Drizzled with Death(14)

“I’ll be fine, but thanks for your concern,” I said, tugging my wrist away. He loosened his grip slowly and I hid my arm below the table before I rubbed it to soothe it. I didn’t want him to realize how much he had scared and hurt me. It didn’t seem prudent to appear vulnerable right now.

“Knowlton’s right. A bitty little thing like you’s got no business roaming the dark country roads alone under the circumstances.” Tansey crossed her beefy arms over her droopy bustline. Her raw knuckles looked chapped and weathered from her lifestyle and what I expected was a total lack of moisturizing routine. I wouldn’t want to run into her out in the dark either when it came down to it. She was staring at me in a way that made me uneasy, too. I slid farther out of the booth and popped onto my feet, ready to flee to another table or to a job I’m sure I could convince Piper to give me.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ll get myself home under my own steam,” I said. “Enjoy the music.” I dashed away like a dog who’d caught sight of a squirrel. Or Knowlton, who saw one he wanted to add to his stew pot. Piper hollered my name above the sounds of music getting under way. When I looked, she pointed toward the area in front of the restrooms that served as a stage. Dean Hayes was blowing away on his oboe and Roland Chick was playing his bass. It suited Roland somehow with its sheen and its breadth. Roland was a tall, broad man with a gleaming bald head and a neat and tidy manner of dress that was out of sorts in the community but made him look trustworthy as an innkeeper. Ladies often cited Roland when either criticizing or trying to inspire more care in appearance in their own gentlemen.

Graham stood beside him, his uniform hat in one hand, a coffee mug in the other. After what had happened at the breakfast, he had never gotten to make his announcement about the loose animals. Most likely he was there to try again. I crossed the room, hoping to ask him if a mountain lion had turned up among the exotics gallivanting about the village.





Five





Before I could ask him, though, I experienced my third strange animal sighting in two days. This time, however, I knew I wasn’t the only one to see it, judging by the gasps and the clumsy dying off of the music. There was an intake of breath best described as similar in timing to an elementary school concert. Someone had left the door open and a kangaroo jumped into view and headed to the stage area, its half-curled tail thumping against the black-and-white-checkerboard floor. A minuscule head poked out of its pouch, a pair of tiny ears pricked up above its neat head.

“Would now be the time to make your announcement?” I called out to Graham over the dying din of instruments and the silencing clatter of utensils against china.

Graham sprinted past me in the direction of the kangaroo. Everyone else instinctively pulled back then a few brave souls surged forward brandishing forks and coffee mugs. Knowlton sprang from his booth and flapped a dessert menu at the springing animal. It pounced toward him and landed an assertive paw on the sweets offerings. I found myself wishing I could ask her for some tips in dealing with Knowlton. That kangaroo was all right in my opinion. It was all I could do to keep from cheering her on. I wished I could take her out for a beer, but she obviously needed to keep a clear head with a joey on board.

Knowlton retreated to the safety of his booth and pulled his feet up on the bench. Tansey moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, like he was still a joey himself. Graham disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a fifty-five-gallon gray plastic trash can in his hands. He held the lid like a shield and made a clucking, smooching sound at the kangaroo. She swiveled her ears in his direction but her eyes were focused on Roland’s bass. She bounced toward it and the delicate underpinnings of the arthritic building trembled.

Roland scrunched his shoulders together like he was attempting to make himself disappear behind the instrument, but he did no better than a small child hiding under the covers to avoid monsters in the closet. His freckled knuckles clutched white on the neck of the bass. Sweat sprang up on his forehead like there was a sprinkler system tucked in behind his eyebrows.

Graham navigated the terrain well, considering how little space was available for a trash can between all the booths, tables, and music enthusiasts. The kangaroo hurtled forward into Roland and his instrument just as Graham attempted to upend the trash can over its head. The bass crashed against Roland and knocked him off balance. The kangaroo feinted right and Graham left, and the only thing Graham managed to slip his trash can on top of was the music stand Roland was using before the music had come to a crashing halt.