He looked at the other bed. In the moonlight, he could see all three boys were there. And Mr. Tanner wouldn’t be tiptoeing around, he’d be clomping and banging as always. So it had to be Mrs. Tanner. Or a burglar. Or a monster.
Tommy lay very still and listened. He heard the squeak on the third stair, then the seventh stair. It was someone leaving, not someone coming. It had to be Mrs. Tanner.
He slipped out of bed and walked to the room’s one small window, which looked out on the weed-and-dirt front yard. He watched Mrs. Tanner step down off the front porch and pull on a pair of boots.
A station wagon trundled up the front drive. Mrs. Tanner raced toward it, waving her arms. She leaned in at the driver’s side, and the driver immediately turned out the headlights.
Mrs. Tanner climbed into the back seat of the station wagon.
Tommy watched it drive along the rutted dirt track, towards the stables and barns, then around the corner of the house and out of sight.
Tommy pulled on a shirt and picked up his shoes. He followed after Mrs. Tanner, avoiding the squeaky spots in the hall, and the third and seventh step. She’d left the front door slightly ajar, so he did, too.
Tommy walked in the direction they’d gone, keeping himself to the shadows of the farm buildings as much as he could. The moon was bright overhead, leaving too little darkness.
The station wagon was parked next to the stable, with nobody inside. A crucifix hung from the rearview mirror. Tommy tracked them up to the church, where the barn door stood half open. Tommy circled around the barn, picked one of the knotholes on the side, and looked through.
Mrs. Tanner stood next to the pine casket, which was elevated on a pair of sawhorses. There were two other people with her. One was a very heavyset Mexican-looking woman in a loud dress, with bright scarves nested around her throat. She was shaking her head while Mrs. Tanner talked in a low voice.
The other person was the most beautiful girl Tommy had ever seen. She had deep, rich brown eyes and braided black hair, with skin that reminded him of butterscotch. She was about a year or two older than Tommy, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt with a glittering butterfly on the front. She was chewing a giant pink wad of bubble gum.
“You bring us here, all the way out here,” the older lady was saying to Mrs. Tanner, “All this sneaking around, and you have only twenty dollars for pay?”
“There’s more,” Mrs. Tanner whispered. “A lot more. The old man told me. I just need to find out where. Then I can pay your fee.”
“What if he don’t really have the money?”
“He bragged about it. He said his son—my husband—had no idea. I need that money.”
“You going to keep for yourself?” the lady asked. “No telling you husband?”
“That’s between us,” Mrs. Tanner said. “I wiped this old man’s ass for the last four years. I want to get paid.”
The hefty lady sighed and eased herself down onto one of Mr. Tanner’s homemade pews. She spoke in Spanish to the younger girl. The girl blew a big pink bubble and shrugged.
“How much money?” the older Mexican lady asked.
“Lots,” Mrs. Tanner said. “Ten, fifteen thousand.”
“You pay one thousand,” the lady said.
“That’s too much!” Mrs. Tanner said.
“Maybe you find the dead man’s money yourself. Come on, Esmeralda. This lady is crazy.”
The girl shrugged and started for the open door.
“Wait!” Mrs. Tanner said. “Wait. Okay. If you can really do what they say, and you find the money, I’ll pay you a…a thousand dollars.” She almost choked on the words.
“Good.” The hefty lady pushed herself to her feet and approached the casket. “Open,” she said.
Mrs. Tanner took a deep breath. She lifted the lid of the cheap coffin and slid it to one side. The big lady looked inside the casket and curled her nose.
“How long?”
“About two days now,” Mrs. Tanner said.
“Is ripe.” She waved a hand in front of her face.
“Well, that happens,” Mrs. Tanner said. “Mr. Tanner doesn’t believe in embalming.”
The hefty lady sighed. “Esmeralda.”
The girl turned to face them, and she pouted. She said something in Spanish. Tommy couldn’t follow it, but from her tone and expression, she was obviously complaining.
The older lady—the girl’s mother, Tommy was guessing—snapped at her. The girl sighed and trudged over to the casket. She pinched her nose with one hand. Then she reached her other hand into the casket.
The girl closed her eyes.
“Wait,” Mrs. Tanner said. “She is the one who—?”