Finding Susan Read online

  Allison drew back stiffly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Those jars of stuff she used to bring home.”

  “What?”

  “Back when she was volunteering with you in your animal clinic. She always said you gave them to her. She would come home with mason jars full of….”

  Allison reached for her car door, blinking nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She could have got those things anywhere.”

  “Right.” Kate was remembering more of what Susan had said about them. “They were spells, weren’t they? Potions. Magic stuff. Right?”

  “How would I know?” she cried, her voice high and trembling.

  “She was learning witchcraft from you. Wasn’t she?”

  Allison put a hand to her own cheek and laughed, but it had a frantic, hollow sound. “My land, the notions in your head, missy. I don’t know where you got them from.”

  “Witchcraft. That was it.” She remembered now. That was why Aunt Gladys had gotten so angry and forbid Susan from bringing home any of those foul concoctions or going to Allison’s anymore. But Kate knew for a fact that Susan snuck over there anyway.

  Allison had had enough. She jerked away, pulled open her door and slid into the driver’s seat. Looking out at Kate, her face was contorted with anger.

  “You’re just a little snitch, aren’t you?” she said nastily.

  Kate’s eyes widened. “No. Actually, I don’t think I am.”

  “Hah.” And Allison pulled out of her parking space and drove away.

  Kate watched her go, shaking her head. The woman was about as unbalanced as Joe Bob, wasn’t she? Maybe that was the element that drew them together. Besides the animals, at any rate.

  But she hadn’t learned anything new, so she headed back to Main Street where Blake was getting her car loaded and tied down. She arrived just in time to see a commotion developing down the street a bit at the small grocery mart. The town wasn’t large enough to attract one of the big supermarket chains.

  “It looks like... what is Mr. Peters doing?” Kate said, blocking the sun from her eyes with her hand.

  Chapter Five

  Blake saw it too - old Hank Peters, who inherited the store from his father, was charging outside like a bull, his face red and looking like he was about to explode. In his hands he held the wrists of a young girl. Blake recognized her as Mary Wolfe, daughter of local aristocrats, much as that word meant anything in rural California.

  “Stay here,” Blake said, and he started down the street. Kate only hesitated a moment before following after him.

  The girl was struggling to get out of Hank’s grip, and he was shouting at her. Blake could only make out a few of the words - “not in my store”, “lock you up”, things like that.

  “What’s the problem, Mr. Peters?” Blake said.

  “Ah, Blake. Thank God you’re here. I won’t have to hold this urchin any longer.”

  Peters let the girl go, and though Blake thought for a moment she looked like she was going to run, she stayed put. Smart girl - people weren’t likely going to forget it if they saw the daughter of the richest family in town running from the law.

  Blake glanced up and down the street. There were half a dozen people watching them now, some of them whispering to each other. Blake looked down at Mary’s pretty little face, which looked back at him with a mix of fear and defiance.

  “Let’s take this inside, Mr. Peters. Mary, you come inside with, uh... Miss Becker here. Hank, clear the people out of your store.”

  Hank Peters kept grumbling as he stepped behind the cash register of his little store and looked at the few people still there. They were all speculating very loudly about Mary’s upbringing and composure.

  “Her parents must be making some big mistakes,” Blake heard somebody say. He cleared his throat, gave his official “nothing happening here” look to the people, and the gossiping died down in an instant.

  “Please, if you could clear out for just a moment,” Blake said, not waiting for Mr. Peters to give the order. The crowd, none speaking a word, ambled outside as Blake scrutinized each and every one of them. When the last patron exited, Blake closed the door.

  “Alright, now, Mr. Peters, what exactly...”

  “She’s nothing but a thief!” Peters said, pointing at Mary. “She thought she was smarter than me, that she could steal things from me, but I...”

  “Calm down, Mr. Peters. Mary?” Blake said, his voice calm and collected. He was using the same measured tone with both of them - he knew from experience that at times like this, the injured party was likely to be more dangerous to public welfare than the accused. Especially someone as righteous and angry as Hank Peters.

  Mary was standing in front of Kate, and when Kate put a hand on her shoulder she shrugged it off. Blake could tell she was going to go on the defensive and probably start lying. It would only compound her problem.

  But then Mary started to sniff, and tears came down her face. She sobbed and turned and grabbed the closest thing she could find, which was Kate, and buried her face into her.

  “She’s trying to... you see what she’s trying to do!” Peters said.

  “Kate, take Mary into the bathroom. You remember where that is?” Blake said calmly.

  Kate nodded, and started off, dragging the weeping Mary along with her.

  “Now you’re going to give into that?” Peters said, outraged.

  “I’m not giving into anything, Mr. Peters. Let me see what she stole.”

  Mr. Peters, looked down, like he was embarrassed, and he dropped the merchandise on the counter. A tube of toothpaste, some black licorice, and a pair of men’s shaving razors. Blake did a quick look through the store. The toothpaste and razors were on one aisle, the licorice was on a display rack in front of the counter.

  “Mr. Peters, that’s about four dollars worth of merchandise,” Blake said.

  “I knew it,” Mr. Peters interrupted. “You see the little girl crying, and you take her side. I have a business to run, Deputy! I can’t have thieves running roughshod over me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter how much the stuff is worth. It’s the principle!”

  “I agree, Mr. Peters. But I think I have a way to let her be properly punished and not get the courts involved on something so...” Blake could tell that if he said the word he was going for, trivial, that Mr. Peters was going to go on another self-righteous rant. “Something that they wouldn’t be able to handle with the proper sensitivity.”

  “Sensitivity? Bah. What about sensitivity to me? I can’t go putting stolen merchandise back on the shelf.”

  “And this should make you feel better,” Blake said, and he pulled out his wallet and laid four bucks on the counter. For the first time since he’d started to talk, he could tell that Hank Peters was conflicted.

  He smiled. Another day keeping the peace. Sometimes he just felt like he had a knack for it.

  *********

  Kate was feeling worried again, and she was tired of feeling worried. She was wondering what in the world Blake expected her to do with the girl here in the bathroom. Beat a confession out of her? Make her stop crying? Kate didn’t know the first thing about relating to kids, though the truth was most of the criminals she defended weren’t much older than Mary was.

  “So, kid, what were you thinking?” Kate asked.

  Mary gave her a skeptical look, and then her eyes dropped back down to look at her feet. She wasn’t ready to talk yet.

  “Okay, you don’t want to talk. I get a lot of that. Don’t often get clients that cry into my lap, but that happens sometimes, too. One time, I represented this big guy, like twelve feet tall, in and out of jail all his life, and he was charged with a felony moving violation. He hit about two blocks worth of cars with his Humvee. I got him pled down from jail time to a fine and vehicle impound. When he found out he wasn’t getting that Humvee back, he just started crying like a baby.”

  “Who are you?” Mary finally said in a
small voice.

  “Kate Becker, Criminal defense attorney. I’m part of a pilot program with the police department. They have a lawyer in every squad car. It’s an attempt to make sure no crimes are actually punished, ever.”

  Kate smiled at her own self-deprecation. It hadn’t made her popular with many others in her profession. They’d decided long ago in law school that they were going to be martyrs, and thus had to take everything about lawyering VERY seriously.

  Mary cracked a bit of a smile, but didn’t talk.

  Kate sighed. Good enough for now, she decided. She took a quick look at herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked downright sickly. What was taking Blake so long?

  “What’s your last name, darling?”

  “Wolfe,” she said, and like the name was a trigger, she started to cry again.

  “Oh, are you Neil Wolfe’s daughter?”

  Mary nodded. Suddenly, Kate thought she knew the whole story. Neil Wolfe was one of the older guys that she and Susan would moon over when they were little kids. When she actually got to know him when working in one of his dad’s stores during the summer after her sophomore year, she found him to be aloof and a little cold. Maybe Mary was trying to get some attention.

  Or maybe she was feeling separated from the rest of the kids in school, since the Wolfe’s were the closest thing to society that Whispering Pines had. Her classmates would be sure that she was a snob and if she was at all shy, they would exclude her from everything. This was a cry out to her peers that she was just one of them.

  Good Lord! Her imagination was running wild today.

  Getting paid by the hour, sister? Kate heard Susan’s voice in her head. It was what she would say when Kate started getting all litigious when dealing with personal matters. She was always looking for solutions, pretexts, and justifications. Sometimes that thinking just wasn’t what was needed.

  “Will you answer my first question, Mary? Why’d you go and do something like this?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought... uh.... I don’t know!” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. Someone knocked on the door.

  “Occupado,” Kate called out, winking at Mary. “You ready to go out there?”

  “Is Mr. Peters going to yell at me?”

  “I don’t know.” Kate hoped he would have calmed down, but Hank Peters was one of those cranky types, the sort that seemed to be perpetually on the verge of a heart attack, and yet he was in perfect health. Maybe it was a technique. “Let’s go,” Kate said, and she opened the door.

  Blake stepped in the way of her coming outside and pushed his way in, shutting the door behind himself.

  “If you really have to go Mary and I can wait outside,” Kate said, giving him a look, but Blake didn’t crack a smile.

  “Mary, did you take the things that Mr. Peters said you did?”

  Mary looked down at her feet. Kate bent down and whispered in her ear.

  “Look him in the eye, babe, and tell him the truth.”

  Mary looked him in the eye, and though she was about to cry, she nodded.

  “What did you take?” Blake said.

  “Come on, Blake. You don’t have to do all this cop crap to the little girl, do you?” Kate said.

  Blake’s mouth hardened, but he didn’t respond. She was going to pull this sort of thing on him whether he was sweet as sugar or a proverbial screw, so he discounted her opinion 100 percent. The only person he cared about now was Mary.

  “What did you take, Mary?”

  “I don’t know. A toothbrush. A razor, I guess. I just kind of grabbed stuff.” Mary was kicking her feet and trying to look anywhere now but Blake’s eyes. Did that mean she was lying, or embarrassed?

  “Nothing else?” Blake said. She shook her head, and he believed her. Peters was lying about the licorice. Blake had the inkling he was - if he hadn’t been there right then, Peters might have emptied out the safe and laid the blame on the girl.

  “Well, okay. I’ve made a deal with Mr. Peters. He won’t press charges if you apologize, and if you tell your parents about what you did.”

  Mary sobbed, and Kate ducked down and gave her a hug. Nothing wrong with that, Blake thought, fighting his instinct to be annoyed with Kate. He was asking Mary to do a big thing for a girl her age.

  “Do we have a deal?” Blake asked.

  Mary nodded.

  “Good. There’s still nobody in the store, and I’m sure Miss Becker would be more than happy to accompany you to the apology.” He glanced at Kate. She seemed to be thinking it over. “Miss Becker,” Blake said firmly.

  Kate looked up and gave him a weird look, but he wasn’t going to let her get to him. Whatever, Blake thought. She isn’t going to like me no matter what I do. And then he wondered why the hell he should care.

  Kate, Blake, and a brave-looking little Mary walked out of the Peters’ Grocery. Mary stood next to Kate and held her hand. Kate hadn’t said a thing since they left the bathroom, but while Mary was apologizing to Mr. Peters, Blake could tell that she was dying to tell Mr. Peters to get himself stuffed, but restrained herself. Blake appreciated that. He didn’t think she had that level of restraint in her.

  She asked him about Susan instead. “Mr. Peters, do you remember my sister?”

  He blinked at her like a wary hamster. “Who are you?” he said.

  Kate laughed. “Never mind,” she said, turning back to Blake. She paused to whisper in his ear.

  “I think maybe we should get some ice cream.”

  “What for?” Blake said, his whispered indignation carrying over to Mary’s ears. She looked at him for a second, and then looked away.

  “For doing the right thing,” Kate said.

  “A reward?” Blake asked.

  Kate nodded.

  “Peters’ isn’t pressing charges, the parents aren’t going to get a fine. She’s got her reward,” Blake said.

  “Wow, for a minute there I thought you were being nice.” Kate’s eyes widened and she called out, “Hey!” and pointed at her Cruiser. Behind it, a pair of teenagers wearing long shorts and backwards baseball caps were lifting the wood from their cart on to their shoulders.

  “They’re taking our wood!” she cried, starting to run. Blake grabbed her wrist, pulling her into an awkward stop.

  “Look where they’re taking our wood to,” he said. Kate struggled against his grip, but he didn’t let go until she visibly relaxed, and saw what he did. Those kids weren’t stealing their wood - they were loading it into the back of her car.

  “Is this your car ma’am?” one of them called. Kate nodded, feebly. “You shouldn’t leave it open like this, ma’am. It could have been stolen.”

  Kate nodded again, and looked down at the ground. Her cheeks were growing red. Blake suppressed a smile. She turned to him with a furious look in her eyes.

  “Now I’m REALLY mad,” she said.

  “Why’s that?” Blake said.

  “They called me ma’am.”

  *********

  “My house is up one more block,” Mary said, her voice sounding tiny in the back of the car. Blake offered her shotgun, be she refused it. She truly looked miniscule now, Kate thought, so tiny there besides the pile of wood planks. She was like a little sprite. It was amazing for Kate to think that she’d been that little once.

  “I think...” Kate started, and then she looked over at Blake to see if he was about to mount an objection. He wasn’t. “I think it might be better if your parents don’t see you driving up to the house in a car with a police officer and an attorney,” Kate said. “We don’t want any guilt by association.”

  Mary nodded, and gave a secretive little smile, then she opened the door. “Thanks,” she said, and then her face took on that solemn seriousness that only the young can muster as she walked down the street towards her house and the certain doom that represented.

  “That’s gotta be hard for the kid,” Kate said.

  “Well, could have been worse. Good idea, this not
driving up to the house. Shows you to be full of that, whaddya call it. Human compassion,” Blake said.

  Kate giggled. “Well, we can’t all be tough as nails like you, copper.”

  “Yeah. Say, what the heck was it with the ice cream? I’m trying to show this girl some sense of responsibility for her actions, and you were going to go there and undermine me with this whole ice cream business. Not good reinforcement.”

  “I didn’t know children were so Pavlovian. It was a bad idea - did you see the look on her face?”

  “Shouldn’t have gone stealing,” Blake said.

  Kate decided not to press the point, but one thing was sure—she’d been impressed at the way Blake handled his job. She didn’t know he was such a good and caring policeman. It did make her think.

  But there was one thing about cops--there was a certain line at which they weren’t willing to compromise. In her profession, compromise was the name of the game. She wondered if maybe, with some gentle cajoling she could illicit a little more warmth from craggy old Blake Spanner. She doubted it, but it was worth a try. Say, a project, like him fixing up her porch. Though he seemed to be destroying the village in order to save it with the porch.

  And there was one more thing. She told him about her encounter with the veterinarian.

  “I think you ought to check out old Allison,” she told him.

  “Why?”

  “I’ll bet she’s running a meth lab in that veterinary clinic of hers.”

  Blake nodded. “Good for her. Good for the local economy.”

  “I’m not kidding. She used to send Susan home with all kinds of strange potions. And when you talk to her, she looks a little bleary. I think she’s on drugs.”

  Blake rolled his eyes. “Just leave Allison alone. If she likes to get high now and then, more power to her. I could take her over a bottle of tequila and let her do it that way.”

  “Some law enforcement officer you are.”

  He gave her a look. “I thought you were a defender in San Francisco. You sound more like a prosecutor to me.”