SCENE TEN
Mary opened the front door of the house and the cold, outside air rushed in. It forced its way through the thin fabric of her dress and rustled her white hair as flakes of snow blew into the foyer like tiny animals fleeing the approach of a ravenous predator. The metal blade of the knife absorbed the chill almost instantaneously and felt like a slender icicle weighing down her pocket. Hugging herself, the old woman rubbed her arms briskly as she blinked in the sudden glare of the sun.
“Mornin,’ Chief Howarth. What’d them boys of mine do now?”
The man on the porch was dressed in a heavy, wool jacket and the blue material contrasted sharply with the white backdrop of winter. The silver buttons were polished almost as brightly as the star-shaped badge pinned just above the breast pocket and his angular face hid in the shadows of the wide brimmed hat that perched atop his close-cropped hair. He looked at her with eyes the color of mahogany and spoke through lips that were dry and cracked.
“Morning, Mary. Hope I didn’t wake you. I apologize for it being so early and all.”
Mary sniffed once as if she were testing the air and cocked her head to the side.
“Don’t sleep much when ya get t’ be my age. I reckon I’ll sleep enough when I’m dead.”
“How’s that knee been? Acting up with the cold and all?”
Chief Howarth glanced over the old woman’s shoulder and his eyebrows arched ever so slightly; the emphasis he’d placed on the word cold wasn’t lost on Mary… but she kept her body planted squarely in the doorway and simply hugged herself more tightly.
“I’ll live, I s’pose.”
They stood in silence for a moment as the chief shuffled forward a few steps while he licked his lips.
“Feels like you got the fireplace all nice and warm, at least.” He finally said. “Heater’s on the blink in the cruiser… cold as a witch’s tit out here, too.”
“More on the way… I reckon we might as well get used to it.”
The chief’s shoulders drooped and a cloud of vapor billowed from his mouth and nose as he sighed; somehow he seemed a little smaller now, almost as if the air he’d been holding within his lungs had been the only thing keeping him inflated. Mary stood as straight as a pine sapling in the doorway smiled. At the same time, she breathed in through her nose, inhaling the same air the chief of police had just expelled, and her chest seemed to swell. For a fraction of a second, she looked like a smug, old teacher who’d just bested a smart ass student… but the expression melted away and she was just a shivering pensioner again.
“Yeah,” the chief agreed, “I suppose I will.”
He glanced around, taking in the snow covered shrubs in the yard and the pines that towered on the edge of the property. Dawn had yet to force its way through the canopy of green needles overhead and darkness still held sway among the rows of trunks and undergrowth. The trees were so thick and dense, in fact, that it almost seemed as if the forest existed in some reality that had been freed from the bonds of time: in there, amid that brambles and fallen limbs, it was as black as the bottom of a deep water well. Almost as if the night had become lost in this labyrinth of wood and lacked even a trail of crumbs with which to find its way out again.
“Where are the boys, anyhow? Awful early to be out and about. Especially on a morning like this. Thought we were going to have to close the pass last night. Had the highway boys all ready to mobilize, but in the end….”
“Now, Chief, I know you didn’t come all the way out here to pay me a social call.”
Mary’s tone was as sharp as a mother reprimanding a child; the chief sighed again and his head almost seemed to swivel beneath his hat as he shook it.
“No… no, I suppose I didn’t. .”
Chief Howarth slipped his hand inside his coat and when it emerged he had two photographs fanned between his fingers.
“You seen either of these two folks around lately, Mary?” he asked as he handed the snapshots to her.
The old woman glanced down at the pictures and gasped as she saw the faces staring back up at her. Her jaw hung open for a fraction of a second and she blinked rapidly as if perhaps she’d just awoken from a dream and was attempting to rid her mind of the lingering afterimages. The chief leaned in so close that Mary could smell the coffee on his breath and gripped her elbow gently.
“You have, haven’t you? You know these kids, don’t you?”
In the same amount of time that it had taken for Mary’s facade to slip, she repaired the damage that had been done. She glanced at the pictures again, shook her head with a wry smile, and handed them back to Chief Howarth.
“Thought that fella was my Cousin Fred. Spittin’ image of him, he is. From back in the day, I mean. Reckon Fred hasn’t been that handsome since… well, since never I s’pose.”
The old woman laughed and flashed another smile at the policeman; the excitement that had touched his features when she’d caught her breath faded and he simply looked cold, tired, and slightly bored again. Inside, however, Mary felt as if someone had just goosed her soul. It was as if the deepest layers of fat and tissue were undulating with some sort of inner chill and her throat was as dry as when she’d fall asleep in front of the fireplace.
“Took me back a bit, I tell ya. ‘Ole Fred always was a good for nothin.’ Always runnin’ afoul of the law and carryin’ on like you wouldn’t believe.”
She knew she had to guard her words as closely as if they were her grandmother’s antique silver. Howarth may have been overworked and underpaid, but the man was no fool… one slip and he’d seize upon it like a bobcat on a winter hare.
“You certain, Mary? Maybe, you didn’t look close enough or….”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my eyes, Chief. At least, nothin’ that these here glasses don’t fix. Aside from lookin’ like Fred, I ain’t never seen these two folks a day in my life. They missin’ or something?”
She tried to make the question sound as casual as if she were asking how the man’s children were. Nothing more than small talk to help pass the time.
“State troopers want to ask them some questions, that’s all. We heard they might be heading this way, so we’re checking with everyone. Just routine procedure, that’s all.”
Having lived on a farm for the majority of her life, Mary knew bullshit when she smelled it. There was something the Chief wasn’t telling her, something he was keeping as close as the pistol strapped to his hip.
“You see them around, you call me, you hear? Don’t try talking to them or anything. We don’t want to spook them by making them think they’re in trouble or anything. You just give me a call, okay?”
Were they dangerous? Is that why Howarth was trying to play it off as if this was nothing out of the ordinary while, at the same time, basically telling her not to be a hero?
“I reckon I can do that for ya, Chief. But we don’t get much in the way of company out here.”
“All the same, Mary, you keep your eyes open. And call me if you see anyone who even looks a little like these two, okay? The sooner we get this wrapped up, the better.”
The old woman gave a little salute and watched from the doorway as the policeman trudged back to his car. She saw him slide behind the wheel, take off his hat, and speak briefly into the car’s radio; but it wasn’t until blue clouds of exhaust belched from the tailpipe and the tires crunched through the snow that she stepped back into the house and closed the door.
Now that Howarth was gone, she allowed her face to pull itself into the long frown that had been so carefully masked. She thought of the photos the chief had shown her: the handsome young man with a boyish smile and dimpled cheek… the dark-haired girl with her serious eyes and small, thin lips. Glancing at the ceiling, she pictured the two of them, gagged and tied to their chairs, probably straining to listen for the sound of her feet on the stairs. Her mind flashed back to the cool certainty with which the man had threatened her. Even through a drugged haze, she’d detected something in his voice… something that told her not to fuck around with this one. She was right in wanting to kill him straight out; but, damn it, she was hoping to have a little fun with that woman of his. .