where she was.
I swirled away. As the coat and I dissolved, Susan’s letter tumbled to the seat. I grabbed the envelope and floated out of the car.
The beam of Officer Cain’s flashlight rose, following the letter into the darkness of the night until I’d gone higher than the light reached.
“Stop right there.” But the shouted command came from Wiggins, not the young policeman.
This was not the time to defy Wiggins. I stopped and hovered. “Shh. He’ll hear you.” I glanced down.
Officer Cain’s head went back at an awkward angle. He stared upward, seeking the source of the voices. He looked to be in a fearful strain. I feared tomorrow he might have a painful crick.
“I don’t care who hears me,” Wiggins roared. “I would have come sooner except events in Tumbulgum were out of control.”
“Wiggins,” I whispered, “Precept Six. Look at poor Officer Cain.”
The young policeman rubbed his ears. He took a deep breath.
Now the only sounds were the urgent hoos of a courting owl, the rustle of hackberry branches in the wind, and the rumble of a passing truck.
The beam of the flashlight wobbled. Officer Cain swept the light back and forth against unrevealing darkness.
Far away a train whistle sounded.
Cain slowly, as if forcing himself, turned toward the car. Light danced across the hood, illuminated the empty seats. He plunged to the driver’s window, poked the flashlight inside. In a frenzy, he opened the front and back doors all the way around the car. He lifted the trunk, slammed the lid down again.
He backed away from the car, the flashlight beam playing this way and that, up and down, and all around. After a final illumination of the clearly empty seats, he turned and ran for his patrol car.
“Make every effort not to alarm earthly creatures.’” Wiggins sounded morose.
I didn’t know what to say. Was an apology in order? For which offense? I sighed.
“Clearly there has been a failure of leadership.” His deep voice was subdued.
“Wiggins, don’t blame yourself.” He made no response. I tried to be upbeat. “These things happen.”
“Only in Tumbulgum and Adelaide.” There was a wealth of despair in his tone.
“Oh. A real problem in Tumbulgum?” Possibly we could ponder some other emissary’s foibles.
“Nothing similar.” He spoke hastily. “Your actions are always well meant. If only you tempered enthusiasm with restraint. If you were less inquisitive. Less impulsive. Less rash. Less forthright.” A heavy sigh. “And much less daring.”
I had no answer. No doubt Wiggins was ready to hand me my return ticket on the Rescue Express. I consoled myself that I had reached the goal of my stay, even if in a slapdash fashion. Keith was established as Susan’s grandson and—surely this was a bonus that Wiggins should applaud—was now assured his proper inheritance.
I looked down. Officer Cain hunched in the seat of his patrol car, his lips moving rapidly. I assumed he was reporting the abandoned Ford at the foot of Persimmon Hill.
Such a nice and remarkably attractive young man. I hoped this evening’s experiences didn’t haunt him. That, too, could be chalked up in my debit column. Did the credit and debit columns balance out? “I did my best.”
“Except for Susan.” His tone was sad rather than accusatory.
“Susan?” Assuredly, my decision to aid Susan in her effort to provide for Keith might be criticized, yet his voice was somber, not angry.
“I warned you to keep an eye on her. I was afraid there might be trouble.”
Fair was fair. I would certainly take responsibility for derelictions of duty re the Precepts, but at no time had I been charged with overseeing Susan Flynn. “I beg your pardon.” My tone was sharp. “I was sent here to look out for Keith, not Susan.” I can sound steely. It harks back to my days as a high school English teacher before I flunked the principal’s son and kept Bubba out of the championship football game and had to find a new career in the mayor’s office. “As for Susan, I don’t know what more I could have done.”
“Before I was summoned to Tumbulgum, I warned you.” A pause. “Oh. Perhaps I wasn’t clear. When Susan decided to change her will, I became uneasy. I wanted you to guard her against danger. Bailey Ruth, forgive me.” He spoke with chagrin, his deep voice carrying. “Likely even if you had been with her every moment, you wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Difference about what?” My voice remained steely. If he meant the sojourn to get the will signed, I had been with Susan every moment, either seen or unseen.
“Her murder.” He was lugubrious.
“Murder?” My voice rose in shock. “Murder? What do you mean? Susan died.”
“I know she died.” He sounded testy. “Of course she died. But she didn’t die in the natural order. Don’t you remember? When I briefed you at the department, I told you. Susan was scheduled to arrive June 15.”
“Murder.” I heard my cry, forlorn as the call of a loon.
The frenzied crisscross of the flashlight beam startled me. Officer Cain stood rigidly next to his cruiser, seeking to find the voices that volleyed above him in the night sky.
I whispered. “That poor young man. He heard us. Look, he’s getting back into the cruiser, talking on his radio again. I’d better go down and see. Wiggins, hold the letter.”
