“I know a couple people who are brilliant at that stuff,” said Lucy, suddenly inspired. “I’ll bet they’ll help you.”
Again there was a long pause as Hank mulled things over. Lucy was feeling the chill and Libby had collapsed at her feet, resting her head on her paws. She was about to give up and head home when Hank made his decision.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “So who are these brilliant people who’ll help me?”
Lucy was jogging in place. “Never mind that,” she said, worried that the answer would cause him to immediately reject the idea, “just call this number.”
“Hold on,” he said, producing a cell phone. “Give it to me again,” he requested, and Lucy obliged, with lots of stops and starts, until he got the right digits.
Back on the trail, she knew she’d done all she could and now it was up to Hank. She wondered if he would actually commit to getting clean or whether he would continue to use and simply slip away like so many others.
* * *
When she approached the house, she spotted Zoe’s ancient little Civic in the driveway Her daughter met her at the door, ignoring the dog’s enthusiastic tail-wagging greeting and demanding any news of Matt.
Lucy got herself a drink of water and filled Libby’s bowl with clean water before sitting down at the golden oak table. She patted the chair Zoe usually used and waited for her to sit down, too, before breaking the news. “It’s not good, I’m afraid,” she said, somewhat out of breath. “The cops believe they found the gun that killed Ed Franklin. It was hidden in the restaurant.”
As Lucy expected, Zoe promptly exploded, delivering an angry tirade. “That’s absolutely unbelievable! It’s so obvious that somebody set him up! How dumb are they? It’s a construction site, right? Anybody could have gotten in and hidden the gun. Were there fingerprints? How do they know it was Matt’s? That’s crazy! It’s . . . it’s . . . it sucks,” she finally said, running out of steam.
“It does,” agreed Lucy, “but we don’t know everything that the police know.”
“Well, I know that Matt would never do something like that,” said Zoe.
Lucy smiled. “Well, then, he’s got nothing to worry about, right?”
“Oh, Mom,” groaned Zoe, rolling her eyes. “You’re so naïve.”
Lucy stood up and rinsed out her water glass, then set it on the dish drainer. Zoe had remained at the table and was tapping away on her smartphone, which reminded Lucy that she needed to give Miss Tilley and Rachel a heads-up about Hank on the slim chance that he might follow up and call them for help.
Lucy knew that Miss Tilley had a way of getting her way and Hank wouldn’t have a hope of evading rehab if he took that first step and called her. Rachel, who was Miss Tilley’s companion and home aide, was a whiz with red tape and bureaucracy, and had the advantage of being able to get free legal advice from her lawyer husband, Bob.
“Ah, Lucy, I haven’t seen much of you lately. Have you been avoiding me?” asked Miss Tilley when Lucy called.
“Not at all,” said Lucy. “You’re one of my favorite people.”
“Well, I’d never know it, since you never visit,” continued Miss Tilley.
“I know. It’s been too long,” said Lucy. “And now I’m going to ask a big favor of you and Rachel.” She outlined the program the Harvest Festival planners had come up with and told Miss Tilley about Hank. “So I gave him your number, hoping you and Rachel could help him put together an application.”
“That was rather presumptuous of you,” said Miss Tilley, causing Lucy’s hopes to wither.
“I know. I do hope you won’t let that stand in the way . . .” she began, by means of apologizing.
“But of course we’ll do it,” said Miss Tilley. “Rachel has been so difficult lately, I’ve been at my wit’s end trying to think of ways to keep her entertained.”
“Right,” said Lucy, suspecting that her old friend wasn’t joking at all, but was quite serious.
She could only imagine how Rachel, who devoted herself to Miss Tilley’s well-being, was reacting. Though, truth be told, she refused to let Miss Tilley’s little jabs bother her, aware that the old woman’s wit was her sole remaining defense against the inexorable deterioration of old age.
“I can’t thank you enough for taking this on,” said Lucy.
“We may not be taking on anything unless he calls,” said Miss Tilley.
“I hope he does,” said Lucy.
“So do I,” replied her old friend. “So do I.”
That task completed, Lucy glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and realized it was time to think about starting supper. She opened the fridge and discovered it was quite empty; a look in the freezer revealed a whole chicken and nothing much else. She took out the chicken, which was frozen hard as a rock, and decided there was no way she could get it thawed and cooked before midnight. Nothing for it but to call for pizza.
CHAPTER 15
Lucy couldn’t believe it when Rachel called on Friday evening, looking for a way to get Hank to New Beginnings rehab in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. “They say it’s not a good idea for him to drive himself,” she explained, “as he might get cold feet and decide not to come. I’d do it, but I’ve got a rehearsal tomorrow.”
Rachel was a gifted amateur actress, who often starred in the town’s Little Theater productions. This year she was playing Scrooge’s housekeeper in the group’s annual production of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.
“You’ve done all this in one day?” asked Lucy, incredulous. “Put together the application, raised the money, got Hank to commit . . .”
“Well, yeah,” said Rachel as if it hadn’t been much of an
