pulling it open as he raised the bat. He delivered several strong death blows, smashing the shadow to the floor. It took him a second or two before he realized he had just bludgeoned the only suit he owned, the one he had recently picked up from the dry cleaners and hung in his closet, left in the plastic wrap. He had wanted to be sure the suit was clean and pressed and ready one day for his own funeral. And now it was a crumpled mess on the floor of his closet, after threatening his life.
Luc sat on the edge of his bed, petting the now alert and confused Scrapple, waiting for the shaking in his hands to stop. How ridiculous had he become? What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t only losing his memory but perhaps his mind, as well.
Then he heard a noise from outside. A muffled thump that sounded like it came from the back of the house. And this time Scrapple heard it, too.
CHAPTER 50
It had been a long time since Maggie had slept anywhere and heard the howls of coyotes in the distance. But as she tried to get comfortable on the lumpy old sofa, she thought she heard Luc upstairs. It almost sounded like he was moving furniture around. After his blank episode earlier, Maggie wasn’t sure she wanted to go up and find him, indeed, stacking pieces of furniture on top of one another like a sleepwalker unaware of his actions.
No, that was ridiculous and she immediately admonished herself. Alzheimer’s didn’t manifest itself in totally absurd behavior. At least not that she knew of, but then what did she really know about it? She wished she hadn’t promised him that she wouldn’t call Julia. Racine needed to know if her father’s life might be threatened. Maybe the old man simply wouldn’t remember her promise. Or perhaps she could get him to call his daughter himself.
She watched the shadows of branches outside the window dancing on the ceiling. Luc had night-lights plugged into the sockets all over the house. In a weak moment, he had mentioned being afraid that one day he might forget how to switch on a lamp and be forced to sit in the dark. What an awful feeling it must be to know that could happen. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to realize that pieces of your memory, even the basic pieces, had begun to crumble. Or to not have any memories at all. She thought about Patrick again, wondering what, if anything, he knew about their father.
Her own memories, especially of her childhood, of losing her father and growing up with an alcoholic, suicidal mother, those awful memories were burdens she thought she could live without. But earlier today, remembering some of the good ones made her realize that she was cheating herself. What if she were like Luc, not able to sift and select, not having control over what went and what stayed…What an awful feeling that must be. And yet, she had been allowing herself to remember only the awful things when she, in fact, had a choice.
Maggie decided she would go out tomorrow and buy some timers for Luc’s lamps. Also some of the longer- lasting light bulbs. Maybe another lamp or two. She couldn’t keep him from forgetting how to turn on a light, but she could be damn sure he wouldn’t be left in the dark.
She heard him coming down the steps and she sat up. Before he got to the foot of the stairs she could see his elongated shadow carrying something over his shoulder and the little terrier following close behind.
Oh, Jesus! Was he, indeed, sleepwalking? And she tried to remember, were you supposed to wake a sleepwalker or leave him alone?
He rounded the corner and she recognized a bat hoisted on his shoulder in ready-to-swing mode. Instinctively, she bolted for her Smith & Wesson. As she whipped it out of its holster, she saw him putting his finger to his lips and whispering, “Someone’s outside.”
Maggie decided the old man must be sleepwalking or perhaps imagining things, the result of stress from an outrageous day. That was until she saw the shadow of a man pass by the front window.
She put up a cautionary hand to Luc and waved him away from the windows. The terrier growled but was sticking close by his owner. Maggie made her way to the front door, keeping her revolver nose down and close to her body. She worked the locks open, slowly, quietly. She looked back at Luc, making sure he was out of the line of fire. Then without hesitation, she flung the door open and stuck the Smith & Wesson’s nose in the face of the shadow just as it stepped into the porch light.
“Jesus, Bonzado. What the hell are you doing here?”
CHAPTER 51
She startled him so badly he dropped one of the bags, scattering groceries across the wooden porch floor.
“I didn’t think you’d both be down for the night. I guess I didn’t think it was that late. Did I wake you?”
“You scared the living daylights out of us. What the hell are you doing?”
Maggie watched him pick up cartons and cans. She looked back at Luc and worried that he had blanked out on her again. He stood there, bat in his hands, staring at Bonzado, as if deciding whether he needed to use the bat.
“It’s okay, Luc,” she told him. “It’s just Professor Bonzado. Do you remember him from this afternoon?”
“Why is he back?” Luc wanted to know. “Why is he out wandering around in the dark?”
“Good question,” she said, now turning back to the professor.
He looked up at her, still down on his hands and knees retrieving several cans that had rolled underneath the porch swing. “I wasn’t out wandering around in the dark. I was just coming up to the door, and before I could knock you jammed a gun in my face.”
“What are you doing here, Adam?” she asked again.
“I noticed Mr. Racine didn’t have much in his refrigerator. I thought I’d bring out some staples. I really didn’t think you’d be asleep already. It’s not even ten. And—” he got to his feet and opened one of the other bags, pulling out a small white box “—I wanted to bring you some dessert, since our dinner sort of got canceled.”
“You should have called first.” It was difficult to stay angry with him when he seemed genuinely determined to please them.
“I tried calling you. Your cell phone must be off. And I didn’t know Mr. Racine’s phone number.”
“I’m sure directory assistance could have given it to you.” Maggie wouldn’t let him off the hook. She didn’t like how quiet Luc continued to be. Finally, he came out on the porch to help Bonzado, taking one of the bags and looking inside.
“I don’t cook much anymore.”
“I figured as much. So I bought some deli meats and cheeses, some bread, and several different kinds of cereals and milk. Oh, and some Pop-Tarts. They’re pretty good cold. You don’t even have to put them in a toaster. Really. You’ll have to try ’em.”
The two men came in past Maggie, and Bonzado glanced at the revolver she hadn’t holstered yet, then looked up at her and smiled. “Jeez, you’re tough on a guy for just wanting to bring you a little cheesecake.”
“Did you say cheesecake?” Now he had Luc’s full attention and enthusiasm.
“That’s right. None other than chocolate almond from the Stone House.” Bonzado followed Luc into the kitchen.
Maggie shook her head. But before she closed the door she stepped out onto the porch. Why hadn’t she heard Bonzado’s El Camino or, at least, seen his headlights? She saw the vehicle parked up the driveway, away from the house. Odd that he didn’t pull in behind her rented Escort.
As she turned to go back inside, she heard another vehicle’s engine, beyond the trees, back on Whippoorwill Drive. She could hear it but couldn’t see it. She stepped off the porch into the dark, straining to see through the branches, trying to follow the low, soft rumble of an engine.
The reason she couldn’t see the vehicle was because it had waited until it was almost out of sight before it turned on its headlights. And then it was quickly gone, the taillights disappearing around the first curve.
