Halfway up Town Common Hill, she came to Prestile Street, cutting along the upper edge of the common.The first house belonged to the McCains.The one beyond was Andrea Grinnell's. And although Andrea was almost always overshadowed by her male counterparts on the Board of Selectmen, Brenda knew she was honest and had no love for Big Jim. Oddly enough, it was Andy Sanders to whom Andrea was more apt to kowtow, although why anyone would take him seriously was beyond Brenda's understanding.
Maybe he's got some sort of hold on her, Howie's voice spoke up in her head.
Brenda almost laughed. That was ridiculous.The important thing about Andrea was that she had been a Twitchell before Tommy Grin-nell married her, and Twitchells were tough, even the shy ones. Brenda thought she could leave the envelope containing the VADER file with Andrea... assuming her place wasn't also locked and empty. She didn't think it would be. Hadn't she heard from someone that Andrea was down with the flu?
Brenda crossed Main, rehearsing what she'd say: Would you hold this for me? I'll be back for it in about half an hour. If I don't come back for it, give it to fulia at the newspaper. Also, make sure Dale Barbara knows.
And if she was asked what all the mystery was about? Brenda decided she'd be frank. The news that she intended to force Jim Rennie's resignation would probably do Andrea more good than a double dose of Theraflu.
In spite of her desire to get her distasteful errand done, Brenda paused for a moment in front of the McCain house. It looked deserted, but there was nothing strange about that - plenty of families had been out of town when the Dome came down. It was something else. A faint smell, for one thing, as if food were spoiling in there. All at once the day felt hotter, the air closer, and the sounds of whatever was going on at Food City seemed far away. Brenda realized what it came down to: she felt watched. She stood thinking about how much those shaded windows looked like closed eyes. But not completely closed, no. Peeking eyes.
Shake it off, woman. You've got things to do.
She walked on to Andrea's house, pausing once to look back over her shoulder. She saw nothing but a house with drawn shades, sitting gloomily in the mild stink of its decaying supplies. Only meat smelled so bad so soon. Henry and LaDonna must have had a lot put by in their freezer, she thought.
17
It was Junior who watched Brenda, Junior on his knees, Junior dressed only in his underpants, his head whamming and slamming. He watched from the living room, peering around the edge of a drawn shade.
When she was gone, he went back into the pantry. He would have to give his girlfriends up soon, he knew, but for now he wanted them. And he wanted the dark. He even wanted the stink rising from their blackening skin.
Anything, anything, that would soothe his fiercely aching head.
18
After three twists of the old-fashioned crank doorbell, Brenda resigned herself to going home after all. She was turning away when she heard slow, shuffling steps approaching the door. She arranged a little Helfa, neighbor smile on her face. It froze there when she saw Andrea - cheeks pale, dark circles under her eyes, hair in disarray, cinching the belt of a bathrobe around her middle, pajamas underneath. And this house smelled, too - not of decaying meat but of vomit.
Andrea's smile was as wan as her cheeks and brow. 'I know how I look,' she said. The words came out in a croak. 'I better not invite you in. I'm on the mend, but I still migiit be catching.'
"Have you seen Dr - ' But no, of course not. Dr Haskell was dead, fHave you seen Rusty Everett?'
'Indeed I have,' Andrea said. 'All will soon be well, I'm told.'
'You're perspiring.'
'Still a little touch of fever, but it's almost gone. Can I help you with something, Bren?'
She almost said no - she didn't want to saddle a woman who was still clearly sick with a responsibility like the one in her carrier-bag - but then Andrea said something that changed her mind. Great events often turn on small wheels.
ll'm so sorry about Howie. I loved that man.'
'Thank you, Andrea.' Not just for the sympathy, but, Jor calling him Howile instead of Duke.
To Brenda he'd always been Howie, her dear Howie, and the VADER file was his last work. Probably his greatest work. Brenda suddenly decided to put it to work, and with no further delay. She dipped into the carrier-bag and brought out the manila envelope with Julia's name printed on the front. 'Will you hold this for me, dear?; Just for a little while? I have an errand to run and I don't want to take it with me.'
Brenda would have answered any questions Andrea asked, but Andrea apparently had none. She only took the bulky envelope with a sort of distracted courtesy. And that was all right. It saved time. Also, it would keep Andrea out of the loop, and might spare her political
blowback at some later date.
'Happy to,'Andrea said. 'And now... if you'll excuse me... I think I'd better get off my feet. But I'm not going to sleep!' she added, as if Brenda had objected to this plan. 'I'll hear you when you come back.'
'Thank you,' Brenda said. 'Are you drinking juices?'
'By the gallon. Take your time, hon - I'll babysit your envelope.'
Brenda was going to thank her again, but The Mill's Third Selectman had already closed the door.
19
Toward the end of her conversation with Brenda, Andrea's stomach began to flutter. She fought it, but this was a fight she was going to lose. She blathered something about drinking juice, told Brenda to take her time, then closed the door in the poor woman's face and sprinted for her stinking bathroom, making guttural urk-urk noises deep down in her throat.
There was an end table beside the living room couch, and she tossed the manila envelope at it blindly as she rushed past. The envelope skittered across the polished surface and fell off the other side, into the dark space between the table and the couch.