Alex Bledsoe - Wisp of a Thing

“Why? If I don’t, will she wave her hands at me?” He wiggled his fingers, intending to be funny.

Doyle turned red, although his voice stayed even. Rob couldn’t tell if he was angry or embarrassed. “No, but she might not talk to you if she thinks you got her number some underhanded way, like off the Internet or something.”

“Sorry, it was a bad joke. But seriously, what is all that hand-waving stuff? Is it religious or something?”

“When you were a kid, did you believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s kind of like that. We were all raised being told that some silly stuff was true. And even though we’re all grown up and know better, it’s settled in our heads so well that we still act like it’s true sometimes.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

He shrugged. “Best I can do.” He went back into the garage, picked up a socket handle, and stuck his head back under the Torino’s hood.

“Well, thanks for the number,” Rob called after him, worried that he’d alienated his only real friend here.

As Rob drove away, he swore he saw Doyle on the phone in the office, talking earnestly with someone. It was a momentary glimpse, really no more than an impression, and he knew that thinking Doyle was calling to warn Bliss had to be a reflection of his own paranoia. Didn’t it?

When Rob returned to the Catamount Corner, a Tennessee State Trooper’s car was parked next to Terry Kizer’s SUV. As he got out, the young officer appeared from inside and came down the steps toward him. He had the Tufa hair and skin. “Are you Mr. Robert Quillen?” he asked in that flat, emotionless policeman’s way.

Rob’s first thought was that he was being arrested and would be forced back on the TV show. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

“I’m Trooper Alvin Darwin. I need to talk to you in an official capacity, Mr. Quillen. Might have a missing-persons case on our hands, and you might be a witness.”

“Who’s missing?” Rob asked.

Before Darwin could answer, Terry Kizer came out the front door. “Hey, Rob. You didn’t see Stella while you were out, did you?”

“No.” Rob looked at Darwin. “Is that who’s missing?”

Again, as Darwin started to speak, Kizer jumped in. “She wasn’t in our room when we got back, and she didn’t leave a note or anything. But we found her purse down the street.” He indicated the area around the post office, where Rockhouse sat alone on the porch. The shadow was too deep for Rob to tell if the old man watched them.

“You ask that old guy?” Rob said.

“Mr. Hicks said he hadn’t seen her,” Darwin said. “Said he’d been there all morning.”

“Yeah, his word and a dollar’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Rob said.

“And you haven’t seen her since breakfast?” Darwin asked.

“Nope.”

“And Mr. Kizer was with you immediately after breakfast?”

“For a while. We went gravestone-rubbing. Was she carrying any money?”

Kizer nodded. “Yeah, and it was all there when we found it: traveler’s checks, credit cards, everything. I’m starting to get really worried.”

To Darwin, Rob said, “I’m impressed. I thought you had to wait twenty-four hours to declare someone missing.”

“I need to ask you some more questions,” Darwin said, ignoring Rob’s comment. He gave Kizer a serious be quiet look, then turned back to Rob. “You never know which details turn out to be important. Can we step inside?”

“Sure.”

“So tell me what happened this morning,” Darwin said as he poured himself a cup of coffee in the little dining room. Kizer sat tapping nervously on the tabletop near the window.

“I showed Terry this old graveyard behind the fire station, and he did some rubbings on some of the tombstones. Then we came back here, and I drove out to Doyle Collins’s gas station.”

Darwin looked up sharply. “Behind the fire station? The old Swett family plot?”

“Yeah.”

For an instant, Darwin looked puzzled and angry; then he smiled, once again the friendly good ol’ boy. “How long have you been in town, Mr. Quillen?”

“Two days.”

“And which side are you from?”

“Side of what?”

The trooper’s eyes narrowed. He seemed to see something he hadn’t noticed before. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were Tufa. You look familiar.”

“You’re not the first to think so.”

Darwin turned his attention back to his notebook. “You know about what time you and Mr. Kizer got back?”

“Around eleven thirty.”

Darwin put away the notebook and stirred creamer into his cup. “Mr. Kizer, you have those rubbings handy? Just so I can verify it in my report.”

Kizer looked annoyed. “Shouldn’t we be looking for Stella instead of worrying about that?”

“Every deputy and forest ranger within a hundred miles is doing just that, and if she doesn’t turn up soon, we’ll start calling up volunteers. My job is to figure out when she left and why she went wherever she is.” He looked back at Rob. “So you ever see the two of ’em fight?”

“Hey, I’m right here in the room, you know,” Kizer said.

“No, I never saw them fight,” Rob said. It wasn’t a total lie, since he had only heard them the night before, and the little scene at breakfast couldn’t really be called a “fight.”

“Look, we have ups and downs like anybody,” Kizer said defensively. “If you’re married, you know what I mean.”

“I surely do,” Darwin admitted. “Would you mind getting those rubbings for me? Just so I can be honest when I say I saw ’em.”

Exasperated, Kizer left. When they were alone, Darwin asked Rob, “He seem nervous when you two were out this morning?”

“No,” Rob said truthfully.

“Think he’s violent?”

“No. Do you?”

Darwin shrugged.

“Wasn’t it Terry who called you?” Rob asked.

“True enough. The lady who runs this place saw Mrs. Kizer leave while you guys were gone, but nobody in town saw her after that. It’s like she just walked off into the woods, which seems kind of unlikely. From what he says, she didn’t care much for the rustic life.”

Kizer came back in, looking even more frustrated. “Well, I can’t find them. I thought I put them down in the room, but they’re not there, and they’re not in the truck.”

“No big deal, I’m sure they’ll turn up,” Darwin said. To Rob, he added, “Besides, you can verify his whereabouts, right?”

“Yeah.”

Darwin put a lid on his coffee cup. “Then we won’t keep you, Mr. Quillen. Mr. Kizer, y’all better come with me. We’ll drive around and see if we can spot your wife.”

Kizer followed Darwin out. Peggy Goins appeared, shaking her head as she gathered up the empty creamer package and swizzle stick. “That poor man. I can’t believe his wife would just run off on him like that. Sure, he’s a little overweight, but he’s so nice.”

“Sometimes nice doesn’t count for much,” Rob said. He watched through the window as Kizer and Darwin drove away.

“That’s true,” Peggy agreed. “Will you be wanting some lunch?”

“Hm? No, I think I’m going to go up to my room and lie down for a while. I bumped my head again this morning, and I’ve got a headache.”

She patted his arm. “You rest, then. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

“I can’t imagine who in this town would want to bother me, but thank you.”

Peggy went onto the porch. Deputy Darwin and Terry Kizer were gone, and the rest of the street was deserted except for Rockhouse on the post office porch. She lit a cigarette and leaned on the rail, letting the sun fall on her face.