Bolt nodded more slowly. "Well, good. Why didn't she come along?"
"I didn't say she was back with me. Just that she wasn't missing."
Bolt sighed and recited:
The ways of love are strange and hard:
The love you want is always barred;
The love you have you want to change.
The ways of love are hard and strange.
"I didn't want to change my love," said Quentin.
"Did you like the poem? I wrote it."
"Did you? I thought I'd heard it before."
"Yeah, well, that's why I'm working in a police department in Mixinack instead of being lionized in the New York literary scene."
"You want to hear my questions?"
"I'm all ears."
"Where is Anna Laurent Tyler?"
"In a rest home."
"And where is that rest home?"
Bolt nodded slowly. "Well, now, what are you going to do when you locate it?
"Go see her."
"Won't do you any good," said Bolt.
"You don't know what I want to say to her."
"I don't care if you want to sing her the 'Anvil Chorus'."
"I hope you know the tenor part," said Quentin.
"She's pretty much a vegetable, son," said Bolt. "So you can talk to her all you want, but I don't see how it'll do you much good."
Quentin felt as if the air had been knocked out of his chest. "Can't be," he said.
"Can so," said the chief. "Well, look at that. The word that crosses angst at the N is anvil. And I just said anvil a minute ago. Can you believe that?"
"Just one of the many marvels of an afternoon in Mixinack."
"You still want to see her?"
"I can find out where she is eventually, but instead of making me have my investigators call every licensed rest home in the state, why not just tell me?"
"Better than that. I'll take you."
"In a police car? Will you flash the lights and run the siren?"
"In your car. You think I'm going to use up part of my monthly mileage on giving a rich man a free ride?"
"When can you go?"
"Now," said Bolt, pushing back from his desk. "I haven't had lunch. You like chili?"
"No." Quentin followed him out into the hall.
"That's cause you haven't had Bella's chili. Is that really the coat you came in?"
"Yes."
"Nobody told you it was winter?"
"I don't plan to hike around outside a lot."
"In the north, in the winter, you should always dress as if you were going to have to walk home ten miles in a blizzard from a car stuck in a drift."
"That's how my driver should dress. I should dress for sitting in the limo drinking champagne while I wait for him to get back with help."
By now they were outside. Quentin led the way to his Taurus.
"Oh, I see," said Bolt. "That was a joke. You don't have a driver."
"You don't have a coat, either."
"Man, I must be stupid," said Bolt.
Since snow was falling steadily now, he had a point.
They came out of the parking lot and Bolt directed him until he was heading south on the two-lane road that led past the Laurent house. Quentin realized at once that they weren't heading for the rest home at all. Sure enough, when they got to the half-hidden driveway Bolt directed him to turn left and go on in.
"I see quite a few new tire tracks since I was here last," said Quentin.
"Yeah, they're all mine," said Bolt. "Had to come here and take pictures of the footprints before they got covered."
"Oh," said Quentin. "Evidence?"
"Definitely. I just don't know what it's evidence of. Now that your wife is back in the land of the living."
"If you can call it living," said Quentin. "A joke."
"I got it. First time I heard that, it was Andy Devine in some cavalry movie. Or maybe it was Rin Tin Tin on TV when I was a kid. Was he in that?"
"Before my time," said Quentin.
They got out of the car and Quentin dutifully tagged along up to the front door.
"Hope you don't mind the detour," said Bolt.
"I kind of expected it," said Quentin.
"Just wanted you to walk me through what you did the night you spent here."
"Do I need an attorney?"
"Don't you have one?"
"I meant with me."
"I'm not going to arrest you for trespass, Mr. Fears. Therefore you have no need for an attorney."
"Am I really that stupid-looking?"
"Humor me, Mr. Fears."
They were standing in the middle of the entry hall. Quentin looked at the fireplace but didn't see any talking rats. The door to the parlor had no writing on it. And the chief was a strong man with a pistol. All of this made Quentin feel much better about being in this room again.
"I never saw this room till I came to see Mrs. Tyler off to the rest home," said Bolt.
"Bet it was cleaner then."
"Much. The glaziers are supposed to have come this morning to fix the window in the library. It was broken, you know."
"I know."
"I used to come to the back door all the time. Downstairs. There's a ramp going down to the kitchen. Toolrooms are down there, too."
"You used to work here?"
"As a kid. Started helping out with weeding when I was little. That was before chemicals, so keeping the dandelions out of the lawns kept about a dozen of us kids in movie money all summer. But I kept hanging around, ended up mowing lawns and then I made gardener's assistant. That's how I put myself through college. Shoveled snow off that front porch out there so many times I hate to remember."
"So this house is more than just a neighbor's place to you."
"Had my first kiss here," said Bolt, sighing. "Come on downstairs, I'm curious about what you did in the kitchen."
Quentin followed him. Bolt flipped on lightswitches as he went.
"Lights are on now?" Quentin asked.
"Guess so," said Bolt. "I had them turned on yesterday. I wanted to see more than a flashlight could show me."
With the lights on, the stairs and hall looked to Quentin just as they had the night Madeleine led him down for a midnight snack. But the kitchen didn't. Quentin had distinctly remembered a table. Instead, there was a spot on the floor where someone had apparently sat down on the filthy linoleum.
"You walked in here—in the dark, or with a flashlight," said Bolt. "You went to the fridge, to those cupboards. But the fridge is locked shut, as you might notice, and nobody's opened it. So why walk there? Twice—see? Twice."
Quentin remembered getting out mustard, mayo, a couple of sliced meats, and a head of lettuce. Then going back for pickles when Mad asked for one.
"They used to keep bread in this cupboard," said Bolt. "And sure enough, here's where you walked. To the bread cupboard, and then to the silverware drawer. See? Only... no bread, no silverware."
He opened the empty drawer, the empty cupboard.
"Bummer," said Quentin.
"Then you sit down on the floor. But... right where the kitchen table used to be. Right where the chair at the head of the table used to be. Butler used to have the undisputed right to sit in that chair. The cook made damn sure nobody else—least of all a sweaty gardener's assistant—sat in it."
"Got to keep that furniture clean."
"Why did you sit on this floor, Mr. Fears? And what did you find in those cupboards?"
Quentin shrugged.
"Now, see, there we are," said Bolt. "You want me to answer your questions, but you won't give me tit for tat."
"Why give you answers you won't believe?"