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.Did Mimi say anything else?” I was praying it wasn’t going to be the same old story, third version.“Well, he died,” Joanne said kind of sweetly, as if she were breaking the news to near relatives.“Yeah, we heard that, too.Do you know anything about his family?”“Well, I was just getting to that,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially.“Mimi says that one of that man’s kids lives up at the old Calloway place on Pleasant Hill Road.She feels sure the name is Fine, same as the father.”“No kidding,” I said, almost breathless with excitement.“That’s what Mimi said.Mildred Calloway was an aunt or something.She’s been gone for a good long time now.My mother-in-law used to know everybody’s business in this town—that’s how come I asked her.I mean, she knew everything! I suspect there are a few folks in town who are relieved her memory is starting to drift—if you know what I mean.”“She didn’t tell you the name? Of Irving Fine’s child?”“No, Mimi was more interested in talking about Irving Fine and how he scandalized the whole town.Refused to tell me what he’d done, though.I thought he’d run away with the preacher’s wife or something.Tell you the truth, I think Mimi couldn’t quite call it to mind.”Our waitress brought the subs.Joanne looked up and gave the waitress a big smile and a motherly pat on the arm.“I’m almost done, hon,” she said.“Don’t worry about it,” the waitress assured her.“We’re not busy.”“So anyway, that’s pretty much all I found out.I expect you could just hop on over there and ring the bell.Writers work at home most times, don’t they?”“Yeah, I guess so.But we’ll need the address.”“Oh, gosh.I don’t have the number, but I can draw you a map.It won’t be hard to find.”She pulled a pen out of her apron and grabbed a napkin.“Okay, now you kids walking?”“Yes.”“Well, it’ll be a bit of a hike.But what you want to do is head down Maple that way”—here she indicated the direction with her right hand—“then hang a left on Scenic Road.”She drew a curving line on the napkin and labeled it in block letters.“You’ll stay on Scenic for a good long way and it will curve around and start heading up the hill.Then you want to start looking for Pleasant Hill Road and you’ll go right.”She drew a little box to represent the Calloway house.She put an X in it.“The house is going to be on the left-hand side, about halfway up the road.There’s kind of a park across from it—nice trees and grass and all.The house is a gray Victorian type with frilly iron stuff along the roof.Needs a paint job.”“Does it look different from the other houses around there? So we don’t go to the wrong place.”“It’s the only one that’s gray, I’m pretty sure.And it’s not as fixed up, if you know what I mean.My kids used to think it was haunted.See, Pleasant Hill is one of those neighborhoods that used to be really ritzy—like back in Mildred Calloway’s time—but then it sort of went downhill for a while.People with money wanted new houses, you know, with central heat and all.Then it came back in fashion again to have these antique houses and spruce them up.Very Martha Stewart, you know.Only not this one.I don’t think you can miss it.”“Wow—thank you so much,” I said.“You really have no idea—we’ve been dragging all over town for two days and we thought we were going to have to spend the rest of the summer reading old newspapers.And now we can just pop on up there.”“Not ‘pop,’” Beamer said.“Trudge.”“Well, fine, we can just trudge on up there and get this thing over with.”Joanne heaved herself to her feet.“Well, I hope this doesn’t mean we won’t be seeing you again.I’ve kinda taken a shine to the both of you.”“We’ll come to visit,” I promised, though I knew we probably wouldn’t.Joanne was one of those people you meet, then never see again—but who stays in your memory forever.“You tell Jason to stay away from those I.M.Fine books,” I said.“Especially the next one.”“I’ll do that, hon.”16Joanne had been right.The old Calloway house stuck out like a sore thumb.All the other houses on the block were totally fixed up, with potted geraniums and old-fashioned porch swings and bright green shutters.And right in the middle of all that new paint and cuteness stood this dark, faded, shabby old house.I don’t want you to think this was one of your typical haunted houses, with shutters hanging off at an angle and broken windows and all.It wasn’t that bad.It just felt—I don’t know—sad.I turned to Beamer.“Are we ready for this?” I asked.“Do we know what we’re going to say?”“Well, not really.I mean, we can’t exactly plan it till we get a feel for the situation.Like if he’s angry or seems dangerous, then we need to take one approach.If he invites us in for milk and cookies, then that’s another story.”“I’d be more worried about the milk and cookies,” I said.“Isn’t that how child molesters work?”“You’re saying we shouldn’t go in the house? Even if he invites us in?”“Well, I don’t know.But I think we ought to talk about it now, before we go up there.”“Can’t we just play it by ear?” Beamer suggested.“What do you mean?”“Well, like if he turns out to be some muscular hulk that could overpower us, then we probably want to stay outside.Maybe just talk on the porch.But if he’s some wizened little old guy with a cane—well then, the two of us can probably handle him.”“Okay,” I said.“That makes sense.”“But how do we open this conversation? ‘Hi! We think you’re evil’?”“Yeah, that’s good.”“Franny.”“Sorry.Okay—how about this? We start out by apologizing for bothering him.I mean, he’s really gone out of his way to protect his privacy, so I don’t think he’s going to be all that happy when we come knocking on his door.So let’s say we’re very, very sorry to bother him and we know how busy he is—and then we can try a little flattery.You know, how he’s so famous and people must always be wanting his autograph.Like that.”“Right, at which point he slams the door.”“Fine, Beamer.Let’s hear your version.”“I say we hit him between the eyes.Like we’re the FBI.Tell him we know what he’s up to and we plan to make him stop.That we’ll be watching and if he ever does it again, we’ll tell the police.And I think we should say we left a note at home, to be opened in case we don’t come back, telling where we went and why.That way, he won’t kill us, thinking he can cover up his crime.”“Kill us! Beamer, you watch too much TV.”“I do not.”“Look, here’s what we should do.We’ll start out my way and end up your way.Only a little nicer.We’re not a SWAT team here, Beamer.We don’t want to look totally stupid.”“All right,” he said, throwing up his arms in exasperation.“Let’s get this over with.”The house sat high on the lot.To reach the front door, we walked up a sloping sidewalk with a few steps placed at intervals, then up more steps to the porch.From there, we could see out past the green space across the street to the town of Wimberly spread out below.Despite the great view, the house itself was pretty run-down—a lot worse than it looked from the street.The paint on the porch floor was peeling and the white trim was dirty and stained.There was a yellow sign nailed to the door frame: NO SOLICITORS, it said.Beamer rang the bell [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]