Read Online Stone Maidens by Lloyd Devereux Richards - Free Book Online
Authors: Lloyd Devereux Richards
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gun on this. Between you and me, Karen Heath’s always been a borderline nervous wreck, God bless her soul. Over.”
Mary issued the bulletin to the state police district office ten miles north of Crosshaven and then leaned back, chewing thoughtfully on a fresh hot cider doughnut. It was small enoughto pop into her mouth whole, and just the thing to fill the lonely silences between dispatch radio calls.
Mary released the mute button and told Karen Heath that she’d notified the sheriff and put out a bulletin, then said, “Karen, if Julie turns up, I’d appreciate a call back. Anything we hear, I’ll be in touch right away.”
Karen Heath didn’t reply. Mary thought it must have finally struck home: filing a missing persons report on her child.
“Karen, you still there?” Mary’s voice was softer this time, less businesslike.
“I hear you.”
“We’ll be in touch, Karen. You try to get yourself some rest.” Mary hung up the phone and shook her head. Julie was a nice young girl, responsible. She’d know better than to get herself in trouble. It’s probably nothing, Mary thought, reaching for another doughnut. Then she changed her mind and closed the box up tight.
The boys and Elmer took seats at a table away from all the smoke that roosted over a huddle of men on stools facing the open griddle. Shermie Dutcher, the owner of the diner, looked up from the grill, mumbled something to Karla—the only waitress in the place—and then went back to cooking, his skinny arms flailing away.
Karla placed three paper napkins tightly rolled around dinnerware in front of Elmer and the boys.
“Hey, Karla,” Elmer said. “How are you today?”
“Fine,” she said. “What’s wrong with junior here? Seen a ghost?”
Mike snorted. “Kind of.”
Joey glared at his older brother. “I didn’t see a ghost, but I
did
see something.”
Sixteen-year-old Mike clamped his strong hand down on his brother’s arm. “Button it, Joey.” His dark eyes drilled into the eleven-year-old’s. He’d warned Joey plenty of times about jumping to conclusions about people and spreading rumors.
Seeing the younger boy’s wounded face, Elmer said, “OK, OK, Mike. Let Joey be. He and I have got some serious fishing to do tomorrow morning early. Right, Joey?”
“Fishing” was their code for sitting and talking a spell. Joey desperately needed the old man for that. He depended on his grandfather, the only living person on the planet who would let him ramble on and listen to it all. Mike wouldn’t.
Joey rubbed his eyes. Those paralyzing seconds coasting by the truck on Old Shed Road replayed in his head. He looked up at Karla and blurted, “I saw this guy—”
“Joey, what’d I tell you?” Mike spoke over his younger brother’s voice. “You don’t know that guy from Friday. You have got to stop making up stories about people.”
Mike jabbed a finger on the table and leaned closer to Joey so Karla wouldn’t hear. “Last spring it was what’s-his-name—Johnny Shannon, that punk who had you all in a tizzy at school? So don’t go spreading rumors about people you don’t know. I’m warning you for the last time.”
“OK,” Elmer said. “You made your point, Mike. We came here to eat supper, not to heap troubles on your brother here. The boy’s done no harm.”
They all ordered the dinner special—meat loaf, fried potatoes, and onion rings.
Joey’s eyes locked on a man sitting at the counter, dressed in the same one-piece bibs as Elmer, only where Elmer’s hung slack from his lean body this man’s spilled over with rolls of fat. The heavy man rotated on his stool and looked straight Joey’s way.
“You got a grip on them boys, Elmer?” The fat man’s body jiggled when he laughed. “Karla tells me that boy’s seen a ghost.”
Realizing the fat man was poking fun, Joey raised his chin angrily. “It’s no ghost. I never said that!” He faced the other way, hurt. “It was the truth, Gran.”
Elmer
Mary issued the bulletin to the state police district office ten miles north of Crosshaven and then leaned back, chewing thoughtfully on a fresh hot cider doughnut. It was small enoughto pop into her mouth whole, and just the thing to fill the lonely silences between dispatch radio calls.
Mary released the mute button and told Karen Heath that she’d notified the sheriff and put out a bulletin, then said, “Karen, if Julie turns up, I’d appreciate a call back. Anything we hear, I’ll be in touch right away.”
Karen Heath didn’t reply. Mary thought it must have finally struck home: filing a missing persons report on her child.
“Karen, you still there?” Mary’s voice was softer this time, less businesslike.
“I hear you.”
“We’ll be in touch, Karen. You try to get yourself some rest.” Mary hung up the phone and shook her head. Julie was a nice young girl, responsible. She’d know better than to get herself in trouble. It’s probably nothing, Mary thought, reaching for another doughnut. Then she changed her mind and closed the box up tight.
The boys and Elmer took seats at a table away from all the smoke that roosted over a huddle of men on stools facing the open griddle. Shermie Dutcher, the owner of the diner, looked up from the grill, mumbled something to Karla—the only waitress in the place—and then went back to cooking, his skinny arms flailing away.
Karla placed three paper napkins tightly rolled around dinnerware in front of Elmer and the boys.
“Hey, Karla,” Elmer said. “How are you today?”
“Fine,” she said. “What’s wrong with junior here? Seen a ghost?”
Mike snorted. “Kind of.”
Joey glared at his older brother. “I didn’t see a ghost, but I
did
see something.”
Sixteen-year-old Mike clamped his strong hand down on his brother’s arm. “Button it, Joey.” His dark eyes drilled into the eleven-year-old’s. He’d warned Joey plenty of times about jumping to conclusions about people and spreading rumors.
Seeing the younger boy’s wounded face, Elmer said, “OK, OK, Mike. Let Joey be. He and I have got some serious fishing to do tomorrow morning early. Right, Joey?”
“Fishing” was their code for sitting and talking a spell. Joey desperately needed the old man for that. He depended on his grandfather, the only living person on the planet who would let him ramble on and listen to it all. Mike wouldn’t.
Joey rubbed his eyes. Those paralyzing seconds coasting by the truck on Old Shed Road replayed in his head. He looked up at Karla and blurted, “I saw this guy—”
“Joey, what’d I tell you?” Mike spoke over his younger brother’s voice. “You don’t know that guy from Friday. You have got to stop making up stories about people.”
Mike jabbed a finger on the table and leaned closer to Joey so Karla wouldn’t hear. “Last spring it was what’s-his-name—Johnny Shannon, that punk who had you all in a tizzy at school? So don’t go spreading rumors about people you don’t know. I’m warning you for the last time.”
“OK,” Elmer said. “You made your point, Mike. We came here to eat supper, not to heap troubles on your brother here. The boy’s done no harm.”
They all ordered the dinner special—meat loaf, fried potatoes, and onion rings.
Joey’s eyes locked on a man sitting at the counter, dressed in the same one-piece bibs as Elmer, only where Elmer’s hung slack from his lean body this man’s spilled over with rolls of fat. The heavy man rotated on his stool and looked straight Joey’s way.
“You got a grip on them boys, Elmer?” The fat man’s body jiggled when he laughed. “Karla tells me that boy’s seen a ghost.”
Realizing the fat man was poking fun, Joey raised his chin angrily. “It’s no ghost. I never said that!” He faced the other way, hurt. “It was the truth, Gran.”
Elmer
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