Amateur Hour

In the forty-five minutes she was gone, Tuck had time to take a shower, himself, brush his teeth, and brew some more coffee. They had switched to decaf, for evenings. With all of that done, he was left with twenty minutes to stew. He got out his laptop, and began researching prefabricated barns, as a soothing activity.

He had begun to lean toward the idea of a barn, with living quarters. In some ways, it was a brilliant idea. Their stay here had proved that, between them, they didn’t need much more than a bit of space, to spread out. A kitchen would be nice, and two bathrooms.

It also seemed like a fine idea to be present for the horses. People living right on site of the barns would deter any potential thieves or other miscreants. It would be easy to check on the animals, periodically, too.

The kids could have the larger house for themselves and their kid or kids. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Of course, men were empire builders, he smiled to himself. Lisa might have a hundred very good reasons that this was not a good idea.

In fact, Lisa might be reconsidering her decision to be in his life, at all…

The connecting door opened, and his eyes went reflexively to her left hand. She was still wearing his ring. Tuck got up and met her halfway. There was an awkward moment, that seemed to last forever.

“Are you going to hug me, Deputy, or shove me back through the door? I can’t tell which, by looking at your face.”

He caught her up, and pulled her fiercely to him. She held him just as tightly, for a few moments, then relaxed against him.

“I see,” she said. “Option Three: you’re going to crush me to death.”

Tuck laughed a little, and eased up.

“Sorry. I’m just so glad to see you. So relieved.”

“Has Noah been tormenting you, again?”

The answer to the question surprised him as much as the question had. He released her, slowly. “No,” he said, looking down into her face. “No, he hasn’t. I haven’t heard a peep out of him, since he vacated. That’s unusual.”

“I wonder if he wore himself out.”

“I guess anything’s possible. Except to get rid of him.”

“Oh, I found something out, about that! Well, we did— it came from Toni. Let’s sit down. Is the coffee fresh?”

“Just made it.”

“Sit, and I’ll get us some. You’re going to be so pissed, when you hear this!” she laughed.

“Then, why are you laughing?” he asked, sinking into his usual seat, at the table.

“It’s incredulity. I still can’t believe it.”

She brought their cups over, and sat down. “Today, using your hands, Noah deliberately buried his own body– next to the wrong wife!”

“Wait—What?!”

“Beatrice was his first wife. There was a second.”

“That rotten son-of-a-bitch!” Tuck exclaimed. He found himself laughing, too, out of sheer incredulity, as Lisa had said.

“It gets better. The second wife’s name was Julia Caroline. That’s what Margaret was trying to tell me.”

“Margaret was trying to tell you? When?”

“In the dream. I was seeing it from her perspective. From her eyes. It’s like when the Judge warned me about the ladder. I got the message, but it took some time to put it together. Julia went by her middle name. I imagine, when we find her grave, it’ll be the dominant name on the marker.”

Tuck leaned back, with his cup, feeling pole-axed by all of this information. “How did the subject even come up?”

“I asked if Toni had heard anything useful out of Liam and Janice. She said that they had only found out that Noah had been reported missing, by his wife.”

“And Toni found her on her family tree.”

“That’s about the size of it. Only she had to go out, for the middle name. It was in a Massey tree—One of Caroline’s people.”

“So… she wasn’t buried as a Lovejoy. I could be wrong. I didn’t inspect every stone out there, but I didn’t notice a Caroline.”

“What I saw wasn’t a marriage certificate, either. Common law marriage, maybe?”

“Sure, maybe.”

“The earliest mention of the marriage was two weeks after Beatrice’s death. I have a notion that Caroline was a side-piece, of long standing.”

“Don’t be too harsh, Darlin’. Beatrice was a side-piece, too. Gerald’s.”

“Well, you may have a point. Anyway, I hope Caroline isn’t buried in one of fifty other graveyards in the town, that aren’t mine.”

“So do I. You ready to call it a night?”

“I think so.”

“By the way—are these important?” He tapped one of the leather folders.

“I doubt it. They were in the box I found, that Will brought up. The box was buried under other boxes, but when I opened it, and saw handwritten papers, I just had to have them.”

“Nancy Drew and the Manuscript Mystery.”

“Shut up,” Lisa laughed. “Leave me alone.”

“No. Never again. In fact, I want to go down to the courthouse tomorrow, and get our marriage license. You brought the envelope?”

“Oh, yeah. I nearly forgot.” She opened her bag and produced it.

“It’s Patty’s death certificate. I’ll need it, to apply,” he explained, accepting it from her.

“How long is the license good for?”

“Sixty days. If that’s no long enough, we’ll reapply. I just want to have it, in my hand.”

******************

Lisa wasn’t entirely surprised to find herself in Margaret’s personal sitting room, or to find that she was sitting, on a long sofa with periwinkle brocade upholstery. Kitty sat opposite her, on a low armchair, upholstered in the same fabric.

They both wore mourning, for Gerald. The dark heavy fabric was uncomfortable in the August heat, which was at long last showing signs of breaking, if the thunder in the near distance was any indication. A breeze stirred the cream and mauve flowered curtains, almost chilling the light perspiration that covered her body.

“At last,” Kitty said, turning her face upward, acknowledging the rumble.

“Finally,” Margaret agreed. “I feared I would have to hand water the sods again.” She was referring to the irregular sods that had been replaced on Gerald’s grave.

“I started a little azalea cutting, that I want to put out there, for Beatrice, if it takes root. Did I tell you? Maybe I should start one, for Gerry, as well.”

She had told her, and it was the wrong season for cuttings, but Kitty did have a way with flowers. Besides, losing Beatrice had nearly broken her. She had gotten better, but her memory for what she had and had not told Margaret was still faulty, at times.

“Why, honey, that’s lovely,” she replied, as though hearing it, for the first time. “I know Bea would like that. Vivid flowers were her favorites.”

“Yes,” Kitty smiled, and sipped her tea.

Margaret knew the tea was tepid, but the weather was so hot, neither of them were complaining.

“Perhaps a gardenia, for Gerry. He would never admit it, but he liked the fragrant flowers,” she suggested.

The rain began to fall in fat, heavy drops against the window.

“Should I close it?” Kitty offered. “Your drapes will be ruined.”

“Leave it, for now. It’s stifling, in here.”

“We could go out onto the porch,” Kitty proposed. “I’m not company, really.”

“Well, you are! But, we could go out, if the lightning isn’t too bad.”

They both rose, and Margaret closed the window to a crack. The curtains were getting damp, and she didn’t want a puddle, as well, on the floor.

At the door, Kitty handed her her teacup on its saucer, and Margaret followed her to the back porch, with its stunning view of the kitchen house. Lisa felt her mouth form an ironic smile, as they sat down in the rockers. ‘Sat down’ was stretching the point a bit, as their bustles obliged them to perch close to the edge of the chairs, making any actual rocking impossible.

Margaret wondered why she, herself, bothered with bustles, these days. Gerry was gone, and with him had gone any need to entertain guests, or dress for them. She was about to say as much to Kitty, when they spotted the young woman, half running, half stumbling up the path that ran alongside the long brick outbuilding.

Kitty was the first to recognize her. “Caroline!” she gasped. “What is she doing, here?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

They both stood, watching as the half drowned girl pounded up the boardwalk toward the steps, in a blind panic.

“Noah…” was all she could manage, between panting breaths, when she reached the top and gained the porch. “Please…”

Margaret grabbed the girl’s arm, and propelled her, none too gently, through the back door, while peering back into the white downpour. Seeing nothing, she followed Kitty and Caroline into the house and slammed the door. Without being told, Kitty barred it, as well, then disappeared.

“What’s happened, Callie?” Not that she couldn’t guess by the reddened places on the girl’s face, which would be bruises, by morning, tomorrow.

“Noah…he caught me…”

“I warned you. Even Beatrice warned you. What were you doing?”

“Burying the Lammas bread, that’s all.”

Lisa could feel Margaret’s reluctant sympathy. It was a mere protective ritual, nothing more. Rumor had it that Callie had done more questionable things.

“Come.” She led Caroline into her sitting room, and installed her in the chair Kitty had vacated earlier. Margaret paced a couple of turns, thinking.

Kitty reappeared and entered with two pistols, and handed the larger one to Margaret. “Loaded and primed. I locked the front door, as well.”

“I picked a fine day to give everyone a rest, didn’t I?” Margaret asked, tartly rhetorical.

Kitty smiled, a little, and shrugged. “What was she at? Casting love spells? Summoning locusts? Inventing new poisons?”

“I had nothing to do with that!” Caroline flared. “You know I didn’t!”

“Nothing?” Margaret rounded on her, with a bitter smile. “What did Noah know of Castor beans, before you educated him, Callie?”

The girl crumpled, under the question, and began to cry.

“She claims she was burying Lammas bread,” Margaret answered Kitty’s original question. “It doesn’t merit the death penalty, though I’m sure she was going about it in her usual indiscreet manner.”

“He will kill me,” Callie spoke in a low tone, swiping at her eyes.

“You were warned,” Margaret repeated. “The day you took up with him, Beatrice told you what he was. We all did.”

“You cast me out!” Caroline leaped to her feet, enraged. “I had no reason to listen to any of you!”

“We did nothing of the kind. Sit down. Close your mouth, and listen, for once. You were told to wait. You had enough knowledge to make you dangerous, to yourself, and no discretion, at all. We offered you another chance, but you were and are more of a child—“

Margaret’s lecture was cut off, by the sound of someone flinging his body against the back door. The two older women exchanged a look.

“Behind the screen, Kitty. Take her, with you.” Margaret nodded to a tall, folding screen at the other end of the room, while simultaneously yanking Caroline out of her chair.

“Maggie, I don’t think—“

“Don’t argue,” Margaret said, quietly. “If he doesn’t see her, he may leave. If he doesn’t leave, he may die.”

“If he does neither, we’ll all hang,” Kitty retorted, but obeyed, dragging Caroline behind her.

Margaret knew what she meant. Noah had instigated at least one unofficial hanging, in his day. Kitty had witnessed it, first hand. She glanced down, and saw with dismay the dampness Caroline’s skirts had left on the chair. Somewhere, a window shattered.

**********************

Lisa woke, with a gasp, and sat bolt upright in the bed. Her body was drenched in sweat, and she felt sick. The room was too hot, yet she was freezing. She needed air. On autopilot, she flung back the covers, and padded to the door on legs that shook and opened it.

She realized her mistake, the instant the door closed, behind her, but she didn’t care, as she sank into one of the plastic patio chairs, in front of the picture window. The chairs were an accommodation provided for smokers staying in non-smoking rooms. There were no tables—the walkway was too narrow for that—but there were ashtrays.

Lisa noticed, fleetingly, that there were four butts in the ashtray beside her, and it was a welcome distraction from the nausea and the random thoughts bouncing against her skull. If she could focus on something irrelevant, she might calm down.

Cigarettes, then. Someone had either been sitting here, for a long time, smoking, or had picked this spot to smoke several times, at random intervals. The answer was the same, either way. Tuck had been out here, smoking.

“You little dickens,” she muttered, diverted. “Why didn’t you press the button, and hide the evidence?” She did so, now, with a chuckle. The butts disappeared.

She was calming down. That was good. Too bad she was going to have to wake him up, to get back inside. She leaned back in the chair, and closed her eyes, feeling the sickness ebb away, though the chill clamped down. In a couple of minutes, this wasn’t going to feel so pleasant.

Another download from Margaret. Was it just an explanation of what had happened, to Noah? An image of Caroline’s tombstone would have been of more use, at this point. Lisa plucked absently at the crescent pin at the neckline of her night gown.

How had Margaret found out about the Castor bean poison? Evidently, Kitty had known, too. How had the tainted bottles been smuggled into Gerald’s house?

“What are you hinting at, now, Margaret?”

There was no answer as the room door whooshed open, and warm air flooded out.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Tuck demanded. He needed a haircut, in the worst way. It was almost long enough to tie back, and just now it stood on end curling in every direction.

“Having a smoke—only, I forgot my cigarettes. You wouldn’t happen to have one, would you?” she asked, with a lift of her eyebrow.

Tuck blinked. Then, he flushed.

“All right. You busted me, Nancy Drew. Are you ready to come inside, now?”

“So ready,” she grinned. “I was just about to get up and knock,” she admitted, stepping past him.

“Why were you out there?”

“I got too warm. Felt a little queasy. Do we still have some ginger ale left?” she asked, moving toward the mini fridge.

“About four bottles. Is your stomach still upset?”

Lisa shook her head. “Just thirsty.”

She pulled out a bottle, opened it, and took a big sip.

“Another bad dream?” he asked, getting back into the bed.

“I’m starting to think of them as downloads. They aren’t dreams—they’re Margaret’s memories. Data, you know? This time, I saw everything that led up to Noah being shot. Well, probably not everything, but you know what I mean.”

Lisa capped the bottle and carried it with her, to the bed. She put it on her nightstand and climbed in.

“Your feet are like ice,” Tuck laughed.

“Ah, but yours are so warm!”

“So, what did you learn?” he asked, chafing her feet with his.

“Well, Noah was after Caroline. She took refuge with Margaret. I woke up, just as Noah was trying to break into the house. You know—“ the thought had just occurred to her, “I wonder if that’s why I can open the doors to the old house, while you can’t. Kitty specifically barred the doors against Noah.”

“That’s an interesting theory. You think the place will ever let me in, once he’s gone?”

“I’m sure of it,” she replied, and she was.

*********************************

“If it’s okay with you, we’ll hit the courthouse, first,” Tuck said, getting behind the wheel of Lisa’s car. “The phone shopping always takes forever, and I don’t want to risk having to wait for the folks at the courthouse to come back, from lunch.”

“Sounds efficient,” Lisa nodded.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider marrying me, today?” Tuck asked, in a cautious tone.

“No. I—“

“Well, go ahead, Darlin’.”

“I kind of have my heart set on a church ceremony, Tucker. It doesn’t have to be big, or fancy. I just… Oh, I don’t know…”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make light of the whole thing. Don’t take it that way, please. If you want the solemn, religious ceremony, then that’s what we’ll have. I take it as a compliment,” he smiled.

Before so much as starting the engine, Tuck pulled out his phone.

“St. John’s Episcopal,” a familiar male voice answered.

“Where’s Mary?” Tuck countered. Mary usually answered the phones.

“Who is this, please?” the voice was wary, now, and less friendly.

“Where’s Mary?” Tuck repeated.

“Tucker!” Lisa scolded him.

“Is that you, Tuck? I might have known. Are you calling to harass Mary, or just me?”

Tuck laughed. “Just you, Cecil.”

“You know, I never liked you, when we were kids. Now, I remember why. What do you want?”

“I want you to marry me.”

“I think my wife would frown upon that. And, before you ask again, Mary is visiting her sister.”

“I want you to marry me to Lisa.”

“No. I like Lisa. She’s too good, for you.”

“You’re probably not wrong about that.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“I’m here, Father.”

“Lisa, I urge you, as your pastor, to reconsider this idea.”

“I’m sorry, Father. He bent the knee, gave me a ring—I think I’m stuck with him.”

“Very well, then. I presume you’re calling to set up the pre-marriage counseling? Have you gotten the license, yet?”

“We’re on our way to the courthouse, now,” Tuck replied.

“That works. Plenty of time, but, if you want to expedite it, I can see you today, tomorrow, and Monday, in the evenings.”

“That’s perfect, Cecil. What time?”

“Seven.”

“Sounds good. We’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Father,” Lisa added.

“You’re welcome, dear. I’m sure I can talk you out of it.”

“Bye, Cecil.”

“Bye, Tuck.”

Tuck hung up, grinning and shaking his head. Then, he caught sight of Lisa’s doubtful face.

“Oh, he’s just playing,” he told her.

“Did he really not like you, when you were kids?”

“We were thick as thieves. Used to fish and collect empty bottles together, among other things.”

“I feel a little psyched out.”

“I’m sure you do,” he smirked, and started the car.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I love you, though you over think things. It’s counseling. There’s no pass or fail. It’s just questions, answers, and advice.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Do that.”

“Since you have the advantage of previous experience.”

“And there it is. Lisa picking a fight, because she’s scared. If I thought it would make you feel better, I’d engage, but I know it’ll only make you sorry and depressed, so I won’t.”

A long silence ensued. Finally, he spoke again.

“Did you not know there was counseling involved?” he asked, in a gentle, serious tone.

“No. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“If it really bothers you, a civil ceremony is still an option. I’m happy to go either way.”

More silence followed.

“No, strike that,” he said when they were a block from the courthouse. “We’re doing the counseling.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, as if he had been the hesitant one.

“Yep.”

“Okay, then.”

She smiled at him, and Tuck was once again confirmed in his belief that he would never understand women.