Read Online She's Not There by Mary-Ann Tirone Smith - Free Book Online Page B

up another order of pancakes for me, plus some bacon.”
    She dashed off, wiping her hands on her apron as she went out the door.
    Ernie took a stack of pancakes over to Jake. Tommy had to pry the circuit box out of Jake’s hands. He said, “Sit up now, boy. Here’s your pancakes. What do you say to Ernie?”
    Jake worked hard to leave his own world and enter ours. He whispered, without looking up, “Fanks.”
    â€œHey, ya welcome, Jake.” Jake winced. Ernie’s voice naturally boomed.
    Tommy spread butter on the pancakes and poured the syrup. Then he cut the pancakes into bite-sized pieces. He squeezed a fork into Jake’s hand. He said, “Eat.”
    Jake put the fork to his lips then back to the plate three times. He did this with each bite. Joe had explained Jake’s habits at breakfast our first morning. “He ritualizes everything except whatever it is he does with electricity and all those gadgets he plays with. Fooling with wires and batteries is his only escape from his obsessive compulsions.”
    Each morning I watched Jake eat—three bites, three chews, three swallows, three gulps of orange juice, three swipes at his mouth with his napkin, which he picked up and put down three times. It was difficult not to watch him in the same way you can’t not watch a Zamboni machine. Or a boat docking. Or a wrecking ball.
    The oatmeal was all that Willa had promised, and not a little bowl but a big one—two of them. “That looks terrific, Willa,” Joe said to her.
    â€œLittle bit of molasses too, just the way you like it, Joe.”
    Fitzy said, “Can this get more disgusting?” He was drenching his pancakes and bacon with syrup.
    After several spoonfuls Joe finally looked up. He said to me, “I hate to admit it, but I am beginning to feel fortified. You?”
    I hated to admit it too. “Yes.” Then I said, “Joe?”
    â€œWhat, sweetheart?”
    â€œLet’s stay.”
    How could I leave when I was feeling such an irresistible urge to poke around? I wanted to ask some questions. I wanted to find out what killed that girl, caused her to die so violently. I wanted to know if someone sold drugs to her or if she brought the drugs from Connecticut. I wanted to know who did the selling, whether it was here or in Connecticut. I wanted to know who dumped her nearly naked body out on the road with no thought of helping her. And I wanted to know where her clothes were. I wanted to look for the place where death had occurred. I wanted to consult with my people in Washington between those questions—by phone. Nothing new there, they were used to me sticking it out in the field. And at the moment, I also wanted to eat every spoonful of my fortifying oatmeal. I would do all that.
    When we’d finished scraping our bowls, Joe said to Ernie, “Poppy and I are going to take our walk. Poppy thinks we should stay after all. The two of us need to talk.”
    I said, “Your wife’s oatmeal made me see reason.”
    Ernie grinned. “Willa’s oatmeal’ll do that.”
    Willa jumped off her stool. “Thanks. Aim to please.”
    Ernie folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve got to go out of our way to be extra nice to those fat girls when they come into town. Once word gets out, our campers are gonna be the second biggest attraction on the Block, after the South Light.”
    Fitzy said, “Enjoy your walk. Hope you like heat. And don’t sweat too hard. Ernie, get me another stack.”
    I said to him, “Fitzy, we’ll see about talking to the camper … Rachel. Okay?”
    He said, “Give it a day.”
    We left. Joe didn’t pay Ernie. That was because Ernie wouldn’t take money from him, just like Billy and Mick wouldn’t. One night a few years ago, Willa had woken up in a lot of pain. The doc said it was gallstones and her gallbladder was inflamed. Joe flew