Jan Burke - Bloodlines

Helen paused halfway in the act of bringing the cigarette to her mouth and said, “Maybe they fell out of his pocket during the fight.”

“The beating, you mean. Jack didn’t get to counter any blows.”

“But his hands-”

“Stepped on.”

“Jesus.”

“I’ve got to find that farm.”

She stubbed out the cigarette and said, “Conn, it’s just one leaf. Eucalyptus trees are everywhere.”

“Not in newsrooms or swamps or even inside the mansion where the party-oh hell.” He ran a hand over his face. “Wrigley was right, I’m not thinking. Poor Lily. I haven’t even called to tell her how sorry I am.”

“For what?”

“About Katy. Don’t you know?”

She went very pale, and he suddenly realized how clumsy he had been, his mistake in not mentioning this to her as soon as he saw her. She had been here all day, with Jack, and didn’t know. Of course she didn’t know. And she thought the world of Katy.

“Tell me,” she said, in a hoarse voice. “Tell me.”

He stood. “They found the yacht. No one aboard. The Coast Guard is looking…”

“Katy…” Helen’s eyes filled with tears.

It shocked him. In over twenty years, he had never known her to cry.

“Oh, Swanie, I’m so sorry. That was no way to tell you. I’m such an oaf. I know you love her dearly and you deserve a better messenger than you got. Can you ever forgive me?”

The tears spilled over, and he put an arm around her shoulders. She cried harder, and he pulled her closer.

He thought of telling her that he didn’t think Katy had ever been on that yacht, but recalled the reactions of the Coast Guard and Mr. Wrigley. If they were right and he was wrong, it would be cruel to raise false hope.

And he wasn’t really sure that his ideas were ones that should provide hope. If Katy and the others didn’t get on the yacht, were they alive and missing? Or murdered?

He thought of those years of missing Maureen. He would wait, he decided. And talk to Dan Norton.

He gave Helen his handkerchief. He heard her murmur, “She should have left that fucking idiot Todd the Toad a long time ago. I kept telling her… Oh, damn the Ducanes! Because she married into a family of asinine show-offs, she’s dead.”

He was relieved. She was feeling better if she could swear like that.

She stood up straight, thanked him, and said she’d better get back to Jack. “Don’t tell him, Conn. Not yet.”

“I’ve no intention of doing so. I’m sorry I-”

“No, please, I’m glad you were the one to tell me.” She wiped her face with the handkerchief and said, “And if you ever tell any of those knuckle-walking simians in the newsroom that you saw me cry…”

“Never.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “Who knows how long I’ll last there, anyway. I get tired of it every now and then and have to do something else.” Her eyes clouded again, but she took a resolute breath and shook her head. “We’ll see. For now, I want to be with Jack.”

“I’m going to take a look at the place where he was found, and then I’m going to try to find that farm. I know you don’t think I’ll succeed, but I’m going to look, anyway. I can’t just sit around.”

“No, I don’t suppose you’ve ever been able to do that.”

Dan Norton had given something more like directions rather than an address to the Mayhope egg ranch. As O’Connor drove out to it, he was struck by how different this world was, for all its closeness to downtown Las Piernas. Dairy farms, horse ranches, citrus groves, and long, low rows of plants. Mile after mile of roads lined with eucalyptus trees. He found himself curious about what might be growing in the fields he passed. In both Las Piernas and Orange Counties, these farms were becoming endangered. Subdivisions were beginning to merge. What would the people in those houses eat, he wondered, once all this rich farmland was covered in cul-de-sacs?

Ezra Mayhope was pleased to hear that Jack had regained consciousness. O’Connor found him to be a friendly man, eager to be of help. He learned that Mayhope was a widower, struggling but getting by.

Mayhope showed him about where along the road he had encountered the speeding car. When O’Connor asked him what kind of car it was, Ezra said he was sorry, he hadn’t had a very good look at it, but thought it was a big, fancy car-definitely a city car.

“Something new and dark-colored. Because of the fog, I didn’t see much of anything until he was just a few yards ahead of me, and then he about run me over. He was driving like a bat out of hell. Awfully fast for that road and the fog. I think I scared him as much as he scared me.”

“Driver a man?”

“Just caught a glimpse of him, too, but yes.”

“What race?”

“White. Had dark hair. But he could come up to me tomorrow and I doubt I’d know him. Didn’t really see much of him.”

“Alone?”

“I couldn’t swear to it, but I think so.”

Ezra showed him the intersection near the place where he found Jack, and pointed out the very spot where he had dragged Jack from the marsh-which wasn’t hard to see, because the reeds and grasses were flattened there.

O’Connor took Mayhope back home. He thanked Ezra and offered to reward him for his time. The thanks were bashfully accepted, the offer flatly refused. O’Connor bought two dozen eggs.

Before he left, O’Connor asked Ezra if he could think of a place nearby that matched the description given by Jack-a eucalyptus windbreak, farm on one side, dairy across the road. He added that he assumed the field he was looking for was fallow or just recently plowed. Ezra grinned and told him that described about a hundred places.

He drove around for a while, discovered that what Ezra said was true. Eucalyptus trees were a common windbreak, as ubiquitous as another import-palm trees-were in cities. Farms and dairy farms were often located across the road from one another. He wasn’t getting anywhere in his search.

He drove back to the place where Jack had been found. Only an hour or so of daylight remained, and he hoped that in that hour he might discover if those who injured Jack had left other clues.

Even before he stepped outside the car, he was struck by the rank odor of the marsh. It wasn’t always this strong, he knew, and there were many places along the marshland where it wouldn’t have been bad at all. He hated to think of Jack lying in this fetid water. Small wonder Jack was feverish.

He thought of the time frame. Jack had been taken from the party before midnight, taken out to the farm, and then moved from there to this marsh. Found near here an hour or so before dawn on Sunday, about thirty-six hours ago. Rain had fallen on Sunday, but not until a few hours after Jack had been found. Even before the rain, the ground here would be soft and damp.

A group of noisy gulls scolded O’Connor, then went back to their interest in something a little farther away.

O’Connor saw footprints in the muddy earth as he approached the edge of the water. He carefully avoided them. He had a feeling that no one from the police had bothered to come out here, or if they had, no one from the crime lab had been with them. He couldn’t say that he blamed them. The rain had undoubtedly disturbed almost any kind of evidence that might have been here.

He saw one set of rain-filled footprints that he thought must be Ezra’s, because they were close to the marks left where Jack had obviously lain on the grasses, and because as they headed back to the road they seemed deeper, since Ezra had dragged Jack’s weight along with him. When he thought of the muddy mess Jack must have been, it was small wonder Ezra might have mistaken him for a movie monster.