"I'm sorry, my darling." Kevin tried to peer through a knothole, but he still couldn't tell exactly what was going on inside the cabin. Grumbling, he got down and wiggled around until he was facing Dahlia in the darkness of the cramped space. He squatted down so he could whisper right at her face. "We got to stay here until they're gone. I couldn't see who it was, but they might be dangerous or murderers. They might have guns, which would mean I couldn't protect you if they decided to tie us up and then have their way with you-the filthy perverts!"
"Why'd you let them sneak up on you like that?" she persisted, not especially distraught over Kevin's bleak scenario. She couldn't imagine the filthy perverts being able to overpower Kevin, not when he was so brave and cool that he ought to be on Friday-night television.
"What else could I do? I was out on the porch wondering if you were all right-you'd been down here a long time, my precious-when I heard this eerie screech and saw a light bobbling in the night like it was being carried by a ghost. I didn't waste a single second. I rushed down here lickety-split so's I could protect you."
"Did you think to bring toilet paper? There isn't so much as a scrap of newspaper or an old catalogue or anything."
Kevin apologized for the oversight. After a while, his back began to ache something awful from the position, and Dahlia allowed that he could sit on her warm, broad, uncovered thighs. What light there was came through the crescent cutout in a soft path. If it hadn't been for the pervasive redolence, it would have been kind of sweet, like two lovebirds in a cozy wooden cage.
"I'll cast Daffodil Sunshine's natal chart immediately," Rainbow said. She bent down to kiss Poppy's forehead, then trotted into the front room with a lot of chatter about sidereal time and Capricorn ascending.
Zachery lit a joint and offered it to me. "That blew my mind. Wow. I mean, really wow."
I was slumped behind the desk. I waved away the joint (being a police officer requires a degree of self-sacrifice) and looked at my watch. Despite Rainbow's earlier assertion that the baby would be born at any moment, it had taken Daffodil Sunshine five hours to make his entrance. A very long five hours for all concerned. The manual from the feminists' commune, aided by my vague memories of paramedic training at the academy, had seen us through the ordeal. Mother was dozing, exhausted but triumphant. Zachery was more stoned than a quarry. Rainbow was intent on casting the natal chart, which I presumed had to do with astrology. Daffodil Sunshine seemed to have all the pertinent parts. Like one of the good fairies in Sleeping Beauty, I wished him Herculean strength; he would need it to deal with future school-yard discussions of his name.
"I'm going home," I said to Zachery. "Pot's illegal, by the way."
He frowned at the joint in his hand. "Still? You'd of thought someone would have legalized it by now."
"Not yet."
"Oh, shit." He took a deep drag on the joint, then squinted at me as the smoke drifted through his wispy mustache. "What about if you grow it yourself? Is that cool?"
I tried to envision him with the energy to garden in the middle of the National Forest. Clearing the patch, planting seeds, lugging water from the spring, bringing in fertilizer-and rigging booby traps. He wasn't my idea of a hirsute Johnny Appleseed, but I had to ask. "It might be, if you're real quiet about it and it's strictly for your own use. All sorts of folks do it in the National Forest, and most of them get away with it. Have you ever tried?" Subtlety was not a requirement; the man was having difficulty understanding the one-syllable words.
"Once," he said, looking sadly at me. "I had this little plant in a flowerpot on my kitchen windowsill back when I was in college. The cat ate it. It must not have been very good shit, because Fritz died that same night."
"You're probably right, then. You do realize that you shouldn't smoke dope in front of me, don't you? I am the chief of police."
"You're the fuzz? I thought you were the midwife, since you delivered the baby. Are you really the fuzz, too?" When I nodded, he slapped his hand on his forehead. "This is a real mind fuck, you know? Some kind of bummer. Wow."
"Wow." I went to the front room, where Rainbow was elbow deep in books, papers, and legal pads. "I'm going home," I said. "Do you want me to transport the four of you to your house?"
"We'll stay here and wait for Nate; he ought to be back soon. Poppy can use the rest, and we need the chart as soon as possible. There are some peculiar connotations of financial activities, since Jupiter's in the eighth house."
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was in the madhouse. "Well, I'm off. You ought to have a doctor check the baby, just to make sure he's healthy."
"Oh, that's not necessary; Scorpios are ruled by Pluto, which is very regenerative. Won't you stay for a cup of chamomile tea? I'd like to have a chance to tell you how utterly incredible you were, but I've got to cast the chart. Not only do we need to analyze the Jupiter implication, but we may also have to confront the polarity with Taurus and the fixed quadruplicity. You know what that can mean."
"Doesn't everybody?" I murmured. I caught myself in a yawn and headed for the front door, the jeep, and my bed-if only for a few hours. My grandiose scheme to have a decent night's sleep was not to be, but Maggody had its 756th citizen.
"Thanks again. You must have been a midwife in one of your previous lives. Can I do your chart for you sometime? What's your sign?"
I looked over my shoulder at her. "No trespassing." Once I got to the jeep, I realized there wasn't much point in going to my apartment for such a short time. The departure from it would only depress me. I was reasonably warm and dry after the marathon session in the Emporium office, and the rain had stopped. I could go crawl into my sleeping bag and save myself an hour's drive at the godawful crack of dawn. I could wake up at six and have time for a leisurely cup of coffee before I called in to the sheriff's office with my report that nothing had happened.
"Aw, hell," I said to the empty highway. I then backed up, turned around, and headed for the far side of Cotter's Ridge. Like wow.
"I'm gonna die," Carol Alice said, flat on her back in bed and staring at the ceiling. "I just know it. Something dreadful's fixing to happen. I'm gonna die."
"No, you're not," Heather said firmly.
"I'm gonna die. There's not a doubt in my mind."
Heather put her hands on her hips and tried for a more authoritarian air, like the home ec teacher the day the class had started throwing oatmeal-raisin cookie dough all over the room. "Carol Alice Plummer, you listen and you listen up good. We're all going to die someday, but it ain't going to happen for a real long time. So stop the crazy talk right this minute. Okay?"
"I reckon I should get it over with and save everyone the trouble of waiting around," Carol Alice continued in a hollow voice. "Tell Bo Swiggins I'm sorry that we didn't get married in June, but I don't see how we can if I'm dead. Madam Celeste says that death is hovering nearby, maybe right over my shoulder. I can feel his icy breath on my neck, Heather."
"I thought you promised Bo that you wouldn't go there anymore. He'll be furious if he finds out, you know."
"He can be as furious as he's a mind to be. I intend to be dead, so what do I care?" Sighing, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. "Go away, Heather. I got to think about my last will and testimony."
Heather looked down at Carol Alice, wishing with all her heart that Mr. Wainright could whisper some advice in her ear right that minute. She didn't think her best friend in the whole world would actually do something crazy, but she wasn't sure. When Madam Celeste had telephoned Carol Alice out of the blue and told her to come to the house, Carol Alice had been thoroughly spooked; Heather couldn't blame her one teeny-tiny bit for that. Then the madam doing cards and Mesopotamian sand for free-well, that'd been enough to put Carol Alice in a downright hysterical mood. Heather couldn't blame her for that, either.