Drizzled with Death(82)

Just as I was reaching for her, I heard Profiterole barking behind me. The frightened goats pressed farther toward the splintery barn wall behind them. If anything, they seemed even more terrorized than before. They somehow managed to get most of the flock squeezed behind the wooden-runged ladder that connected to the hayloft above. One of them poked its snout through the rungs and let out a desperate-sounding bleat. Between the barking and the bleating, my soothing clucking sounds were never going to be heard. But at least I had found Profiterole. Or rather, he had found me. I turned toward him to grab his collar in order to get him back into the house safely before I headed out. There didn’t seem to be much I could do for the goats, and while it might sound cold, watching them feel miserable was not how I wanted to spend my day.

Profiterole was stiff and his barking was interspersed with deep-throated growls. I felt intimidated by the idea of grabbing him by the collar but made a lunge for him anyway.

“What’s gotten into all of you?” I asked him, locking fingers around his thick leather collar. He twisted his head up toward me then snapped it forward again like he was trying to point something out to me. I followed his lead and wished I hadn’t.

Rearing up from the scattered straw bedding in the corner of the barn was a snake. A very large and very exotic-looking snake. It swayed and bobbed in my direction and its tongue wiggled out at me like a sentient kite tail. I dropped my grip on Profiterole’s collar and reached for the ladder instead. I shot up the rungs like a child born into a circus family. Camels, cassowaries, and kangaroos were one thing. Snakes were another. My ability to display courage did not extend to snakes. I perched at the top of the ladder, keeping my feet as high up as possible, and looked down on the snake. It was still moving, and while it didn’t seem to be interested in me any longer, it was paying a lot of attention to the trembling goats. Profiterole was doing his best to be distracting but he looked small and insignificant next to the snake.

I dug into my pocket and grabbed my cell phone. I hit the contacts number for the police station and was surprised to hear Lowell’s voice on the other end.

“Dani, I’m so glad you called.” As angry as I still was with him, I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather speak to in a crisis. Not even my dad. Lowell just had a way of keeping a steady hand on the tiller that helped everyone around him. Being angry with both him and my mother was taking so much energy as well as robbing me of the pleasure of his company. And right now, I needed him.

“No time to go into things right now, Uncle Lowell. I’m in trouble.” I reached out with my free hand and felt for something, anything to hurl down at the snake to distract it from gobbling the goats. My hand made contact with an old coffee can full of screws. I lobbed it with all my strength but the snake zigged as the can zagged. Screws bounced all over the floor like a game of jacks. The snake seemed momentarily jarred then returned its attention to Clementine and the rest of the flock.

“It’s not Mitch again, is it? I told that boy if he bothered you any more, I was not only going to fire him, I was going to personally make sure he couldn’t get a job as a security guard at a strip mall.”

“It’s not Mitch. I need you to call Graham.” I scootched a little farther from the top of the ladder and closer to the pile of junk stowed in the loft. I could only imagine what would have become of the house if the overflow storage had not been available.

“Graham? What did he do to you? I’ll grab my gun and be right over.”

“It’s nothing like that.” Lowell must have taken my silent treatment hard. He never was much of a talker, and now I couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise.

“Well, I’m sure glad to hear that. I thought the two of you might really have a shot at getting along. I don’t want you to end up like me, Dani, waiting around forever for the person of your dreams. I never want you to know how hard it is to be alone.” Despite my attention being taken up with the swaying of the snake, I still registered the pain and the caring in his voice. I felt crummy to have contributed to it in any way.

“We can talk about this later if you’ll just call Graham. I’m trapped up in the loft of Connie’s barn with a snake longer than your driveway coiled up below me threatening to come up and give me a cuddle.”

“I’ll call him and I’ll get out there, too.” Lowell disconnected and I stuffed the phone back into my pocket. I used both hands to grab and hurl things down from the loft. The goats made a pitiful sound and Profiterole began darting at the snake. I tossed a hammer, a rusty barbell so light it could have doubled as a baby rattle, a greasy bicycle chain, and several cans of spray paint. The cover popped off a can of turquoise gloss as it connected with Profiterole’s back. I would have apologized but my voice was frozen in place by the sight of the snake raising itself up even higher. It lifted itself enough to look down on the goats and they sounded even more desperate.