Sing for Your Supper
Skye had considered asking Wally to go with her to the survivalist camp, but having the chief of police along did not go with her cover story. She was stopping by to see how Perry Underwood was doing after his problem at school. In fact, if she didn’t go alone, her explanation of why she was there wouldn’t hold up. She had to be there as Ms. Denison, school psychologist. And Ms. Denison would not have an escort.
If a pickup had not been pulling out as she drove up the road, Skye would have missed the entrance to the camp entirely. A camouflaged gate guarded the entry and there was little evidence on the ground that vehicles regularly went in and out.
She stopped her car and got out. How did the gate open? She put her fingers through the leaf-covered wire mesh and tugged. It slid smoothly to the right on well-oiled tracks. Thank goodness it wasn’t locked.
As Skye guided the Buick down the tightly packed dirt lane, she wondered how the heck she was going to locate the Underwoods. Then she realized she could work the circumstances in her favor. She had an excuse to stop and talk to other people as she tried to find them.
Trailers and tents of every description were set up along the hills and lakes. All were heavily screened by dense foliage. This area had been one of the many coal mines, and the unique landscaping was the result.
When the mining companies abandoned Scumble River thirty years ago, the huge holes in the ground and equally large slag heaps next to them were eyesores and dangerous nuisances. After a while, though, some of Scumble River’s citizens figured out how to make the mines into money-earning recreational areas. They hauled sand in to line the shallowest of the coal pits and put fish in the deeper holes. While they were getting the beaches and fishing ponds ready, grass and trees were planted everywhere else. Now, people from the city spent their summer weekends paying dearly to swim in an old coal pit.
Skye wondered how the survivalists had been able to afford to buy such a huge tract of recreational-quality land. Either they purchased it before prices rose or someone in their group had a lot of money to throw around.
After what seemed forever, Skye spotted a log cabin to her left. It was bigger and more permanent than any other dwelling she’d seen so far. Perhaps it was the camp’s head-quarters. She parked her car between a pickup and a Suburban with a red cross painted on the side, and walked up to the porch.
The memory of Simon’s telling her about the shooting out here suddenly popped into her mind. She looked around nervously. Was there a gun pointed at her this very minute? No, she was being silly. He had said it was an accident, hadn’t he?
She took a deep breath and knocked on the screen door, smoothing her khaki pants and black polo shirt as she waited. This had been another tough wardrobe decision. What does one wear to infiltrate a survivalist camp? Unfortunately, her camouflage suit was at the cleaners.
Abruptly a huge man filled the doorway and growled, “Yeah, what do you want?”
“I’m Ms. Denison from Scumble River Elementary School. Could you direct me to the Underwoods?” Skye forced her voice not to quaver.
“They went back to Michigan.” He turned to go.
“Wait. Ah, as long as I’m here, could I talk to you for a minute?”
“About what? I ain’t got no kids.”
“But you are the leader out here, right?” She took a wild guess.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, it’s obvious that you would be the top guy.” Skye stole a peek at his face and laid the flattery on thicker. “Your bearing, your aura of authority, your size, they all scream commander.”
“Yeah?” He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “I suppose you’re right. The major don’t live out here and I’m in charge when he’s not in camp.” He stuck out a hand bigger than Skye’s purse. “I’m Sarge.”
Skye swallowed nervously as she watched her hand disappear in his grip, which was surprisingly gentle. “My name’s Skye.”
“Aw, that’s a pretty name.” Sarge leaned against the door frame. “So, what you want to know? We ain’t got no secrets. We’re just getting ready for when civilization fails.”
“Well, preparedness is always a smart thing.” Skye searched her mind for a good question, figuring this was a limited opportunity. “You may have known my grandmother, Antonia Leofanti. She lived on the farm next to this property.”
“Heard of her. Never met the lady.” Sarge examined his fingernails. “Saw in the paper she was killed. Shame, not being safe in your own home.”
“Ah, no offense, but I know some of your people occasionally forgot where your camp ended and her farm began and went across the line.” Skye watched him closely for a reaction. “I was wondering if anyone out here had seen anything.”
“We never took anything.” Sarge crossed his arms and a stubborn look stole over his features. “But your grandma sure went crazy if we were hunting and took a step on her property. That wasn’t too neighborly.”
“No, it wasn’t. But she was an old woman whose health was already failing. Things bothered her that never used to.”
He nodded and leaned back. “Sometimes old folks are hard to live with.”
“So, do you think you could ask around and see if anyone noticed anything the day she died?”
“Okay, but I’d’ve heard if anyone saw anything.”
“Let me give you my number, just in case someone remembers something.” She fished in her purse and pulled out a small notebook and pen.
While she was writing, a skinny teenager ducked under the older man’s arm and ran down the steps. She yelled over his shoulder, “You ain’t stickin’ me with no needle.”
An attractive middle-aged woman wearing an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform followed the girl. The nurse was holding a syringe; its metal tip glinted in the sunlight. “This is only a tetanus shot. That barbed wire you cut yourself on was rusty. You need this to prevent you from getting sick.”
Without speaking, Sarge stepped off the porch, grabbed the girl in a bear hug, and presented her to the nurse, who administered the injection. The teenager took off as soon as the man released her and the nurse went back inside the cabin.
Skye distractedly thanked Sarge and said good-bye. The nurse had triggered something in the back of Skye’s mind. She got into the Buick, waved, and was nearly in Scumble River when it hit her. One of the pictures from her grandmother’s box had a similar scene. It showed Mona and Minnie as teens standing on either side of a nurse in an old-fashioned uniform. The Chicago skyline was the backdrop.
Skye abruptly swung the wheel of the car and turned toward her brother’s salon. She wanted that picture. Who was the nurse? Why was she with her aunts? And what were they doing in Chicago?
She was sitting on her couch staring at the photo when her telephone rang. Bingo was ensconced on her lap, and she had several coffee-table books featuring Chicago spread around her. She grabbed the receiver just before her new answering machine intervened.
Charlie’s rough baritone blared through the handset. “Skye, honey, what you doing tomorrow night?”
“Why?” Charlie had roped her into many unpleasant activities in the past and she was cautious, even though she knew she would end up doing exactly what he wanted her to do.
“The Stanley County Farm Bureau is having a pork chop supper and I got stuck buying two tickets.” He did not sound regretful.
“I thought you had to be a farmer to be involved with that organization.” Skye eased herself into a kitchen chair.
“Hell, they interpret the rules real loose for this sort of thing. I own a couple of pieces of land that I rent out to farmers, so they bugged me to join. Which means I got to show my face at their goings-on.”
“You must belong to every organization in Scumble River.”
“I don’t like to brag, but it seems real important to people that I be involved.”
“That’s impressive.” She was only half listening as she continued to look at the photo.
“So, you want to go with me, or do you got a hot date with Simon?”
“No. Simon and I don’t see each other every night or anything.”
“Then you want to go to this supper?” Charlie’s voice held a hint of impatience.
“Sure. What time?” Skye reached for a pencil. “What do I wear?”
“I’ll pick you up at four. It’s over to the county seat, so it will take us forty-five minutes or so to drive it. Wear what you usually wear; it’s not fancy or nothing.”
“Listen, Uncle Charlie, before you hang up, I’ve got a picture here that shows Aunt Minnie and Aunt Mona posed with a nurse in Chicago. They look like they’re in their teens.” Skye examined the images closely. “Do you know anything about that?”
“A nurse, huh? I can’t think of anyone. I’ll take a look at it when I come get you tomorrow.”
Charlie arrived the next afternoon driving a big black Cadillac DeVille. Skye ran her hand caressingly down the soft leather seats and breathed in the new-car scent. “Wow, Uncle Charlie, when did you get this?”
He tipped back his straw fedora. “I haven’t bought it yet. Just trying it out. Do you like it?”
“What’s not to like?” Skye smiled. “You look perfect in it.” She leaned across the huge expanse of front seat, and kissed him on the cheek. “But what’s wrong with your other Cadillac?”
“I bought that used, just to tide me over till I could get around to shopping for a new one.”
Before Charlie could bring up her need for a car, or the fact that he’d be pleased to buy her one with his newly inherited wealth, Skye passed him the photo of her aunts. “Do you know who that woman with them is or where this was taken?”
“No, can’t say as I recognize her,” Charlie said. “But the two girls are definitely Mona and Minnie.”
“Darn. That means I’ll have to ask Mona, since Minnie is still in the hospital.” Skye slumped down and crossed her arms.
“You don’t get along too good with Mona, huh?” Charlie smirked.
“Aunt Mona’s views and mine don’t always agree.”
“Of course, not many people’s do. Neal pretty much tells her what to think, and he’s a self-righteous ass.” Charlie paused.
Skye could tell he was getting ready for one of his zingers.
“Neal and Mona are two of them there puritans. And you know the definition of puritanism, doncha? It’s the nagging fear that someone, somewhere may be happy.”
The pork chop supper was being held at the Stanley County fairgrounds in Laurel. There was one entrance from the main road, a rutted, gravel path that made Skye wince as the beautiful DeVille bounced from furrow to furrow. She could hear rocks pinging off the shiny finish.
Cars were being funneled by men in orange vests to a grassy area beside the tents. Due to the recent rains, there were big patches of mud and bog waiting to trap unsuspecting drivers.
As Charlie edged his Cadillac into the line for parking, Skye examined the crowds and asked, “Who are all these people?”
“Farm families from within fifty miles of here.” Charlie kept his eye on the car in front of him. No one was getting ahead of Charlie Patukas.
The line of vehicles had stopped moving and Charlie pounded on his horn. “Christ, this traffic is backed up as bad as my bowels.”
Skye screwed up her face. “Gee, thanks for that image, Uncle Charlie.”
When they finally parked and joined the hordes of people pushing their way to where the food was being served, Charlie said, “Maybe some of the old-timers around here will recognize that nurse.”
“Great. I really don’t want to have to ask Aunt Mona.” Skye clung to his arm so she wouldn’t be pushed away with the crowds.
She was stepping into the meal line when Charlie dragged her away and pulled her behind the structure. For just a second Skye felt afraid. Her fear quickly dispersed as he continued to tug her through the exit.
A woman of about fifty stood near a grill, poking pork chops with a long fork. She wore two red plastic barrettes in her dishwater-blond hair. Stringy bangs covered a sloping, uneven forehead. The indistinct features of her pumpkin-shaped face were red with the heat of the charcoal. Her ragged fingernails had been painted scarlet and matched her Spandex shorts.
Charlie waved the tickets in her face. “Fayanne, give me two plates. I can’t wait in that line.”
Fayanne Emerick owned the Brown Bag liquor store across from Charlie’s Up a Lazy River Motor Court. She kept a ledger in her head, and the accounts had to balance at all times.
“Sure.” Fayanne grabbed a couple of plastic plates. “By the way, did you ever talk to that trucker friend of yours about that discount beer he was supposed to look into getting me?”
“He’ll deliver on Monday.” Charlie grabbed the plates as soon as Fayanne had finished filling them. “Thanks.”
When they settled at one of the picnic tables scattered around the grounds, Skye said, “Darn, I should have asked Fayanne about the picture.”
“Honey, you got to be careful who you ask and how you ask them.” Charlie sawed a piece of meat from his pork chop. “You don’t want this getting back to Mona or Minnie.”
“So, how should I ask then?” Skye spread butter on a roll.
“Run get me a beer while I figure it out.” Charlie gestured to a group of metal troughs filled with ice, beer, and soda.
Skye made her way to the drinks and spoke to the white denim-clad derriere bent over the bins. “I’d recognize that butt anywhere.”
Trixie heaved herself upright from the tubs and waved two cans of Diet Coke triumphantly over her head. “Skye, what are you doing here?”
“Uncle Charlie invited me.”
“Owen thought this would be a good way to meet some of the other farm families in the area.” Trixie pointed to a serious-looking man engaged in conversation with two guys wearing Caterpillar gimme caps.
“I see he’s made some contacts.”
“Yeah, I’d invite you over, but you wouldn’t thank me for it. All their wives can talk about is canning and baking.” Trixie’s mobile features made a disgusted face.
“Thanks for the warning. Uncle Charlie will want his beer anyway.” Skye started off, but turned back. “You want to go to the beach tomorrow?”
“Sure. Is the afternoon okay?”
“I’ll pick you up about one.” Skye waved a can and left.
Skye stopped as she neared their picnic table. Sitting with Charlie were Gillian, wearing a low-cut chartreuse top, her husband, with his beer belly hanging over his jeans, and her daughter, with a scowl on her face. Skye took a deep breath. This was her chance to mend some fences and be nicer to her cousins. They had been very understanding about Skye’s involvement with their mother’s hospitalization, and it was time to start fresh and try to be friends.
Skye forced herself to smile as she sat down. “Hi. Any news about your mom?”
Gillian shot a meaningful glance at the little girl. “Kristin, can you get Mommy a can of pop?”
After the girl left, Gillian said, “No. I understand we have you to thank for not being able to see her alone.”
I should have realized they’d be mad about that and called them to explain. “I’m sorry, I should have talked to you first, but I was so afraid someone would try to hurt her again.” Skye popped the top of her Diet Coke.
“So, you don’t think Mom tried to kill herself?” Gillian ran her fingers through her hair.
“No, I don’t.” Skye went over her reasons.
“Well, I don’t know if that makes sense or not, but I knew she didn’t attempt suicide.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a little psychic gift.”
Before she could stop herself, Skye blurted out, “Maybe you could exchange it for a nice sweater.” Damn, being nice to her cousins was going to be tougher than she thought.
Conversation deteriorated from that point, and it was a relief when Charlie suggested that they head for the dessert tent.
As they walked away, he took Skye’s hand and patted it. “You know that cousin of yours is a few peas short of a casserole.”
“Sometimes I’m afraid it’s genetic.”
Skye put a couple of chocolate chip cookies on her plate. All the sweets had been donated by the officers’ wives and were made from scratch.
Charlie picked up a piece of apple pie mounded with ice cream and guided her to another set of tables. Skye broke off a piece of the cookie, which oozed chocolate. She closed her eyes and savored the intense burst of flavor.
“I been thinking about how to show that picture around. How ’bout if you block out Mona and Minnie and just leave the nurse for people to look at?”
“What a great idea.” Skye found the photo in her purse. She also managed to find a pad of Post-it notes. After affixing one square to either side of the photograph, she showed it to Charlie. “What do you think?”
He forked the rest of the pie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Great. Let’s get to work.”
The old man shrugged and went back to talking about tractors. So far none of the people they had spoken to had recognized the woman in the picture.
Charlie seemed to thrive on the noise and the crowds. He greeted most people by name and easily joined their conversations. Skye found it difficult to keep people straight, and although some faces looked familiar, she could rarely remember who they were. Still, it was interesting to hear their opinions and listen to them talk about a Scumble River that existed before she was born. Maybe she’d ask Charlie about doing an oral history with some of his cronies.
The fairgrounds were bigger than she remembered. People walked on caked dirt and tried to avoid the many spots of mud. Several large pole buildings were interspersed with tents and food stands. These structures were made of huge sheets of metal supported with steel rods.
Representatives from local farm-related businesses handed out brochures and freebies. Skye spotted a cousin from her father’s side, Kevin Denison. He was there representing his insurance company, which reminded her that she needed to remind him about her checks. Now the company owed her for both her car and her windows.
Charlie stopped at a group of older women gathered around a picnic table. “Good evening, ladies, do you all know my goddaughter, Skye Denison?”
The women murmured hello and Charlie told Skye their names. At the last one he said, “And this is Hilda Quinn. I believe she went to school with your Aunt Mona and your Aunt Minnie.”
“My, yes. I was in Minnie’s class and Mona was two years behind us.” Hilda’s bright blue eyes darted from Charlie to Skye.
“Skye, would you mind waiting here while I take care of some business? I’m sure these ladies will take good care of you.” Charlie winked and walked away before she could answer.
With the focus of attention clearly in her direction, Skye smiled and sat down. She wasn’t sure how to start, but the others had no qualms.
A woman with meticulously styled hair said, “We’re very sorry about your family’s troubles.”
Skye nodded her appreciation, wondering if she meant her grandmother’s death, her aunt’s attempted suicide, or the fact that everyone thought one of her relatives was a killer.
The group chatted politely for a few minutes before drifting back into their previous conversations. Skye lowered her voice and directed her question to Hilda. “Did you know my aunts very well when you were at school?”
“Yes, Minnie and I were pretty close until…” Hilda’s voice trailed off.
It took a moment, but Skye remembered what her father had said on the drive to her grandmother’s funeral. Of course, that must be what the nurse in the picture was about. Minnie’s breakdown. “Until she left school?”
“Why yes. When she came back she wasn’t the same.”
“How long was she gone?” Skye studied the other woman intently.
“About a month or so. I remember she left right around Easter and was back before Mother’s Day.” Hilda took a sip of her coffee.
“But she didn’t go back to school, did she?” Skye tried to keep things straight in her head.
“No, Mona did, but not Minnie. It was a real shame too. Not to graduate when you’re so close.”
“Do you know why they went away?” Skye couldn’t think of a way to ask delicately.
“We were told it was for Minnie’s health. She had been having spells since she was little. I remember the day she went away, we were walking out of school together after the last bell and your grandfather pulled up in the family car.” Hilda’s eyes took on a faraway look, as if she was thinking of something she hadn’t contemplated in years.
“Wow, you have an impressive memory,” Skye said, encouraging her.
Hilda frowned. “Do you remember your grandpa?”
“No, he died when I was three.”
“He was an old-fashioned man. Very dignified. He kept himself aloof from most people. It was rare to see him in town without Antonia.”
“But he came alone to pick up Minnie and Mona on that day?”
“No, that was another reason why I remember it so well. He had a nurse with him.”
To Skye, everything suddenly became quiet and still. Her hands shook as she extracted the photo from her purse. “Was this the woman?”
Hilda leaned forward and adjusted her glasses. “Yes, that’s the nurse. How did you get a picture of her?”
Ignoring Hilda’s question, Skye crossed her fingers. “Do you know her name?”
“Well, your grandfather certainly didn’t introduce us.” Hilda scowled. “He always treated people like he was a king and they were his servants.”
“Like Uncle Neal does.”
“Right.” Hilda nodded. “That lord of the manor attitude.”
“So, you didn’t get the nurse’s name.”
“Well, not verbally, but when Mr. Leofanti and that nurse came up to us on the sidewalk, they each took one of the girls by the arm. The nurse was on my side and I could read the nameplate pinned to her uniform.”
Skye hardly dared to breathe. “Do you remember it?”
“We’d been reading The Scarlet Letter in English class and I thought it was an odd coincidence that the nurse’s name was so close to the woman’s in the story.” Hilda closed her eyes for a second. “Her name was Esther Prynn.”
“You have a remarkable memory. I’m amazed.” Skye could hardly sit still.
“It helps that I’m an English teacher and my class has read The Scarlet Letter every year for the past twenty-five years.”