Music to Die For (22 page)

The buses continued their runs, over and over. People milled about. She wondered where the term
milled
had come from. Time crawled. No one approached the birdhouse. Henry was right: surveillance could be boring.

She shifted, moving her weight back and forth between increasingly stressed feet, being careful not to rustle the leaves. Sitting was out of the question. The best thing to do was lean on something. For Henry, that meant leaning on a large tree. Other nearby trees were smaller or had low branches in the way, and she’d have to move several feet to reach the next clear trunk. No, she’d rather stay here, close to Henry, where it was either stand erect or...

She shifted her feet again. Henry reached out and pulled her in front of him. She leaned.

There was no protest from Henry, and as time passed, she became more and more conscious of each contour of his body, of the rise and fall of his chest, and even, she imagined, the thump of his heart. He was very nice to lean on. Their bodies fit together... quite... well.

The moon was lifting higher now, but the forest remained in shadow. Carrie could barely see Jason on the steps across from them.

Henry shifted, and his left arm came around her, settling at her waist. She wanted to tilt her head against his chest but couldn’t watch the bird house if she did, so she kept her neck straight, her eyes alternately sweeping the area and looking toward the blue box.

Though she was trying to concentrate only on their mission and think about all she had heard and seen during the past twenty-four hours, she found she could not shut out intense awareness of Henry’s warm body. He was holding her so closely that she was sure she must be moving with each breath he took. After several minutes his head ducked, and his cheek rested briefly against the top of her denim cap.

They stood together in their hiding place—watching, waiting, breathing—shifting position from time to time.

She was alert, tingling with excitement, and she didn’t need to wonder if Henry was as aware of the feel of her body as she was of his. She did wonder, though, if she should be shocked by the way her body was reacting to the closeness of this man, or, for that matter, by how his body was reacting to hers. It was certainly nothing like any physical connection she had known with Amos McCrite. The two of them had made a son, of course, but... there had been no romance at all in Amos McCrite.

In spite of her concern for Dulcey and the Masons, a bubbling joy was taking hold of her. This was what being with a man could mean. How many years had it been? And now, and now... She sucked air involuntarily as Henry’s other arm circled around her, resting higher than the one at her waist, his fingers little wands of fire just under her breast.

She thought again of how she looked when she stood, naked, in front of a mirror. Then she shoved that aside. Henry had seen her in her bra just hours ago, though she hadn’t actually caught him looking, not really. Surely he knew what was under her clothing. In fact, now his strong hand was under her sweatshirt. He was surprisingly gentle, even hesitant, as he touched her.

All the tourists had gone into the auditorium, and the only sound Carrie could hear was the inner noise of two thumping hearts. Her thoughts were drifting into dreams of touching, and closeness to Henry, and...

The creak of the fence gate next to the auditorium wall was a harsh surprise. Both she and Henry tensed, body awareness faded, and their urgent mission demanded full attention once more.

Someone was going to the blue birdhouse. Long skirt. Female. Her back was toward them, and it didn’t look familiar, but when she turned around toward the post light....

The bang of heels on wood echoed as Chase vaulted over the porch railing and met the shadow by the box. Henry swore as both he and Carrie ran toward Chase. By the time they reached him he had the arms of a girl pinned against the fence, and she was spitting out the most unique assortment of angry words Carrie had ever heard, terms in which
skunk
and
mule
figured largely, and the modifiers were full of color quite out of character for a mere child in pigtails. Carrie didn’t know her name but recognized her as one of those who had been listening to Brigid Mason’s story the night before.

After a second, Carrie decided they were lucky the girl wasn’t screaming, considering the force Chase was applying to hold her. Since Henry looked like he was about to hit Chase, she reached out quickly, pulled Chase’s arms away from the girl, glanced at the white envelope he was holding in his hand, and turned back toward his fire-breathing captive.

“I’m sorry this man frightened you,” she said, “but what on earth are you doing out here? Looks like you’re supposed to be getting ready for the show inside, so why are you here delivering messages?”

The girl looked Carrie over, taking in her grey curls, wrinkles, and ample curves. Then she glanced up at Henry and evidently decided he was no threat to her either. She sniffed toward Chase and stuck her nose in the air. “Sure, ’n’ see if I ever do Ben favors again, no matter how ro-man-tic. See, he wanted me to deliver his love note.”

“Love note?” Henry and Carrie said together. Then Carrie went on, more calmly, “Ben told you to put his love note in the bird house?”

“Well, it’s not his, o’course,” the girl said, with all the wisdom of a dozen years or so. “He’s an old man, so couldn’t be his, now could it! Said someone had asked him to put it in the box, but there was trouble with a stage set that needed fixin’ quick, and he didn’t have time to bring it out. Asked me to. What’s the harm in that? And what’s this...” she indicated Chase, “son of a jackass doin’ grabbin’ me?”

Henry had moved in front of Chase and backed up, pushing the younger man away from the girl and using his body to shield him from her view. Carrie ignored both of them and continued with her questions.

“Did Ben say who the note came from?”

“’Course not, it’s a secret.
I
think it’s from one of the boys in the show to his special girl. Mebbe his folks don’t ap-prove of the girl. They’s lotsa that goin’ ’round. So, it’s ro-man-tic, and I said I’d do it.” She giggled, her good nature restored. “Lotsa cute boys in the show tonight.”

She looked closely into Carrie’s face again and seemed to read something there. Her own face became thoughtful, and she ducked her chin and said, more softly, “Wouldn’t you’uv done the same? Helped?”

“Yes,” Carrie said, “I would have, and I don’t blame you a bit, but I’m afraid Ben was fooling you. I’ll tell you a secret. The note is for me. I’m Ben’s, uh, friend, and I was expecting to meet him here. This is my brother and my nephew. They wanted to meet Ben, that’s all, since we’re talking about—now don’t you tell—getting married. Sorry my nephew was rough.” She waved an arm in Chase’s direction. “He sometimes acts before he thinks.

“Now, I’d like to ask you to do a favor for me, since you know my secret. Just tell Ben you put his note in the box, nothing more. I’ll send an answer, but I want to surprise him. Don’t tell him you saw me. I want my answer to be romantic too, you see? Promise?” Carrie reached her right hand up, made a solemn “X” sign over her heart.

The girl’s face showed skepticism, then delight. It was easy to tell the idea of romantic possibilities for grandparents was going to fill her head for days.

Wish she could have seen Henry and me just a few minutes ago, Carrie was thinking.

Now the girl crossed her heart just as solemnly as Carrie had, said, “Okay, secret, I won’t say nothin’,” and scooted toward the gate.

Chase opened the note, held it to the light to read, then shoved it in his pocket. “Gotta see Ben,” he said.

“Not really a love note, I suppose?” asked Henry.

“Sure isn’t,” Chase said, as he turned to go through the gate to the back of the auditorium.

Jason had appeared, and the three of them followed Chase. As soon as they were all inside the fence, Henry caught Chase’s arm. “Wait, man,” he said, “and think! If you go inside that auditorium, all hell will break loose. In bright light you’ll be recognized, especially if you storm in the place. You can’t go after Ben now. You and Jason go back to the rooms. Carrie and I will talk to him.”

Chase glared at Henry, who asked, “What does the note say?”

“$500,000, or we’ll never see Dulcey again. Assorted bills, none larger than a hundred dollars, at least eighty percent used. Put the money in a black guitar case and leave it on the ground at the end of the gift shop porch just after the evening show begins tomorrow night. If nothing goes wrong, Dulcey will be dropped off somewhere in the visitor parking lot after the show’s over.”

“That’s clever of them,” Henry said. “There will be so many cars coming and going then we’d have a very hard time watching for her to be dropped off. But how would you get that kind of money on a weekend?”

Carrie supposed Henry was just making conversation. None of this was going to matter anyway.

“Can’t get it,” Chase said. “I can’t. Oh, we’ve got enough money, but our bank is in Branson. There’s no way they’d wire funds on a Saturday. I doubt I could get it even if I went there. And, I don’t think Ma has...well, how could she? How come these folks don’t know that? Who carries that kind of money in their pockets?” He started to laugh, a bitter, hollow sound. “Do kidnappers take checks these days? How about credit cards? What do they expect me to do?” He stopped and slumped against the wall, suddenly looking, Carrie thought, as young and vulnerable as Tracy had earlier.

“It comes down to this,” Chase said. “I can’t pay the ransom tomorrow night, and they’re too stupid to know that.”

Henry finally persuaded Chase to go back to the lodge with Jason, insisting he and Carrie must be the ones to talk with Ben.

As soon as their car was out of sight, he handed Carrie her walking stick and said, “We’d better not take time to get my car. I think we can intersect the path to the sewage treatment plant over there, somewhere below the auditorium.”

“What about Ben?” Carrie asked.

“Do you know him?”

“I know who he is. Chase called him Ben Yokum— like L’il Abner. Said he used to live somewhere in the Ozarks, went to California, came back here not long ago. Evidently he’s a stage hand and general handyman for the Folk Center. He was smoking out back of the auditorium when I went looking for the Masons last night. Pruney-faced man, possibly around our age, never seems to smile. I don’t think

Brigid and Chase know him well. They’re certainly not friends. I suppose they see him as a stage hand and pay little attention to him otherwise.”

“Would Ben Yokum resent that?”

“I have no idea, but that’s not enough reason to kidnap a child, is it? I suppose the Culpepers could have paid him to take Dulcey. He’d have had access to her if she was in Farel’s car. He didn’t like Farel. I don’t think he likes Chase much either, come to think of it.”

“So he might be involved?”

“Well, he did have the note. I guess, rather than wondering if the Masons know him, it’s more to the point to wonder what his relationship with the Culpepers might be. I wish I’d asked Chase more about him.”

“We’ll have to leave him for later anyway,” Henry said. “Our rendezvous with Margaret Culpeper and Dulcey Mason is at the top of the agenda now.”

For the first part of their downhill hike through the woods, the lights around the auditorium and the moon helped guide their way, and Henry didn’t take out his flashlight. Then the forest got heavier, and the glow from the post lamps faded. Henry turned on the flashlight, startling a cottontail, whose gleaming eyes exposed its location before the sudden leap and dash into deeper forest did.

After about ten minutes of crashing noisily through leaves and underbrush, they intersected the path and turned left, reaching the sewage treatment plant and its one mercury vapor security light when they had gone only a few hundred yards.

For a moment they stood at the edge of the forest, keeping out of the eerie light. Finally Henry said, “I hate to use the flashlight now, it’s too noticeable. Let’s go around to the road that leads from the gate on the other side. The lighter gravel there may make it possible for us to follow it to the fork without using additional light.”

“But won’t it seem even more suspicious not to have a flashlight if someone does see us?” Carrie asked. “We wouldn’t be out for a walk without light.”

“Oh, maybe we would,” Henry said. “If we hear anything, woman, prepare for a passionate love scene. We wouldn’t want a flashlight for that, would we?”

“Nope,” she said and wondered what he would really do if they did hear someone. She didn’t mind trying to imagine it.

The light gravel on the road was easy to follow in the moonlight, and in a short time they were at the road fork Margaret had described. They stopped, looking around, seeing nothing, until Carrie finally pointed her walking stick to a faint path leading into the woods.

She went first, taking Henry’s hand and sliding each foot forward in turn, holding it just above the ground to feel the way without disturbing leaves and brush. It was impossible to be completely quiet, and their progress was slow. The moon was almost in the 9:30 position Margaret had indicated when they came to the edge of the clearing.

There was one dim light in the cottage. Candle, or lamp turned low, Carrie thought. By its light it was easy to see that the front door was open, though a screen door kept out any early insects that might be around.

“What now?” she whispered.

“Let’s listen for a while,” he said in her ear.

All they heard were forest sounds, increasing in a breeze that had begun to blow, bouncing leaves before it. No sound came from the house.

Finally Henry said, “Stay here, out of sight. I’ll circle around toward the path from Margaret’s. Maybe I’ll see them coming. I don’t think they’ve arrived—wouldn’t Margaret and Nahum be talking? I’ll meet you right here if I’m alone, or you’ll see the three of us come in the clearing. Don’t go any closer until I’m back. You’ll be safe, hidden here.”