One yearning for the past?'
CHAPTER 40
Hillary was waiting when Gerald and I got to the Paradise parking lot. She did not look pleased. Gerald mouthed 'I'll call you' from her car as she tore out and headed east onto the highway, and probably back to her place.
I'd planned to grab a bite at the diner but saw Mike O'Malley through the miniblinds and backtracked to my Jeep instead. The last thing I felt like doing was sparring with O'Malley and then winding up having to apologize, which seemed to be the way most of our encounters went.
I'd go home, take a short run, and eat clean. Digging in the garden the last few days had been a good upper-body workout. I wouldn't be worrying Serena Williams anytime soon, but my arms looked good. There was still an hour or so of daylight, and the run would help me think.
I quickly changed and strapped the heart-rate monitor on, making sure the watch was set for Workout. At the last minute, I grabbed my baseball hat with the reflective tape on it and a nylon anorak. The rain Al Roker had promised hadn't materialized yet, but there was a good chance it would come soon, probably while I was out running in the middle of nowhere.
For the first two miles, everything hurt. Then I settled into a rhythm. My heart rate was good, and if I'd been running with anyone, I would have been able to keep up a conversation.
I got to the intersection of Huckleberry and Glen-dale. If I turned left, it was another six miles back to the house; if I turned right, I could cut through the UConn parking lot and be home in twenty minutes. Just then it started to drizzle, and that made the decision for me. I pulled on the anorak, tied the drawstring hood tight around my hat, and took the shortcut home. The cloud cover made it dark sooner than I'd expected. I was sorry I hadn't brought a small flashlight with me, but hopefully the reflective tape on my hat would keep me from getting killed by oncoming traffic.
As I jogged through the deserted parking lot, I noticed a vehicle at the entrance to the recycling center. The center was padlocked after 3, so I couldn't imagine who'd be there. I tiptoed across the street, past the cemetery, and onto the fringes of the Sunnyview property, where I knelt behind a staggered hedge of Japan-ese barberry to find out.
I saw a nursery pickup—open in the back, with two or three power lawn mowers and rakes and other garden implements strapped to the raised wooden sides. A brown tarp was tied down, covering something in the back of the truck, and the bottom of the tarp obscured my view of the license plate.
I heard the sounds of shuffling feet, then the clang of metal against metal—a chain dragging across the chain-link fence, but I still hadn't seen anybody. I crouched down a little lower. The gate squeaked open. The rain was coming down pretty good by then. The prickly barberry was scratching my legs and I was getting paranoid about ticks, but I flattened myself as much as I could behind the hedge. Someone must have heard me, because I saw a flashlight switch on and point in my direction. I remembered the bit of reflective tape on my baseball hat and tore it off and stuck it in my pocket. Then I held my breath and waited.
The light moved back to the recycling center and disappeared. After a while, I crab walked closer to the road for a better view of the truck. It was dark green. Big deal; most nursery trucks were. The scratches on my legs were stinging now. Great, I was probably sitting in a patch of poison ivy, and for what? To watch somebody dumping a refrigerator or pilfering compost? I was just about to stand when I heard cursing and angry muttering. I hunkered down just as the door slammed and the truck screeched out of there. A second vehicle followed, swerving close to the shoulder where I was hiding. I fell backward, hitting my head on a tree stump. The next thing I saw was a man standing over me whacking his palm with the long object he held in his other hand.
CHAPTER 41
'You wanna come outta there?'
Soaked to the skin, legs covered with raised red welts, leaves and twigs stuck to my hat and anorak, I must have presented a ridiculous picture to Sunnyview's security guard.
With his flashlight, he lit my way out of the brambles, and we got to the entrance of the nursing home just as the patrol car did. Officers Guzman and Smythe tried unsuccessfully to hide their amusement.
'I thought you were going to wait for us, Uncle Rudy,' Guzman said, kissing the security guard.
'We could use a little excitement around here,' he said. 'I knew it was nothing I couldn't handle.'
The cops walked toward me as I sat on the steps of the porch, rubbing the back of my head and drying myself with a towel someone had tossed me. I was bigger news than the bingo game going on inside, so I was garnering quite an audience. All the residents who were ambulatory and not hearing-impaired drifted out to see what was up.
'Are you okay?' Officer Smythe asked.
'I'm all right.'
'I know there's a very simple explanation for why we're here. Isn't there?' He was almost laughing.
'There is. At least, there was a while ago.'
I checked my watch and groaned. It read 54. Somehow I knew my heart rate wasn't going to be helpful, so I pressed a button on the side of the watch and switched from Workout mode back to Time. It was 10:15. I'd been out there much longer than I realized. I must have passed out when I hit my head.
'I'm not sure what time it was when I saw the truck, but it was just after the rain started.'
'And what truck was that?'
I described the truck but had no information on the vehicle that knocked me into the woods.
'The center closes at three, but a few local businesses have the keys,' Rudy said. 'They get special permission from the town, 'cause they drop off a lot of stuff and they're too busy during regular hours.' He seemed disappointed I hadn't been observing aliens or waiting for the mother ship to pick me up.
The cops were satisfied with this explanation, but they, too, looked like they were waiting for another, more outlandish story from me. When, exactly, had I turned into the town loony?
'I didn't hear any bottles or cans,' I said lamely.
'Maybe it was catalogs, dear,' one of the Sunnyview residents volunteered. 'We get so many of them.'
'What if somebody was dumping something they didn't want anyone to see?' I said, convincing no one. Not even myself.
'We'll make sure the lock's not broken, but if they had the key, there's nothing illegal about accidentally leaving a gate open,' Smythe said.
Guzman was kinder. 'What exactly do you think you saw?'
I was uncharacteristically speechless.
'Is there anything else you can tell us about the truck?'
I was grateful she didn't just blow me off, and I described the truck as best as I could.
'It's not much to go on. No name on the truck, no plate numbers, probably green, but not sure . . . tarp in the back.' She reread the list of my useless observations.
I was a lousy witness. I tried to recall anything else, any small detail. I closed my eyes to get a mental picture. In the background, I heard one of the codgers whisper, 'What is she doing? Is she going to sleep? Luann Barnhart did that at dinner the other night.'
'The mud flaps had pictures of women on them. You know, hot pants, legs in the air.' I'd just described every other truck in America. I knew how it sounded. I'd staked out a conscientious nursery worker who grumbled about working late. What did I expect them to do, put out an all points bulletin?
'I can find out who's got keys to the recycling center, but unless we can prove it was someone not on that list, you're the only one here who's actually done anything illegal. Technically,' she said, 'you were trespassing on Sunnyview property.'
'No, she wasn't. She's my guest.' Inez from the thrift shop stepped out of the crowd, happy to be part of the drama. Just as Inez was bailing me out, a black Lexus pulled up, and Hillary Gibson and Gerald Fraser joined the
