A Grave Talent

care of her.'

'She's in the hospital.'

'I know. I've seen her.'

'I can't visit her, I'm too young,' he said, disgusted.

'Maybe you could make her a drawing, so she knows you were thinking about her.' It was the suggestion of an experienced father, Kate realized, and wondered why she always forgot that side of him.

The child tipped his head, thinking.

'She likes my drawings. May I be excused, Mommy, so I can make a picture for her?'

'You don't want the rest of your peaches? Okay, you come up with me and we'll find your crayons.'

Becky Jameson brought in coffee and began to clear the dishes, refusing any help. Kate and Hawkin were left alone with Red and his son, who had not yet spoken to each other. Hawkin stirred sugar into his cup and opened a polite topic of conversation.

'You grow hothouse tomatoes, Ned?'

'Not commercially, it's too expensive, but it's nice to have a few of the summer vegetables in winter.'

'What do you do, then?'

'Farm this place, some experimental stuff I'm doing with the local organic farmers' organization. Fruit mostly, but the last year or so I've been growing those tiny vegetables that fancy restaurants like. Inch-long carrots, beets the size of marbles, that kind of thing. I don't think they have much flavor, myself, but people buy 'em, so I grow 'em.'

'Can you make a living out of that? You hear a lot about farms closing down these days.'

Kate wondered where Hawkin's sudden interest in agriculture came from, or was going to. Ned seemed reluctant to answer.

'Oh, yes. Well, not a great living. Farmers don't drive Rolls Royces, but the bills get paid. Course, a lot of us have other jobs, too, just to help out, during the slack times.'

'What do you do? Your other job?'

'I make deliveries.' Red was looking oddly at his son.

'Truck driving, then? Long distance?'

'Sometimes.'

'Yes, I think your mother mentioned that you were going away next week. Must be hard on your wife.'

'Oh, she doesn't mind; it doesn't happen that often.' Here Red interrupted with a snort, and when his son shot him a look of barely controlled rage, Kate realized what Hawkin was after, though she was not at all sure how he had known it was there.

'It doesn't,' he insisted. 'And the money's damn good.'

Teddy came back into the room, crayons and paper in hand, and climbed into the chair next to Hawkin, who helped him clear a place for the pad, automatically placing a half-full glass of milk to one side without taking his interested gaze from the young man across the table.

'The money's not the reason—' began Red, but Hawkin seemed not to hear him and talked over his words.

'I've always been fascinated by those big rigs—an eighteen wheeler, is it? A refrigerator truck?'

'Usually. It's owned by the local co-op of organic farmers. Three of us have licenses, so we take turns with deliveries. Usually the truck's only half full, so we fill up with stuff for the other growers.' The young man spoke easily, but he seemed to be warmer than the room's temperature would account for.

'Mostly California?'

'Yeah, some Oregon.'

'And Nevada, and Utah, and Texas,' broke in his father. 'It's a crazy thing to mix with trying to grow crops.'

Several things happened at once. Ned shoved his chair back with a crash just as his mother entered, and the oblivious Teddy reached for a crayon just as Hawkin put his own arm out to place his napkin on the table. The anger from one end of the table and the maternal consternation from the doorway were both drowned by a child's horrified shriek as the contents of the glass shot across the drawing, over the edge of the table and all over the front of the young artist. Only Kate, seated directly across from them, saw that it was Hawkin's hand rather than Teddy's arm that had propelled the glass, and by the time it had been cleared and wiped and the child taken upstairs for dry clothes, the air had cleared.

Hawkin accepted another cup of coffee and sat back, meeting Ned's wary glances with the same benign, almost drowsy look Kate had seen him wear in Tyler's upstairs room, just before the coup de grace.

'Tell me, Ned,' he said in the same conversational tone he had started with. 'Do you think your cousin killed those little girls?'

Ned froze, but with what emotion Kate could not tell. When he spoke he looked slightly ill, nothing more.

'It looks like it, doesn't it? She killed one already, and she's always been a little crazy.'

'Ned!' his mother said, horrified.

'Well, it's true, you know it's true, even if you won't say so. Sure she could have killed those girls. Who else would be doing it? Why ask me, anyway?'

'I've already asked your parents about her. I wondered what you had to say. After all, you must have been fairly close as children.'

'Vaun was never close to anyone besides herself.'

'Not even Andy Lewis?'

'She used Andy and dumped him.' He stood up again, this time more gently but with greater finality, and deposited his napkin in his place. 'Look, I have work to do this afternoon. If you're through questioning me maybe you'll let me get back to work.'

Hawkin smiled up at him, and the smile held the younger man like shackles.

'I wasn't 'questioning' you, Ned,' he said gently. 'Just talking. If I wanted to question you, you would know you were being questioned. It's been nice talking with you, Ned. Hope to see you again.'

He stood up and held his hand out in front of the man, and waited. Ned reached out with reluctance, clasped it briefly, and without another word crashed out through the back door.

Becky Jameson shook her head.

'He's so funny about Vaun. They used to be such good friends, when they were kids, but they had a falling out about something, and before they could patch it up she got involved with Andy Lewis, and then, well, there was never a chance. Sad, really.'

'What did you say their age difference was?' asked Hawkin.

'He's three and a half years younger than Vaun, and Joanna's three and a half years younger than he is.'

'Kids are funny,' he said, as if to himself. 'I have two, both in college now, and they're just starting to talk to each other civilly again. Maybe if Vaun comes out of this okay, they'll start to work it out again.'

'Maybe,' she agreed, 'though if anything it's been getting worse lately. They had some kind of a fight about a year ago, but neither of them would say what it was about. The last time she was here, he wouldn't come over until she'd left.'

Hawkin shook his head in sympathy.

'Kids are funny,' he repeated. He finished his coffee and stood up again. 'We must go. I told the principal we'd be there at two-thirty.'

'You know how to get there?'

'Yes, no problem. Thank you for lunch, Becky. Good to meet you, Red. I'll be in touch, and feel free to call if I can help with anything.'

Mrs. Jameson followed them to the studio and helped them load the canvases into the back of the car. She gave Hawkin an old curtain to cover them and stood watching as they drove off. She looked small, and tired.

18

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'That's one angry young man,' commented Kate a few minutes later.