S is for Silence (Kinsey Millhone 19)

“You’re talking about the Blue Moon?”

“Oh, no. The Moon is a bar. My husband didn’t hold with alcoholic beverages. He never had a drink in his life.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. Do you sell automobile parts?”

“Not for the kind of car you have. I heard you when you drove up. It sounded foreign to me. I may be deaf in the one ear, but the other one hears good.”

“What about Chevrolet parts?”

“Them and Fords and whatever, but I don’t see how that applies to this question of the dog.”

“May I see the paper?”

“That’s what I’m still talking over in my head, whether I should pass this on. I don’t want to cause any harm.”

“The harm’s already been done. I’d be happy to pay for the information if that would help you decide.”

“A hundred dollars?”

“I can do that,” I said. When I reached for my wallet, I noticed my hand was shaking. I had to get out of there.

She laughed. “I was just saying that to see what you’d do. I won’t charge you anything.”

“Then you’ll give it to me?”

“I suppose so since you drove all the way out.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

She held the paper out.

It was like the Academy Awards. And the nominees are… I opened the fold and looked down at the name, thinking about the presenter who pulls the card from the envelope and knows for one split second something the audience is still waiting to hear. And the winner is…

“Tom Padgett?”

“You know Little Tommy? We always called him Little Tommy to distinguish from his daddy, who was Big Tom.”

“I don’t know him well, but I’ve met the man,” I said. I thought about how rich he was now that his wife was dead, how desperate he must have been while she was still alive.

“Well, then I don’t see how you can think he’d ever do a thing like that.”

“Maybe I’m mistaken.” I could feel the fear welling up. I tucked the paper in my bag and put one hand on the doorknob, prepared to ease out.

She seemed to be rooted in place but fidgety at the same time. “He always said if anybody ever asked about the dog I should let him know. So I called and told him you were coming out.”

My mouth had gone dry and there was a sensation in my chest like a faraway electrical storm. “What did he say?”

“It didn’t seem to worry him. He said he’d drive over to have a chat with you and get it all straightened out, but he must have been delayed.”

“I thought someone pulled in just a moment ago.”

“Well, it must not have been him. He’d have knocked on the door.”

“If he shows up after I’m gone, would you tell him I was thinking of someone else and I’m sorry for the inconvenience?”

“I can tell him that.”

“Mind if I use your phone?”

“It’s right there on the wall.” She nodded toward the kitchen.

“Thanks.” I crossed the living room to the kitchen and picked up the handset from the wall-mounted phone. The line was dead. I set it back with care. “It seems to be out of order so I’ll just be on my way. I can probably find a phone somewhere else.”

“Whatever you say, Hon. I enjoyed the visit.”

I left by the front door, and the porch bulb went out as soon as my foot hit the step. For a minute I was blinded by the sudden shift from bright lights to darkness. The dog had taken up its barking, but he didn’t seem any closer to the house. I could hear the rattle of its chain as he paced back and forth. I stood there, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I scanned the area around the house. I spotted my VW, parked where I’d left it. There were no other cars in sight. The highway extended in both directions with no passing cars. I found my car keys and listened to them jingle as I went down the stairs. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely unlock the car door.

Automatically I checked the backseat before I got in. I made sure both doors were locked and then started the car, shoving the gear into reverse. I took my gun out of the glove compartment and laid it on the passenger seat, putting my shoulder bag over it to weigh it in place. I threw my right arm over the top of the passenger seat, my eyes on the path behind me as I backed out of the yard. I swung out onto the highway and shifted into first. All I had to do was reach the sheriff’s substation, less than ten miles away. I’d have to cut south from Highway 166 to West Winslet Road, then cut south again on Blosser, which Liza had penned in parallel to the triangle of land where the airport sat. Foster Road was close to the southernmost boundary.