Swallow The Hook Part 10

"He's lonely, Judy. It wouldn't kill you to stop and chat with him sometimes," Doug said.

"Oh, and when am I supposed to fit that in? Between working full-time, taking care of Billy, trying to keep this house from falling down around our ears-"

Frank could tell they were heading down a road the Pennimans had traveled many times before. "So, Judy," he interrupted, "you're not around much during the day, are you? Would you have noticed if Mary Pat was out here?"

Judy shook her head. "I'm gone from six A.M. to six P.M., Monday through Friday, and most of the day Sat.u.r.day, too. I'm an LPN and I work with the homebound-bathing them, changing their sheets, checking their vitals."

"And what about you, Doug?" Frank made direct eye contact with him, but Doug dodged his gaze. "When you're not driving, are you home during the day?"

"Dead to the world," Judy answered for him. "And you better believe that when he is awake he's not spending any time here, between bowling, softball, and hunting."

"And working construction whenever I can," Doug defended himself. "You seem to forget that."

Frank stood up; he'd had about all he could take of the Bickersons here. Judy was sure no Cupid, so it didn't seem likely she'd have loaned their house for Mary Pat's trysts. Billy had the physique of a grown man, but he couldn't picture Mary Pat seducing someone who was mentally handicapped. There was no doubt the Pennimans were unhappily married, which made Doug a reasonable candidate to be Mary Pat's lover. Of course, he wasn't going to admit to that in front of his wife. But with the schedule Judy kept, it shouldn't be too difficult to catch Doug alone tomorrow.

"Thanks for your time," Frank said. "I can let myself out." As he closed the door, he could hear their voices raised again. He headed out to the Stop'N'Buy, hoping that when his time came, he'd die in the saddle and never have to face being cared for by the likes of Judy Penniman.

In two years of living in Trout Run, Frank had never once met Anita Veech. And Anita wasn't a woman you'd be likely to forget.

He couldn't accurately estimate her weight-the difference between 350 pounds and 450 or 500 was largely academic. She wore black knit pants, pilled from the constant friction of her ma.s.sive thighs. Her arms appeared disproportionately short and flipper like, because the size of her gut prevented her fingertips from extending past her waist. With her eyes, nose, and mouth subsumed by fat, her face seemed almost featureless. Wheezing with every step, Anita came toward him.

Frank extended his hand. "h.e.l.lo, Anita, I'm Frank Bennett. I don't believe we've ever met."

Her mouth stretched open in what pa.s.sed for a smile. Two teeth were missing and the others were crooked and brown. "That's because I like to steer clear of the law."

"A good policy. Say, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute about Mary Pat Sheehan. I guess you heard by now the reason she died?"

"Coulda knocked me over with a feather-and that wouldn't be easy!" Anita slapped her thigh, setting waves of fat in motion.

"So you didn't know she was pregnant? She never confided in you?"

"Nope. I did notice she was gaining a little, but I'm not one for mentioning other people's weight."

"Was she in the habit of coming out to visit you at home?"

"Visit me!" Anita's snorting laugh added to the overall impression of a malevolent pig. "Pap told me you all was out to our property the other day. Set the dogs on ya, didn't he? Pap's not one much for company, see?"

If that was the way Pap welcomed all guests, Frank supposed it wasn't Anita whom Mary Pat was visiting on Harkness Road. Doug Penniman was starting to look more and more likely. He let the matter of the visits drop for the moment and changed tack.

"It would be helpful if we could figure out who the baby's father was. It might've been someone Mary Pat met here at the store. Was there anyone she was unusually friendly with?"

Anita c.o.c.ked her head and pushed aside a strand of greasy dark hair. "Well, there might've been...."

Frank stood waiting, but Anita said no more.

"The man wouldn't be in any trouble," Frank a.s.sured her. "I'd just like to talk to him. It could help us locate the baby."

Anita's gaze roamed around the store, focusing on everything but Frank. "Well, see, I feel like I'd be breaking my word, in a way."

Frank couldn't keep the eagerness out of his voice. "I know Mary Pat wanted to keep the relations.h.i.+p secret, Anita. But her death changes everything. This adoption she tried to set up wasn't legal. With the father's consent, we could get the baby placed in a good home."

Anita waved her hand. "The father, he don't want nothin' to do with the baby, that much I can tell you."

"What do you mean? I thought you said you didn't know she was pregnant?"

Anita s.h.i.+fted her weight from one leg to the other. She looked down at her feet, oozing out the sides of un-laced sneakers. "I didn't. But I got the feeling the guy who was doing her was married."

"Anita," Frank barked, "do you know who Mary Pat was seeing, or don't you?"

Anita looked him square in the face, her tiny eyes reduced to slits. "Seems to me you're asking me a big favor. When someone does you a favor, seems to me you should do them one in return, don't it?"

Frank pursed his lips. "And what might that be?"

"My brother Ralph ran into a little trouble over by Placid. Something about drunk and disorderly-they're always pickin' on him over there."

"I'll see what I can do. Now, what about Mary Pat? Who's the guy?"

Anita pulled a stool out from behind the counter and propped herself on it. "Don't get me wrong; I didn't say I knew exactly who he was. Just from things she said, I got my suspicions."

Frank took a deep breath. "Okay, then, share your suspicions, please."

"Like I said, I think he's married."

Doug Penniman? Frank didn't want to put ideas in Anita's head; better to see how much she really knew. "Why?"

"One night we was talking and she said to me, do I believe two people could be destined for each other, could be...what'd she call it? Soul mates." Anita cackled. "I told her all men just lookin' for one thing-a little p.u.s.s.y. They take it where they find it. She didn't like that too much. She said sometimes two people are meant for each other, but circ.u.mstances keep them apart."

Circ.u.mstances like being married to a shrew and having a handicapped son? Frank waited, but Anita said nothing more.

"That's it?"

"Here comes Walter. I'm supposed to be cleaning," Anita said, heaving herself off the stool and shuffling toward her mop. She looked back at him over her shoulder. "You see about my brother. Maybe something else will come to me."

14.

"THE POLICE CHIEF has been out to Harkness Road talking to everyone, trying to find out who Mary Pat was with before she died."

"All you need to do is be quiet. He'll give up eventually."

"Yes, but one of the neighbors told him that Mary Pat drove past his house a lot. So now Bennett knows she had to be visiting someone at the end of the road. Maybe I should-"

"Don't try to be clever. Just keep your mouth shut. And find me another pregnant girl."

The morning of the great Raging Rapids protest dawned clear and bright. The ground was still warmer than the chill dawn air, so a light mist swirled through the low-lying areas of Frank's property. With a full coffee cup to keep him warm, he looked out at the peaceful scene from his screen porch: the brilliant reds and yellows of the trees softened by the ghostly mist; a few barn swallows swooping and diving over the meadow; a blue heron standing so still in the brook that he merged with the gray rocks around him. Frank could happily have sat there all day, but no, he had to attend to this harebrained protest, which he probably could have squelched without much effort at all.

Why hadn't he, just like Herv would have done? No danger of the ACLU coming after him in Trout Run, that was for sure.

When he'd first come to Trout Run after being forced out of his job in Kansas City, he hadn't felt up to any challenges. But solving the Janelle Harvey case-his first, and only, big investigation in Trout Run-had restored his confidence. Maybe the satisfaction he'd gotten from unraveling that mess had given him a taste for bigger prey than speeders and Sat.u.r.day-night brawlers. Had he made it easy for Katherine Petrucci to stage her protest because he thought it might shed some light on Nathan Golding's murder, and he wanted to get a piece of the investigation action?

Well, the strategy had most likely backfired. The more he thought about it, the more the Fed's theory made sense. After all, shutting down a logging operation put a lot more money and jobs at risk than shutting down Raging Rapids, and it provided a lot more motivation to kill. Meyerson's report on Katherine Petrucci dismissed her as "a hysterical housewife with too much time on her hands."

Worst of all, poor Abe Fenstock was just fit to be tied. Most people in town supported Abe, Frank was sure. If anything happened today to damage Abe's business, Frank would take as much blame as Katherine and her followers.

He shrugged off his worry. Really, how rowdy could the thing get? A few moms, a few signs-the whole charade would fizzle out by noon. He drained his coffee and headed out to Raging Rapids.

When Frank arrived, Earl was already there. He'd taken the patrol car home last night, while Frank had loaded up the back of his own pickup with orange cones and SLOW signs from the road department. Together they blocked off an area for the protesters to march, and prepared to direct traffic around them.

"Put this other SLOW sign up ahead where the road bends, Earl," Frank directed. "I don't want any cars tearing around that curve."

Abe had apparently seen them at work and came trotting across the parking lot, an anxious frown creasing his face. "I've got five tour buses scheduled between ten and twelve. Are you sure they'll be able to get through?"

"Absolutely. We'll keep the marchers over here." Frank indicated a twenty-yard strip of shoulder to the right of the driveway.

"There's only you and Earl. Maybe I should send Roy out to help," Abe said.

That would be putting out the fire with gasoline. "No, we'll be just fine," Frank a.s.sured him. "You attend to your customers, just like any other day."

Abe reluctantly left them, glancing back over his shoulder several times. No sooner had he gone inside than a dusty old station wagon pulled up. All the doors opened at once and six young women spilled out.

Frank studied Katie Conover Petrucci as she approached: thick, wavy hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, saggy green khaki pants and a shapeless sweater, clunky hiking boots, and not a lick of makeup. He'd never seen such a pretty woman so h.e.l.l-bent on hiding her light under a bushel.

Katie extended a slender hand and fixed her steady gaze on him. "I'm Katherine Petrucci."

Frank shook her hand, amiable but authoritative. "I'd like your group to stay right in this area on the shoulder. Remember, Raging Rapids is private property and you are not permitted to trespa.s.s or block the drive. Follow those guidelines and we won't have any problems, all right?'

Katie nodded. "If you say so." She turned to her cohorts, all of whom Frank recognized as young mothers from Trout Run. "Let's unpack the signs."

The others dutifully followed her to the back of the station wagon, but Frank thought Ca.s.sie McDonald and Deedee Peele looked a little sheepish. They pulled out signs mounted on wooden poles.

Another van pulled up and five more women got out. Beth Abercrombie was in this group. Frank and Earl exchanged a nervous glance. Frank hoped this was it-the letter had said approximately fifteen protesters, but Frank hadn't believed Katie could round up that many.

Soon, Katie had her followers lined up and they took their positions in the area Frank had laid out for them. Each carried a sign: CLOSE RAGING RAPIDS, BIRDS & FISH NOT $$$, DANGEROUS CONDITIONS AHEAD. Beth carried a stack of large white placards, each with a loop of yarn at the top, which she set on the ground near the driveway. She smiled at Frank and he nodded back.

Quietly they marched up and down. When the occasional car drove by on Stony Brook Road, they turned to face the road and waved their signs. Often, the drivers waved back or tooted their horns. So far, so good.

He watched Beth as she carried her sign, the slanting sunlight reflecting off her golden hair. What had possessed her to join this goofy troupe? Still, she looked kinda cute, especially in that orangeish sweater.

"What do you think those other signs are for?" Earl asked as they stood watching the uneventful event.

"Beats me."

When Raging Rapids opened at ten, the first customers of the day pulled in, and Frank braced himself for possible trouble. But the women continued to march up and down in their designated spot waving their signs toward the drivers, who seemed perplexed by the protesters, if they noticed them at all.

Frank grew tired of standing and perched on the guardrail. He checked his watch-one more hour to go. The worst part of this protest was the tedium. He considered sending Earl inside for coffee from the snack bar, yawned, and listened to the distant knocking of a woodp.e.c.k.e.r. It sure was shaping up to be a nice day.

"I see the first bus!"

The shout startled Frank onto his feet. Suddenly all the protesters had thrown down their signs.

"Link arms!" Katie shouted.

Frank watched in astonishment as all of the women ran to the driveway. Some picked up placards from the stack and hung them around their necks; then they linked arms to form a human chain. The two on the ends each grabbed a gatepost. The six in the middle formed a word with two-foot letters on their chests: UNSAFE.

The tour bus, first in a convoy of five, pulled up to the driveway and honked its horn. The women began to chant: "Raging Rapids kills fish and birds! Raging Rapids is unsafe for children and seniors! For a green tomorrow, close Raging Rapids today!"

Frank ran over to them. "All right, Katie-that's enough. We agreed you wouldn't block the driveway."

"I don't recall agreeing with you on anything."

"Ladies, break it up," Frank demanded. "Let's move along back to the shoulder, please."

But they all clung to one another fiercely and refused to move. Frank felt as helpless as he had when his grandsons had refused to get out of the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p ride at the mall until he put in two more quarters.

He put his hand on Ca.s.sie McDonald's elbow and tugged slightly. "Come on, now, Ca.s.sie. Let go of that gatepost."

"He's hurting her!" Katie shrieked. "Stand firm, Ca.s.sie."

Ca.s.sie looked from Frank to Katie, wide-eyed. Clearly she was more intimidated by Katie, because she didn't let go of the gatepost.

Next he tried his luck with Beth. "Be reasonable, Beth," he said in a soft voice, looking her straight in the eyes. "You guys can't block the drive like this. Get the others to let go."

Her face, flushed by the excitement and the cool breeze, was inches from his own. If he hadn't been so thoroughly annoyed, he would have been tempted to kiss her.

She looked away from him. "I can't, Frank. This protest is important. It's something we've got to do."

By this time Abe had shown up. "Arrest them!" he demanded.

But that was easier said than done. With just him and Earl, one set of handcuffs, and one patrol car, what could he do? These were girls from Trout Run-he couldn't very well start whacking their arms with his nightstick. They had him between a rock and a hard place.

"I'll have to call the state police for backup," Frank said.

"That'll take too long. These buses aren't going to wait forever!" Abe shouted at Frank. Then he banged on the door of the bus. "Tell everyone to get off," he told the tour director. "They can walk into the complex on this path through the trees."

A broad-beamed lady with a clipboard and a hairdo like a curlicued football helmet stepped down on the bus steps and peered out. One look at the chanting protesters and the overgrown path Abe wanted her elderly group to use sent her scurrying back on board. A few moments later the buses lumbered off.

"Come back!" Abe shouted. "You can come back this afternoon." But his voice was drowned out by the diesel roar.

Abe turned on Frank, apoplectic with rage. "Nearly three hundred people, at seven dollars a head-I just lost two thousand dollars! I knew you couldn't control this. And you!" He spun around and turned on Katie, but Frank held him back.

The protesters had now broken their line and were jumping up and down, cheering and giving one another high fives.

"We did it! We did it! Way to go, Green Tomorrow!" Katie screamed. The protesters began retrieving their signs and chatting excitedly. Katie stepped back, standing on the edge of the road and clapping her hands to get their attention. "Our next meeting will be-"