Old Enough | Chapter 14

Chapter 14
WHOSE BONES?

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The marshal called Mr. Watch and said meet him at the café. He said it was urgent and bring Miss Valjean! Manno! Okay, she's Nurse Comfort's aunt. That must be why. The marshal put away his cell phone. Then, like Molly, he kept his eyes on the road. Also, he didn't talk to Neal or Molly or himself. Neal got the message. Through the window he saw red birds and blue jays. You can be quiet but you can't stop thinking so he thought about how white would make our flag and how it was one of those days.

They pulled into the Travel Stop lot and he unbuckled and climbed down from the truck. Molly's feet skittered on the seat. She lost traction. Like him, she craved quick freedom and quick action.

Look out! Mr. Watch was worth watching! Parking the scooter took some serious doing since Miss Valjean sat way up high on a padded wooden circle mounted on metal rods behind the driver's seat. She was miles off the ground and looking over the top of his head. She leaned forward and then sideways and then back. Whichever way she leaned, he had to lean the other way or they'd tip. Neal could have managed the passenger's job way better. In her peaked sunbonnet, Miss Valjean looked like a super tall shaky witch until she got off by herself, waving Mr. Watch away and bobbing and dipping her head. After that a super small shaky witch is what she looked like instead.

The marshal asked Neal to put Molly in the pen and you wouldn't believe the big old nose kiss she gave Rufus and neither did Rufus. Also, you wouldn't believe how fast you can move if you really and truly hurry! Hey, there are times you don't want to miss anything because if you do, you can forget about understanding what comes next. The closed sign was lit. After Neal hurried in, the marshal locked the door and they went into the kitchen. Mr. Watch, Miss Valjean and Mariah were sitting. Neal's mother and Aunt Ida were standing. Aunt Ida held an eggbeater so it dripped over a blue bowl on the table. The marshal asked her and Neal's mother to sit down and told Mr. Watch to hush. "Listen, everyone. First I'm talking here and then I'm calling Sheriff Jackson."

"Lord have mercy on us all," said Aunt Ida after the marshal finished with Nurse Comfort. Nobody interrupted while he told the story. Still it took a long time. "I never would have believed it of the woman. Tending to the sick, pillar of the church, fine organist, I ask you: what are we coming to? I'd as soon have thought evil of my own kinfolk as Mary Comfort!" Aunt Ida snuck a look at Miss Valjean like she wished she hadn't said the kinfolk thing. Then she hunched over the bowl and began beating; you could see she had to do something with her hands and beating beat thumb twiddling.

"Boyd Easily does not lie," Mr. Watch said to Miss Valjean's hand that he held so tight her pressed bones and veins showed up and her skin went white. She listened to him like she thought he was saying something way important she ought to write down and keep or maybe she just likes listening to Mr. Watch. Are they together from now on? Wur! New pairs turn up in your life. This is a fact. The marshal didn't seem to mind. Of course, he wants to marry Neal's mother. You have to make room for new pairs. They may be rough kinks you could do without but if you're a kid and not from a normal family, you have no choice. No big; it's a little like breaking in new corduroys.

"Sorry to share bad news this way, Miss Valjean," the marshal said, "Mary being your niece and all but seemed best to let you tell Doc before he hears it from someone else. Will you do that, please?" He always treats Miss Valjean like she's the queen bee.

"Certainly," she said, nodding her peaks. "Kindly bring water, Neal, so I can speak?"

Shavure, yavou avold wavitch! Of course, she had to order him around. You could say she was asking but she wasn't. It's telling if the other person can't refuse. In the kitchen he thumped the stool into place. When he returned, she was already bobbing and bouncing and chattering while everyone else listened. If Iris had been there, he could have showed plain as day that it had nothing to do with Adolph Hitler. It was just plain bossiness and hogging attention although maybe he should let up on Miss Valjean. Hey, her niece and lots of other people are way worse and way meaner.

"I did have worrisome letters from my twin," she said. Look out! She was crying. Well, it wasn't because of what he'd been thinking about her because unless you think out loud or make a face people don't know your thoughts. It better stay that way too or there'll be even bigger trouble than there is already. With his free hand Mr. Watch offered her a handkerchief and Miss Valjean snuffled into it. "Now I wonder if Mary was responsible for the tragic deaths of her parents. She seems to have been born or raised, as the case may be, without ordinary morals or conscience. Anyway, brother must face truth. He's been silly about her for years. Unfortunately, old bachelors succumb to the children of family members. Oh, yes, I've seen this happen to others."

At last she stopped jabbering and took the glass from Neal. Mr. Watch let her go because she needed both hands to drink. When she set down the glass, he grabbed her right hand like it was $5.5 million. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd been on the other side of her and grabbed her left. It was her he was grabbing. Anyhow, he held her right hand up and shook it. Well, he wouldn't shake her. He might squeeze her. Wur!

"Let's go see the Doc, honey," he said. After they left, holding hands, Mariah, who'd been so quiet Neal had forgotten she was at the table, told their mother it could be a perfect match except she continued to doubt there can be such a thing. Neal's sister is never for sure about the possibility of anything completely good actually happening.

Neal and Pete and Jaime made up for good that afternoon. Mrs. Sanchez took them swimming at the Boonetown municipal pool. Neal was practicing for his Advanced Beginner medal and banged his elbow on the water slide steps. It hurt like anything but he didn't even tell. When he got home, he fell asleep on Mariah's futon with his arm over his eyes. He was cranky when the marshal woke him for supper. Now he wouldn't be able to sleep in bed without the light. He'd be fighting shadows all night.

He finished his second piece of cornbread and asked to be excused. Full as a tick, he went outside. Today was Wednesday with 8 o'clock sharp not far off. During summer, he's allowed up until 10 o'clock on Fridays and Saturdays. On the other days it's 8 o'clock sharp and no nonsense. What's the best way to stay awake until the right time to sleep? After a while he yawned and forgot the question. He scratched Rufus's back and rubbed Molly's shoulder. Dogs are always glad to see you and he felt lots better.

He ransacked his toybox (you could call it his storage box) for Bugle Ann. Then he raced through the café and into Mariah's private space to make himself scarce. Aunt Ida says if no one sees you, no one remembers you. Also, if someone spotted him, he had a book. No one was going to get mad at him for reading. When you're where maybe your mother wishes you weren't, having a book along can be a smart thing.

On Wednesday and Saturday nights, Mariah shows "serious drama" or "serious comedy". She starts the movie at 7 when he's awake but Neal is not allowed to watch. It's like serious stuff isn't good for kids even if it is funny. That's okay. Today he'd had enough serious stuff that wasn't funny from worrying about yesterday and hearing about evil Nurse Comfort to being ordered around by Miss Valjean and going to sleep too soon. He was pretty much kicking back until tomorrow. He wouldn't watch the dumb movie so long as he could stay, so long as no one noticed him and made him go.

It was after supper but the show wouldn't start until 7 PM exactly. Mariah likes things to be perfect and regular. She runs the movie program the way the chalkboard reads, no exceptions. Manno, futons are cool! At Mr. Watch's last auction, she'd spent her own money on décor: the couch, end table and reading lamp. "I'd say these are neither nuevo nor riche," she'd told Mr. Sykeston while he was admiring her space. Everyone helped make it cool. The marshal and Neal hung poles from the ceiling and strung burlap screens around the corner to the counter. Aunt Ida donated a couch cover of old red velvet almost as soft is the velveteen throw with the wolf face from Wally's. For some reason, Mariah calls Wal-Mart "Wally's". She feels guilty about shopping there but she makes the trip each month on the tenth. You can shop at Wally's 24-7.

The reading lamp is 3-way. Only the third click works. "Ain't worth diddling with," is what Mr. Watch says. People listen to him because he knows what time and money are worth when you try to fix something. Sometimes the marshal wants to fix it anyway and the two of them argue. Anyhow, the lamp shade is metal and the lamp base is black, heavy and square. No way will it tip and fall. Best of all, there is plenty of table top left for your cup, notebook, pencil and book if you feel like putting stuff down for a while. Neal arranged everything without spilling anything. His cup had water and squeezed lime juice without sugar. His mother lets him have this drink whenever he likes probably because you would never want more than one glass. Anyhow, it seemed like the good life as he settled in. Look out! His sister arrived by herself. She turned on the computer and began to file DVDs, climbing a stepladder to reach the top shelf.

"You like that spot, don't you?" She was in a good mood. Hey, good!

"Yes." Did she know he was trying to hide? Would she be on his side?

"You must like that book; you carry it around a lot."

"I do and I like this spot." Actually, he wasn't so sure he liked the book. He was looking up a ton of words. You get tired of looking up words in the OED or on the Internet. It doesn't matter which. You get tired. Anyhow, even if he didn't like Bugle Ann, he expected he would tell people he did because this is what you do. The marshal read it when he was a boy. He says it takes some getting into but if you stick with it, you'll be glad you did. Okay, Neal was sticking with it and reading two pages a day again. Your own rules are easiest to follow. This is a fact no matter who you are or what you know.

"During the movie, I'm shutting this side off and sitting in the café. You want to stay?"

"Yes, please." Even with your sister, you score. Should he ask for something more?

Navah! He read his two pages. Before she left she gave him a kiss. This happens about twice a year but he did not freak. Hey, he read two more pages and was on page 54 when he heard voices. Peering through the burlap, he observed Delaney and Mr. Sykeston in the holey flakes of brown snow. Swinging around the chalkboard, Mariah was talking to them while writing information about the movie she'd soon be showing.

On his little toes Mr. Sykeston tilted forward. "So what have we tonight?" he asked. "Serious comedy or serious drama? I'd say that Short Cuts, like any film from the immensely talented Altman, can be classified as both serious comedy and serious drama. Wouldn't you agree with that summation, Mariah the Movie Maven Mama?"

Now Neal's sister was adding lottery take and stacking tickets. She had her hair pulled back tight, a pencil behind her ear and an eye on the computer screen. Mariah likes Mr. Sykeston but she doesn't like interruptions; all you have to do is look at her to see that you better leave her alone until she finishes what she's doing or she'll get mean.

"Found any new bodies?" Gross! Clete Dobbs was in the corner bothering the marshal, chugging on his Bud and looking as bad as ever. Neal thought about jotting this down but his notebook was behind the lamp by his empty cup. He couldn't risk it -- navo wavay. He might get caught and sent to bed and miss what the marshal had to say.

"Clete, it'll be Sheriff Jackson or across the river. So you can take your druthers."

Just then the front door flew open and hit the doorstop. A woman marched in and charged the marshal. Look out! She carried a rolled up newspaper like she was going to bop him on the head with it! Fast as summer lightning, he was on his feet. He pushed Clete Dobbs out of his way and Clete Dobbs went. Neal's mother left her cash drawer and hurried after the woman, her eyes big as saucers. The woman got right in the marshal's face. She didn't bop him with the newspaper but she held it like she might. Neal recognized her. She used to have long blonde hair and no glasses. Now she had short brown hair and glasses with black rims. Did Delaney think Trinity Clark was a "suchathemucha" now? Actually, why had Delaney acted so stupid over her when it was Bud he really cared about? Oh, well, who had the time to figure that one out?

"Enough!" she yelled in her brand new voice. "I want to lodge a formal complaint. My life and whereabouts are none of your business. I demand that you stop publishing my name and photograph in your pathetic local rag and asking the readers if I'm alive or dead. I am an independent adult woman who is supremely tired of being hounded."

Delaney, Mr. Sykeston, Mariah and Clete Dobbs had disappeared into the shadows. Mr. Watch's head shone in the light. He might be quiet but he wasn't missing much. Over the tops of his specs his eyes drifted. Neal's mother didn't budge. She's tough in a pinch. She stands her ground and waits to see what she can and can't do. Then she moves or she doesn't. It all depends. This makes her good back-up on either end.

She's good at waiting but the marshal isn't and jumped right in with a bunch to say. "All you had to do was let the Salt Lick County Sheriff's office hear from you, miss. No reason to charge in here like Tugboat Annie on a tear. Your folks are naturally concerned." Folks? Does Trinity Clark have a mother? Davuh! Oh, well, some answers just are. The daughter wore penny loafers without pennies. She and the marshal were about the same height as they stood toe to toe, eyeball to eyeball. Delaney, Mariah, Mr. Sykeston and Clete Dobbs remained hidden. In the spotlight Mr. Watch remained to see what he could see. As usual, life was way more exciting than any book or movie.

"I repeat, my adult existence is my business. Are we clear?" Trinity Clark talked through white teeth. This made Neal remember his back molar and, of course, this made him realize that the tooth had stopped hurting because you don't forget what's hurting you until it quits. He moved his tongue nearer for the test; he couldn't do anything about his regular dental visit but maybe he could bypass a special visit.

You never know. You really don't. He tested and guess what? The tooth had broken through and the gum didn't itch or feel hot or sore any more. He could have shouted for bigtime joy except he's no dummie. Meanwhile, the marshal seemed tired of everything that was happening on this night and looked as if he wanted to be finished with both Clete Dobbs and Trinity Clark for the rest of his life. Deep creases covered the middle of his foxy forehead and lines cut into his foxy chin. A real fox would have snapped and stolen away. But, hey, wouldn't the marshal need to know where to find Trinity Clark? If she refused to call the sheriff, wouldn't the marshal need to tell him all about her? The good news was that, just as Delaney had promised when maybe Neal was where he shouldn't have been and learning what he shouldn't have learned, the remains found by Ham and Molly were not the remains of Trinity Clark. Neal wondered whose remains they were. Even if a person died 50 or 100 years ago, you still want to know who died, don't you? It might get less important but you still want to know who the person was because people are people not furniture. Also, "remains" sounds way better than hair and bones, that's one lesson worth learning for sure.

He wished he could see Delaney's reaction. His sister he expected to behave like a weirdo same as always and Neal didn't much care what Mr. Sykeston did so long as he could stay out of his way. Also, he'd rather never see Clete Dobbs but he was curious about Delaney. Mr. Watch stood and grabbed the light shade. Okay, you need to be ready to shift your attention and interest when there's new action. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Mr. Watch asked the shade, turning the bright beam on the four against the wall. Suddenly they weren't in the shadows; no, they weren't, not at all.

"Good God," Trinity Clark screamed and in from the kitchen marched Aunt Ida. She was waving her rolling pin and loaded for bear. "Who said that?" she demanded. She had flour on her hands and nose and the world's best smell, the smell of warm bread.

"Sorry," Trinity Clark mumbled, "lost it, my apologies." She still stared at the lineup of four but she didn't scream. "Can it be you?" she asked. "What did I tell you the last time? When will you believe I mean business, for God's sake? And make the break?"

It didn't have to be Delaney. She could mean business with one of the other three.

Aunt Ida wasn't near through with what was on her mind. "You watch your language in here, young woman. We don't put up with taking the Lord's name in vain. Not on Sunday or any other day." She headed back but stopped in the kitchen doorway and turned around. The rolling pin hung at her side but she kept her eyes glued to Trinity Clark. She made it clear she had time to wait in case she was needed again to take the Lord's part. You don't mess with Aunt Ida when it comes to the Lord if you're smart.

"Relax, I'm leaving quietly," said Trinity Clark and it seemed like she was. "Contact your sheriff but tell him to leave me alone," she told the marshal and this was smart since she was way better off telling him what to do than talking more to Aunt Ida.

Small but looking sure of himself, the marshal walked her to the door. Neal's mother followed, looking sure of herself and determined not to speak. Hey, maybe not enough had happened and she wasn't ready to make her move or maybe she wasn't going to make a move. His mother doesn't waste moves. Mr. Watch had stopped talking to the light shade and let it go. Aunt Ida still filled the doorway. Delaney and Mr. Sykeston sat at a table and stared at each other. Mr. Sykeston wiped his forehead. Mariah gave Clete Dobbs another Bud. Then she stared at everyone. Also, everyone listened in case Trinity Clark said more to the marshall so their mother wasn't the only quiet person.

"What about your father?" the marshal asked at the exit. Trinity Clark stopped and he and Neal's mother stopped. Trinity Clark held up her fist and Neal held his breath. He wanted to understand what made her so angry. Hey, she was boiling! He probably should have been looking for clues to solve the case but when people are scary and exploding and dangerous, you can't stop watching them; they are just too interesting.

"I want absolutely nothing to do with my father's ugly values. I am 21 years old and as far as I know, there is nothing illegal about living alone and independently if I choose."

Neal ran to the window after she left. The sunlight was almost gone and the security lights were on when she whipped out of lot in her little red Volvo. Mr. Sykeston and Delaney drove off in Mr. Sykeston's Toyota. Delaney has his learner's permit and Mr. Sykeston is teaching him to drive. In Missouri, you can get your learner's permit when you're 13. Neal is counting on this even though the marshal warns it may be hard to demonstrate the need to sustain and support the family. Hey! He'll figure a way.

Behind him Mariah started the movie as though nothing had happened. This is how she acts when things go crazy unless she's the crazy one. Then she's different. Neal left her and raced into the crowded kitchen where the marshal was telling their mother to have the sheriff pick up Clete Dobbs. Also, he was tugging his earring and jingling the truck keys. "Call and give him the lowdown on Trinity Clark. Advise him I'll report later with what more I can find. Remind him I'm still waiting for orders on how to proceed with the Mary Comfort business. Let's see, pretty lady; that's it, I guess."

How could that be it? Mr. Watch, Aunt Ida and Neal were waiting for instructions. "Okay," said the marshal, pulling Mr. Watch over by the refrigerator. Neal went too. Why shouldn't he? "Keep an eye on Clete until the sheriff arrives," the marshal said. "As usual, he's drunk, mean and spoiling for trouble. And keep an eye on Horace if he comes back. That guy bothers me." The marshal talked to Mr. Watch exclusively.

Aunt Ida gave the marshal ham sandwiches, applesauce cake and a thermos with tea and explained what she'd packed for him. He thanked her, shook Mr. Watch's hand and gave Neal's mother a smacking kiss. For a second he looked like he'd forgotten something. Then he patted Neal on the head. Back at the café window, Neal kicked the floor trim. Special agent! Whavat ava javoke! The marshal let Molly in the truck. He didn't wave as he spun from the lot with a brodie and peel. Well, neither did Neal.

His mother decided to tuck him in. She does this a lot now that he's too old for it like the two things go together. But she definitely did not want to watch Short Cuts and obviously needed to do something and even if you are so mad at her boyfriend you'd rather stamp your feet and punch out his lights, hey, it never hurts to make your mother happy. "I prefer entertainment I can trust," she told Mariah. "I don't care for surprises. And to be surprised by the unbearable! To hit a child with a vehicle and to bear the responsible for that child's death! The awfulness takes away my breath."

"Mother, that is one small segment of a beautifully connected plot weaving through the entire panorama of life and death as most of us understand either. The movie is classic Altman. Film simply does not get any better. You know, sometimes I despair." Well, Mariah could despair all she liked. Their mother had made up her mind and she was making her moves. She grabbed his hand and they ran out the door, swinging arms. She sang Playmate, Come Out and Play with Me and sounded way good. You can tell good sounds from bad even if you are tone deaf. When she came to the slide down my rain barrel part, both of them felt like skipping so they did with her twirling and swirling her skirt. Skipping, like making your mother feel better, never hurts.

In the morning he knocked on the door to Cabin C and heard a loud groan. Look out! He put his hand in his pocket on his pen in case he needed it. If you are not allowed to carry a weapon, you use what you have on the enemy. Also, maybe he should get his mother. Was the marshal in trouble? He could hear the groan over the air conditioner. When the door opened he was still deciding whether to knock again or run for backup or maybe hurry around the corner and think a bit more in the safety of some cover.

"What can I do for you, agent?" Across the room Molly stretched and smiled but she stayed on her rug. No wonder she didn't get close. The marshal smelled totally gross.

It was all Neal could do to stick to his P.O.D. because here's the thing. Last night after shadow fighting and crying, he'd done some serious thinking and added one final task for today. He'd decided to explain to the marshal just how hard it is for a special agent whose boss goes off on his own without saying why or where or leaving an assignment for the agent. Hey, maybe the marshal would stop doing it. Anyhow, now was the time even if the marshal smelled awful and the whites of his eyes were streaked with dark red. You can't always wait until things are perfect and complete your daily tasks then.

"Since I'm on the case, you ought to keep me informed about what happens."

"You saying you woke me for a briefing on Trinity Clark?"

"Sort of," and ducking to breathe, Neal dug out his pen but made no mark.

The streaks in the marshal's eyes lengthened and widened. He wore skivvies and his watch and looked at the time. Hey, it was early but not that early. The sun was up all the way. Molly gathered her bones together and got to her feet and when she ambled over to say hello to Neal, you could tell for sure this didn't make the marshal's day.

"See what you started, agent? Okay, you walk her in the Park and I'll see you for 7 o'clock breakfast. Might as well share the news with as many as possible. You can't be alone with your interest. Nope, I'll bet there are plenty of people waiting to hear what I've been doing. I said 7 o'clock." He looked at his watch again after holding it up to his fox ear. "7 o'clock is exactly 57 minutes and 43 seconds from now just so we're clear."

Neal took Molly and Rufus on his route. Actually, an agent ought to get a private briefing but you better believe he wasn't going to complain except maybe to the dogs. You don't always get what you should have. Sometimes you're lucky to get anything. Mariah says life isn't fair and she should know. She says life is sweet though. Manno!

Aunt Ida dished him up some stewed prunes. He pretended not to see the bowl she set in front of him and peeled an orange, which took a while. He hates stewed prunes almost but not quite as much as fish. Mr. Watch and his mother drank coffee. Mariah drank Ozarkwa. It looked like the marshal was right. Everyone wanted a briefing from him. At least Miss Valjean wasn't there to tell Neal what to do. Hey, usually there's at least one decent thing going on if you check all the things that are happening to you.

The marshal came in. "Good morning," he said and everyone said it back. He poured his coffee and sat next to Neal. He smelled way better. "Right," he said. "You all look anxious to hear the story so let me get at it. Truth is I felt plenty guilty about following that little lady but I was between a rock and a hard place since Sheriff Jackson was likely to expect solid facts and details about her place of residence and place of employment. I figured to gather the information without causing her any trouble. Didn't take me long to catch onto where we were headed, straight south on 14, over to Marshall and 65 South, across I-70 and into Pettis County and the 'home of rails, trails, and ragtime'. Sedalia holds memories for some of us, I guess." He looked at Neal's mother like he was about to get mushy. Was he through briefing already?

"More spoon bread?" asked Aunt Ida. She meant Mr. Watch and waved her spatula.

"Don't mind if I do. So outside of Juanita's time there, Will, what's that town to you?"

Manno, Mr. Watch! Why get the marshal going in a dumb conversation about Sedalia when you've lived one county away most of your life? Except for WW II, you've lived one county away by yourself or with first your first wife or with next your next wife.

The marshal leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head. "Never will forget the State Fair. Must have been seven or eight, about Neal's age, when old man Lightfoot took me. Those were the days of freak shows, geeks and hurly burlie girlies. Two-headed calves, dog boys and alligator ladies. Never shook the experience. Never shook the town but what do you say? Times change for the good, don't they?"

"Well, in that regard, they most certainly do!" Okay, personally Neal wouldn't have minded hearing more about alligator ladies but he didn't think there was a chance. His mother looked worried and tired. He bet she wanted to hear more about Trinity Clark instead of more about Sedalia when the marshal was a little boy which was way, way, way back. His mother likes for people to finish things and for things to stay on track.

Mariah was quiet. She was quiet a lot lately. With her blue headband and white shirt and shorts, she could have been a court referee on vacation. She had earphones around her neck so she could go off to her own world when she wanted to. Earphones work exactly like a hearing aid you can turn off. Look out! She was up to something. She examined each orange in the bowl before she chose one. Twice she sliced with Aunt Ida's sharp butcher's knife and twice again. The eight perfect sections, she set on a clean plate. She saw him watching and raised her eyebrows. You know how you feel in a room of people waiting for the one who knows something to share? Well, that's how it felt. If the marshal didn't continue talking about Trinity Clark, Neal was sure the kitchen would blow up into tiny smithereens; finish the briefing he wanted to yell.

"To get on," said the marshal barely in time, "I dropped to the rear, hoping she wouldn't see me, and chased her southwest past the Wal-Mart Super Store and into a nice enough neighborhood where she stopped in front of a brick apartment building and went inside but wasn't gone long. I hadn't finished jotting down the address before she was back with a fiddle case. Well, she looked up the street and I was sure she'd spotted me but, no, she got in her car without making any sign of it. I followed her little red Volvo downtown to one of the new remodeled bars and restaurants. Sully's is the name. I parked in the lot, waited 15 minutes, followed her in and there she was on stage, big as life, she and a piano player, pretty black woman about the same age. They were playing Poor Katie Redd when I got my seat. Grand stuff! The crowd was behaving. Folks knew they were getting a treat. 'Quality rag,' the bartender called it as he served me up a tall Bud. When I looked back at the stage, Trinity Clark nodded and smiled and waved. She knew I'd followed her there. What's more, she didn't care."

"And the sheriff?" Okay, did Neal's mother just tap her foot? He wasn't sure. Wur!

"Forgot my cellphone but called soon as I got home, which was, no denying it, late. Truth is I got stupid and had more than my limit; at least I thought so. Molly and I caught ourselves some shut-eye in the truck before I felt it was safe to drive to Milo."

"You look like warmed over death," Neal's mother said. The marshal nodded his head.

Gross! Did he look that bad? Well, he didn't look good. Blood still criss-crossed his eyes. And, while he might smell better after showering, shaving and brushing his teeth, sourness remained of one you want far away from you. Clete Dobbs -- phavew!

"Admitted I got stupid, beautiful lady. Can't say more than that for myself, can I?" Really and truly, you can't say more than that for yourself when you've been stupid and everyone knows it. Sorry for his boss, Neal turned away and tried to concentrate on the new evidence. Also, turning away from smelly reminders of worse makes sense.

"As I explained, I called the sheriff," said the marshal. "Told him it was just as he'd thought, she wants nothing to do with her father and she's happy as can be. Told him he ought to go to Sedalia and hear her himself. No fooling, Juanita, we all should and I'll drink soda pop. But you want to know what he told me? 'What makes you think she'll be there now that you've given me information officially and I'm left with no choice but to forward it east?'" Okay, it had to be the marshal's morning to groan.

Mr. Watch said, "uh-oh."

Next Mariah said, "ditto."

"Hmm," said Neal's mother who then stood and began to knead bread dough.

"Oh, my." Neal's mother kneading bread dough strikes Aunt Ida as a bad sign.

"You know, I kind of pride myself on being an old working engineer who thinks things through beginning to end but not this time. I apologized. What else could I do? The sheriff said never mind, tried to make me feel less a fool, talked about a delicate line between personal freedom and public accountability. You reported to me, he said. We're straight. Then, he gave me the news on the latest remains. The bones we found belong to more than one deceased party. Some are no more than a year old. The older bones could be those of an infant. He's going to have to find out whose they are or at least try. We ought to help if we can. Any ideas? Juanita? Agent? Jake? Ida? Marina?"

The marshal had Neal's attention. Hey, you can't look away forever. Still, when he looked at Neal, Neal had to look away. Manno! You freak and wander. Here come the bones again. Here come the bones. Also, you think about facts before you have ideas and with too many new facts, you have to think slowly. Besides, if the marshal wants to go off on his own and not explain until afterwards, he can't expect fast help, can he?

"I've got an idea," said Mr. Watch, "my body, your body, any body is here forever."

"You all are a mite too clever by far." Aunt Ida gave up trying to take over kneading from Neal's mother and went to fill the sink to wash the breakfast dishes. She scraped scraps into the pan she has Neal empty every afternoon by her hollyhocks. Yes, but she's not like the mayor even though she means the scraps for wild birds and foxes.

No way would Aunt Ida spend money on birdseed or foxfeed but she has a soft spot for redbirds and bluebirds and even jaybirds and coons and squirrels and foxes. Each gets a share. Geese eat a lot of scraps. Geese and goats eat anything. What the geese don't eat the possum finishes before morning. Eggshells, bacon rinds, orange pulp, toast, Neal's stewed prunes go into the pan. Mariah might take the coffee grounds for her garden or they go with the orange peels in the disposal which somebody else has to run. Aunt Ida won't. She won't load the dishwasher either. She has no use for such "new-fangled" things. Later that morning when the marshal was back in his cabin and Mr. Watch was at the Post Office, Neal's mother told her for about the gazillionth time to use the disposal and dishwasher and microwave, that they make your life easier.

"Yes, and make your life lazier and dishes greasier. Besides, Juanita, both you and I know an easy life is not what the Lord intended for me and we know the reasons why. As for that," Aunt Ida said, pointing to the microwave, "food comes out of there tasting like it was cooked too long in an elastics factory and strung out too long to overdry."

Neal's mother stopped kneading. She left the kitchen and so did Neal. He thought about searching for Pete and Jaime. Then he heard his mother talking to the marshal on the regular phone in the café. Hey, this was a surprise! Wasn't she the one who'd told him to take a nap after using more wash and drops to rinse his mouth and eyes?

She was saying, "listen up and listen good, honey. My money."

Did the marshal stare at the cellphone? Without a video phone, you don't know.

"No, I mean don't cut me short. I know you need your beauty sleep but I need your assurance." His mother stopped. "Neal, go outside. Move it!" She about had a fit.

"Okay!" Manno! Not only was she sending him away but his own mother was yelling at him. Well, not really. His mother doesn't yell. This is a fact. But she did tell him to go and she definitely meant it. When no one wants you around, you feel pretty grim. It was a good time to visit Molly and Rufus and hey, weren't the dogs glad to see him?

The marshal took his mother to Sedalia like she'd told him she wanted him to do when the two of them talked on the phone on her money so she wouldn't be cut short. She didn't want to miss Trinity Clark's performance. Now that the marshal had reported the whereabouts of one of the stars, she wanted to see the show before it closed. The marshal could nap tomorrow, she told him and Mariah, and they'd stay overnight in the historic Boonewich hotel and take a cab to and from Sully's. That way he could have his Buds and not worry about being arrested for drunk driving and getting thrown in the clink. Neal's mother wore her fancy schmancy shawl and earrings from Thailand when it was a country. She was pretty and smiling and sparkling and happy.

After supper Aunt Ida nursed her quinsy and Mariah told Neal to get ready for bed. His sister never minds being in charge. Thavat's favor savure. He was reading when she came into his room to turn out his light. First she walked over and stood by the window and looked out. She was wearing headphones and living in her own world. She swayed back and forth a bit and smiled. Then she came over to give his shoulder a squeeze and called him a little man. Wur, all he could do was think about becoming a big man and the mixed-up remains of babies and grown-ups until the shadows began.