Endangered: A Zoo Mystery Part 17

Chapter Twenty.

Mid-afternoon, dim with cloud cover and the tedious first hints of twilight, found me many miles north of the reptile show. This trip was the second reason I'd taken the day off. Hap and I had run out of chat, and we drove in silence. That gave me time to plan how to convince Pluvia to spill everything she knew about the Tiptons. Instead I spent it thinking about Ken. He'd kissed me good-bye in the parking lot at the reptile show, a little tentative, on the cheek, but a real kiss, not a peck. He'd suggested dinner, but I had to put him off. "I can't tonight. How about Monday? I'm off Mondays." But he had to work Monday and go to a work-related cla.s.s that evening. Tuesday looked better, but we agreed to talk in a day or two.

Pluvia's place was tough to find. The first driveway north of the Tiptons' was little more than an unmarked trail. At the end of it, blending into the thick-trunked fir trees close around, sat a dark cabin that I hoped was hers.

Hap's Crown Victoria stopped amid ferns and salal on the overgrown driveway. He waited in the driver's seat. The cabin was small but in decent repair, with a modern metal roof and a st.u.r.dy porch running across the front. I stepped up on the porch. The Tipton brothers could be hiding inside or in the woods nearby, watching us now. Was coming here pure insanity? No, just desperation. I'd asked Hap to stay in the car, but I wished he were closer.

"Pluvia?" I knocked again. "It's Iris Oakley. I've seen Wanda." No one answered.

An electrical line ran to the roof. I could hear a stream nearby. An open shed held neatly stacked firewood. It looked like a weekend retreat for a fisherman rather than a year-around dwelling, but I could see the appeal of the solitude and untrammeled woods. Pluvia, or whoever, kept it neat.

The porch had only a sprinkling of fir needles. That and the broom next to the door implied someone had swept it recently. A thin path led from the porch steps across a mossy clearing and into the woods. I stepped off the porch and followed it, my back to the cabin. I didn't go far. The thick, wet understory offered far too much concealment.

I turned back to the cabin, flinching at every little noise, and confirmed that no smoke rose from the metal chimney. An Adirondack chair on the porch looked like my best option. In short order I was cold despite my heavy jacket, the damp air sucking heat away. It wasn't raining at the moment, but had been recently and would be soon. The trees dripped. A bird called, one I didn't recognize. A raven croaked in the distance. After long minutes, a car hummed on the highway and faded away. If I waited in the car with Hap, I'd be warmer. But then she couldn't see to recognize me. I relaxed my focus the way my father had taught me, using peripheral vision to pick up movement.

She appeared on the trail where I'd stopped, an indistinct shape with her brown shawl and tousled hair. I waved and tried a smile. She watched for a minute, then walked up to the porch. She carried the shotgun at the ready. The muzzle wasn't quite pointed at me, but my stomach quivered.

"You're the zoo person. Iris. Who's in the car?"

"h.e.l.lo, Pluvia. I wanted to see you, and I was afraid to come alone. That's my friend Hap. Do you want to meet him?"

"No. Why are you here?"

"I've seen Wanda. I went to the hospital." Pluvia had been eager for news. I didn't expect her to be this hostile. I did not like that shotgun.

She kept her eyes on the car. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to tell her that I'd seen her sons."

No easing of the shotgun or the suspicion. She chewed her upper lip. "Well, then. How is she?"

"May I come in? It's cold out here." I wasn't eager to be alone with her and the shotgun, out of Hap's sight, but I had to build a relations.h.i.+p or she'd never tell me anything. Standing on her porch wasn't going to do it. And, like it or not, I needed to see who was in that cabin.

She hesitated, lips pursed, and made a decision. "Come have some tea, as long as you're here. Will he stay there?"

"Yes." I stood up and walked through the cabin door, telling myself that she wouldn't let me inside if the Tiptons were there.

The cabin interior was open, one room except for a back corner that must have been a bathroom. It was dense with rugs and bookcases, clothing hanging from a rod set across a corner, one huge upholstered armchair, a little table with one small chair. A bed was piled with pillows and blankets. The window sills were lined with rocks and white bones. It took me a moment to identify the kitchen area, a camp stove with a propane tank and a little sink set into a short wood-plank counter. Shelving held cans and boxes of food. Pots and a skillet hung from the ceiling inches above her head, too low for mine.

Pluvia lit a fire already laid in a small wood stove. "Sit there," she said, pointing to the arm chair. I smelled wood smoke, garlic, a hint of wet wool. No sign of any large men-no big boots or denim jackets. Nothing on the table to indicate other guests.

"Just a sec." I stuck my head out the door and waved to Hap, indicating everything was okay.

Pluvia kept her shotgun handy as she put a kettle on the camp stove and set out a tea pot and a box of Twinings English Breakfast tea. "I don't have milk. Never drink it."

"No problem. How do you do your shopping? Do you have a car somewhere?"

"A friend commutes past here to work in town. He picks me up on Tuesdays and delivers me back."

"You have a cozy place," I said. She stood near the stove watching me and didn't answer. When the water boiled, she poured a little of it into a white teapot, swirled it around, and dumped it out. Then she measured three spoonfuls of loose tea into a metal basket that fit inside the pot. She poured hot water over that, set the lid on, and flipped over a little hourgla.s.s. She washed cups and saucers at the little sink, still silent.

She knew when the hourgla.s.s ran out without looking, maybe from doing this every day, and lifted out the metal strainer with the dripping tea leaves. She said at last, "I hate teabags. They make terrible tea." She filled two white porcelain cups with gold rims. I declined sugar.

She settled herself in a chair facing me. "Now tell me about Wanda."

I told her about my visit. That was the coin to compensate her for telling me what I needed to know. Was it enough?

She seemed to relax a little. "Thyroid and diabetes. I'm not surprised. Liana knew there was something wrong. She got Wanda to tell Jerome she wanted to go to a doctor, but of course he wouldn't have it."

Hap would be starting to worry, but I didn't dare rush. "Was Jerome a bully and an idiot or just crazy?"

"All of that. He wasn't too bad when he was younger, but he kept getting worse. Every now and then he'd surprise me by doing something sensible, but it got rarer and rarer. I think he was paranoid." She said "paranoid" as if the diagnosis summed up all anyone needed to know about Jerome Tipton.

I sipped tea and burned my tongue. "He left his sons in big trouble. Jeff and Tom don't seem to manage very well without him."

"Those boys... Jeff got the worst of it." She studied me before she went on. "Jerome bullied him and Wanda spoiled him. She was sweet and lenient because Jerome was so hard on him. He got caught in the crossfire. Tom did a little better because he kept away from them more. Isn't that a sad thing to say? I excuse Wanda because she tried her best and she wasn't well, not for a long time."

"You've known them since they were little boys." The tea was cool enough to sip.

She refreshed our cups. "Tom was the prettiest child, blond and bright and full of fun. He was always hungry, and Jerome never let them eat all they wanted. I'd feed him. He'd eat pasta by the quart and a loaf of bread at a sitting, if I'd let him. Oranges, bananas. He'd eat pretty much anything."

"That would be a relief. My boy is two and a half and he's a picky eater."

"Oh, he'll be like that when he's maybe thirteen. You'll see."

We sipped in a companionable silence for a moment. Hap, be patient, please. "Wanda brought Tom over?"

"He'd come by himself or with her. He's come alone since he was four or five years old."

"That sounds so young. I guess I don't know yet how much supervision a four-year-old needs."

"More than Tom got, I'll say that. Don't you hesitate to supervise your boy."

"I won't."

She sighed. "Wanda faded before my eyes. She put on weight and her brains turned to mush. Until she got so sick, she and Liana would visit when Jerome was out of town. Sometimes Tom would come, too. We'd have tea. Liana was all rough edges, but she looked after Wanda as best she could, and she didn't take any guff off Jerome. At least to hear her tell it."

"They stopped visiting because Wanda couldn't walk this far?"

"Even Tom stopped. Wanda always had to sneak out to see me. Jerome didn't like it. Then she just wore out entirely. So I had to go visit her. Jerome would go off in that van of his for weeks at a time. He always took Jeff with him. That's when I could go over."

I drank my tea and did my best to be a rapt and harmless audience. She was edging up to the present, to what I wanted of her. How long could Hap tolerate not knowing what was happening in here?

She said, "I checked a month or so ago and the van was gone, so I went up to the house and called out to Wanda. But Jeff opened the door instead of Tom. He was very ugly to me. I could hear Wanda and Liana telling him to knock it off. Liana came out onto the porch, and they yelled at each other. She was little, and I was afraid he'd hit her. The best thing to do seemed to be to leave, so I did. That's when I started carrying my shotgun. He threatened me."

"Two nights ago he scared me, too."

She looked sharply at me. "How's that?"

"Tom and Jeff came to visit. They broke into my house."

"Whatever for? Why would they do such a thing?"

"I was with Jerome when he died. They asked me about his last words. I think they're looking for his money. You've seen the treasure hunters?"

"I've chased them off my property. Arrogant fools." She looked at me narrowly, the fragile trust ebbing. She set down her cup. "A reporter came here asking me questions. I'm wondering if you're looking for the money. I cannot imagine those boys breaking into your house in the city."

I kept my voice even. "It's the truth. I had to move out to keep my child safe." Now for the point of this visit. "They need to turn themselves in. That would be best for them, not just for me. I was hoping you'd know how to contact them."

"How could I? They're hiding or else they ran away." Her eyes darted to the shotgun and back.

Pressing her was risky, but it was that or retreat empty-handed. "Pluvia, I want to tell you how I think part of this worked out."

She drew back into herself a little.

"I think Jerome called you from the jail and told you where some of his gold was buried. I think you left it at the bail bond office and came back to pick up him and the boys. I think they stayed here for a night. Am I right so far?"

Pluvia picked up the shotgun. "You're just after the money. Get out of here and don't come back."

I sat frozen, afraid to move. "I don't want the gold." The shotgun pointed at me clotted the words in my throat. "I want Jeff and Tom in jail so I can go home again."

"Do I need to prove this is loaded?"

"No." I stood up slowly. "I just want to get my life back."

"You've abused my hospitality and lied to me."

I walked out of the house with my shoulder blades tingling and opened the pa.s.senger door. I looked over the car at her. Pluvia stood on her porch with the shotgun at her shoulder, sighting along the barrel. I couldn't think of anything to say.

Hap said quietly, "A handgun isn't any good against that."

I glanced at the gun he held out of Pluvia's sight. I got in and shut the door, my knees trembling and my breath short. "Just go."

Hap started the engine and backed the car out. The shotgun never wavered. As we pulled onto the road, a patrol car pa.s.sed us going the other way.

Hap drove for several minutes before he asked what had happened.

My voice sounded harsh. "I didn't learn a thing, and now she'll never talk to me again. She's lonely and she's scared. But she wouldn't tell me where they are."

"Maybe she doesn't know."

"I think she knows."

"Don't go back there."

"I won't."

Chapter Twenty-one.

"Quit worrying," said my mother. "It won't help."

"I'm not worrying, I'm thinking." That wasn't strictly true. I was sitting on the floor with my back against the sofa, scratching under two dog collars at the same time and, yes, worrying. I'd failed totally with Pluvia and was no closer to returning home.

Range and Winnie weren't happy. Lack of a doggy door, muddy paws, and my mother's fragile garden beds meant they were kept inside all day. They had good bladder control, but they didn't have to like it. I'd taken them for a long walk and now they got their petting while Robby demonstrated "log rolling" and a crooked almost-somersault that Amanda had taught him today at day care. A small foot caught Range in the rear. He hopped up looking alarmed. "Careful, Robby."

It was bedtime for Robby and soon for me. Time to stand up and deal. Snack, bath, storybook. I was reluctant to cope. The security and support my parents provided had let me lapse into a half-child, half-adult stupor. The sense of being powerless over my own fate further nudged me toward a toxic state of mind. Every adult trait I'd ever struggled to acquire was slipping away. I needed to go home.

The experience with Pluvia still vibrated, fear and self-recriminations bouncing around. I hadn't seen any reason to mention the visit to my parents.

Robby climbed on the back of the sofa behind me. My mother permitted this, on the grounds that the sofa was up against a wall instead of free-standing like mine and wouldn't tip over. Robby would need to re-learn the rule when we went home. Someday.

My father had vanished to the bas.e.m.e.nt. My mother hunted through the papers on the dining room buffet. "The Portland Community College catalog came today. There's a few child development cla.s.ses that you might like." She flipped it into my lap.

I had to hand it to her, she played it well. I responded in kind. "Thanks. I'll take a look." Just as soon as bison tap-danced. She'd worked on me for years to go back to college and finish my degree. I recognized this catalog as the camel's nose under the tent, the renewal of her campaign. In our last exciting episode, six months ago, shouting had ensued. Then, I could just leave. Now, if this escalated-as experience guaranteed it would-I had no place to run.

Robby occupied himself running a plastic car over every inch of the sofa back and cus.h.i.+ons.

My mother settled in the dining room and spread work papers over half the table. "Iris," she said without looking up. "Robby needs new shoes. His feet are growing so fast. I'll take him shopping tomorrow."

"Mom, I'll take care of it."

"You have so much on your mind. I don't mind doing it."

"Mom, that's my job."

She looked up. "Of course it is. Sorry I mentioned it. Didn't mean to over-step."

Now her feelings were hurt. I stood up. "Come on, kid. Time to pick up toys. Do you want to open the toy bin or should I?"

He climbed off the sofa and pulled up the lid to the toy bin-that was fun-and I started tossing Duplos and plastic animals in. "Robby, you help, too." I cajoled and he did the least amount of work he could get away with.

"Just leave it, Iris. I'll take care of it," my mother said.

The wrangling disrupted her work, but he needed to learn to pick up his toys. I sat back on my heels. Which half of this lose/lose equation did I dislike the least? "Kiss Grandma good-night," I said and then led him upstairs.