"Quite the romantic, aren't you?"
"She was real pleased. I was gonna get her a new lawn mower, but she wanted the linoleum instead. Duluth did a real fine job."
"That's good to hear, Larry Joe." I gave him a terse version of what had happened and told him to declare a day of rest, adding that I didn't want the kids to be out of his sight for even a few seconds.
"About yesterday," he said, scratching his head. "There's something I might ought to mention, although it most likely doesn't mean anything. After you left with Heather, we put everything in the dugout and went down to the cabin. Mrs. Jim Bob would have a hissy fit if she knew, but I figured nobody was gonna do anything while I was with them. Big Mac turned on his radio, and most of them were playing cards when Jarvis told me he'd left his wallet up at the field. He said it was a birthday present from his ma and he was afraid it'd get wet."
"And?" I said.
"It was a good thirty minutes before he came back."
I glanced at Jarvis, who was busy with a cordless drill. "With his wallet?"
"Said he couldn't find it," admitted Larry Joe. "About then the storm hit and we headed for the lodge."
"Did he find it this morning?"
"I asked him. He said he must have left it at home."
Jarvis was by far the most mature boy in the group, at least a head taller than Big Mac, Parwell, and Billy Dick. He'd taken off his shirt, and his muscles were those of a beefy construction worker. He had a few postpubescent pimples on his back, but he undoubtedly shaved more often in a week than the others did in a month. Then again, he'd tried to filch a package of cookies, indicating he was far from wise beyond his years.
"So why did you bring this up?" I asked Larry Joe.
"It shouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to go there from the cabin and get back. I told him to hustle."
"Did he have an explanation?"
"No, and he was real twitchy, like he'd gone through a patch of chiggers. I was trying to pin him down when it started raining and we skedaddled to the lodge. The girls were shrieking about their hair getting ruined and screaming ever' time thunder boomed. It was all I could do to keep them moving. I guess I forgot about Jarvis."
"But he might have known Norella?"
"She was teaching their Sunday school class until Mrs. Jim Bob found out that the topics most weeks were the same Old Testament stories I used to read under my covers with a flashlight. It drove my ma crazy, since I was reading the Bible like she wanted me to do. Once Mrs. Jim Bob caught wind of it, Norella was demoted to the nursery and drummed out of the Missionary Society. Not too long after that, her and Duluth got divorced. Neither of them's been back to church since then."
"Jarvis most likely detoured to smoke a joint," I said. "I want all the tools and softball equipment locked in the back of the bus." I expanded on the scenario for the rest of the afternoon, then added, "Unless we find whoever did this, I'm afraid everybody's going to have to sleep at the lodge again tonight."
"On a concrete floor," he said glumly.
"Mrs. Jim Bob thinks we ought to pack up and go back to Maggody, but I don't think it's that critical yet. If I haven't gotten anywhere by tomorrow afternoon, I suppose we can call it quits and go home. I wouldn't want you to have to take out a second mortgage to pay a chiropractor."
Larry Joe looked at the bleachers, which were progressing. "We take on the job, we finish it. That's my first rule in shop class. Well, the second one, anyway. The first has to do with not thinking you can get away with stealing tools. The shitheels managed to make off with a tablesaw last year. You know how much those things weigh?"
"Gee, not offhand," I said. "Just make sure that every one of the girls is within your eyesight, and that the boys don't go off unless they go together. They don't have to hold hands, but I don't want any of them on his own, not even to go behind a bush to pee."
"So Duluth killed Norella? What was she doing here, dressed in a robe with her head shaved?"
I stiffened. "Did you recognize her?"
"Hell, no. I wouldn't have recognized Joyce if she looked like that. 'Course it was getting dark, but even so."
"We're still trying to get an ID. In the meantime, the kids won't object to an afternoon of sunbathing on the dock and swimming in the lake. I'm trusting you to keep them safe."
I left before he could ask more questions. I hurried by the lodge, ducking behind the bus and station wagon in hopes I wouldn't be spotted, and went on down the road. I stopped at the cabin and allowed myself a moment to regroup, then continued to the place where I'd fought through the brush to Jacko's campsite. Okay, brush is brush, but this time I heard an NPR pundit expounding on the latest setback in civilization.
He was seated on an aluminum folding chair, eating stew out of a can and regarding the fishing boats on the lake. His plaid shirt was of different hues, but his khakis and canvas hat were familiar.
"I was wondering when you'd come back," he said.
I caught my breath. "And why would you be doing that?"
"I thought you might have some questions."
I realized that I most certainly did.
11
Jacko held up a spoon. "Want some? The carrots are mushy and the beef's chewy, so it balances out: mush, chew, chew; mush, chew, chew. Sounds like a ballroom dance, doesn't it?"
"I don't think so," I said, staying where I was. "Not much of a fisherman, are you?"
"It's not much of a lake."
"Then why are you here?"
He grinned. "Just taking a break. I can listen to my music, dress up like the coverboy for Field and Stream, and fall asleep listening to the crickets and owls. No cellphone, laptop, or late-night television. This trip I've been rereading Henry James. You like him?"
"A break from what?" I asked. "Prison?"
"You overestimate me." He put down the can of stew but remained seated, which was for the best, since I didn't want to be obliged to whack him with the stick I had my eye on. "Merely an office job riddled with tedium and tacit despair. Several times a year I make a point of getting away."
"And where would this office be?"
"In a galaxy far, far away, at least for this week."
"I can run your license plate," I said, "and I will if you don't answer my questions. What are you really doing here?"
"Ah, yes, I heard you're a cop. You don't exactly dress like one, do you?"
"Heard from whom-the crickets and the owls?"
"And how well-educated you are, considering your profession. You recognized Vivaldi and had the sense to turn up your nose when I mentioned Henry James. Do you write poetry when you're not running a speed trap?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't rhyme. Why are you here?"
"Why are you worried about me?"
"Well, you're no fisherman, obviously. Even those clowns out on the lake are pulling up crappies. The best you seem to have caught is Dinty Moore."
"And that's a crime?"
"As I said, I'll run your plate. There was a homicide yesterday afternoon. It seems to have happened about the time you were taking a stroll, unaware of the thunderstorm. If I'd been you, I might have stayed by my tent."
He appraised me for a moment. "What if I said I'd hiked into Dunkicker for a hot meal at the café and been caught on the way back?"
"I'd say you were lying."