7 Never Haunt a Historian (9 page)

Lucky for her, she had married well. Warren had been on his way out to the grocery store when she arrived. “I think you should stick around a while in case Mo comes back,” he had said with concern. “She dropped in earlier, but she was in a strange mood. Didn’t want to talk to me. But she said she was working nearby and would try to catch you later.”

Leigh pondered her friend’s odd behavior with unease. Maura had always felt comfortable talking to Warren; in fact, virtually all the policewoman’s close friends were men. Perhaps that was part of the problem.

Leigh had promised she would stick around and texted Maura to say so, but thus far she had received no response.

“Mom!” Ethan called suddenly from the depths of the refrigerator, his voice tragic. “We have, like,
no
food!”

“I’m aware,” Leigh responded, crunching a stale pretzel. “Your dad’s at the grocery store now. Didn’t your aunt just feed you three hot dogs and two bags of chips?”

“That was, like, an hour ago!” he wailed. “Can I go to Matt and Lenna’s?”

“To raid their fridge?”

“No, to hang out until Aunt Lydie finishes baking her caramel brownies.”

Leigh sighed. She had vowed not to make Lydie watch the entire Pack all weekend… but if the woman insisted on baking, she was begging for extra company. In fact, if the aroma of Lydie’s famous brownies happened to hit the wind right, Leigh herself would be stumbling to the farmhouse like a zombie.

“Okay, fine,” she conceded. “Is your sister going, too?

Ethan shrugged. “She’s in her room with that book she bought at the gift shop.”

“What book?”

“I don’t know,” he said, whirling to leave. “Some boring thing about the North Hills.”

Leigh’s stomach churned uncomfortably. Most mothers would be excited to have a daughter spend her Saturday afternoon boning up on local history. But most mothers did not have a daughter like Allison Harmon.

“She’s not still trying to figure out—”

The back door slammed closed behind Ethan just as the front doorbell rang. Leigh cast a wary glance in the direction of her daughter’s bedroom as she rose. “Allison!” she called. “Ethan just went over to the farm to mooch some brownies. You can join him if you want.”

If Allison made a reply, Leigh didn’t hear it. She meant to call again, but as she swung open the door, the sight of Maura’s pale, drawn face immediately distracted her.

“Come in,” Leigh insisted, stepping back and ushering the policewoman quickly to the couch. “Have a seat.”
You look like hell,
she wanted to add, but didn’t. Whatever could be wrong?

“I can’t stay long,” Maura answered tonelessly, dropping onto the couch. “But I wanted to let you know what was happening with the missing persons case.”

Leigh held her breath. “Archie isn’t—”

Maura waved a hand. “No, no. It isn’t that kind of news. I just wanted to let you know that I don’t think the guys are planning to pursue the treasure map angle. At least not any time soon. They did a background check on your friend Archie, and he’s not what you’d call squeaky clean.”

Leigh frowned. “What do you mean?”

The detective let out a sigh. “I can’t get into the details, Koslow. It’s not even my case. But let’s just say forced abduction isn’t as near the top of the rule-out list as, say, insurance fraud.”

Leigh sat up.
“Insurance fraud?
Archie? That’s crazy!”

“Historically speaking,” Maura replied, “Perhaps not.”

Leigh shut her open mouth.

“Look, Leigh,” Maura soothed, “I’m not sure I agree with the guys on this one, to be honest. I think they’re making too much of what’s on the record and not enough of what’s staring them in the face. But I’ve done all I can do. At least officially. Unofficially, if you find out anything more about that wonky map of yours, I want you to let me know. Anything weird happens in the neighborhood, you let me know. And make sure the Pack doesn’t go anywhere near that empty house.
Especially
Allison.”

“Will do,” Leigh said weakly.

Maura started suddenly to attention.

“What?” Leigh asked, following her friend’s eyes toward the back of the house.

Maura rose and, despite her size, stepped with catlike quietness to the dining room window. Leigh rose and followed her. The backside of Allison was just visible through the bushes, slipping covertly away from the kitchen door and toward the promised brownies.

“I should have asked where she was before I started talking,” Maura lamented.

Leigh sighed. “It wouldn’t matter. She could be a mile away, and if there’s something she shouldn’t overhear,
presto.
There she is.”

Maura chuckled softly. “I foresee a bright future in law enforcement.”

“Bite your tongue,” Leigh joked. “It’s bad enough stressing out over a friend with a dangerous job. As a mother, I don’t think I could take it.”

Maura’s smile faded. “It’s tough being a mother, isn’t it?”

Leigh’s heartbeat began to quicken. Surely all this wasn’t about—

“I’m pregnant, Koslow.”

Leigh tried to keep her eyes from bugging. A budding warmth spread rapidly through her veins. “Why…” she stammered. “That’s
wonderful!”

Her friend’s miserable expression stopped her.

“I mean… isn’t it?”

Maura straightened and pulled away from the window. Her pale face flushed and she resumed her usual bluster. “How the hell should I know?!” she erupted. “We tried for a long time, but it looked like it was hopeless. And then I guess we both just forgot about it…” She paced the room with a stomping motion, making the dishes in Leigh’s china cabinet rattle. “Gerry doesn’t know yet… he was in the middle of this horrible case, and I wasn’t really sure anyway, and then he went out of town… and I don’t even know what to think because they’re making me take all these tests, treating me like I’m some medical freak show… Hellfire, Koslow! I’m
forty-two freakin’ years old!”

Leigh resisted the urge to smile. “But you’re in great shape, Maura. You know you are. You’re a total hypochondriac about your heart because of the way your dad died, but we both know your BMI makes me look like Moby Dick. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Maura blew out a breath. “Well, the doctors aren’t so sure.”

Leigh steeled herself. “What did they say?”

“Nothing yet. They just sent me all over the damn place getting poked and prodded and probed and I don’t know what all. I’m supposed to get some results back Monday, but even then, there’s no telling what they’ll say. Such and such a chance of this, such a percentage risk of that…”

Maura’s pacing increased. Leigh fought the urge to go and stabilize her dish cabinet before anything shattered.

“I mean…” the detective continued. “It’s insane, isn’t it? To even think I could have a baby now, at my age? Who am I kidding? I don’t
do
infants… I was scared to death of yours when they were little. And my job! How the hell could I manage a kid when I’m on-call such crazy hours? What kid would even
want
two detectives for parents? Even if everything is all right, I’d be nuts to think it could work out. Gerry’s kids are grown now; it’s been years since we even talked about having one of our own. What if he freaks out? What if everything
isn’t
all right? It’s insane, Koslow! Just totally
insane!”

Maura swore for another full minute, using language Leigh hadn’t heard in some time, including a few colorful phrases usually reserved for occasions involving herself and corpses. When Leigh’s ceramic bluebird salt shaker finally reached the edge of its shelf and took a nosedive into the backside of the china cabinet’s glass doors, Maura’s pacing came to a halt. She went silent and looked at Leigh, her blue eyes moist.

Leigh smiled warmly. “You really want this baby, don’t you?”

Maura took a painful-looking swallow, and her voice dropped to a whisper.

“More than anything.”

Chapter 8

Leigh walked across her backyard and headed toward the creek. Her head was still swimming from her conversation with Maura, and she wished Warren would come home, but she couldn’t wait any longer to do her afternoon check on the mother dog. Ghosts or no ghosts, she had no intention of prowling around Frog Hill Farm after dark ever again. Archie’s disappearance was disconcerting enough without thinking about the unfortunate demise of Theodore Carr as well.

Floating in the creek.

Leigh shuddered. It had happened ages ago, she knew, but
still.
She could never look at the creek again without wondering exactly where the man had drowned. The water level was low now, only a couple feet. But in the spring it could turn into a fast moving torrent within hours. When it flooded, she could paddle from her back patio to Cara’s front porch in a kayak. It was not too difficult to imagine a frail and feeble old man slipping into its depths accidentally.

No murder need be involved.

She walked dutifully along the bank, keeping her head down. She had not even thought about the accursed account she was responsible for at Hook, Inc. since Archie had gone missing. And she
had
to come up with something soon. How hard could it be to make pottery crocks from an old stoneware company sound exciting? Had she not gotten people excited about foot odor pads? Machine-washable doormats? Disposable door knob covers? Stupid pottery crocks were messing with the wrong advertising copywriter—

She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened. Six feet in front of her, in broad daylight, stood a Union soldier. He wore a sack coat and trousers of blue wool, cinched up with a waist belt and shiny buckle. His boots were ankle high, and his dark hair was damp and sweaty beneath his flat-topped wool cap. He made no move to come closer, but simply stood still, staring back at her.

Leigh’s blood chilled in her veins. The only coherent thought in her brain was the fact that he had a head.

“Hey there,” the soldier said, his accent all Pittsburghese. “Sorry to scare you.”

Leigh’s cheeks reddened like fire. She looked over the man’s shoulder to see several others dressed just like him poking along the edge of the woods upstream.

She was
such
an idiot.

“We’re Civil War reenactors,” he explained. “We’re all pitching in to help out our captain. You know Archie Pratt?”

She nodded dumbly.

“Well, he’s gone missing it seems, and we’re all a bit worried about him. You live here?” he asked, pointing up the bank to Nora and Derrick’s house.

Leigh collected herself and shook her head. “No, I live next door. Derrick lives here. He’s in your group, I believe.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Derrick Sullivan,” Leigh repeated. “Archie recruited him.”

He thought a moment. “Oh, right. That guy. Haven’t seen him in a while. You know about Arch, then?”

Leigh nodded. “Have you… found anything?”

The soldier shook his head. “Not yet. But we’ll do whatever needs doing, you can count on that.”

Leigh believed him. Any man willing to dress himself in wool from head to toe in sixty-eight degree weather was responsive to a higher calling. “You always dress up for meetings?” she asked before she could stop herself.

The man chuckled. “Nah. We had a company photo shoot earlier, that’s all. Would have changed after, but as anxious as Les was, we all came straight out.”

“I see,” Leigh said, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment. “Could you tell me where I can find Lester? I need to talk to him.”

The man shrugged, gesturing vaguely upstream. “Somewhere by the house, most likely. He was giving out the assignments.”

Leigh thanked him, wished him luck, and doubled her pace. She was not in the least surprised, upon passing the Brown’s house, to see Adith Rhodis leaning over the deck railing with her binoculars plastered to her face, this time with Pauline, Harvey, and Emma all in attendance and watching the spectacle right along with her. And quite a spectacle it was, with at least a dozen apparent Civil War soldiers—some carrying knapsacks, canteens, and/or shoulder straps with cartridge boxes—combing the creek area as far as the eye could see. Scotty flitted among the men like a pesky gnat, and Leigh saw that his father, Joe, was also in attendance. Also not one of Leigh’s favorite people, Joe O’Malley held the singular distinction of being the only reenactor to have stripped off his wool coat, continuing his near-perfect streak of presenting himself to neighbors in a wifebeater. He was also the only one of the men who found it necessary to carry around his rifle, further convincing Leigh that the only reason he had succumbed to Archie’s recruitment was to make things go bang.

Mercifully, neither Scotty nor his father paid any attention to her. When she reached the tool shed she caught sight of Lester standing in Archie’s driveway surrounded by a cluster of men and gesticulating purposefully. Deciding to give him a few more minutes, she walked around the back of the shed to check on the dog first.

She was relieved to see a hastily scrawled note attached to the cellar doors, stating, “Stay out. Dog inside. –Lester.” It wouldn’t do at all for the new mother to be disturbed by a procession of strangers. The dog might even decide to bolt and move the puppies, a possibility Leigh feared, but was temporarily helpless to combat. She could of course move the dog and litter by force to the animal shelter, or confine them somewhere else, but the ultimate outcome was unlikely to be any better, because any upset to the mother could cause her to stop caring for the pups. If only everyone would leave them alone for a couple weeks, Leigh speculated, she was sure she could win the dog’s trust and make the family’s ultimate move to the shelter a safe one.

She descended the cellar steps slowly, shining her flashlight ahead and calling to the dog as she went. She felt a flicker of panic to see the accustomed spot empty, but soon realized the dog had merely moved her makeshift nest to another corner of the cellar—the area most removed from the stairway.

“Tired of hearing strange voices out there, are you?” Leigh questioned, moving smoothly to the food bag and beginning to refill the empty bowl. “I don’t blame you. You’re one smart cookie.”