Catherine Coulter - The Cove

Quinlan and Sally came through.

"Wet out there," Quinlan said, shaking the umbrella. "How you all doing?"

There were two grunts, one okay, and Purn Davies actually folded his cards facedown and got up to greet them. "What can I do for you folks?"

"You meet Amabel Perdy's niece, Sally St. John?"

"Yep, but it weren't much of a meeting. How you doin', Miz Sally? Amabel all right?"

She nodded. She just hoped she could keep her fake names straight. Brandon for Sheriff Mountebank and St. John for everyone else.

There was more than polite interest in his question about Amabel, and it made Sally smile. "Amabel's just fine, Mr. Davies. We didn't have any leaks during the storm. The new roofs holding up really well."

Hunker Dawson, who was sitting there pulling on his suspenders, said, "You had us all out looking for that poor woman who went and fell off that cliff. It was cold and windy that night. None of us liked going out. There weren't nothing to find anyway."

9

SALLY'S CHIN WENT up. "Yes, sir. I heard her scream and of course I would alert you. I'm just sorry you didn't find her before she was murdered."

"Murdered?" The front legs of Ralph Keaton's chair hit hard against the pine floor. "What the dickens do you mean, murdered? Doc said she must have fallen, said it was a tragic accident."

Quinlan said mildly, "The medical examiner said she'd been strangled. Evidently whoever killed her didn't count on her body washing back up to land. More than that, whoever killed her didn't even consider that if she did wash up there would be anyone around down there to find her. The walk down that path is rather perilous."

"You saying that we're too rickety to walk down that path, Mr. Quinlan?"

"Well, it's a possibility, isn't it? You're certain none of you heard her scream during the night? Cry out?

Call for help? Anything that wasn't just a regular night sound?"

"It was around two o'clock in the morning," Sally said.

"Look, Miz Sally," Ralph Keaton said, rising now, "we all know you're all upset about leaving your husband, but that don't matter. We all know you came here to rest, to get your bearings again. But you know, that kind of thing can have some pretty big effects on a young lady like yourself, like screwing up how you see things, how you hear things."

"I didn't imagine it, Mr. Keaton. I would think that I had if Mr. Quinlan and I hadn't found the woman's body the very next day."

"There is that," Purn Davies said. "Could be a coincidence. You havin' a dream because of you leaving Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

your husband-that's what Amabel told us-or hearing the wind howling, and the woman jumping off that cliff. Yeah, all a coincidence."

Quinlan knew there was nothing more to be gained. They'd all dug in their heels. Both he and Sally were outsiders. They weren't welcome, just tolerated, barely. He thought it was interesting that Amabel Perdy seemed to have enough control over the townspeople so none of them had revealed to the cops that Sally was here, no matter how much she was obviously upsetting them. He prayed that Amabel's hold on them would last. Maybe he should tone things down, just to be on the safe side. "Mr. Davies is right, Sally," Quinlan said easily. "Who knows? We sure don't. But, you know, I just wish you'd remember something about Harve and Marge Jensen."

Hunker Dawson turned so fast he fell off his chair. There was pandemonium for a minute. Quinlan was beside him in an instant, making sure that he hadn't hurt himself. "I'm a clumsy old geek," Hunker said, as Quinlan carefully helped him to his feet.

"What the hell happened to you?" Ralph Keaton shouted at him, all red in the face.

"I'm a clumsy old geek," Hunker said again. "I wish Arlene were still alive. She'd massage me and make me some chicken soup. My shoulder hurts."

Quinlan patted his arm. "Sally and I will drop by Doc Spiver's house and tell him to come over here, all right? Take two aspirin. He shouldn't be long."

"Naw, don't do that," Ralph Keaton said. "No problem. Hunker here is just whining."

"It's no problem," Sally said. "We were going to walk by his house anyway."

"Well, all right, then," Hunker said and let his friends lower him back into his chair. He was rubbing his shoulder.

"Yes, we'll get Doc Spiver," Quinlan said. He shook open the umbrella and escorted Sally out of the general store. He paused when he heard the old men talking quietly. He heard Purn Davies say, "Why the hell shouldn't they go to Doc's house? You got a problem with that, Ralph? Hunker doesn't, and he's right. Listen to me, it don't matter."

"Yeah," Gus Eisner said. "I don't think Hunker could make it over there, now could he?''

"Probably wouldn't be smart," Purn Davies said slowly. "No, let Quinlan and Sally go. Yeah, that's best."

The rain had become a miserable drizzle, chilling them to the bone. He said, “None of them is a very good liar. I wonder what all that talk of theirs meant?"

All that he was implying blossomed in her mind, and she felt more than the chill, damp air engulfing her. "I can't believe what you're suggesting, James."

He shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it, Sally."

She couldn't, of course. "They're old. If they do remember the Jensens, it's just that they're afraid to admit it. As for the other, it was harmless."

"Could be," James said.

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They walked in silence to Doc Spiver's house, and Quinlan knocked on the freshly painted white door.

Even in the dull morning light, the house looked well cared for. Just like all the other houses in this bloody little town.

No answer.

Quinlan knocked again, calling out, "Doc Spiver? It's Quinlan. It's about Hunker Dawson. He fell and hurt his shoulder."

No answer.

Sally felt something hard and dark creep over her. "He must be out with someone else," she said, but she was shivering.

Quinlan turned the doorknob. To his surprise it wasn't locked. "Let's see," he said and pushed the door open. The house was warm, the furnace going full blast.

There were no lights on, and there should have been, what with all the dull gray outside. It was just as gray inside the house, the comers just as shadowy, as it was outdoors.

"Doc Spiver?"

Suddenly James turned, took her by the shoulders, and said, "I want you to stay here in the hallway, Sally. Don't budge."

She just smiled up at him. "I'll look in the living room and dining room. Why don't you check upstairs?

He's just not here, James."

"Probably not." He turned and headed up the stairs. Sally felt the impact of the heat. It was hotter now, almost burning, making her mouth dry. She quickly switched on the hallway light. Odd, but it didn't help.

It was still too dark in here. Everything was so still, so motionless. There didn't seem to be any air. She tried to draw in a deep breath but couldn't. She looked at the arch that led into the living room.

Suddenly she didn't want to go in there. But she forced herself to take one step at a time. She wished James were right beside her, talking to her, dispelling the horrible stillness. For God's sake, the old man just wasn't here, that was all.

She tried to take another deep breath. She took another step. She stood in the open archway. The living room was just as dim and gray as the hallway. She quickly switched on the overhead lights. She saw the rich Bokhara carpet, the Tiffany lamp that Doc Spiver had knocked over because he hadn't seen it. It wasn't broken or cracked, as far as she could tell. She took a step into the living room.

"Doc Spiver? Are you here?"