excused herself with a murmur and made a hasty getaway.
I held out a hand politely. "Hello, Agnes. I'm Kinsey Millhone."
"Hah?"
Mrs. Renquist leaned close to Agnes and hollered my name so loud that two other old ladies on the ward woke up and began to make quacking sounds. "Kinsey Millhone. She's a friend of your daughter's. "
Agnes drew back, giving me a suspicious look. "Who?"
"Irene," I yelled.
"Who asked you?" Agnes shot back, peevishly. She began to work her lips mechanically, as if tasting something she'd eaten fifty years before.
Mrs. Renquist repeated the information, enunciating with care. I could see Agnes withdraw. A veil of simplicity seemed to cover her bright gaze and she launched abruptly into a dialogue with herself that made no sense whatever. "Keep hush. Do not say a word. Well, I can if I want. No, you can't. Danger, danger, ooo hush, plenty, plenty. Don't even give a hint…" She began a warbling rendition of "Good Night, Irene."
Mrs. Renquist rolled her eyes and a short, impatient sigh escaped. "She pulls this when she doesn't feel like doing what you want," she said. "She'll snap out of it."
We waited for a moment. Agnes had added gestures and her tone was argumentative. She'd adopted the quarrelsome air of someone in a supermarket express line when the customer at the register tries to cash a paycheck. Whatever universe she'd been transported to, it did not include us.
I drew Mrs. Renquist aside and lowered my voice. "Why don't we leave her alone for the time being," I said. "I'm going to have to put a call through to Mrs. Gersh anyway and ask her what she wants done. There's no point in upsetting her mother any more than we have to."
"Well, it's whatever you want," Mrs. Renquist said. "She's just being ornery. Do you want to use the office phone?"
"I'll call from the motel."
"Be sure we know how to get in touch with you," she said, with a faint note of uneasiness. I could see a hint of panic in her eyes at the notion that I might leave town without making arrangements for Agnes's removal.
"I'll leave the motel number with Mrs. Haynes."
I drove back to the Vagabond, where I put in a call first to Sergeant Pokrass at the sheriff's department, advising her that Agnes Grey had indeed turned up.
Then I placed the call to Irene Gersh and filled her in on her mother's circumstances. My report was greeted with dead silence. I waited, listening to her breathe in my ear.
"I suppose I better talk to Clyde," she said finally. She did not sound happy at having to do this and I could only imagine what Clyde's reaction would be.
"What do you want me to do in the meantime?" I asked.
"Just stay there, if you would. I'll give Clyde a call at the office and get back to you as soon as possible, but it probably won't be till around suppertime. I'd appreciate it if you'd drive back out to the Slabs and put a padlock on Mother's door."
"What good is that going to do?" I said. "The minute I'm gone, the little turds will break in. The louvers in one window are already gone. Frustrate these kids and they'll tear the place apart."
"It sounds like they've already done that."
"Well, true, but there's no point making life any more difficult."
"I don't care. I hate the idea of trespassers and I won't abandon the place. She may still have personal belongings on the premises. Besides, she might want to go back when she's feeling like herself again. Did you talk to the sheriff? Surely there's some way to patrol the area."
"I don't see how. You know the situation better than I do. You'd have to have an armed guard to keep squatters out and what's the point? That trailer's already been trashed."
"I want it locked," she said with an unmistakable edge.
"I'll do what I can," I said, making no attempt to disguise my skepticism.
"Thank you."
I gave her the telephone number at the Vagabond and she said she'd get in touch with me later on. I changed back into jeans and tennis shoes, hopped in the car, and headed over
I held out a hand politely. "Hello, Agnes. I'm Kinsey Millhone."
"Hah?"
Mrs. Renquist leaned close to Agnes and hollered my name so loud that two other old ladies on the ward woke up and began to make quacking sounds. "Kinsey Millhone. She's a friend of your daughter's. "
Agnes drew back, giving me a suspicious look. "Who?"
"Irene," I yelled.
"Who asked you?" Agnes shot back, peevishly. She began to work her lips mechanically, as if tasting something she'd eaten fifty years before.
Mrs. Renquist repeated the information, enunciating with care. I could see Agnes withdraw. A veil of simplicity seemed to cover her bright gaze and she launched abruptly into a dialogue with herself that made no sense whatever. "Keep hush. Do not say a word. Well, I can if I want. No, you can't. Danger, danger, ooo hush, plenty, plenty. Don't even give a hint…" She began a warbling rendition of "Good Night, Irene."
Mrs. Renquist rolled her eyes and a short, impatient sigh escaped. "She pulls this when she doesn't feel like doing what you want," she said. "She'll snap out of it."
We waited for a moment. Agnes had added gestures and her tone was argumentative. She'd adopted the quarrelsome air of someone in a supermarket express line when the customer at the register tries to cash a paycheck. Whatever universe she'd been transported to, it did not include us.
I drew Mrs. Renquist aside and lowered my voice. "Why don't we leave her alone for the time being," I said. "I'm going to have to put a call through to Mrs. Gersh anyway and ask her what she wants done. There's no point in upsetting her mother any more than we have to."
"Well, it's whatever you want," Mrs. Renquist said. "She's just being ornery. Do you want to use the office phone?"
"I'll call from the motel."
"Be sure we know how to get in touch with you," she said, with a faint note of uneasiness. I could see a hint of panic in her eyes at the notion that I might leave town without making arrangements for Agnes's removal.
"I'll leave the motel number with Mrs. Haynes."
I drove back to the Vagabond, where I put in a call first to Sergeant Pokrass at the sheriff's department, advising her that Agnes Grey had indeed turned up.
Then I placed the call to Irene Gersh and filled her in on her mother's circumstances. My report was greeted with dead silence. I waited, listening to her breathe in my ear.
"I suppose I better talk to Clyde," she said finally. She did not sound happy at having to do this and I could only imagine what Clyde's reaction would be.
"What do you want me to do in the meantime?" I asked.
"Just stay there, if you would. I'll give Clyde a call at the office and get back to you as soon as possible, but it probably won't be till around suppertime. I'd appreciate it if you'd drive back out to the Slabs and put a padlock on Mother's door."
"What good is that going to do?" I said. "The minute I'm gone, the little turds will break in. The louvers in one window are already gone. Frustrate these kids and they'll tear the place apart."
"It sounds like they've already done that."
"Well, true, but there's no point making life any more difficult."
"I don't care. I hate the idea of trespassers and I won't abandon the place. She may still have personal belongings on the premises. Besides, she might want to go back when she's feeling like herself again. Did you talk to the sheriff? Surely there's some way to patrol the area."
"I don't see how. You know the situation better than I do. You'd have to have an armed guard to keep squatters out and what's the point? That trailer's already been trashed."
"I want it locked," she said with an unmistakable edge.
"I'll do what I can," I said, making no attempt to disguise my skepticism.
"Thank you."
I gave her the telephone number at the Vagabond and she said she'd get in touch with me later on. I changed back into jeans and tennis shoes, hopped in the car, and headed over
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