Amateur Hour

Lisa

She was alone in the dark, and the dark had weight, all the heavier for the only sound being the exaggerated beat of her heart. Weight (thump-THUMP, thump-THUMP). She’d thought nothing could be worse than the singing and dancing on this, her grave. She’d been wrong.

It was cold. The scrap of baby blanket wasn’t much of a shawl, and she was so very thirsty! Would they come? Would anyone come? Why would anyone come?

She drew the rat gnawed tin box closer. Patted it, as if it were Gillie. So tired, throat raw, from screaming. At least her last words were a promise of retribution, and not a whimpered plea, for mercy. So tired, so thirsty. Nothing to drink, but she could sleep. Closing her eyes made no difference, in the darkness. She drifted, dozed…

***

She woke, to a peculiar, loud rumbling. Thunder, she thought, at first, even as the dread crept in. No — too loud, too steady. ‘Welcome to Dixie Alley, Darlin’’, the ghost of Tuck Past joked, in her head.

Cellar? No, she’d never get Gil down. Church basement? Too far, to run. Shower — their only chance.

She had to drag Gil off the bed, where he cowered, whining (not that she blamed him). Down the short hall. Rumbling louder, closer. Lisa slammed the door, feeling the eerie vibration. Shoved, dragged Gil into the shower. Roof nails creaking, boards groaning, overhead.

Stay low, stay low, stay low… Close your eyes, protect his head, and body. Stay low!

The silence was so sudden, so complete, she thought she’d gone deaf. No, Gil was whining and fretting, under her body, wanting to be loose. Lisa sat up, slowly. She didn’t think she was hurt. Gil was fine, lapping at her face, and snuffling at her ears.

She knew what she was going to see, even before she looked up, because the rain was soaking her. Still, she peered up, blinking back the fat drops that fell into her eyes. The roof was gone.

Shot to shit, anyway, she thought. It was somehow so deliciously funny, she laughed, like a loon. Peal upon peal of mirth, until the muscles in her stomach hurt. Winding down, finally, she glanced at Gil, and started up again, at the expression of canine astonishment, on his sweet face.

“Sorry, Gillie,” she managed, at last, wiping her eyes of water warmer than the rain. “Well — let’s go see what’s left,” she proposed, pushing herself up, from the floor.

The storm had made a clean sweep of her bedroom, if one ignored the broken glass, from the windows. Nothing remained, save the sheet of plywood, on the floor. It had shifted, so that the cellar hole peered through it, the black iris behind a half lid. Lisa shuddered, and grabbed Gil’s collar, to direct him back to the front of the house.

The kitchen was a shambles of her own personal items, dishes, and cookware. There was broken glass, from the windows, everywhere, reminding Lisa that she was shoeless.

“Damn,” she muttered, in dismay. She didn’t see a broom, but she did spot her sponge mop. It would have to do, to sweep the worst of the glass out of their path. It was slow going, to the front door, and Lisa did pick up tiny bits of glass, in her feet, but no deep cuts.

The outer wall of the front bedroom had acquired a noticeable inward tilt, and she had to call Gil sharply away from it. Sometime, during her trek from the kitchen, to the front door, it had stopped raining, and she was shocked to see that it was dawn. How long had she been picking her way through the debris? Minutes? Hours?

The first thing she noticed, when she stepped outside, was her Outback, turned turtle in the parking lot. The second, was her roof, which had fetched up, across the road.

Jesus! Tucker — the kids, and Willy! She had no phone.

“Lisa Rawlings?” She turned to see a Decatur County deputy hurrying toward her.

“Yes! My family —”

“Safe and sound, Ma’am. Storm didn’t get anywhere near your place.”

“How… How are you here? So soon, I mean.”

“First things, first — are you all right, Ma’am, aside from the laceration over your eye?”

Lisa frowned and reached up with her left hand to touch the area around the eye he’d indicated. It came back with a small smear of blood.

“I’m fine. My dog’s fine, too.”

“He looks pretty fine,” the deputy agreed, with a grin.

“So, how…?”

“I’ll explain it while I drive you two home.”

Tucker’s grave expression lightened, at the sight of the County cruiser, and he jumped up from his perch, on the second step. Lisa was barely out of the car, when she found herself enveloped in a bear hug, tight enough, almost, to squeeze the breath out of her. She squeezed back.

*******

Lisa didn’t roll out of bed, that day, until noon. She was crabby and cranky, but at least, she was aware of it. A shower helped. A glance at her pillowcase showed her how full of debris her hair had been, and she yanked it free of the pillow, to drop into the laundry, on her way to the kitchen.

Toni was in the kitchen, cleaning up the high chair.

“I’m sorry. I missed lunch, didn’t I?”

“Not by much,” she offered her a little smile. “It was just BLT’s and tomato soup. Your bacon is on the counter. Soup’s in the pot.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t anything fancy. I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” Toni grinned. “Soup, sandwich, simple.”

“Made an ass of myself, last night, didn’t I?” Lisa remarked, opening the bread wrapper.

“You departed in what Mama would have called ‘a state of high dudgeon’. You did it well. She would have been impressed.”

“Would she have given me extra points, for storming off, then getting stormed on?”

“Absolutely. How are your hands, this morning?”

“Much better.” She held them out, for Toni to inspect. The irritation was only pale pink, now.

“I’m glad. Will was afraid you might have some serious skin issue going on.

“I’m afraid your ointment sample blew away, with my clothes, though.”

“No worries. Plenty more, where that came from.” Toni sat down, across from her, and drew a folder, to herself, with a notepad like the ones Tuck always carried, and a pen. “So, do you want Monday, Wednesday, and Friday — or, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday?”

“For what?”

“Meal planning. I figure we can alternate Sundays.”

“I — Will told you about that?”

“He did, and you’re right. I’ve gotten so used to these men, eating whatever you throw down, in front of them, that I didn’t think you might have preferences. Don’t sweat it — I’ll still cook it, unless you want to.”

“I’ll take Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.”

“Great. I’ll fill out my three, then you can fill out yours. I’ll take the first Sunday.”

*******

“Not one shingle missing,” Tuck grinned, when Toni dropped her off. He met her on the porch of the bookstore, and planted a sound kiss, on her lips.

“That’s something. But, my poor car,” she grimaced.

“We’ll get you another ride, before the week’s out. At least you didn’t have that one nearly paid off. You were only into it for six months of payments.”

“True. I hate being without wheels, and a phone.”

“We can go straight to the phone store, after we’re done, here.”

“Everything was backed up. It’s not the first phone I’ve lost, so there’s that. Have you been inside, to look around?”

“Thought I’d wait on you. It’s your shop.”

“Where’s Will?” Lisa asked, unlocking the door.

“He’s looking at what might be salvaged from your things, in the rectory.”

“I didn’t have many mementos, there, and all of my pictures were digital.”

They stepped inside, and Lisa flipped on the lights, or tried to. The power was out.

Tuck broke out his flashlight, and handed it, to her. In the bright beam she could see that her papers had been scrambled and scattered, everywhere.

“Honey, I didn’t —”

“Relax, Deputy. I know you didn’t. You’d have simply taken them, and walked away. This perp has a different M. O.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. He has four legs, likes to lie on that table, when he’s not in his favorite chair, and has ginger hair. Obviously, Grady heard the storm, and it scared him. He freaked, jumped off the table, and spun out the papers. Case solved.” She smiled up at him.

“That’s one theory,” he quipped. “Want me to help you gather them up?”

“I’ll get them. I’d like to poke around and have a good look at everything. And, I need to find poor Grady. He usually —”

Grady chose that moment to come strolling out of the Romance stacks. He trotted toward them, and hopped up on the table, to be fussed over.

“Could you spare your flashlight?” she asked, scratching the cat’s ears and jaw

“Sure. Will probably has a spare, in the truck. In his bottomless box.”

Tuck leaned in, to peck at her cheek, and left.

“You, made a mess, my man,” Lisa accused the purring cat. Grady, clearly contrite, flopped onto his side, and began grooming a hind leg.

“Tornado, was it?” Gerald asked, his face and voice full of concern.

“Yes. I couldn’t make it in here — not enough time.”

“I’m sorry, my dear. You seem all right, if a little battered. Is your dog safe?”

“How did you know he was here?”

“I heard the young man mention having brought him.”

“Right. I forgot.”

“You’re correct, about Grady. I tried to entice him into the basement, but he wouldn’t go.”

“Thanks, for trying, Gerald.”

As they conversed, Lisa gathered the loose pages, turning them face up, and righting them. It would take a bit of time to put them back, in order.

“We parted badly,” he began.

“We did. I daresay, it wasn’t one of your finer moments, sir.”

“It was not. I apologize. Taunting you about your dog, was cruel. Taunting you about your marriage was ungentlemanly.”

“Correct, and correct.”

“You risked your safety, for your pet. You could have gone into the cellar, yourself, had you been a lesser person, and left him, to fend for himself. You must have been terrified.”

“Determined, fatalistic. I‘d done my best. It was out of my hands, beyond that. I’m no heroine, Gerald. I wouldn’t enter that cellar again, for all that booty that’s in that strongbox.”

She gave him a look that was both inquisitive and accusatory.

“Yes, that. No one ever did quite decide what to do with those things. It wasn’t all a single collection, from the townsfolk, you see, but a consolidation of several, locally. Had it been gold, or silver, the obvious way to dispose of it would have been in foreign banks. Metals have set values, based on weight, purity. But, jewelry and precious metal housewares? A different matter, altogether. Returning them to their owners was impractical, for a number of reasons. So, the box, and its contents sat in your cellar, safe and secure, until now. It seems you’re quite the heiress,” he added.

“Not funny. You know damned well that I don’t want it. Any of it.”

“I do know, and I think it’s absurd. It’s unclaimed wealth, and you’d sing a different tune, if it were bullion or coins.”

“Those things belonged to actual people. Coins and bullion are intended for exchange.”

A flicker of amusement crossed Gerald’s face. “The intent behind those personal items changed, when they were willingly donated, by their owners. They weren’t stolen,” he countered.

Lisa scowled at him. She should have known better. Gerald had been an attorney, with an appetite for debate, before he was appointed to the bench. He was enjoying this.

“How will you dispense with the items?” he asked.

Lisa explained her plan.

“You’ll keep nothing for yourself?”

“What would I keep?” Her hand crept to the pendant she wore, as it always did, when she was self-soothing. “It’s all stuff that belonged to doomed people.”

Gerald chuckled. “In hindsight, certainly. But they had no notion of it, at the time. I was there, at one of the events that netted some of the contents of your box. It was a party. Even the plainest lady there, looked and felt pretty, in her best gown. The younger gentlemen, invincible, in their crisp, new uniforms.”

“How very Margaret Mitchell,” Lisa scoffed.

“Miss Mitchell wasn’t entirely wrong about some things. It was a party. Hopes were high, and people were enjoying themselves. I collected some of the goods, myself. I recall one young lady, asking me, if a functioning clasp mattered, before snatching the gold locket from her neck, and tossing it into the basket. I didn’t know her, but I found out later, from her friend that the locket had been a gift from a faithless lover, and that explained her smile, when she donated it.”

It was an odd digression, from the topic.

“She sounds… spirited,” Lisa replied, not really knowing what to say.

“She was. There is a point to the anecdote. You see the collage, and have a misconception about the fragments. She was a rather plain young lady, but her smile was lovely, at that moment. She wasn’t angry, she was freeing herself of a burden.”

“Well, it’s a nice tale, but my plans work, for me. I don’t need someone else’s great aunt Sallie’s brooch.”

“You’re wearing Tucker’s grandmother’s engagement ring, with your own wedding band,” he pointed out, with a tiny smirk.

“Gerald — stop it. It was his, to give.”

“I’m sorry, dear. It was, of course. Sometimes I get so keen to debate, I forget myself. A lady’s sensibilities should be respected, even if she presents arguments worthy of a lawyer.”

The overhead lights flared on, suddenly.

“That was pretty quick,” Lisa observed, switching off her flashlight. “Good. Now I can read a bit.” She raised the papers in her left hand, slightly.

“You’re determined to consume that poisoned apple.”

“It’s just a diary, Gerald. No more poisonous than any other.”

“Child, look at your hands.”

Lisa refused to do so, though she could feel them itching again.

“I’m fifty-two years old, Gerald. I’m not a child.”

“I’m nearly two hundred years old. In my eyes, you’re little more than a girl,” he retorted, before vanishing.