Killer Market

“Hey, Miss Deborah,” she called. Her braid had loosened and tendrils of fair hair tumbled about her face. “Look at all these bears!”

“You could be Goldilocks,” I called back. To Pell, I said, “I’m all turned around. Point me toward the reception area.”

“Over there.” He pointed across the wide dim expanse to the red exit light. “You came the whole width of the building.”

Like me, Heather was overwhelmed by all the stuff she could see from this landing: not just the movable walls or the two- and three-sided rooms filled with furniture or appliances, the cameras, table saws, workbenches, and so many aisles of accessories down on the floor, but also the chandeliers, paddle fans and hanging lights that were suspended from the catwalks and steel rafters that interconnected and crisscrossed the space overhead.

“And the door you brought Dixie and me through on Saturday?”

“Two aisles over and straight down to the back.”

In the far distance, I could see another red exit light, but between the black-painted floor and walls and the dim lights, it was difficult to make out enough detail for me to orient myself completely.

“Rats in a maze,” Pell said in his usual soft, self-deprecating tone. “Did you want to show Miss McKenzie around?”

“Heather,” she corrected him.

“Heather.” He smiled. “I can put more lights on for you.”

“I do want to show her something,” I said, “but not in the sense you mean. She wants to see Savannah’s hiding place.”

He stiffened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all.”

Heather and I had discussed this and I said, “It’s not for a news story, Pell. Remember how you told Dixie and me about that time she went away for four months right before you came here twenty-odd years ago?”

I could tell he thought I was betraying his trust and—by extension—Savannah’s.

“She didn’t go away to get over a love affair,” I said. “She went away to have a baby.”

“Ah.” Pell looked at Heather a long considering moment, then nodded. “Yes, I see.”

“I brought pictures,” Heather said, hefting a manila envelope in her hand. “Documents. I thought if I could just find her, sit quietly for a few minutes and show her some of my baby pictures, maybe she’d—”

“Clasp you to her bosom and tell you to call her Mommy?”

“Pell!” I was surprised that he could be so harsh.

“Sorry, Deborah. Heather. But even when Savannah was well, sentimentality was never her thing. And now we’re dealing with a very sick woman. She’s not going to respond in any predictable way. So I really am sorry, ladies, but I can’t let you in.” He turned to me. “Besides, David Underwood took my key, remember?”

“I expect you found another,” I said dryly. “And of course, Savannah has her own. She’s in there right now, isn’t she?”

“I mean it, Deborah, you can’t go in.” His long homely face was distressed.

I held up my hands to calm him. “We won’t. But, Pell, if she’s so sick, she needs help. You know she does.”

“I’m trying to convince her—”

“You can’t convince a delusional person. Believe me, I know. I sit on mental health hearings all the time. There are times when you just have to do what’s best for the person until they’re well enough to make their own decisions again.”

“She didn’t kill anybody,” he said. “Not Chan, not—”

He broke off abruptly.

“Not who, Pell?” I asked softly. “Evelyn? Is that why Savannah flipped out eighteen months ago? You said she was here when Evelyn fell, and you meant that literally, didn’t you?”

Heather was bewildered. “Who’s Evelyn?”

“It was an accident.” Pell’s eyes were anguished. “It really was an accident. I was in the stacks rounding up a handful of things to dress the set when Evelyn went up the steps. Savannah was at the end of the aisle. I heard her gasp ‘Oh, no!’ just as Evelyn screamed. Then Savannah started screaming and everyone came running…”

His voice trailed off in memory. “She used to have cycles, Savannah did, and the highs kept getting higher and the lows were dragging bottom. She was near the end of a pretty bad low when it happened and she just couldn’t handle the pain. Seeing Evelyn fall knocked her for such a loop that we had to commit her to the local hospital till her father could send someone to take her back to Georgia.”

Pell turned to Heather. “You saw her in the hospital down there, so you know.”

“Yes.” She looked very young standing there, gazing up into his worried face. “But I also know I can’t go back to Boston without seeing her and having at least one serious talk together.”

Pell sighed. “Okay. I’ll try. Why don’t you sit down on the steps here? If I can get her to come out, she might feel less menaced if she’s taller.”

“Should I leave?” I asked.

“No,” said Heather. “She knows you.”