The Memory Keeper Page 14

  Chapter 14

  Cody stood in the middle of the motel room staring at the blinking red light on the phone. She took a step toward it but then veered off to drop her wallet and keys on the table. Which would be worse, a call from the whisperer or a call from her mother? Either way her knees were trembling and so she turned her back on the phone and chose instead to look out the window. It was late afternoon and she was hungry, the cinnamon rolls long digested. She could finish the salad she still had in the tiny refrigerator. She could be lazy and while away the rest of the day with her book.

  She could retrieve whatever messages were blinking at her. She stood. Took in a deep breath. Crossed the room, and then, reluctantly, picked up the phone. Four messages.

  “Cody, this is your mother. I haven’t heard from you, and you know very well I worry when you don’t report in. For all you know I could be dying. You call me before six this evening.”

  Cody deleted the message as she glanced at the digital clock next to the bed. Four. Two hours until the call deadline.

  The next three calls were hang-ups. Cody deleted them, too, debating briefly about telling Jess. But since there were no messages, there seemed like no reason to go running for help. For all she knew the motel receptionist had dialed the wrong room number. She paced from the window to the bed and back again, ending in front of the phone, an unwanted connection to her mother. She should call.

  No she shouldn’t.

  Impulsively she grabbed her keys and wallet and left the motel. It felt as if the last few days she had done nothing but passively wait for people to come to her with information. Edgy and impatient, she could think of only one person besides Florence who might have stories about Charles. It was a short drive back to city hall and an even shorter walk to the mayor’s office.

  Kendra stood at the secretary’s desk wearing an elegant burgundy skirt and short jacket that made her pale skin glow. “Ms. Marsh. I don’t believe we had an appointment, and I’m in the process of leaving.”

  “One quick question,” Cody said. “Where do I find your grandfather?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Kendra said, closing a slim portfolio she had been making notes in. “I doubt he will want to talk to you.”

  Cody rubbed her fingernails, caught herself doing it and fisted her hands instead. “He’s an adult,” she said. “He can tell me himself if he doesn’t want to talk. I just have a few more questions.”

  Kendra glanced at her wristwatch. “This time of day he can usually be found at Pulaski’s Bar. It’s on Third about half way down the block.”

  “Thank you." Cody turned for the door.

  “Ms. Marsh." Kendra followed her to the door and lowered her voice. “My grandfather can get…impatient with people who don’t listen to what he says. Please reconsider talking to him.”

  “Thanks for the warning." The sarcasm in her voice startled her. She faltered and tried again. “No, really, I mean it. I appreciate the warning.”

  Cody left Kendra, poised on her high heels, portfolio clutched to her breast, a small frown furrowing the perfect makeup. She feared that if she stayed longer Kendra’s words would eat away at her tentative courage.

  Pulaski’s Bar was an anomaly, a building that stood on it’s own instead of being shouldered up to it’s neighbors like so many of the false front businesses from the frontier days. It was a new structure made to look old, and wore its veneer of history like a Halloween costume. Cody walked up to the door, trying to ignore her shaking knees and the conviction that this was probably one of the more stupid things she had done.

  Inside in the low light, several men lined a counter with drinks in front of them and a television holding their attention. Small tables were scattered strategically, a few surrounded by people, although the bar felt half empty. The place seemed unable to settle on a theme, and held tributes to firefighters, the forest service, and miners. Maybe the theme was the jobs important historically to Wallace. Cody saw a cross cut saw blade over the doorway and an intact and new Pulaski axe over the cash register. Its shape was the only similarity it had to the one she’d dropped in the museum.

  Cody moved further into the dim room and saw Sunny coming toward her with a tray full of drinks.

  “Wow, this is like, so cool that we keep running into each other!”

  “Is there any place in town you don’t work?” Cody asked, relieved to see her, as if she now had an ally in the enemy camp.

  “I get asked that a lot. But you know, rent is like, so expensive, and I’m saving for school, so I do lots of stuff. Plus tips here are really great. You want a beer or something?”

  “No thanks. I’m looking for Keith Naylor and I heard he might be here.”

  “God, why do you want to talk to that mean old man? I mean, he eats people alive.”

  Cody’s knees shook harder. “You know Sunny, you’re right. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “No way. He doesn’t even tip.”

  “Cody Marsh, isn’t it? Still asking questions?” Keith spoke behind her.

  Cody met Sunny’s blue eyes, and saw the same fear she felt. Had he overheard them? She turned around to see the former mayor wearing a practiced smile, and dressed as if for an evening in the city. His concession to a Saturday night in a bar seemed to be the un-cuffed and rolled up sleeves.

  “Cell phones are a wondrous thing,” he continued. “I received a call from my granddaughter that you were headed this way to speak to me. I thought I made it clear at our last meeting we were done with conversations.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Cody saw Sunny fade into the dimness of the bar, and couldn’t blame her for the desertion.

  “You said you didn’t want questions about Ethel,” Cody said, hoping he wouldn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “I’m not really interested in her, other than how she helped my grandfather. But I thought you might be willing to talk some more about Charles.”

  “I’m meeting with someone." Keith turned away, walking toward tables.

  Cody followed him, not sure what he meant by his statement. He hadn’t told her no. Maybe all she’d needed to do was make it clear Ethel wasn’t a topic she wanted to pursue.

  A small table against the far wall held a pitcher partially full of some dark beer, two glasses empty except for foam scum inside, a big bowl of chicken wings, and a plate with a pile of cheese sticks. None of the food looked edible, but Jake was dipping a wing in dressing.

  “Conrad, sorry to keep you waiting,” Keith said, sitting down and smoothing his slacks. “This is the young woman my granddaughter warned me about.”

  Keith didn’t offer a chair and Cody stood there helplessly, with no idea what etiquette required of her. Did she assume and pull up a chair on her own? Did she wait for an invitation?

  “Cody,” Jake said. “Guess you survived Hailey’s interrogation. I’d offer to shake hands but I’m covered in barbecue sauce. Pull up a chair and have some wings. Want a beer?”

  “She not staying,” Keith said. “You and I haven’t finished our discussion about logging, and she is under the false impression that I desire to talk to her.”

  Shame flooded Cody, and she could feel the heat of it scorch her cheeks. “I was simply asking if you’d be willing to talk about my grandfather.”

  “Maybe if you hear this in front of an audience you might pay more attention. You do not understand the dynamics of a small town, how resurrecting long dead rumors impact people. Your digging into old history can have unwelcome consequences for others." He turned over his wrist and looked at his watch. “You may think you are innocently asking about Charles. But you don’t seem to realize, in spite of being told, that stories about him inevitably lead to old rumors best left to lie. How many times does something have to be repeated before it sinks in?”

  The words were pure May, and Cody felt her insides curling up like a sow bug. She shifted to flee, humiliation and training deeply ingrained. But then she thought of her grand
father, and Rachel’s words about standing up for herself.

  “I’m assuming locals here allow you to be rude because you used to be mayor,” she said, with clear and distinct terror shaking her voice. “But I’m not a local.”

  “That you most certainly are not,” Keith said, pouring beer into his glass. “In spite of your questionable claims to relatives.”

  “I’m also assuming you don’t want to talk to me because you are worried about bringing up rumors of Ethel’s affair with your father. I couldn’t care less who a madam chose to sleep with. I told you that. But since you keep bringing it up I think I need to research it and find out why you want it kept a dark secret." She slipped her hands into her pockets to hide their shaking.

  Keith rose from his chair, and while the anger was clear and deep in his eyes, he continued to smile. Cody didn’t want to hear what he had to say, and this time she escaped, hitting the door with both hands, bursting into a full autumn downpour. The rain had come back as if it had never left, as if it had no intention of ever leaving. She took two steps into the deluge, realized her legs weren’t going to take her to her car, and backtracked to collapse against the side of the building where the eaves offered slight protection.

  The door opened and Cody gripped her arms around herself, convinced Keith came after her. But it was Jake who stepped out with a broad grin on his face.

  “Damn, you’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, clapping his hat on. “I had you pegged as a meek dormouse.”

  “I’m going to be sick,” Cody said, sliding down the wall to a squat.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s fed the birds outside this bar.”

  “I never talk back to people like that." She covered her eyes with chilled hands.

  “Hope it’s not your last. Hey, he’s a nasty shit and most people are afraid of him. You’re not alone.”

  “Are you?” Cody asked, taking in deep breaths of the wet air. “Afraid of him I mean?”

  “Sweetheart, he wants my land. Which means he’s buttering me up. At least for now. But you on the other hand, don’t have anything he needs. He can be as nasty as he wants.”

  “Oh, god,” Cody said, sinking down even further. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Jake offered a rough and callused hand, pulling Cody to her feet. “Come on, up you go. Where’s your car?”

  It was a natural response to take his hand, let him lift her up, and there was a brief second when Cody felt the shock of contact, of kindness offered again, just like Kelly had done. But before she could fully react, a police car stopped at the curb and Jess got out.

  “What’s going on here, Conrad? Cody, you okay?” She came forward exuding strength, one hand under her jacket at her waist.

  “What are you going to do, shoot me?” Jake asked. “Cody needs help up, that’s all. She just mouthed off to old Naylor.”

  “Not smart, Cody,” Jess said, before focusing back on Jake. “And no, I’m not going to shoot you, I’m here to bring you in for questioning.”

  “What the hell for? Don’t tell me you’re buying into that whole theory of Hailey’s that I killed Kelly.”

  Jess stepped under the eaves, dark eyes scanning Cody. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Shaky." Cody stood between the two as if a mediator. Or maybe a barrier. She didn’t want to be either and stepped back.

  “It will pass,” Jess said, and then held out a hand to Jake. “Come on, Jake, I don’t have any choice. Let’s just go through the motions until we get some answers.”

  “I already talked to you,” Jake said.

  “But you didn’t explain how you banged up your knuckles so bad.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It has to do with the autopsy report and the bruising on Kelly’s jaw that occurred less than an hour before his death." Jess’s voice had chilled.

  Jake raised his hands. “Okay, Kelly and I got into it. That doesn’t mean I shot him.”

  Cody opened her mouth to defend Jake, to say he was kind to her. But she stayed silent, realizing she’d seen him angry, too, and who was she to claim she knew people? She remembered the day Kelly was shot and how he’d been rubbing his jaw as if it hurt. She’d wondered at the time if it was a toothache. Instead, the ache had been caused by a man who had just helped her.

  Jess caught the sleeve of Jake’s jacket. “You withheld information and lied to me. You saw Kelly right before he was shot. You own a gun of the same caliber and I have a warrant for it. And you have a damn good motive in that the forest service is trying to repossess a home you’ve had in your family for generations. We’ve known each other a long time. You’ve never felt the need to lie to me before. I want to know why you did this time." Anger vibrated under the veneer of professionalism and burned in her eyes.

  “Shit!”

  “Do I need to pull out the handcuffs?”

  Jake slammed a fist into the wall of the bar with such sudden violence that Cody jumped away, heart pounding. Without another word he stalked to the police car and let himself in the back, slamming the door behind him.

  “I hate my job,” Jess said under her breath. “You going to be okay Cody? Where’s your car?”

  “Just there,” Cody said, pointing. “Do you really think Jake shot Kelly and Nate? He seems okay…well, in spite of his temper.”

  “Everyone seems okay until you get to know them,” Jess said. “As far as Jake goes everything points to him, but it’s circumstantial until we get his gun, and everyone assumes he’s guilty because of his ‘angry hermit’ persona. I could see him doing something stupid like punching Kelly. Shooting him in the back is another thing entirely. But what the hell do I know.”

  Cody thought of Jake’s gruff assistance moments earlier. Could he be capable of shooting someone? Well, he was certainly capable of punching someone. She sighed. “I just want this over.”

  “You and me both. Before I forget, I got something for you.” Jess reached into her coat pocket. She pulled out a small shrink-wrapped package and tossed it to Cody. “Pre-pay cell phone. I’m tired of driving around town looking for you.”

  Before Cody could tell Jess she hated talking on phones and didn’t need a cell, Jess had darted through the rain and climbed into the car. Cody watched her pull out into the street, Jake’s silhouette in the back window a slumped shadow of defeat, blurred by the rain.

  She watched them a moment longer, before realizing Keith could come out at any time. That fear propelled her into the rain toward her car like she was a heat seeking missile. She turned on the car and glanced at the dashboard clock.

  Five minutes after six.