Miranda put her arm around her. “There, there, Irene. This is too strange to contemplate. You must be feeling confused and terrible.”
“Bizarre,” Jody said forthrightly. “I can’t believe he lost it like that.”
Irene, not ready to give up on her husband, sputtered, “He’s no murderer!”
“He confessed,” Jody said flatly.
“We’re your friends, no matter what.” Softhearted Roger couldn’t bear to see Jody’s mother cry.
“Mom, I want to go back to school. I know this won’t go away, but something in our lives has to be normal.”
“Jody, that only puts more pressure on you.” Irene worried about the reaction of the other students.
“Hey, I’m not responsible for Dad. I need my friends.”
“We’ll see.”
“Mom, I’m going.”
“We’ll watch over her,” Karen volunteered.
As this issue was hashed out, Father Michael and Herb Jones huddled in a corner. Father Michael, secure in the company of another cleric, whispered to him that he was tremendously relieved that Kendrick was behind bars. After all, he himself was likely to be the next victim.
“Bragging?”
“Not exactly. The first confession was straightforward. The second one, he said he liked killing. He liked the power. I can’t say I ever recognized his voice.”
“Was there a sense of vindication?” Herb inclined his head close to Father Michael’s.
“I couldn’t say.”
“A touch dramatic.”
“The entire episode was certainly that.”
Later that evening Harry told Mrs. Murphy, Tucker, and Pewter all that had transpired at Big Mim’s and then over at Irene Miller’s. Angry though they were at not being included, they listened as she babbled while doing her chores.
“They’re so far away from the truth it hurts,” Tucker said and Pewter agreed, since Mrs. Murphy had briefed them on what she felt was truly going on.
“It’s going to hurt a whole lot more.” Mrs. Murphy stared out the window into the black night. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of what to do.
64
Typical of central Virginia in late November, a rush of warm wind rolled up from the Gulf of Mexico. Temperatures soared into the low sixties.
Students were now back at St. Elizabeth’s, thanks to Kendrick’s midnight confession.
Harry and Miranda shoveled through the landslide of mail.
Jody Miller and Karen Jensen pulled in front of Market Shiflett’s store.
“Things are finally settling down.” Miranda watched the girls, smiling, enter the grocery store.
“Thank God.” Harry tossed a catalog into the Tucker post box. “Now if my truck would just get fixed! I’m getting spoiled driving Blair’s Dually and I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
“Think of all the string and rubber bands they have to remove,” Pewter quipped sarcastically. “What are Jody and Karen doing out of school?”
“Hookey,” Tucker thought out loud.
Mrs. Murphy said, “There’s a big field hockey game after school today, and a huge football game Friday. Maybe their coach got them out ofclass.”
“Wish we’dget out of work early.” Pewter rubbed the plastic comb Harry had just installed on the corner of the post boxes. It was advertised as a cat-grooming aid.
” ‘Course St. E’s won’t be worth squat—they lost too much practice time, but Crozet High ought to have a good game.” The tiger enjoyed sports.
“St. E’s practiced,” Tucker said. “Of course, how well they practiced with all the uproar is anyone’s guess.”
Jody and Karen came out of the store, placed a big carton in the back of Karen’s old car, and drove off.
Susan zoomed into the post office through the backdoor. “Good news!”
“What?” came the animal and human chorus.
“Sean Hallahan has regained consciousness.” She beamed. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but he knows his name, where he is, he recognizes his parents. He’s still in intensive care. Still no visitors.”
“That’s great news.” Harry smiled.
“Once he’s really clear, off some of the painkillers, he’ll have other pains to deal with . . . still, isn’t it wonderful?”
65
The deep golden rays of the late afternoon sun slanted over the manicured field hockey pitch. The high winds and snow of the previous week had stripped the trees of their leaves, but the mild temperature balanced the starkness of early winter.
Knowing how rapidly the mercury could fall, Harry tossed four blankets over her shoulder.
As she made her way to the bleachers, the Reverend Herb Jones called out, “You opening a trading post?”
“Four beaver pelts for one heavy blanket.” She draped a royal-blue buffalo plaid blanket over her arm as if to display her wares.
Miranda, warm in her MacLeod tartan kilt with a matching tam-o’-shanter, soon joined them. She carried two hot thermoses, one of tea, the other of chocolate.
“You come sit by me.” Herb patted the hard wooden bleacher seat next to him.
Sandy Brashiers, beaming, shook the hands of parents, telling each of them how grateful he was that St. Elizabeth’s frightful ordeal was behind them. He thanked everyone for their support, and he promised the best for the remainder of the semester.
Coach Hallvard, about to face the formidable St. Catherine’s team from Richmond, had not a second to glad-hand anyone.
Mim accompanied her daughter, which put Little Mim’s nose out of joint because she wanted to be accompanied by Blair Bainbridge. He, however, had been roped into setting up the hot dog stand since his Dually, the newest in town, could pull the structure. Not only did Blair’s Dually have a setup for a gooseneck trailer, he also had a Reese hitch welded to the frame.
“Mother, why don’t you sit with the girls?” Little Mim waved broadly at Miranda in MacLeod tartan splendor.
Mim , sotto voce, replied, “Trying to get rid of me?”
“Why, Mother, whatever gave you such a silly idea?”
“Humph. You need me to extract money out of these tightwads, Marilyn. You haven’t been a raging success.”
“Considering all that’s happened here, I’ve done pretty damn well, Mother. And I don’t need you to advertise my shortcomings. I’m conversant with them.”
“Well, aren’t we testy?”
“Yes, we are.” Little Mim gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.
These last two years Little Mim had found some backbone. Her mother enjoyed friction on the odd occasion, although she wasn’t accustomed to receiving it from her formerly obsequious daughter. However, it did spice up the day.
“Mimsy,” Miranda called out, knowing Mim hated “Mimsy.” She felt devilish. “Sit with us.”
Mim , throwing her alpaca shawl, deep raspberry, over her wildly overpriced Wathne coat, paraded grandly to the bleachers, leaving Little Mim to scoot to the hot dog stand where she found, to her dismay, Cynthia Cooper helping Blair set up shop.
The home team trotted across the field as the rhythm section of the band beat the drums.
Karen Jensen ran with Brooks. “Toni Freeman has moves like a snake,” Karen said about the opponent who would be covering Brooks.
“I’ll be a mongoose.”
“This is going to be a tough game.” Karen grew increasingly fierce before the game.
“Zone. You’ll be in the zone.”
“Yeah. There’s Rog.”
Brooks waved back at Roger.
“Tossed salad.” Karen laughed, meaning Roger had flipped over Brooks.
Jody loped up from behind. “Let’s skin ‘em alive, pound ‘em senseless! Yes!” She moved by them.
As the team approached the bench, the stands erupted in a roar. St. Catherine’s also shouted. The entire senior class had trekked out from Richmond. This was a grudge match because St. Catherine’s had edged out St. E’s in the semifinals at last year’s state tournament.
The three animal friends sat with the humans on the bleachers.
Pewter hated the crowd noises. “I’m going back to the car.”
“Miranda closed up the Falcon; you can’t get in,” Mrs. Murphy told her.