Peony Street Page 5

  Many years ago, as a lowly deputy in nearby Pendleton, Scott had married a nice girl from that town, but it had not lasted. After Maggie Fitzpatrick’s live-in boyfriend Gabe disappeared Scott had become a very supportive friend. Their relationship had blossomed, maybe faster and more intently on his side, but he believed on hers as well. He tried not to pressure her but he couldn’t help himself. He was soon convinced they were meant to be together.

  Maggie stayed stubbornly devoted to her missing lover until he returned several years after he disappeared. The truth about the kind of man he really was seemed to break the hold he had over Maggie’s heart. After Gabe disappeared again Scott made the fatal mistake of giving her an ultimatum: commit to being with him or let him go. She let him go.

  Maggie Fitzpatrick did not respond well to being bossed around and had a quick temper. She owned a bookstore in town in which she kept a “dry erase board of shame,” where the names of people she had banned from her store were listed. Over the years she had to buy bigger boards to accommodate the growing list. Scott was nearly reconciled to the fact that although he was not on the banned list in the bookstore he was most definitely on the one in her heart.

  It had been challenging to break up with her and still live within blocks of each other under the brutal scrutiny of a small town. In an effort to mend his broken heart, Scott had tried to convince himself that he was in love with Maggie’s beautiful widowed sister-in-law Ava. He quickly realized, however, that he couldn’t substitute his infatuation with one woman for the true love he felt for another. Since then he had been determined to only date women from other towns, and although there had been a few, he just didn’t feel that intense passion he felt for Maggie; anything less felt like settling.

  He was currently single, and Claire was as well. He couldn’t help but wonder. He’d felt something and he thought she had, too; a strong attraction between them when they touched. It wasn’t that irresistible, magnetic force-field he had to contend with in Maggie’s presence, but it was something more than just a friendly feeling; it was a spark. Maybe this kind of attraction was a healthier thing than the heartbreaking longing he felt for Maggie. Maybe it would break that spell. He wished something would.

  Chapter Three - Saturday

  Claire woke up to bright sunlight shining through the gap between the white eyelet curtains of her childhood bedroom. For a long moment she was confused, and during that time some protective instinct told her not to be in such a hurry to rush headlong back into consciousness.

  She rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, but instead found herself facing a small child standing next to her bed. Its head was covered in tangled blonde curls, its nose was encrusted with dried snot, and its mouth was smeared with what Claire hoped was chocolate. It didn’t appear to have any clothes on, at least from the waist up.

  “I Sammy,” he said. “Who’s you?”

  “Hi Sammy,” she responded, now understanding that this was her cousin Hannah’s son, whom Delia often babysat. “I’m Claire.”

  He reached out with a grimy little hand and patted her cheek.

  “You’s pretty,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  As soon as Claire moved he was off like a shot, and she could see from his small, retreating behind that he was indeed naked.

  “Mom?” she called out, “Dad?”

  There was no response. Looking around she realized that her dog was missing.

  “Mackie Pea?” she called out.

  Nothing.

  She got out of bed and wrapped herself in the flannel robe her mother had left for her. As she left her bedroom she heard a noise outside the back door, a low growling, and another sound, like a small siren gaining and losing volume. She opened the back door to see Mackie Pea cornered against the house and porch railing by an immense black and white cat. Two big dogs stood out in the yard watching the standoff with what looked like delighted interest. They barked at Claire but came no closer to the porch.

  “Shoo, Chester!” she yelled at the cat. “Get out of here!”

  The cat turned and hissed at Claire but showed no sign of being intimidated enough to retreat. Claire went back into the kitchen and got a broom out of the pantry. At the first sight of the broom the cat took off into the bushes; evidently, it had lost that battle before. Mackie Pea was trembling, sitting in a pool of her own urine. The two dogs in the yard came forward now that the cat was gone.

  “You were a lot of help,” Claire told them.

  They wagged their tails and panted happily. Claire scooped up Mackie Pea and took her inside.

  “I’m so sorry,” Claire said to the whimpering dog, “you poor baby.”

  She took the little dog to the bathroom and gave her a bath in the sink. Mackie loved a bath, especially the getting rubbed with the towel part afterward. After the bath and rubdown Claire plugged in her mother’s blow dryer to finish drying the little dog’s short fur. When she turned off the blow dryer and turned around she was startled to see Sammy sitting on the toilet, holding onto the front rim with both hands to keep from falling in.

  “I pooping,” he said with a grimace.

  Mackie Pea tried to wriggle free but Claire took her to the bedroom and shut her in. When she got back to the bathroom Sammy was swinging his legs and smiling.

  “I done,” he said. “I need a wipe.”

  Claire unrolled some toilet paper and wrapped it around her hand, completely prepared to do this small person’s bidding, but he frowned, said, “Wipes!” and pointed to the cabinet under the sink. There Claire found a package of wet wipes. Sammy jumped down and bent over so Claire could perform this service. She turned to flush the commode and throw away the wipe and when she turned back around he was gone again.

  “Sammy,” she called out.

  She heard a noise in her parents’ room and when she investigated she found Sammy in there, pulling on some thermal underwear with dinosaurs printed on them. She watched as he dressed himself in these, a sweatshirt with a cartoon car on it, and some cowboy boots.

  “Don’t you have any pants?” she asked him.

  He looked at her as if she was stupid.

  “These is pants,” he said, pointing at what Claire now surmised were pajama bottoms.

  “Of course,” Claire said. “Sorry.”

  As he headed toward the door Claire quickly closed it and backed up to it, blocking his escape route.

  “Where’s your mother?” she asked him.

  He was frowning at her in as fierce a way as a toddler could. Despite his tiny stature Claire found she was a little intimidated.

  “Move,” he said.

  “Somebody should be looking after you,” Claire said. “Where are your parents?”

  “I not telling,” he said, and she knew at once that he meant it.

  Claire heard someone come through the front door calling out, “Yooohoooo!”

  Sammy dove under her parents’ bed and Claire opened the door to the hallway. Her cousin Hannah came down the hall and hugged Claire. It surprised her how emotional she felt seeing Hannah. Instead of happiness and joy she felt a sense of melancholy and loss, which she quickly covered up.

  “How dare you sneak into this town, murder someone, and not call me to help you hide the body?” Hannah said.

  “There’s a little boy under the bed,” Claire said. “Is he yours?”

  “No,” Hannah said. “I don’t have any children, especially not any stinky little boys. They’re so gross!”

  Sammy giggled and Hannah said, “Let’s go have some cookies and milk in the kitchen. Luckily there aren’t any stinky little boys around here we’d have to share them with.”

  “Rowr!” Sammy said.

  “What was that?” Hannah asked.

  “Sounds like a monster to me,” Claire said.

  “Oh, no,” Hannah said. “Monsters love milk and cookies. I hope he doesn’t eat them all up and not share any with us.”

  “Rowr!” Sa
mmy said. “I triceratops rex.”

  “Nice vocabulary,” Claire said.

  “He knows all of them,” Hannah said as they went down the hall. “I can’t tell them apart but he knows all their names. Plus, some of the ones we learned in school have different names now. You wait. He’ll show you the book and then give you a quiz. He’s a very strict teacher.”

  “It seemed like he was here all alone,” Claire said. “Is that usual?”

  “There’s one thing you’ll quickly learn about Sammy,” Hannah said, as she got the milk out of the refrigerator and a package of cookies out of the cupboard. “He’s an escape artist. He’s supposed to be at my mother’s house. She called me a few minutes ago to say, ‘I just turned around for a second and he was gone.’”

  Hannah did a spot-on imitation of her mother’s high, whiny voice.

  “I believe her,” Claire said. “He seems to appear and disappear.”

  “He’s fast,” Hannah said. “The trick with Sammy is to give him a reason to stay put. He gets bored at her house because she won’t play with him.”

  “What about a daycare, where he can play with other kids?”

  “He’s been kicked out of every daycare in the county. They don’t have enough staff to keep track of him, plus the fire department and police are tired of looking for him. Sam thinks we ought to put a GPS ankle bracelet on him, to save time.”

  “Oh my gosh, Hannah,” Claire said. “Don’t you worry about what will happen to him?”

  Hannah gave Claire the same look Sammy had given her in the bedroom, the one that indicated she must be mentally deficient.

  “I’m doing the best I can,” she said. “After I got pregnant and Sam got his legs back under him we had an honest talk about what we both needed to be happy. I wanted to buy Lily Crawford’s farm so we’d be closer to town, for the baby. Sam wanted to dissolve his business and do contract work instead. He and Coach Riggenbottom started a physical therapy program for returning vets at the community center, but that doesn’t pay anything. We want to do what makes us both happy but the mortgage must be paid, we must have health insurance, and Sammy must be fed and clothed; so I must work. I’m still the county’s domestic animal control officer, plus I work at the vet’s office and waitress at the Thorn. If I’m not sleeping I’m working.”

  “Did you sell the family farm?”

  “We tried to but no one wanted to pay what it was worth. We’re renting it to Drew Rosen, the veterinarian. Have you met him?”

  “No.”

  “Seriously cute,” Hannah said. “I’ll set that up for you if you want.”

  “No, thanks,” Claire said. “I’ve got enough trouble in my life right now.”

  Hannah’s cell phone played “I Feel Good” by James Brown. After she saw who it was she answered and then listened.

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, and ended the call. “There’s a doe in the IGA. Can you watch Sammy ‘til I get back?”

  “Doe as in deer?”

  “A female deer, ray, a drop of golden sun,” Hannah sang, terribly. “Me, a name I call myself …”

  “Sure,” Claire interrupted. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all any of us can do,” Hannah said, and then she yelled down the hall, “Be good for Claire and I’ll bring you something.”

  “What?” was the reply from under the bed.

  “Something for your treasure chest,” she called out, and then winked at Claire. “Good luck.”

  Two hours later Claire was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking the last dregs of a pot of coffee while watching Sammy feed Mackie Pea rings of oat cereal. The little dog sat at Sammy’s feet, waiting patiently as he pushed each circle to the edge of the table. As soon as it fell the dog would catch it with a loud snap of the jaws that made Sammy laugh. It looked as if the small boy was training the dog but Claire knew better.

  “Where’s his tail go?” Sammy asked.

  “Mackie Pea is a little girl dog,” Claire said. “Boston Terriers have their tails docked when they’re little.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Probably,” Claire said.

  “When I steps on my dog’s tail he say YIPE!” Sammy said. “Why’s they’s cutting her tail off?”

  “People do weird things to dogs,” Claire said. “To make them look a certain way.”

  “They’s always trying to cut my hair,” Sammy said, “but I not.”

  “Good for you,” Claire said. “You should grow it down to the ground.”

  “Down to the ground?” Sammy asked. “Down to my feets?”

  “We’ll have to braid it and wrap it around your head to keep you from tripping over it.”

  “Hairs don’t grow down to the ground,” Sammy said. “That’s silly.”

  “It will,” Claire said. “Unless you cut it before it gets down to your legs you’ll trip over it when you walk.”

  “You have long hairs,” he said. “They’s pretty.”

  “Thank you,” Claire said, surprised by how much the compliment meant to her, even though it came from a three-year-old.

  “You growing your hairs down to the ground?” he asked her.

  “No,” she said, “just this long.”

  “I can cuts my own hair.”

  “Not on my watch.”

  “They’s never letting me have scissors.”

  “That’s because scissors are sharp. You might cut yourself.”

  “I not. I careful.”

  “I’m not giving you scissors.”

  “They’s never do,” he said with a sigh.

  “It’s hard to be you, I guess,” Claire said.

  “I mad about it,” Sammy said. “They’s never letting me do nothing.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay,” Sammy said. “I alright.”

  “Did you like going to school?” Claire asked him.

  “They’s have good toys at the white church school. They’s have trucks, and bulldozers, and trackhoes, and backhoes, and monster trucks. They’s have a big train you can ride on.”

  “Do you like playing with other kids?”

  “Uh huh,” Sammy said. “Where’s you find this little girl dog?”

  “I got her from a lady I worked for.”

  “What’s her’s name?”

  “Mackie Pea.”

  “Mappy Pete’s likes me,” Sammy said and then held up two fingers. “I gots two dogs. They’s names Jax and Wally.”

  “I’ve met them,” Claire said, not bothering to correct him on Mackie’s name or his grammar. “They’re out back, asleep on the porch.”

  Sammy shrugged.

  “They’s likes me,” he said. “You’s want to see some treasure?”

  “Sure,” Claire said.

  Hannah opened the back door and entered the kitchen. Sammy slid out of his chair and ran down the hallway into Claire’s parents’ bedroom. Mackie Pea looked at Claire as if to say, “What was that about?”

  “You can see how close we are,” Hannah said as she sat down. “He’s always so overjoyed to see me. I don’t know why I expected him to be more like the dogs.”

  “He went to get his treasure.”

  “Cute dog,” Hannah said. “Did Sammy give you any trouble?”

  “Not a bit,” Claire said. “He’s going to grow his hairs down to his feets.”

  “I’d cut it off while he’s asleep but it doesn’t seem sporting,” Hannah said. “He howls like a banshee if I even try to wash it, and honestly, I’m picking my battles with this one. Left to his own devices he’d turn feral within a week.”

  “How did you get the deer out of the grocery store?”

  “Popcorn.”

  “Of course. Where is it now?”

  “She’s frolicking in the woods beyond the college campus, telling all the other deer about her big adventure in the bright place with all the wonderful food.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “Some displays; nothin
g that can’t be washed or restacked. You’ll be relieved to know that no tourists were harmed.”

  “I’m so glad,” Claire said. “You know how I worry.”

  “I’ve missed you, you big smartass,” Hannah said. “Enough of my drama, let’s talk about yours.”

  Hannah got up and rummaged through the cabinets until she found a jar of peanut butter. She brought the jar and a spoon back to the table and sat down.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard all about it by now,” Claire said. “I can’t believe Ed Harris hasn’t shown up to interview me for the Sentinel.”

  “He’s on vacation.”

  “That’s a blessing,” Claire said. “I like Ed but he does have a way of asking only the questions you don’t want to answer.”

  “I don’t care who you killed,” Hannah said, pointing the spoon at Claire. “It was obviously self-defense and I will testify to any facts you care to give me.”

  “He was a coworker and I have no idea why he came here or who killed him. We weren’t what you’d call best pals.”

  “Not a spurned, jealous lover, then?”

  “I guess the scanner grannies have been hard at work this morning.”

  The scanner grannies were a group of home-bound senior citizens who had figured out how to listen in on cell phone and cordless phone calls using their old-school police scanners.

  “The consensus is that your mother is too nice for you to have done it, but there’s also a growing conspiracy theory that your years in Hollywood may have corrupted you.”

  “There’s no doubt about that.”

  “That’s your natural hair color, isn’t it? It’s been so long since I’ve seen it I almost forgot what it looked like. It’s dark like Patrick and Sean’s but not quite black. Last time I saw you it was red, and cut like a space cadet’s.”

  “It’s shocking, I know.”

  “According to my mother, you’re terribly thin.”

  “She hasn’t even seen me,” Claire said.

  “She doesn’t have to,” Hannah said. “In my mother’s mind people are either terribly fat or terribly thin. There’s no middle ground. I bet when she called your mother this morning the third question she asked was how you looked.”