Tim Wynne-Jones - The Uninvited

“Ah, come on,” said Mavis. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

Something happened to her when Waylin was around. She started talking like someone from another time-another planet. She reverted to some fifties idea of Mrs. Good Wife-a southern variety, about to serve up catfish and collard greens.

“Actually, it is bad,” he said. “I’ve got this bank loan, just to name one thing.”

That seemed to jog her out of her playacting. He glanced toward the porch that was her studio. Her abandoned studio. There was still no sign of newly stretched canvases, new jars of paint. He wanted to ask her what she had done with the money, but all he had to do was look at her to get his answer. The dress was new. She lowered her eyes, then turned back to the cookbook.

Cramer strolled outside in his boxers and torn T-shirt to have a look at the day. He picked his way barefoot to the edge of the hill and looked down the bank to where Bunny should have been.

He swallowed hard, clenched his fists, and closed his eyes tight with the effort to keep the obscenities inside him. He knew who was responsible for this. Peters. It had to be. Well, Peters would pay. But first of all, he had to recover Bunny.

You can’t sink a canoe.

She’d be floating somewhere, up to her gunnels, but still afloat. He held a wet finger up. There wasn’t a whisper of wind. Good. There would be just the current to carry her, and the current in the stretch of the river where he had lost her was not strong. Carrying the weight of a full cargo of water, she wasn’t going to be moving any too fast.

He’d take the old canoe from the drive shed and a length of rope and something to stop up the holes temporarily. He’d get her to shore, empty her, and then drag her home. He’d fix her. She’d be as good as new. And hell, he had all day. Day and days!

He picked his way to the drive shed, his bare feet finding every sharp stone the yard had to offer. He wondered how drunk or high his mother must have been last night to sail across here to her man without feeling anything.

He opened the door and looked inside the drive shed. The old canoe wasn’t there. It had been straddling a couple of sawhorses last time he looked. Was he wrong? Maybe it was in the old barn? But it wasn’t there, either.

It felt like a plot.

He had dared to think his luck was changing, and it was, but it was only getting a whole lot worse! He smashed the flats of his fists against his temples. He had to get a grip. Deal with one loss at a time. The battered aluminum canoe was not the kind of thing anyone would steal. No one in his right mind. Or hers.

He looked toward the house. As if he had summoned her, Mavis appeared at the kitchen door with a dustpan, the contents of which she threw onto the path. Her eyes scanned the yard. He ducked back into the shadow of the barn door. Then, when she had gone back inside, he made his way down the hill to the creek and walked along it from his own landing place up past the outbuildings to a little glade of trees. And there it was. She had hidden the old canoe there, not wanting him to know she was using it. Why?

Back in the house, Cramer changed and made himself a few sandwiches. Mrs. Good Wife was in her room. Cramer didn’t bother to say good-bye.

"We call the cops!”

They were in the front room, Jay leaning on the desk, Mimi seated at it, and Iris leaning against the wall.

“This is what Roach meant when he said ‘if anything happens,’” said Jay. “Something has happened.”

“Not really,” said Mimi.

“No, I mean we have a clue. There is a connection.”

“It’s circumstantial,” said Iris.

“Cripes, you’ve been working for a lawyer for a couple of weeks and suddenly you’re an expert?” Iris glowered at Jay. “No, seriously,” he said, “this is the guy who you say used to follow me around in high school, right? Suddenly it turns out his telephone number is on the wall of this house. That may be a coincidence, but it’s a hell of a big one.”

“You’re right,” said Mimi. “And so we need to find out what the connection is between”-she looked at the wall-“M.L. and this house.”

“Presumably the L stands for Lee,” said Iris. “And the woman you talked to must be the M. Didn’t you say Cramer was talking about his mother? Maybe it’s her?”

“Possibly,” said Mimi. “She sounded about the right kind of age.”

“Hold it, you two,” said Jay. “Stop with the detective games right now.” His face was red; Mimi had never seen him so steamed up. He pulled out his cell phone. “Maybe you’re forgetting I got robbed, big-time.”

“I’m not forgetting,” said Mimi. “So did I.”

Jay was busily scrolling through his phone list. Then he swore. “I didn’t input Roach’s number,” he said. Then he looked at Mimi. “Did I give you his card?” She nodded and he held out his hand.

“Jay, I’ll give it to you, but will you just let me try to talk this through? Please?”

He rolled his eyes and pocketed his cell phone.

“Jay,” said Iris. “Just listen to what she has to say.”

Jay sat back down on the edge of the desk. “Okay,” he said without looking up. “Shoot.” His hands were in his lap, the fingers woven together so tightly, the knuckles were red.

Mimi leaned back in her chair, scrubbed her face with her hands. What was she doing? Why was she so reluctant to call the cops? She kind of knew.

“First of all,” she said, “the thing that tipped me off in the first place was him saying ‘up there’ as if he knew where I lived.” The others nodded. “Now that struck me as bizarre, since I know I never told him. But if-and this is just a ‘for instance’- if he happened to live around here, then he might have seen me drive by. Ms. Cooper is pretty distinctive in these parts, right? Or he might have seen me out running.”

“So why didn’t he say anything about it?” said Jay.

“I didn’t ask. And like I said, he’s shy.”

She glanced at Jay, and he bobbed his head slightly. Not exactly a ringing endorsement. “I’ll buy that, but it doesn’t explain the number on the wall.”

Mimi crossed her arms. “I know. That I can’t figure out. My dad must have known whoever M. Lee is. And that is very freaky, I admit. But it isn’t really criminal.”

Jay just looked exasperated. “So we’re back to feelings. Is that all you’ve got?”

Mimi didn’t want to admit it, but feelings were exactly what she had. And she might as well express them. “Cramer Lee is just this boy-”

Jay groaned. “He must be around my age if we were in school together, for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay, he’s this guy. But he’s like a boy. He’s not ironic. He’s not wily or crafty. He’s shy-kind of a bumbler-but he’s really sweet.”

Jay frowned. “As in really hot?”

“No,” said Mimi, throwing up her hands. “I mean yes, he’s okay, but that is totally not what I’m saying. There is something about him that is… I don’t know. I keep feeling there’s something there-”

“Oh, come on,” said Jay. “You’ve talked to him twice. Twice!”

“I realize that. And all I’m saying is that I’d like to talk to him again before we sic the cops on him. If his goofiness around me is a put-on, then he’s, like, this brilliant actor. And I don’t think that’s possible. Not him.”

“So he’s infatuated?” said Iris.

“Maybe. But… Well, there is something about him. And seriously, I am not talking about his bod. Give me credit, okay? There is just this magnetic thing…”

Jay was staring at the floor so intently, she followed his gaze as if maybe there was a clue down there no one had noticed yet. Then he looked at her.