road. Her fur would be coated with mud and tangled into mats, but I would know her anywhere. The dream enveloped me in bright green grass, summer-blue skies, and golden sunshine.
Somewhere a dog was barking.
A wet tongue licked my hand. Paws landed heavily on my lap, as a man’s angry voice pulled me out of half-sleep.
“Gareth! Down, you devil!”
I opened my eyes. The dog was a collie, but not mine, and I had a guest.
Damson Brewster said, “I didn’t mean to wake you, Joanna. I’m sorry.”
“I was just resting.”
He stood in front of me, leashing Gareth, ordering him away from my discarded sandwich, telling him to sit. From this angle, with the sun shining on his light hair, Damson’s resemblance to Bret Kramer was remarkable, and he wore Bret’s favorite combination of denim and plaid.
“I walked over this way to find out if that was your car taken from Grandall’s lot,” he said. “And your collie.”
“Yes. My car. My dog. Did you see one of the notices?”
“I read it in the Police Beat. They didn’t identify you, but I know you have a silver Taurus and a brown and white collie.”
He used the present tense. I could have loved him for saying have instead of had. “It happened yesterday. I stopped at the store for only a minute.”
“Sometimes that’s all it takes. What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Maybe you could ask your friends if they’ve seen her?”
“Certainly. What else?”
“Post a notice at the Inn. I’ll have to make some more.”
“Anything, Joanna. Just give me a call, and try not to worry.”
He nodded to me, and Gareth sprang up as if hearing a secret signal. Probably, like Kinder, Gareth could read his owner’s thoughts.
I watched them run down Shore Road together, a man and his dog sharing time and space, creating memories. When they vanished from sight, I closed my eyes. Would I ever go walking with Kinder again?
Yes, I would—will. I closed my eyes hoping to slip back into my dream where the colors of the world were bright and true.
A car door slammed in the silence, jolting me back to reality. A cruiser. I gathered my scattered thoughts as Mac walked up to the porch with heavy purposeful steps. At last. I knew he’d keep his promise to stop by.
“You’re finally home, Joanna,” he said. “This is my third trip. I was beginning to get worried about you.”
He looked grim. I steeled myself to hear the worst. “Do you have news?”
“Some.” He sat down on the top step. “We found your car abandoned in another grocery store lot. Whoever did this left you with an empty gas tank and stole a newer vehicle.”
“What about Kinder?”
“She was gone, leash and all. The crate is still there.”
Through my deep disappointment, I realized that it would have been worse if the thieves had left the leash behind as well. “Where do I go to pick up my car?” I asked.
“You can’t have it yet, Joanna. I’m sorry, but it had to be impounded as evidence.”
“But it’s my property. What’s the point of finding my car if you’re going to keep it?”
“That’s the law, but you’ll get it back,” he said.
“Will you impound Kinder too when you find her?”
“When we find Kinder, I’ll bring her home to you.”
My anger kept the tears at bay. It was better to feel fury than despair. For the first time I noticed that Mac was holding something.
“I have your cell phone,” he said.
It felt warm from the sun and from Mac’s hand, like a sentient object. Now I had two of my possessions back, the two that could be easily replaced.
“Where does that leave the search for Kinder?” I asked.
“I assure you that we’re still looking for her.”
The whole Spearmint Lake Police Department? I doubted that. They were busy with people. A stolen dog wouldn’t be a priority for them. If Kinder was going to come home, I had to do more to make that happen
“I saw your notice at Grandall’s,” Mac said. “That big reward is a tempting bait. I think you’ll have your collie back soon.”
“It’s been twenty-four hours,” I said. “Maybe she’s dead on the freeway.”
“She isn’t—as of now. Not to my knowledge.”
“She could be dumped on some road or in the woods.”
Mac touched my arm. “Stay positive Joanna. Twenty-four hours isn’t very long.”
“It feels like an eternity.”
“Keep busy,” he said, with a glance at his patrol car. “Hope for the best.”
Did he have any more cheery platitudes? I longed to rail against treacherous Fate that had stolen my best friend. To lash out at something or someone like a child wailing for an out-of-reach candy bar.
Mac was one of the people who had gone out of his way to be helpful.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For what?”
“Being disagreeable.”
He laid his hand on my shoulder, a warm, heavy weight that transferred a measure of strength to me. “Don’t be, Joanna. You love her. If Kinder can be found, you’ll find her.”
His qualifier undercut the encouraging words. As a law enforcer, he would deal with the harsh, real world. I was more comfortable in a dream landscape, but that wouldn’t help me now. Only yesterday I’d vowed to do whatever it took.
“You can reach me on your cell phone, and I’ll stay in touch,” Mac said, and he walked back to his squad car.
Whatever it took, I thought.
I carried the tray inside, found ink, pen, and paper, and began making another batch of notices.
Twenty-two
The next morning, I smoothed the folds of my long beige skirt and tied the ends of my blouse around my waist. I had lost weight. Not much but enough to notice. All those skipped or just nibbled-on meals must be responsible, but how could this have happened so quickly? I’d better eat something substantial with my tea and juice, even a slice of toast, although I wasn’t any hungrier now than I had been for yesterday’s tomato sandwich.
Another few days and my new green dress wouldn’t fit. If I wore it. Perhaps I should cancel the Grand Opening. I’d tell Mac about my decision and apologize for rescinding the invitation.
Outside a car door slammed. The sound ripped through the silent cottage like gunfire. Please let that be Mac come to give me good news, I thought as I hurried to the front of the cottage and peered out the kitchen window.
There stood Kinder on her leash, pacing fretfully in front of a white convertible. Flanked by two familiar men with mean faces and straggly hair, she looked smaller than she was, like a wraith. The man called Ben had so tight a grip on her leash that she appeared to be choking. His companion looked up from a paper and grinned, waving it at the cottage. In his left hand he held a can of beer.
I flung open the door and practically flew down the walk. “Kinder! Kinder-Baby.”
Ears flattened, tail wagging, she started to limp forward, trying to close the distance between us. Ben jerked her back. She coughed, and my hand moved to my throat. In the waves of morning heat, I felt faint.
“Stop that!” I cried. “You’re hurting her!”
Ben gave me a fawning smile. “This your dog, lady?”
“She’s mine.”
Reaching Kinder, I ran my hand along her rib cage and throat. She wriggled like an excited puppy and licked my hand. The mud and mats I’d imagined weren’t there, and her dark eyes had a joyful sparkle. Except for the limp, she seemed all right, but she began to whimper loudly. I closed my hand around her leash.
