Page 58 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
“I didn’t do anything to you!”
“You let me go to prison!”
“You were robbing convenience stores!”
“You wouldn’t give me any of the money.”
“I told you. They caught me. I had to save myself. You could have run—”
“And never come back to plague you again. Yeah, thanks.”
Kateri heard a clatter, a crash, a woman’s cry, and rushed to stand in the doorway.
A tall young man, red-faced and furious, swept cans, boxes and bottles off the shelves. Flour flew. Glass crashed. Fruit and pickle juice sprayed.
The older woman grabbed at his arm and hollered, “No. Stop! Or I will—”
“Excuse me,” Kateri said firmly and loudly. “Is there a problem?”
The two froze.
The man glimpsed her uniform, dropped his arm, turned his head away. He spoke in a quiet, orderly voice, like a second grader caught feeding the dog his homework. “I was, um, going out to work on the garage. ’Scuse me.” He brushed past Kateri and out the kitchen door.
Kateri watched—and wondered. In the short time she’d been listening, she’d heard the guy go from threatening to violent to impressively orderly. Was this the man who’d terrorized Merida? “Are you okay?” Kateri asked the older woman.
“Fine. I just…” She looked around. “What a mess!”
“Do you want to press charges?”
“Against… him? No. No, not at all. He’s… new here. My new handyman. Evan. Evan doesn’t want me to criticize his efforts, but he’ll be… he’ll work out. I am not someone who is easily intimidated.” The woman edged her way out of the pantry. “Oh, dear. Susie will not be happy.”
“Susie?”
“My cleaning lady, Susie Robinson. You… you’re the sheriff.”
“Yes, I’m Kateri Kwinault.”
“Then you probably know her all too well. The poor dear has four children and a husband who beats her. I imagine occasionally you get called to her house?”
“No, I don’t recall any Susie Robinson.”
Phoebe said bracingly, “Don’t feel bad. You’re new at the job. I’m sure soon you’ll remember the names of your regulars.”
“Actually I was the interim sheriff and—”
The lady interrupted. “I’m Phoebe Glass, the proprietress of the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast. What can I do for you?”
Kateri shook hands, noting Phoebe’s fingers were trembling and her gaze slid away to the side.
Her body language said she knew Kateri could and probably had heard the altercation and was drawing unfortunate conclusions. And in fact, Kateri would do a little poking around in Phoebe Glass’s background. “I came to see Merida. She lives here?”
“Yes. Lovely girl. She went for a run. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” Phoebe frowned. “Did you know she can’t speak?”
“I am aware.”
“You can wait in the parlor. This way.” Phoebe led the way out of the kitchen and toward the entry. “I wish she had told me. She must be self-conscious about her handicap, but I am the last person to judge someone for being unable to properly communicate.” Phoebe seemed to realize her faux pas, and rattled on. “Not that she can’t properly communicate, of course, in her way. Isn’t the computer tablet a grand invention when it comes to helping all of us, especially her, get by? Here’s the parlor.” Phoebe’s tone cooled perceptibly. “Oh! Miss Palmer, I see you found our parlor more acceptable this morning than you did last night.”
Lilith sat in a high-backed, cushioned chair turned sideways to the door. Lifting her head from her book, she icily stared at Phoebe Glass. “I could hardly expect to spend all my time in that tiny bedroom you assigned me.”
