Charlaine Harris - A Fool and His Honey

Buzz.

“Well, no, I can’t contact Craig to ask him where she is because Craig is here. I guess the sheriffs department here will have arranged to tell his brother and the Harbors by now. This is bad news, Cindy. Craig is dead, murdered.”

Buzz, buzz.

“No, it wasn’t over drugs.” Martin raised his eyebrows to me, indicating that we had learned another fact about the deceased Craig. “We don’t know what happened, exactly, but Regina is gone, Craig is dead, and we have the baby.”

Then Martin had to tell Cindy that Barby was out of touch on a cruise, and that we didn’t know what to do with Hayden.

“Yes, I guess we could,” Martin said cautiously. Cindy was offering some advice, I gathered. “Yes, I guess we could do that. Well, we’ll talk about it, and if we decide to come, I’ll give you a call when we get there.”

He hung up a moment later. “Before Rory gets out of the shower,” he said, keeping his voice low, “Cindy says she had no idea Regina was pregnant, and she bets no one in Corinth knew about it. Cindy said Craig had been in jail for one or two things: possession of marijuana, bad checks, that kind of stuff. His friend Rory was almost always involved with Craig’s law problems, too.”

“Are we going to call the sheriff about him?” I asked, tilting my head toward the bathroom door as if Martin had a choice of subjects. We could hear the pipes groan as hot water gushed out of the showerhead. The downstairs bathroom was the noisy one.

Martin stared across the hall to the door as if it could give him an answer.

“You’re really thinking about not calling the sheriff,” I said, my voice full of incredulity.

“Cindy suggested we bring Hayden to Craig’s aunt and uncle in Corinth, the ones who raised him,” Martin said. “We might as well take Rory with us. Do you think he knows anything more than he told us?”

“I have no idea.” I drew myself upright in my chair, trying not to breathe fire at the stranger sitting across from me. “But I don’t think we’re the best judges of that. I think we’ve been as kind as possible, feeding him and giving him a chance to clean up, but I think now he needs to go face the music.”

“You amaze me,” Martin said with no evident amazement.

“You’re giving me a surprise or two yourself,” I said with equal grimness.

“Do you think that boy has brains enough to lie?”

“Just because he’s stupid and sweet doesn’t mean he’s good,” I countered.

“But, Roe, if we turn him over, it’ll make things that much worse for Regina.”

“How so?” If my eyebrows could’ve crawled up any higher they would have been in Maine.

“Because he knows why Craig came to Lawrenceton,” Martin pointed out. “And he’s the only one.”

I gaped at him. I honestly tried to think that one through. Finally, I shook my head. “I’m not following you at all,” I admitted.

The water had stopped in the bathroom.

“He’s going to tell the police whatever puts him in the best light,” Martin said. He’d also noticed the water had quit pounding through the pipes. “By his own admission, Rory’s been in trouble with the law, in a minor way, for years. His dad and granddad before him have done jail time. I recognized his dad’s name as soon as he told me. The Thurlkills, the mother’s family, is just as bad if not worse. Rory isn’t going to tell anyone anything he doesn’t want to.”

“So what’s the profit in taking him with us?”

“He may tell us. We may be able to tell, once we get on Craig and Regina’s home ground, what they were doing. Find some way through this without Regina ending up in any more trouble than she’s already…” His voice trailed off, as he realized it would be pretty hard to find more trouble for Regina.

“Why would he tell us?”

“I can only hope he will. Now that Craig’s dead, why not? We can’t revoke his parole or punish him for whatever he’s done. Maybe if we leave him out of this as far as the law is concerned, he’ll reciprocate with information.”

I could think of one word for this theory, and it wasn’t a polite one.

What had happened to my incisive, figure-all-the-angles husband? He could only be this gullible because it concerned his family. Had Martin ever been foolish about me? I thought not. Did that mean he loved his sister and niece more? His son? What about his first wife? I had a moment of sheer irrational rage as I stared at Martin. Then, once again, I took a deep breath and made myself recall that he had had a terrible shock the night before, that he must in some sense feel responsible for Craig’s death, that his niece was missing and might, for all we knew, be dead.

Be calm and patient, I advised myself. Calm and patient.

But I was pretty close to being clean out of calmness and patience.

I heard Hayden’s little noises from upstairs, and once again I plodded up and back down, this time bringing him with me wrapped in the only blanket Regina had brought. He was definitely awake. I sat at the table holding him, looking at the bundle in my arms.

The baby’s hands fluttered, and his blue eyes were wide open. He began to make the little fussy sounds I was learning would develop into a full-blown wail. My nose told me he needed changing. And he’d want to eat after that; I was willing to put money on it. We had only one more prepared baby bottle. Where could you buy the formula? Anywhere?

“I wish we could go upstairs for a while,” Martin said wistfully. But he didn’t look horny. He just looked like he wanted oblivion.

“Dream on,” I said, spitting out each word as though it were a hunk of poisoned apple. I tried to remember if the formula had been in powder form or concentrate. Had it been milk based? Soy? I’d have to dig the can out of the trash.

My husband was staring at me with bewilderment-if you can believe that-as I picked up Hayden and trudged into the living room to change him..

Rory was standing in the living room, the big diaper bag in his hands. I stopped short.

“Just seeing how many more diapers the little fella has,” he explained. He put the bag down on the low coffee table with some reluctance, and backed away.

“How many are there?”

“What?”

“How many diapers are left in the bag?” It sounded like one of those bizarre math problems you get in the lower school grades. If it takes Suzy ten diapers a day to keep little Marge clean, and Suzy lends Tawan three diapers and uses two, how many more diapers will she need that day?

“Six, at least, I think,” Rory said.

“Thanks.” When he didn’t move, I said, “Do you want to change Hayden?” I held out the baby to him.

“Oh, no!” he all but yelped, backing out of the room with great speed. “No, that’s okay.”

I now had all the products arranged in a line on the table, and a section of newspaper spread out to put the baby on. I managed this change with relative efficiency. All the while, watching Hayden wave around his arms and legs, hearing him fuss when his bottom was exposed to the cool air, clapping a paper towel over him quickly when he began an unexpected pee, I was wondering what Rory had been doing. When Hayden was reassembled, I looked to the left, to the wide opening to the entrance hall, and behind me to the open doors to the dining room. No one in sight.

While Hayden exercised, I undertook a real search of the diaper bag. It had, besides the big central cavity, lots and lots of pockets and pouches, zippered or Velcroed. I found two extra pacifiers, a big plastic fake key ring which I handed to Hayden, four diapers, a faded blue dish towel that I figured Regina had used to cover her shoulder when she burped him. I rummaged through all the little pouches until I found one I’d nearly missed, because it was on one end of the bag right under the shoulder strap clip.