"What's the name on the credit card?"
"The name he gave me was Harold Mellor, hi it I know it wasn't the same man who was here today; their voices were completely different."
"Have you run the charge through yet?"
"Yes, and it went through."
"It could still be a fake card. That's something we can check, though. Did you get their license plate number?"
"No." Writing down tag numbers wasn't something she normally did when a guest checked in - though she thought she might start.
"And they left without harming anyone after you gave them Layton's things?"
"That's right. They didn't harm anyone."
Calvin made a motion that said he wanted to speak to Marbury. Cate raised her eyebrows in question, silently asking if he was certain, and he nodded. "Hold on," she said to Marbury. "Mr. Harris wants to speak to you. This is Investigator Seth Marbury," she said to Calvin as she extended the phone to him.
"This is Cal Harris," he said, sounding his usual normal, quiet self, Cate felt an unsettling moment of shifting reality, as if she had lost her balance. She stared at him in disbelief that he could be the same man who had been so calm and cold as he aimed his shotgun at someone's head. It was too much to take in, and almost in self-defense she found herself focusing on the strong hand that held the phone. Luckily for her and Neenah, he'd handled a shotgun as competently as he handled a hammer or a wrench.
Marbury must have asked what he did for a living. He said, "Whatever needs doing. Carpentry, plumbing, mechanic work, roofing."
He listened for a minute. Cate could hear the rumble of Marbury's voice, but couldn't make out the words. Calvin said, "When Mrs. Nightingale gave me her mail to take to town, she'd put the stamps on upside down. You know - the kind that come in a roll of a hundred. It's the American Hag." More rumbling from Marbury. 'Yeah. I thought she looked kind of upset, so I took the chance I was acting like an idiot and came back. Just to be on the safe side. Brought my shotgun with me. That's the reason the two left without hurting anyone." More rumbling and a moment later he said, "No, no shots were tired, by anyone. My Mossberg trumped his Taurus - which, by the way, he left behind.' A faint thread of amusement ran through his tone.
"Tomorrow's okay," he finally said, and handed the phone back to her.
"Mrs. Nightingale," Marbury said, "I'm coming tomorrow to take Mr. Harris's statement. Is it convenient for you to give one, too?"
"Sure. After ten o'clock would be best," she said.
"No problem. I'll be there at eleven."
Cate clicked the "off" button and stood there, knowing she needed to rejoin the group in the dining room, but inertia held her feet rooted to the spot. "How could this happen?" she finally said.
"It's going to be okay."
She realized he hadn't mumbled at all during those awful, tense moments in the attic, nor had he blushed once. He must be one of those people who rose to the occasion when he had to, then settled back into his comfort zone when the crisis was over. She would never again be able to look at him in the same way, she thought. ''Calvin, I - " She stopped, and to her confusion felt her own cheeks turn hot. "I haven't told you how grateful I am - "
He looked shocked, staring at her as if she had two heads. "You don't have to tell me. I know."
Because of the boys, she thought. He knew how petrified she'd been that Sheila would bring the boys back while Mellor and Huxley were still there. Grateful that she didn't have to explain, she turned and hurried back to the dining room. He followed more slowly, and suffered a thigh-level mugging from two four-year-olds demanding once again to know how big the snake was and what he'd done with it.
She told the gathered neighbors what the detective had said, and that he was coming out tomorrow to take statements. By then Milly had the tea brewed to her satisfaction and Cate was obliged to sit and sip, as was Neenah. To her surprise, her nerves did begin to settle and the faint sense of everything being out of place began to fade. It wasn't until her three rock-climbing guests returned, tired and windburned and happy, that the gathering dispersed.
Because there was no restaurant in Trail Stop, the nearest one being over thirty miles away, at extra cost Cate provided an evening meal of sandwiches, chips, and dessert if the guests asked for it. Her climbers had, so she got busy with the cold cuts and cheese. Her mother kept the boys occupied, though they kept asking to go to the attic so they could hunt snakes, too, and got them fed while Cate was serving the climbers. By the time she and Sheila sat down, Cate was so tired she could barely eat. She knew it was her body's reaction to the day's stressful events; she was as exhausted as if she'd climbed all day, then hiked ten miles.
"Mom, I'm so sleepy," she muttered, covering a yawn with her hand.
"Why don't you have an early night for a change," her mother suggested, in a tone that made it sound more like an order. "I tan get the boys to bed."
Cate surprised her, and perhaps even herself, by agreeing. "I'm dead on my feet. While you're putting them to bed, why don't you broach the subject of going home with you? They've never spent the night away from me, so they may be resistant."
"Leave them to me," Sheila said smugly. "By the time I get through with them, they'll think Mimi's home is better than Disneyland.'
"They haven't been there, either, so they may not get the comparison."
"Never mind the details. By morning, they'll be begging you to let them go. That's if you're certain you want them to go. I still think you should sleep on it, make certain you aren't saying this just because of what happened today."