X (Kinsey Millhone 24)

“The painting. Tell her it’s a gift. That way she isn’t guilty of stealing it.”

“What if it’s worth millions?”

“I’m sure it is. That’s how she’ll know you’re sincere.”

He sat and stared at the floor. “I don’t know about this.”

“Well, I do. Go upstairs and change clothes. Pick up your passport from the floor in the hall where Stella tossed it. Take a taxi to the airport and buy a ticket to London so you can get on the plane with Teddy. Her flight leaves here at five forty-five, so you have plenty of time to pack.”

“What about Stella?”

“Do I have to tell you everything? Call your attorney and let him take care of it.”

“She’ll hose me.”

“Of course. That’s what money’s for.”

Finally, he laughed and shook his head. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

“You won’t. Now get on with it. And when you and Teddy get married the second time? I get to be the flower girl. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

41

I went home. I hadn’t seen Henry since our encounter with the charmers next door and I wanted to bring him up to date. We’d just picked up a bargaining chip, and if he hadn’t put in the call to the Adelsons, we could save them a trip. As I passed the Shallenbargers’ house, I spotted a pint-size U-Haul truck parked out in front. Six cardboard cartons had been stacked on the front porch. Maybe my reference to my friends at the STPD had been more motivating to Edna than I’d realized at the time.

I pulled into Henry’s driveway, grabbed my shoulder bag, and crossed the backyard to his kitchen door. When I knocked, there was no response. I trotted down the driveway and across the Shallenbargers’ front lawn. The front door was ajar and a carton of canned goods was being used to prop open the screen. I peered in. There was no one in sight, so I tapped on the door frame. “Anybody home?”

From the kitchen, Joseph called “Yo!” apparently not realizing it was me.

I stepped into the living room. The metal folding chairs were stacked to one side and the legs on the card table had been tucked out of sight. The portions of the house that I could see were in a state of disarray. The rag rug had been rolled up, leaving an oval of dust.

Joseph shuffled into view, wearing baggy pants with suspenders, the buttons undone at his waist.

“What a miracle. You can walk,” I said drily.

He’d abandoned all pretense of a disability, though he was still encumbered by his excess weight, which probably played hell on his knees. “Edna’s out.”

“Well, I hope she won’t be long. Are you going someplace?”

“I don’t know that it’s any of your concern.”

He turned on his heel and I followed him into the kitchen, where he resumed his packing chores. Aside from the one carton of canned goods, nothing much had been accomplished in this room. He continued to empty the kitchen cabinets, a foolish waste of time in my opinion, since they could buy the same items elsewhere. Most of what they owned was crap anyway.

I picked up a box of cornmeal muffin mix and checked the sell-by date, which was July of 1985. I opened the top. The cornmeal itself had a grainy look to it, and along the opening there were cobwebs shaped like tiny hammocks containing pupas snugly nestled in sleep. “Disgusting. You ought to dump this,” I said.

I wandered into the living room and then into the hall, checking out the bedrooms. One remained untouched. In the other, the linens had been stripped from the bed and the mattress was propped against the wall. I returned to the living room and paused at the front door.

“Hey, Joseph? You know what? You’re never going to fit all this stuff in the U-Haul.”

No response.

“If you like, I can pitch in. I’m good at toting boxes.”

Again, silence from the kitchen, which I took as assent.

I put my shoulder bag on the floor near the couch and went out on the porch, where I picked up one of the loaded cardboard boxes. I brought it into the house again and set it on the floor in the master bedroom. I went out for another box and then the third and fourth. When the porch was completely clear, I shoved aside the box holding open the screen door. I could have unpacked a few things, but I didn’t want to be that helpful.

I perched on the arm of the couch. “Hope you don’t mind if I sit and wait.”

“Edna’s the one who minds. She won’t appreciate it if she finds you here when she gets home.”

“Too bad. I was hoping to talk to her.”