he got his car back. Funeral.
‘Drive at a time like this? Do you think that’s safe?’
He wondered about that. He said, ‘I’m all right. You don’t have to worry about me.’
She wished he wouldn’t drive that long trip all by himself. She had an idea. She’d send Merton, send him tomorrow to keep you company on your trip back. She’d do it herself if it weren’t for whatever it was.
No, he didn’t want Merton. He didn’t want anybody. He was all right, he could drive by himself. She mustn’t worry.
Well if you’re sure, she said. She would see him at the funeral. She would fly there and pick him up and they could fly back to the Cape together. Funeral. She promised to call his brother Alex in Chicago, as well as someone in Cincinnati to tell whoever needed to be notified. So I’ll see you Thursday,she said. Notified. He spent the rest of the evening in the motel reading magazines, and when it was time to sleep, he slept.
Tony Hastings picked up his car at the police station the next afternoon. It had been dried out and cleaned. It was full of memory, but never mind that. Bobby Andes had more news.
‘We got the cause of death.’
Tony sat down, waited for it. Andes not looking at him.
‘Your wife had a fractured skull. She appears to have been struck, hammer or baseball bat. Only once or twice. Your daughter had a harder time. She was strangled. Suffocated.’
He waited for Tony to think about it, with more to say.
‘She also had a broken arm.’
‘You mean there was a struggle?’
‘Looks like it.’
He was watching Tony. ‘Something else,’ he said. Tony waited. ‘They were raped.’ He made this sound like the worst news yet, though Tony was not surprised to hear it. He was surprised to hear it, though.
Bobby Andes brightened. ‘I’ll tell you one thing. Seems you were right about that trailer.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your friends took your folks there just like you said.’
‘How do you know that?’
Hammer.
‘We found your wife’s fingerprint on the bedpost.’ As if that were good news.
‘Oh my God. What about Helen?’
‘Not hers, just your wife’s.’
‘Well, whose trailer is it?’
Rape.
‘Oh that.’ Bobby Andes, knowing his business. ‘He’s clear. He lives in Poleville, uses it for the hunting season. The place had been broken into. Someone’s been living in it.’
The news was dark and cold, Laura and Helen in the trailer. ‘Damn,’ Tony murmured. Struggle.
‘Right. We got other prints too.’
‘Where?’
‘The trailer has a couple. Tell you something else. The prints on the car ain’t yours.’
‘Good,’ Tony Hastings said. Good. Why did he say that? ‘Have you checked them against the prints in the trailer?’ Tony Hastings, detective. What good would that do?
‘Too soon. It takes time, man. We’ll have to check the prints in the trailer against the owner’s, see if we can separate out. But I’m hopeful. The owner hasn’t been there since last fall. It looks promising.’
‘I guess it does.’ Tony Hastings polite but reluctant to admit anything was promising. It was too late for that.
‘We’ve sent them to be checked. You’ll be hearing from me.’
Bobby Andes was pleased. To Tony Hastings it was all too late. It was long before he realized he himself might have needed to be cleared in the minds of the police by those stranger’s prints on his car.
TWELVE
Dark, Edward, heavy. With a last paragraph that could ruin the book. There’s no doubt: it’s risk time for Edward, an intersection, where to go. Whether to pursue the evil men and be a mystery, or pursue Tony’s soul and be something else. Susan likes the problem in this chapter: what to do with the rest of the day when you get the bad news. What would she do if she lost Dorothy, Henry, Rosie? That’s a taboo question she doesn’t dare think about except by imagining Tony. Damned if she knows.
She foresees a possible objection she might make later (not
‘Drive at a time like this? Do you think that’s safe?’
He wondered about that. He said, ‘I’m all right. You don’t have to worry about me.’
She wished he wouldn’t drive that long trip all by himself. She had an idea. She’d send Merton, send him tomorrow to keep you company on your trip back. She’d do it herself if it weren’t for whatever it was.
No, he didn’t want Merton. He didn’t want anybody. He was all right, he could drive by himself. She mustn’t worry.
Well if you’re sure, she said. She would see him at the funeral. She would fly there and pick him up and they could fly back to the Cape together. Funeral. She promised to call his brother Alex in Chicago, as well as someone in Cincinnati to tell whoever needed to be notified. So I’ll see you Thursday,she said. Notified. He spent the rest of the evening in the motel reading magazines, and when it was time to sleep, he slept.
Tony Hastings picked up his car at the police station the next afternoon. It had been dried out and cleaned. It was full of memory, but never mind that. Bobby Andes had more news.
‘We got the cause of death.’
Tony sat down, waited for it. Andes not looking at him.
‘Your wife had a fractured skull. She appears to have been struck, hammer or baseball bat. Only once or twice. Your daughter had a harder time. She was strangled. Suffocated.’
He waited for Tony to think about it, with more to say.
‘She also had a broken arm.’
‘You mean there was a struggle?’
‘Looks like it.’
He was watching Tony. ‘Something else,’ he said. Tony waited. ‘They were raped.’ He made this sound like the worst news yet, though Tony was not surprised to hear it. He was surprised to hear it, though.
Bobby Andes brightened. ‘I’ll tell you one thing. Seems you were right about that trailer.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your friends took your folks there just like you said.’
‘How do you know that?’
Hammer.
‘We found your wife’s fingerprint on the bedpost.’ As if that were good news.
‘Oh my God. What about Helen?’
‘Not hers, just your wife’s.’
‘Well, whose trailer is it?’
Rape.
‘Oh that.’ Bobby Andes, knowing his business. ‘He’s clear. He lives in Poleville, uses it for the hunting season. The place had been broken into. Someone’s been living in it.’
The news was dark and cold, Laura and Helen in the trailer. ‘Damn,’ Tony murmured. Struggle.
‘Right. We got other prints too.’
‘Where?’
‘The trailer has a couple. Tell you something else. The prints on the car ain’t yours.’
‘Good,’ Tony Hastings said. Good. Why did he say that? ‘Have you checked them against the prints in the trailer?’ Tony Hastings, detective. What good would that do?
‘Too soon. It takes time, man. We’ll have to check the prints in the trailer against the owner’s, see if we can separate out. But I’m hopeful. The owner hasn’t been there since last fall. It looks promising.’
‘I guess it does.’ Tony Hastings polite but reluctant to admit anything was promising. It was too late for that.
‘We’ve sent them to be checked. You’ll be hearing from me.’
Bobby Andes was pleased. To Tony Hastings it was all too late. It was long before he realized he himself might have needed to be cleared in the minds of the police by those stranger’s prints on his car.
TWELVE
Dark, Edward, heavy. With a last paragraph that could ruin the book. There’s no doubt: it’s risk time for Edward, an intersection, where to go. Whether to pursue the evil men and be a mystery, or pursue Tony’s soul and be something else. Susan likes the problem in this chapter: what to do with the rest of the day when you get the bad news. What would she do if she lost Dorothy, Henry, Rosie? That’s a taboo question she doesn’t dare think about except by imagining Tony. Damned if she knows.
She foresees a possible objection she might make later (not
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