Sarah stared at the house, her mouth so tight her lips were invisible. After a long moment, she said, “This is too much. Wafford not only forgot to tell me about the faulty plumbing, the fleas and bats, the rotten floorboards under the linoleum, the drug dealers up the street, the contaminated water in the-“ She broke off and rubbed her face as though she could erase the sight of the house across the street. “I can’t believe he didn’t warn me about any of this! I don’t have enough money to move to an apartment and put up two months’ rent and a security deposit. It’s all well and good for you to say this middle-aged child won’t try to come into the house some night when we’re asleep, but you can’t be sure.”
“As long as you lock your doors and windows before you go to bed, you and Cody will be all right,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
Sarah swung around to look at me. “Wafford knew all about Gerald, didn’t he? Doesn’t his failure to tell me constitute fraud?”
“You’ll have to ask a lawyer, but I wouldn’t count on it. Wafford first sold the house to a nice young couple with a baby. They weren’t any happier than you when they discovered all the problems, including Gerald. Wafford and the husband had such a heated argument in the driveway one afternoon that I almost called the police. Not long after that the couple packed up and left. The next day Wafford put a ‘For Sale’ sign in the yard. He was whistling.”
Cody and Amy came running into the front yard with a bird’s egg they’d found and we changed the subject.
“A policeman came to our house last night,” Cody confided in me as he, Amy, and I walked back from the bus stop a week later.
“He did?” I murmured.
“He went into the kitchen with my mother. They talked for a long time, but I couldn’t hear what they said.”
“Did he arrest her?” asked Amy.
Cody made a face at her. “No, nitwit. They just talked, and then he left. My mother was mad, but she wouldn’t tell me why.”
I knew why, having seen Gerald at the edge of the road when I went into the front room to find my reading glasses. I’d considered calling Sarah to remind her to check the locks, but then I’d seen her in an upstairs window. Her face had been as pale as Gerald’s.
I didn’t say anything, and by the time we reached my house, Cody had forgotten about the policeman and was telling Amy about pirate ships. Sarah called an hour later and asked if I could give Cody supper.
“Glad to,” I said. “You going to the library to study?”
“I have an appointment with Wafford. He wasn’t happy about it, but I told him that if he wouldn’t see me at his office at six o’clock, I’d go to his house and stand in the street until his neighbours started calling the police.”
I let Amy and Cody eat in front of the TV set while they watched an old swashbuckler movie from the forties. It may have been considered gory in its time, but it wasn’t nearly as violent as the Saturday-morning cartoons Amy watched religiously.
Sarah knocked on the door just as the movie ended. I sent the children to Amy’s room, then set a cup of coffee on the table in front of her.
She ignored it. “I’m so mad that I can visualise myself buying a gun and shooting that man right between his beady eyes. Better yet, I could tar and feather him, then tie him to the back bumper and drag him through town. I don’t suppose you have any tar out in the carport?”
“Sorry,” I said, a little taken aback at the venomous edge in her voice.
“I wanted to slap the smirk right off his face. He kept calling me ‘little lady’ and ‘sweetheart,’ all the while assuring me that the house was a real bargain and he’d done me a favour by selling it to me at less than fair market value. I offered to let him buy it back at the same price, but he gave me a bunch of bull about his cash-flow problems. Well, I’ve got a cash-flow problem too-all my cash keeps flowing into that black hole across the street. There’s a leak under the kitchen sink, and the door to the hall closet is so warped I can’t get it open. Cody found a dead bat in the bathroom last weekend. On top of everything else, I’ve got to worry that Gerald may bust into the house in the middle of the night.”
I patted her hand. “He never hurt anyone.”
“There’s always a first time, isn’t there? The police won’t do anything because Gerald isn’t breaking the law. I talked to the county prosecutor this morning about a restraining order. He can’t take action until Gerald makes explicit threats or starts waving a weapon. Or murders us in our beds. He’d be in big trouble then. Isn’t that comforting?”
“Now, Sarah,” I said, “Gerald’s not going to do something like that. He’s just confused and lonely.”
“And I’m the proud owner of a house with rats in the basement and bats in the belfry.” Her cheeks flushed, but she managed to get herself under control and added, “I’m not going to take it, Deanna. I’ve been pushed around all my life, first by my parents and then by an abusive jerk who used to hit me when his car wouldn’t start on cold mornings.”
“Maybe you and Cody could stay here until you can afford an apartment,” I said. “I can sleep in Amy’s room on a cot. It’ll be crowded in the morning when we have to share the one bathroom, but-“
“No, thanks. This is my problem and I’m going to solve it. I’ll think of something.”
She gathered up Cody’s coat and books, then called him. He appeared with a construction-paper eye-patch, a moustache drawn with a felt-tipped pen, and a piece of paper covered with pencil markings.
“I’m Long John Silver,” he announced, “and I know where the buried treasure lies.”
Something strange flashed across her face. “In the basement?” she said softly.
“No, down by the creek under a big tree. Tomorrow I’m going to dig it up and give you a chest filled with gold doubloons.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said, helping him on with his coat.
After they left, I settled Amy at the kitchen table with her geography workbook and a gnawed pencil. Most of the time I sat with her to make sure she didn’t start doodling, but that evening I was too distracted to stay put.
When my daughter finally came home, I went into my bedroom and lay down, wondering just what Sarah might have in mind.
Jem Wafford should have been doing the same.
What she did a few nights later was so peculiar I almost went across the street to make sure she wasn’t drunk. I was in the front room when I noticed Gerald was back. He was getting to be a familiar figure in his overcoat, his hands in his pockets, his bald head reminding me of a full moon. I glanced at the upstairs windows to see if Sarah was there, but the shades were drawn.
I stayed where I was, my fingers crossed in hopes she hadn’t gone out and bought a gun. Gerald may have frightened her, but she’d have a hard time convincing a jury she’d shot him in self-defence.
I was beginning to feel relieved when her front porch light went on and she came outside. Her hands were blessedly empty, and she was dressed only in jeans and a thin T-shirt. I expected her to start cursing at Gerald, but she went down the steps and across the yard to join him. He retreated, but she kept smiling and talking like he was a neighbour from down the street. Pretty soon he stopped edging away from her and began to bobble his head. I couldn’t see if he was saying anything in response-I’d have been surprised if he had-but Sarah didn’t seem to notice. After a moment, she put her hand on his arm and led him toward her house. He moved reluctantly, but she kept her grip on him. Before long, they were inside and the front door was closed.
My heart was pounding so hard that I sat down in the rocking chair and forced myself to take a couple of slow breaths. I’d been the one swearing that Gerald wouldn’t hurt anyone, but I had no way of knowing how his mother’s death might have affected him deep down inside. Staring at the house was one thing; actually being inside it might set off all kinds of raw emotions.