Estelle screeched, then caught her companion's arm and jerked her to a halt. "I thought I saw something move."
"Are you going to start worrying about ghosts? Lordy, Estelle, I'd of thought you were a sight too old for that kind of childish squeamishness. We're not over at Madam Celeste's for a seance."
"I thought I saw something move," she repeated in a low voice.
"Really?" Ruby Bee sniffed. "Well, where'd you see this haint? I'll shine the light so we both can see it's a pig or a goat or a dish towel flapping on the clothesline. Will that satisfy you?"
The hand that held the flashlight might have trembled a tad, but it failed to illuminate pig, goat, dish towel, or even the shade of Robin Buchanon flitting about in the weeds. The door to the cabin was slightly ajar. Ruby Bee knocked, just out of habit, then tiptoed in and shone the light all around in case a bear might have chosen the shack for purposes of hibernation. Or at least she told herself as much, in that she wasn't a skittery child who fretted about ghosts and goblins and things that went bump in the night. Not even in a dead woman's cabin on a dark, rainy night.
"You can come inside and close the door," she said to Estelle, who was hovering prudently in the doorway and chewing a fingernail like it was made of milk chocolate. "You know darn well that you were seeing things a minute ago. This is going to be all right. We can light a lantern, and there's a little pile of wood by the stove. We're going to be just as snug as little ole bugs in a rug."
Estelle wasn't all that convinced, but she closed the door anyway since there wasn't any point in getting any wetter than she already was. She figured there were likely to be plenty of bugs in the rug, along with spiders in the corners and snakes under the rickety furniture. However, she and Ruby Bee managed to light the lantern, which helped dispel some of the shadows. Once they had a little fire going in the stove, the room got warm enough for her to stop shivering like a wet dog in a blizzard. But she was real sure she'd seen something flitting around the corner of the shack. Something or someone. She didn't like it one bit. She was trying not to dwell on it too much when Ruby Bee announced she'd found Robin Buchanon's family Bible. In fact, Estelle decided as she went to take a gander at the Good Book, she must have been crazy.
"You are squishing me something dreadful," Dahlia hissed. "You got your heel dug in my leg and your knee's knocking my nose ever' time you move. I don't aim to end up with a bloody nose and blood all over my dress. It makes the worst stain of anything, even grape jelly."
"I'm sorry, my darling." Kevin tried to peer through a knothole, but he still couldn't tell exactly what was going on inside the cabin. Grumbling, he got down and wiggled around until he was facing Dahlia in the darkness of the cramped space. He squatted down so he could whisper right at her face. "We got to stay here until they're gone. I couldn't see who it was, but they might be dangerous or murderers. They might have guns, which would mean I couldn't protect you if they decided to tie us up and then have their way with you-the filthy perverts!"
"Why'd you let them sneak up on you like that?" she persisted, not especially distraught over Kevin's bleak scenario. She couldn't imagine the filthy perverts being able to overpower Kevin, not when he was so brave and cool that he ought to be on Friday-night television.
"What else could I do? I was out on the porch wondering if you were all right-you'd been down here a long time, my precious-when I heard this eerie screech and saw a light bobbling in the night like it was being carried by a ghost. I didn't waste a single second. I rushed down here lickety-split so's I could protect you."
"Did you think to bring toilet paper? There isn't so much as a scrap of newspaper or an old catalogue or anything."
Kevin apologized for the oversight. After a while, his back began to ache something awful from the position, and Dahlia allowed that he could sit on her warm, broad, uncovered thighs. What light there was came through the crescent cutout in a soft path. If it hadn't been for the pervasive redolence, it would have been kind of sweet, like two lovebirds in a cozy wooden cage.
"I'll cast Daffodil Sunshine's natal chart immediately," Rainbow said. She bent down to kiss Poppy's forehead, then trotted into the front room with a lot of chatter about sidereal time and Capricorn ascending.
Zachery lit a joint and offered it to me. "That blew my mind. Wow. I mean, really wow."
I was slumped behind the desk. I waved away the joint (being a police officer requires a degree of self-sacrifice) and looked at my watch. Despite Rainbow's earlier assertion that the baby would be born at any moment, it had taken Daffodil Sunshine five hours to make his entrance. A very long five hours for all concerned. The manual from the feminists' commune, aided by my vague memories of paramedic training at the academy, had seen us through the ordeal. Mother was dozing, exhausted but triumphant. Zachery was more stoned than a quarry. Rainbow was intent on casting the natal chart, which I presumed had to do with astrology. Daffodil Sunshine seemed to have all the pertinent parts. Like one of the good fairies in Sleeping Beauty, I wished him Herculean strength; he would need it to deal with future school-yard discussions of his name.
"I'm going home," I said to Zachery. "Pot's illegal, by the way."
He frowned at the joint in his hand. "Still? You'd of thought someone would have legalized it by now."
"Not yet."
"Oh, shit." He took a deep drag on the joint, then squinted at me as the smoke drifted through his wispy mustache. "What about if you grow it yourself? Is that cool?"
I tried to envision him with the energy to garden in the middle of the National Forest. Clearing the patch, planting seeds, lugging water from the spring, bringing in fertilizer-and rigging booby traps. He wasn't my idea of a hirsute Johnny Appleseed, but I had to ask. "It might be, if you're real quiet about it and it's strictly for your own use. All sorts of folks do it in the National Forest, and most of them get away with it. Have you ever tried?" Subtlety was not a requirement; the man was having difficulty understanding the one-syllable words.
"Once," he said, looking sadly at me. "I had this little plant in a flowerpot on my kitchen windowsill back when I was in college. The cat ate it. It must not have been very good shit, because Fritz died that same night."
"You're probably right, then. You do realize that you shouldn't smoke dope in front of me, don't you? I am the chief of police."
"You're the fuzz? I thought you were the midwife, since you delivered the baby. Are you really the fuzz, too?" When I nodded, he slapped his hand on his forehead. "This is a real mind fuck, you know? Some kind of bummer. Wow."
"Wow." I went to the front room, where Rainbow was elbow deep in books, papers, and legal pads. "I'm going home," I said. "Do you want me to transport the four of you to your house?"
"We'll stay here and wait for Nate; he ought to be back soon. Poppy can use the rest, and we need the chart as soon as possible. There are some peculiar connotations of financial activities, since Jupiter's in the eighth house."
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was in the madhouse. "Well, I'm off. You ought to have a doctor check the baby, just to make sure he's healthy."
"Oh, that's not necessary; Scorpios are ruled by Pluto, which is very regenerative. Won't you stay for a cup of chamomile tea? I'd like to have a chance to tell you how utterly incredible you were, but I've got to cast the chart. Not only do we need to analyze the Jupiter implication, but we may also have to confront the polarity with Taurus and the fixed quadruplicity. You know what that can mean."
"Doesn't everybody?" I murmured. I caught myself in a yawn and headed for the front door, the jeep, and my bed-if only for a few hours. My grandiose scheme to have a decent night's sleep was not to be, but Maggody had its 756th citizen.