Read Online Too Close to the Edge by Susan Dunlap - Free Book Online

her arm and run to wherever her truck was parked to find out why Liz Goldenstern had been killed.
    We passed the purple school bus. “University of Life” it declared in gold letters on the side. An old Buick, one of the ones with the three holes on the sides, had settled next to it. The light from the bus windows showed the rust on the Buick’s door. We passed a Ford wagon in not much better shape, two Volkswagen vans, and a pickup from the late sixties—new for this lot—with a tarp over a wide load on the back.
    Another time I might have taken her to my own car, but not now, not with the lights from the nearby patrol cars and the staccato squeals from their radios to intimidate her.
    “Here,” she said, indicating a white Chevy pickup that looked only slightly better than average. Behind it she had created a clear plastic lean-to from the fence to two poles. A hibachi, charcoal, lighter fluid, and two buckets huddled under it. In the wind, one of the plastic sides flapped against the fence, striking the metal fitfully, creating the type of irregular noise that would drive the average person crazy. But here, no one seemed to mind.
    Aura Summerlight climbed into the cab. I opened the other door and waited while she lifted paper bags, four of them, from the floor and fitted them behind the seat. I could smell the onions in one. She pulled a box of tissues across the seat toward her and shifted a cup with an immersion heater back farther onto the dashboard.
    “How did you come to discover the body?” I asked.
    She clutched the steering wheel, as if she were battling rush hour on the Bay Bridge, staring tensely ahead with the look of one prepared to cut off lane hoppers. I wondered if she had chosen to use the cab because it was more convenient to sit in or because she wouldn’t have to face me when she talked. “You see, I was walking. I came home late. Most days I’m here by sunset; the buses don’t run much at night.” The words rushed out. “But, well, I don’t know, I got hung up. I had things to do in town, you see. I got here late. Well, the thing is, you see, I was bummed out. A guy I worked for owes me money, fifty dollars. Fifty dollars may not seem like much to you, but I need that money, and, dammit, he owes me, and he’s weaseling out. So I went by his place and I waited. I waited a long time. And when he finally came, it was dark, but I saw him at the corner, and he saw me, and he beat it, and I ran after him, but he was too fast. I lost him. I was so damned mad. I was going to go back to his place and wait some more. He had to come home. But he has money—he could go to a bar and have a few drinks. He could wait me out. So I figured I’d better come on home, but by then the buses don’t run so regular, and I was hungry, and I went into one of those pizza places and bought myself a slice. I hadn’t eaten anything since I left here this morning, and I was hungry. There was a line, and then I couldn’t find all the change I thought I had, and it took me a while, and the little bitch behind the counter was getting all huffy as if she didn’t believe I really had the dollar fifty-five cents. A dollar fifty-five cents for one slice! But I was starved. I mean, I get like panicked when I’m that hungry. I can’t think straight. So I had to have it. And then by the time I got back to the bus stop, the bus had gone and I had to wait another hour.” She was squeezing the steering wheel. Sweat covered her forehead. I couldn’t tell whether her nervous rush of words was a normal reaction to the shocks of the day or a screen of words to shield me out.
    “But you finally got here,” I prompted.
    “And then Marie in the bus over there was having a party. You could hear it halfway to the marina. I knew I couldn’t face people. I was too bummed out. I just walked along the water. Christ, I almost fell over the wheelchair.”
    “And then?”
    “It was awful. Her head was in the water, just her head.