Charles Ardai - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 102, No. 4 & 5. Whole No. 618 & 619, October 1993

Suddenly Mrs. Hucklebee sees the long carving knife Wolf holds in his hand. All her kitchen knives are spread across the drainboard. Her throat tries to close. “What are you doing with my knives?” she asks helplessly, knowing he won’t answer.

Crystalbell takes the knife from him and urges him to the table. “They were all dull. Wolf sharpened them for you. Wasn’t that nice of him?” Her eyes flash an unmistakable warning.

“Very nice, yes,” Mrs. Hucklebee says quickly. She feels the sting of tears as she adds, “Thank you, Wolf.”

A smile opens suddenly beneath the black glasses. Wide and toothy, canines sharp as needles. Mrs. Hucklebee suddenly imagines herself dashing for the door, fleeing down the steps and into the street. But Crystalbell’s firm hands are seating her at the table and they are once more gathered to eat.

“Mrs. H,” Crystalbell says with a grin, “I think I got the perfect name for you. Feather. What do you think?”

Mrs. Hucklebee can’t respond. Eggs stick in her throat and her knees tremble. She shakes her head, mute.

“Well, maybe not,” Crystalbell concedes brightly. “But don’t worry. I’ll come up with the right one yet.”

After breakfast, while Crystalbell cleans the kitchen cabinets and Wolf goes out to the walled backyard, Mrs. Hucklebee sits in her living room, hands tightly folded in her lap. The day is gray and cheerless — the marbles in the windows send no rainbows chasing each other across the floor. Periodically, Mrs. Hucklebee stares longingly at the front door. Once, as she does this, she sees Crystalbell watching her from the hall archway.

“Why you looking at the door like that, Mrs. H?”

When she receives no answer the girl comes to her, kneels, and takes both her hands.

“Wolf and me just want to stay awhile, that’s all,” she says softly.

Mrs. Hucklebee gazes down into the warm brown eyes. “This is my house,” she answers stoutly. “I don’t want you here.”

Crystalbell sighs heavily. “Well, we’re here, so we’ll all just have to make the best of it until Wolf’s ready to leave. The thing is, he likes it, especially all those pretty marbles you got.”

“How can you tell?” Mrs. Hucklebee asks in despair. “The boy doesn’t even talk?”

“He does sometimes, to me. But mostly I just been with him so long I know what he’s thinking.” The girl leans closer. “I’ll tell you something for your own good, Mrs. H. You got to be careful with Wolf. I didn’t tell you this before, but I think he might’ve killed someone before we got together.”

Mrs. Hucklebee’s breath catches. “No!”

The girl nods. “Least he says he did. So you got to go easy. Say you decide to sneak out and call the police or something. Well, I don’t know what he’d do.” She glances up at the shelves ringing the room. “If he couldn’t do something bad to you, I bet he’d at least do something to all this stuff you save. Probably set it on fire.”

For a moment, Mrs. Hucklebee fears her heart has stopped. She squeezes the girl’s hand, hard. “Not my collections! Crystalbell, you’ve got to get away from him. We both do!”

Crystalbell looks serious. “I’ve been thinking that very same thing. Hang on, Mrs. H, let me figure something out.”

They are suddenly allies and Mrs. Hucklebee feels better. “But right now,” Crystalbell says, jumping up, “I got to go to the store for you. You’re low on some things, you know. Come on, you help me decide what to get.”

“You don’t have to go,” Mrs. Hucklebee answers. “I always just call the market and they—” She stops, remembering her disabled phone.

“I don’t mind,” the girl says gently. “It’s too cold out for you anyway. Can I help cook supper tonight? I really need to learn.”

“But if you go — don’t leave me here alone with him.”

“I told you,” Crystalbell repeats patiently, “you’ll be okay if you just don’t hassle him. Come on, Mrs. H, you and me are in this together now.”

After the girl is gone and Mrs. Hucklebee is alone in the house, she parts the kitchen curtains and peeps into the backyard. Wolf is spading up her dying vegetable garden, the strength in his arms belying their puny size. There are piles of fresh dirt lying everywhere. Before she can close the gap in the curtains the white head lifts and turns toward her, as if he feels her watching. Mrs. Hucklebee scurries back to the living room. She wants to run, but her collections — what would he do to them? She’s still sitting in the living room when Crystalbell returns.

“Guess what I got for you!” the girl greets her. Her hair is ruffled, her eyes shining. She holds up a deep orange leaf, a perfect specimen, and waves it before Mrs. Hucklebee’s delighted eyes. “Look at that. Not even one little chunk missing.”

Cradling the leaf, Mrs. Hucklebee follows her into the kitchen. Crystalbell lifts a hand-wrapped package from her grocery bag.

“I met the lady from the park yesterday. She was bringing you some homemade cookies.” The girl busies herself putting groceries away. “I hope you don’t care, but I said I was your granddaughter. She wondered why we didn’t recognize each other yesterday, so I told her we hadn’t seen each other since I was a baby, you know, with your son living so far away and all. Anyway, she says she won’t bother you while you have company — she’ll see you some other time.”

Mrs. Hucklebee smoothes her rich orange leaf, scarcely hearing. The kitchen smells of pine cleanser. When she opens the cupboard to reach for the plastic wrap, everything inside is neat and clean.

“Thank you, Crystalbell,” she says. “Thank you for my leaf. What a thoughtful thing for you to do.”

During the second week that Wolf and Crystalbell are with her, Mrs. Hucklebee discovers that Mr. Hucklebee’s gold watch is missing from her bureau drawer. It has lain there with her hankies since he passed away. Crystalbell is wearing a new red sweater and jeans but Mrs. Hucklebee is too distraught to notice.

The girl listens attentively. “And you think Wolf took it? He wouldn’t do that, Mrs. H.”

“Well, I don’t know what else to think. What should we do?”

Crystalbell looks apprehensive. “No telling what’ll happen if you just walk up and accuse him,” she says in a low voice. “You better let me talk to him.”

They’re huddled together in the kitchen. Across the hallway Wolf is sitting by the living room window, staring gloomily into the rain. He gets tense and edgy when he can’t go outside to dig.

While Crystalbell goes in to him, Mrs. Hucklebee stands at the kitchen door. She longs to go outside, to smell the rain, to stop and see Mrs. Gambrelli or buy her own food at the market. She’s growing ever more fond of Crystalbell, but the boy with those blank glass eyes — she shivers. She’s hurriedly tugging on her rain boots when Crystalbell returns.

The girl kneels at her feet. “What’re you doing, Mrs. H?”

Mrs. Hucklebee’s voice trembles. “I need some air. I haven’t been outside since I don’t know when. I want to take a walk.”

Crystalbell’s small hands stay hers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” Gently, she begins to remove the boots. “Wolf’s pretty mad that you think he stole Mr. H’s watch. You’d better make up with him before he does something.”

And Mrs. Hucklebee’s boots are off, aligned back on the floor. She looks at them, at the girl, and shivers again.

Crystalbell coaxes her to her feet. “Show me your wedding collection, okay? Come on, you can take a walk some other time.”

Wolf doesn’t look up as they settle together on the sofa. Hunched over, he’s staring at the jars of marbles on the window sill.