Part 21 (1/2)
CHAPTER SIX.
”Mrs. Brasher, it's me, Spence.”
”Oh, h.e.l.lo, Spence.”
”I'd like to speak to Cindy if I could.”
A pause. ”Well, I'll see if she's up.”
”I'd appreciate that.”
That's when I heard the whispering behind her. This being Sat.u.r.day morning, they were probably having a late breakfast. Cindy probably heard my name and started whispering to her mother that she didn't want to talk. Her mother, who had cupped the phone with her hand, started whispering back.
Cindy came on.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Hi.”
”Hi, Spence.” Not exactly warm and enthusiastic.
”I wondered if we could have lunch today.”
”Don't you have to work?”
”I traded with somebody.”
”Oh.”
”I really think we should talk.”
Pause. ”You know I'm dating your friend Garrett, don't you?”
I laughed. ”I'm not sure I'd call him my friend exactly.”
”He wouldn't be happy. You know, if we had lunch.”
”We could always go over to Dover.” Dover was seventeen miles away, a small town that swelled in the summer because of the wealthy people who had homes on the river.
”Wella”” she said.
”I want to talk to you about some tapes.”
”Tapes?”
I wanted to hook her so she couldn't say no.
”Yeah. Right before he died, Myles recorded a couple of ca.s.sette tapes.” Now I paused. I wanted to make this as dramatic as possible. ”About the well.”
”Oh?”
”Yeah. He was pretty screwed up about it.”
”You have the tapes?”
”Uh-huh.”
”How'd you get them?”
She was hooked, all right.
”His folks gave them to me.”
”His folks? They know about the well?”
”Yeah.”
She didn't say anything for a time, then: ”What time do you want to pick me up?”
”Around noon.”
”Will you bring the tapes?”
”All right.”
”I'd like to borrow them.”
”For what?”
”You know, just to listen to them. David had quite an imagination.”
”I'll bring them along.”
”Around noon, then.”
”Right.”
On Sat.u.r.day, the National Guard Armory is a busy place.
Weekend warriors from four different counties come here to play soldier. Having served as an enlisted man, I had a slightly superior att.i.tude to the Guardsmen, just as enlisted men who'd seen combat in Nam had a slightly superior att.i.tude toward me for having spent my three years in the wilds of darkest New Jersey.
The Armory was filled with trucks covered in camouflage, with rifles being torn down and put back together, and with a lot of guys standing around drinking coffee and eating donuts. The Armory smelled of car oil and gun oil and smoke from a lot of cigarettes.
In the back of the vast, echoing warehouse area was a group of small offices.
I went to third door and knocked.