The Kingdom Where Nobody Dies (11 page)

Chapter Eighteen

At McIntire's words the dog gave a yip, which was followed by a squeak from its owner. Claire Hofer stared terrified from a tear-blotched face, broom dangling from her hand. In a flash, she dropped it and sprinted for the outdoors.

In three steps McIntire beat her to the door. She shrank back against the screen, eyes like saucers. McIntire dropped down to her level, close enough to detect the odor of cow manure. “I'm not here to hurt you. I've come to take you back to Mrs. Thorsen. She's very worried.”

The pulse pounded visibly and rapidly in her throat. McIntire didn't know what he'd do if she started screaming. He tried to speak calmly. “We've been searching for you all night.”

Her words came out hoarse, unchildlike. “There's a big mess.”

“The police will be here soon. We need to leave things as they are until after they see it.” He didn't want to have to carry her off bodily. He added, “Your brother needs you.”

That seemed to do the trick. She relinquished her grip on the doorknob and spoke in a strangled whisper, “I'll walk over.”

“You'll ride.”

She didn't put up a fight.

***

The look on Mia's face when they drove into the yard was worth any number of dog bites.

Claire dawdled over getting out of the car, carefully lifting the pup in her arms. She faced Mia and the priest standing next to her as if they were executioners. “I couldn't come back. There were people in the house. Burglars. I had to hide in the barn.”

“You were very brave.” Mia was being very brave, too. She smiled and calmly put a trembling hand on the girl's shoulder. “Did you sleep?”

“I don't think so.”

“Maybe you should go back to bed for a while.”

“Koski's going to want to talk to her,” McIntire reminded her.

“For cripe's sake, John! She can sleep ‘til he gets here.”

While McIntire telephoned the sheriff, Mia led her small guest up the stairs. She was back in minutes.

“She insisted on sleeping next to her brother, to be there when he wakes up.” She smiled. “Anybody here know how to milk a cow?”

Father Adrien Doucet was apparently a regular Renaissance Man. “I'll go,” he said.

***

As terrified as Claire Hofer was at the mere sight of McIntire, she seemed to have no such fear of the significantly more formidable Pete Koski. She had brushed most of the hay and knots out of her hair, and Mia had fed her bacon along with at least a half dozen slices of buttered toast. Now she sat the table with a cup of Carnation-diluted coffee between her hands, giggling when Koski flicked a crumb from the tip of her nose.

Her brother, too, had awakened at last, and had gone off with Nick to see his latest acquisition, a pair of angora rabbits.

Father Doucet had not returned from his errand to milk the cow. He may have gone into town to see Mrs. Hofer, or Opal might have been more of a handful than he'd anticipated.

“Cigarette?” Koski extended a pack of Camels. Claire tittered again and shook her head.

“Good. You're much too attractive to be hiding behind a cloud of smoke.”

The child blushed to the roots of her hair. She put down the cup and patted the dog in her lap.

“How old are you, Claire? About sixteen?” He was laying it on pretty thick.

She looked about to own up to sweet sixteen, but relented. “Eleven. Eleven and a half.”

“Tell me about what happened yesterday and last night. Everything you can remember.”

She stroked the dogs ears. “The doctor came to see my mother and said she should go to the hospital for a couple of days. He didn't think me and Joey should stay home alone, so we came here. Mrs. Thorsen took us to the lake. When we got back Joey fell asleep, and I went home to do the chores.”

“What time was that?”

“I don't know. Early. It wasn't dark yet.”

Mia began to speak, but Koski shushed her with a raised hand.

“It's okay. Tell me about it.”

Claire went on. She'd fed the chickens and was milking the cow when she heard Spike barking like mad.

“Where was he?”

“In the house. I left him inside so he wouldn't bother me while I was milking—or chase the chickens when they were eating.” The wariness returned. “He wouldn't really hurt them. He's just a puppy.”

Koski nodded. “They can be a little playful. What did you do when you heard him bark?”

“I got up to take a look out the window.”

“And…?”

“There was a car. I could see part of it sticking out from the side of the house.”

“Which part?”

“The back end.”

“Do you remember what color it was?”

“I'm not exactly sure. The sun was shining on it, so it made a bright reflection. Mostly I could just see the outline.” She shut one eye and screwed up her mouth. “I think it was maybe black or blue.”

“Would you know what sort of make or model?”

She stopped in her fiddling with the dog's ears. “You mean what
kind
of car it was?”

At Koski's “That's right,” she pinkened again, but after some thought answered confidently. “I think it might have been a Plymouth.”

“Recent model?” Needling people was one of Pete Koski's favorite pre-occupations, but badgering an exhausted and frightened child?

The thin shoulders lifted in a defeated shrug, and the sheriff favored her with a self-satisfied smile. “We'll show you some pictures later, see if you can pick it out. Did you hear it drive in?”

Her shake of the head dripped with disappointment. Then she brightened and added, “Well, I might have. I might have thought it was thunder.”

“How long had the thunder been going on by that time? What were you doing when it started?”

This time the long period of concentration seemed genuine. “I remember now. I was in the house getting the milk pail. It wasn't very loud, just rumbling, far away. It was why I left Spike inside—that and the chickens. He's kind of scared of thunder.”

“Good! So what did you do when you looked out and saw the car?”

Confidence regained, she went back to the dog's ears, and cocked her head in deep thought. “I just kept watching. Spike was barking like all get out, and then he stopped. I think somebody must have kicked him. His foot is hurt. It might be broken.”

Koski leaned forward to peer at the paw she held for his inspection, nodded, and went on, “Tell me everything you can remember.”

“It was getting dark. The light came on in the cellar for a little while, and then went out again. Then it came on in the living room. I heard noises. Crashing and slamming around. I wanted to go rescue Spike and tell whoever it was to get out of my house, but I thought I'd better wait. In a little while the lights came on upstairs. I was ready to sneak past the house and make a run for it, but then….” Her bravado failed, and she seemed to shrink. “I saw somebody inside the door.”

“A man or a woman?”

“I don't know. It was like a shadow. I think he was looking right at me. The door started to open, and I took off for the haymow and crawled back under the hay.”

“That was smart.”

She blushed again and hid her face in the dog's neck.

“Then what?”

The response was barely a squeak. “Somebody came into the barn.”

“What exactly did you hear?”

“Footsteps walking around. He opened the cupboard door. Then he came up the ladder.”

Mia had sat silent and unmoving throughout the conversation, now her hand went to her mouth.

“Could you see him?” Koski asked.

“No. I was way back under the hay, in the corner. Anyway the haymow doesn't have any light.”

“So he couldn't see either?”

“I don't think so. Not very well. Not unless he had a flashlight.”

“Did you see any light? Like from a flashlight?”

“I couldn't see anything. I could just hear walking around.”

“So he might have had a flashlight?” Why was Koski going on about a damned flashlight? What difference did it make?

Claire might have been wondering the same thing. “Maybe,” she said. “I wasn't thinking about that. I was sort of scared.”

“But you didn't make a sound. You were brave.” He reached to pat her hand, but drew back at the dog's bared teeth. After a space of time in which the child volunteered nothing, he asked, “Then what happened?”

“He went back down the ladder.”

“What did you do after that?”

“Nothing. I just stayed way back under the hay.” The stimulation of the excitement, and the caffeine, might have been wearing off. She yawned and sagged back into the chair. “After a while I heard a car. I thought maybe it was him driving away, but it wasn't.”

“How do you know? Did you look out?”

“No! The haymow only has one window way up high. You can't see out of it.” She sat up straight again. “Anyway, it wasn't the burglar driving away. It was the burglar
coming
back
. I thought I heard somebody say my name, but I wasn't sure. The rain started all of a sudden and was making a racket on the roof so you couldn't hear anything. Then,” her eyes widened in their black circles and she whispered, “the rain stopped for just a minute or two and it was very quiet, and I heard some one right close to me say my name and that they were going to get me.”

Mia turned away, and Koski swallowed and asked, “A man?”

“Yes,” Claire whispered.

McIntire coughed, and Koski raised his hand again.

“I stayed quiet, and he went away. After that it started raining cats and dogs. It was so loud I couldn't hear anything else. I just stayed where I was. It was dark and scratchy, and I got hayseeds in my eyes, but I didn't dare to come out.” She reddened again with no prompting from the charming Sheriff Koski.

“What made you decide it was okay to come out?”

“It was morning. The rooster was crowing.” She looked at Mia. “The house is an awful mess.”

Koski pushed his chair back. “Thank you, Miss Hofer. You are a very brave young lady. Now I'm going to ask for your help again.”

Earlier she might have betrayed some pride at the sheriff's request, now she only nodded.

“I hear you help your mother a lot.”

“Sometimes she's sick. She doesn't get around so well. I do some of the work around the house.”

“Cleaning up, putting things away?”

“And cooking.”

“So you would know what's in your house? Where your family keeps things.”

“I know where everything is.”

“Good girl. I thought you would. After you've had forty winks, I want you to come back to your house with me. I want you to see if you can tell me if anything is missing.”

The terror that McIntire had seen in the dark eyes when they stared at him over the broom returned.

Chapter Nineteen

“Well, well, well, don't you know how to get around the ladies?”

Koski gave his badge a quick polish. “Listen. I got four sisters, three daughters, and a very happy wife. You want lessons, just come to me.”

Maybe he should take advantage of the offer. Marian Koski waited on the sheriff hand and foot, and McIntire's own wife was known to come close to swooning at the sight of Pete in his pointy-toed western boots.

Mia had taken the child upstairs and tucked her in again. The clock on the wall read 7:48.

McIntire rested his head in his hand. “Did you find out anything from Nickerson and Wanda What's-her-name?”

Koski shook his head. “Nothing that was worth driving all the way to Benton to get. They both claimed they got to know Hofer while he was in the CO camp, and both of them said they didn't realize he lived around here until they heard he'd been killed.”

“Alibis?”

“Nickerson works Saturdays, so he takes a day off during the week, and, yes indeedy, this week he had Monday off, the day Reuben Hofer died. He said he was at home. His wife takes over for him on his days off, so he doesn't have any collaboration. Wanda claimed to be at her mother-in-law's, but I haven't checked.”

“Nickerson said he had something that belonged to Reuben— something he wanted to give his widow. He wouldn't say what it was.”

“Hmmmph. That sounds fishy, in itself. Why didn't he just leave it? It's always possible that it was the other way ‘round, that he was after something he figured Reuben had.”

The thought had crossed McIntire's mind. “Somebody tore that house apart, and if they were looking for something, I'd bet they didn't find it.”

“In which case, they might try again.”

There didn't seem to have been any closets not searched or drawers undumped. “Anything new from the autopsy?” McIntire asked.

“Hofer had eggs and fried potatoes for breakfast, and he hadn't eaten dinner yet. That part we knew.” He turned to Mia. “I don't suppose you heard a shot?”

“No. If I did, I didn't notice, and I'm glad of it. Can you imagine hearing a shot, not paying any attention, and finding out later that…. Anyway I'd have had all the windows closed and the radio on.”

“That's what everybody says. They were inside having dinner, with the radio or the fan going or both. Anyway, there's not anybody close enough to have heard it for sure except the Hofers themselves. Most people I talked to never heard of Hofers until Reuben made the news. Sulo Touminen says he didn't even know they existed until Sunday night when he came across one of the kids in that Oldsmobile, up to his hubcaps in sand. He had to get a tractor to pull him out.”

“You know that he was shot.” The grogginess in her voice said that the long night was catching up with Mia, too. “What difference does it make if somebody heard it?”

“None, except to establish the time.”

“Doucet came for me around noon,” McIntire offered. “It couldn't have happened very long before that. Things were still…not dried up.”

Koski stirred a third spoon of sugar into a fourth cup of coffee. “And you wouldn't have got there until ten past or so?”

“I'd say that's about right, even with the padre driving at the speed of light.”

“How long were you there before the girl showed up?”

“Thirty-five minutes, or about that, maybe less.” Now it was McIntire's turn to wonder, “Why?”

“Her ma says she left about a quarter past. Would it take her that long to get to the field? Half an hour or better?”

“She's a kid. Kids are dawdlers.”

“Claire Hofer does not seem the dawdling type to me.”

McIntire had to agree with that. “Maybe Mrs. Hofer got the time wrong. I haven't seen a clock anywhere in the house.”

“You don't need a clock when you got Arthur Godfrey and Helen Trent.”

It beat telling time by the sun.

Koski drained the cup in one gulp and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “There's a deer stand at the edge of the field. A cigarette butt under it. Filtered.” He smiled. “No lipstick.”

Maybe it was the Reverend Doucet, catching up on his birdwatching. “Recent?” McIntire asked.

“It'd have to be fairly recent. Since the last time it rained for sure, but, until last night, that was—what? Two or three weeks? But anybody laying for Reuben would hardly be sending up smoke signals to advertise his presence.”

“Maybe it was after the fact. You know….”

“You have got a sick mind.” Koski groaned his way to his feet. “We'll let you get some rest, Mrs. Thorsen. I'll be back for the girl this afternoon.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Mia asked. “Making her go through the house? She looked on the verge of panic when you mentioned it.”

The sheriff kneaded his lower back. “You think so? I thought she was holding up good for a kid. She has to go back sometime.”

McIntire stood up, too. “She was in the house, busy sweeping things up when I got there last night—this morning.”

Mia wasn't ready to give in. “Maybe it could wait until tomorrow. She's worn out.”

“The rest of the bunch might be home by then. I'll be back for her about one.” He added, “You can come along if you want.”

That seemed agreeable to Mia. McIntire followed the sheriff out the door. He could use some sleep himself. With the cool front moved in, he just might manage more than an hour or two. He'd sleep until noon. Have some lunch. Write a letter to Leonie.

When he got to the car, he turned to look back at the house, still in the long shadows of morning. It needed painting. Not something Nick would be up to. A round face appeared at an upstairs window; Joey had returned from his excursion to see the rabbits. McIntire waved, and the little boy vanished.