sigh.
“Pair of sunglasses will cover up most of that,” Mark said.
“Yeah,” Kate said. “Can I go now?”
“Sure. No evidence of concussion. Your hard head wins again. You’re good to go.”
“You want me to tell Nick Luther?” This from Maggie Montgomery, Jim’s dispatcher and the closest thing left in the Park to a trooper after Jim went Outside.
Kate shrugged, relieved after the fact to have felt no pain in the act. There was a localized ache in her forehead, and her shoulder was sore from where she had fallen, but that was all. “You can tell him, but there’s no suspect and no reason for him to fly down here. Tell him I said I was fine, and I don’t have a clue who did it or why.”
Maggie looked doubtful, but she said, “Okay.”
“Could you give me a ride to Old Sam’s?” Kate didn’t want to walk through the village with these beauties, mostly because she didn’t want to have to explain what had happened two hundred times. She had a thought, and looked at her trauma team. “You didn’t tell the aunties, did you? Tell me you didn’t tell the aunties.” Johnny had already been to the clinic and gone to school that morning. Once assured of her well-being, he had seemed more inclined to laugh over her shiners than worry about the attack. Men. The aunties would be a different story.
The brothers exchanged a look. “Well, we didn’t tell them,” Matt said.
Kate was able to finish that sentence on her own. She stood up. “But they’ll know soon enough. Get me out of here, Maggie.”
* * *
Maggie dropped Kate and Mutt at Old Sam’s cabin after a detour to Harvey’s to pick up the key to the sturdy padlock that now secured the door. The mess inside looked even worse than what Kate remembered in her admittedly less than functional state the night before.
Most of the boxes had survived, and those that hadn’t could be repaired with duct tape. Sighing, she got to work.
By late that afternoon, all of Old Sam’s books were in boxes in the back of Kate’s pickup, and everything else had been restored to its proper place. Operations had been hampered somewhat by Mutt’s insistence on remaining no less than twelve inches from Kate at any given time. She had actually growled at Kate when Kate tried to shut the outhouse door on her.
Kate stood in the center of the room, hands on her hips, and addressed the ceiling. “What the hell happened here last night?”
Why had she been attacked? She wasn’t familiar enough with Old Sam’s belongings to say with confidence that nothing was missing, but there was enough of value left to preclude the motive as simple robbery, some opportunist hearing of Old Sam’s death and coming to clear out what he could. None of the ammunition had been stolen, all the cans from the case of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup were still present and accounted for—even the loose bills and coins in the Darigold butter can were still inside, the plastic lid still on, though the butter can had been tossed to the floor. If the object of the attack had been burglary, she would have instantly suspected that weasel Howie Katelnikof, but even Howie was smart enough to wait until Kate was gone. What on earth was the purpose in smacking her upside the head at that particular—
She stood very still. And then she went out to the pickup and opened up every single one of the boxes of books to check every single title.
Judge Albert Arthur Anglebrandt’s daily journal was missing.
Eight
She went to the school to tell Johnny he was spending the night at Annie Mike’s in town, stopped at Annie’s to tell her she’d have an extra kid for the night, and drove home, where she unloaded the boxes into the shop and for the first time in living memory padlocked the shop door. She debated leaving Mutt to guard the premises, but Mutt divined this intention via some heretofore unsuspected lupine telepathy and refused categorically to get out of the pickup. Kate swore
“Pair of sunglasses will cover up most of that,” Mark said.
“Yeah,” Kate said. “Can I go now?”
“Sure. No evidence of concussion. Your hard head wins again. You’re good to go.”
“You want me to tell Nick Luther?” This from Maggie Montgomery, Jim’s dispatcher and the closest thing left in the Park to a trooper after Jim went Outside.
Kate shrugged, relieved after the fact to have felt no pain in the act. There was a localized ache in her forehead, and her shoulder was sore from where she had fallen, but that was all. “You can tell him, but there’s no suspect and no reason for him to fly down here. Tell him I said I was fine, and I don’t have a clue who did it or why.”
Maggie looked doubtful, but she said, “Okay.”
“Could you give me a ride to Old Sam’s?” Kate didn’t want to walk through the village with these beauties, mostly because she didn’t want to have to explain what had happened two hundred times. She had a thought, and looked at her trauma team. “You didn’t tell the aunties, did you? Tell me you didn’t tell the aunties.” Johnny had already been to the clinic and gone to school that morning. Once assured of her well-being, he had seemed more inclined to laugh over her shiners than worry about the attack. Men. The aunties would be a different story.
The brothers exchanged a look. “Well, we didn’t tell them,” Matt said.
Kate was able to finish that sentence on her own. She stood up. “But they’ll know soon enough. Get me out of here, Maggie.”
* * *
Maggie dropped Kate and Mutt at Old Sam’s cabin after a detour to Harvey’s to pick up the key to the sturdy padlock that now secured the door. The mess inside looked even worse than what Kate remembered in her admittedly less than functional state the night before.
Most of the boxes had survived, and those that hadn’t could be repaired with duct tape. Sighing, she got to work.
By late that afternoon, all of Old Sam’s books were in boxes in the back of Kate’s pickup, and everything else had been restored to its proper place. Operations had been hampered somewhat by Mutt’s insistence on remaining no less than twelve inches from Kate at any given time. She had actually growled at Kate when Kate tried to shut the outhouse door on her.
Kate stood in the center of the room, hands on her hips, and addressed the ceiling. “What the hell happened here last night?”
Why had she been attacked? She wasn’t familiar enough with Old Sam’s belongings to say with confidence that nothing was missing, but there was enough of value left to preclude the motive as simple robbery, some opportunist hearing of Old Sam’s death and coming to clear out what he could. None of the ammunition had been stolen, all the cans from the case of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup were still present and accounted for—even the loose bills and coins in the Darigold butter can were still inside, the plastic lid still on, though the butter can had been tossed to the floor. If the object of the attack had been burglary, she would have instantly suspected that weasel Howie Katelnikof, but even Howie was smart enough to wait until Kate was gone. What on earth was the purpose in smacking her upside the head at that particular—
She stood very still. And then she went out to the pickup and opened up every single one of the boxes of books to check every single title.
Judge Albert Arthur Anglebrandt’s daily journal was missing.
Eight
She went to the school to tell Johnny he was spending the night at Annie Mike’s in town, stopped at Annie’s to tell her she’d have an extra kid for the night, and drove home, where she unloaded the boxes into the shop and for the first time in living memory padlocked the shop door. She debated leaving Mutt to guard the premises, but Mutt divined this intention via some heretofore unsuspected lupine telepathy and refused categorically to get out of the pickup. Kate swore
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