Old Chaos (9781564747136) Read online

  The defeated aide slung him onto the empty bed nearest the shower room. Rob didn’t look great, and he moved with effort, but he was a lot cleaner. He was still unshaven. At least his beard wasn’t orange. The care-giver flounced off to report to her supervisor.

  “Ah, there you are, Robert!” An elderly man with round glasses and a hearing aid sidled into the room.

  “Judge Rosen. Why…I could have sent someone for the warrants.” Rob struggled to sit up.

  The judge made shooing motions with his small, neat hands. “Lie down. I talked to your sergeant. When he told me they’d taken you to the hospital, I came to see how you were doing. Well, from the look of things.” His eyes twinkled. “This lady must be our new librarian.” He held out his hand. “Nate Rosen, Ms. McLean.”

  “Your Honor.” Meg shook hands.

  “May I welcome you somewhat belatedly to our little community? We’re fortunate to have so many talented people coming to us from California.”

  That was so kind, Meg almost burst into tears. She was also struck dumb. When local people heard she was from California, cold silence usually ensued—if they were polite.

  Judge Rosen turned back to Rob. “I need hardly say the warrants should be executed as soon as possible.”

  “I can’t call my sergeant till I’m released. No cell phones allowed in these rooms.”

  “Shall I call him for you?”

  Rob frowned and glanced at Meg. “We need to confer.”

  “I’ll go stand in the hall,” Meg said.

  He dug out the keys Meg had found among his dirty clothes—in a sealable bag with his wallet. “When you said you’d take me home, Meg, you meant to your house. Right?”

  “Yes. You can’t stay in that huge place of yours alone, Rob. Do not even consider it.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, I won’t. It occurred to me while I was under the shower that Beth might as well use my house. She needs a home base and space for all those grandkids.”

  “What a great idea! She told me they haven’t sold the house in town yet, but it can’t have much furniture.”

  “You’re sure you won’t mind?” He held up the house key with the others dangling.

  “Don’t be insulting.” She took the keys, kissed his nose, and turned to Judge Rosen. “I hope to see you again under less trying conditions.”

  The judge made polite sounds, but his mind was clearly on his search warrants.

  Meg left the room at a gallop. Waiting for the elevator calmed her enthusiasm. She hadn’t spoken to any of the McCormicks yet, least of all Beth, and she dreaded the encounter. What on earth could she say? She’d had no time to know the sheriff, really, and what she knew she didn’t always like. It was too late to know him better.

  The group outside Beth’s room had swollen to at least a dozen, half of them children, everybody crying.

  Meg touched the nearest woman’s arm. “Are you one of Beth’s daughters?”

  She sniffed. “I’m Danielle. Dany. If you’re a reporter—”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I’m Meg McLean. Rob Neill sent me up with the key to his house. He says you should use the place as long as you need to.” She detached the key from the chain.

  “The Guthrie house? Wow!” Dany had auburn hair and the sheriff’s expressive mouth. She gave a shriek. “Hey, guys, Rob wants to lend us his house. Isn’t that great!”

  “There should be room for everybody.” Meg wasn’t sure of that. There were a lot of McCormicks. Still, Rob’s Victorian had five bedrooms upstairs and one down, if you counted his office.

  Everyone crowded around her, saying appreciative things and even smiling, and Meg started to relax a little.

  “We can be together!” A dark man with Beth’s eyes took Meg’s hand. “Thanks. I’m John. Why didn’t Rob come up himself?”

  Meg explained.

  John McCormick clucked his tongue. “I hope the back problem’s not serious. We owe him a lot.”

  “Mom’s life, for one thing.” Dany’s mouth trembled. “And he tried to save Dad.”

  “He did save Sophy.” A ten-year-old girl grabbed Dany’s elbow. “Sophy’s going to be okay. You said so.”

  “Yes, she is, honey. I promise. Skip just took her off where it’s quieter. She’s fine.”

  “My grandpa died,” the girl said to Meg.

  “I’m very sorry,” Meg said. “He was a good man. You should be proud of him.”

  “I am. I’m Beatie.” She held out her hand.

  Meg shook it. “I’m Meg.”

  The child considered. “Megan?”

  “Margaret.”

  “Like Peggy.”

  “That’s right.” Meg looked at Dany. “How is your sister doing?”

  Dany’s face clouded. “Still unconscious. They have her in Intensive Care, but they think she’ll come out of the coma eventually.”

  “That’s good. Er, your mother—”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “Not with all this racket going on.” A nurse emerged from the room, scowling. “Off to the waiting room with you. Shoo!” She herded them down the hallway. After listening to a chorus of thanks, Meg made a graceful escape without seeing Beth. When she returned to the emergency area, Rob was sitting in a wheelchair with his sack of dirty laundry in his lap.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What about the MRI?”

  “I’m lucky I didn’t herniate a bunch of discs. Some are bulging, but I should heal if I lie still—”

  “For seventy-two hours,” they said with one voice.

  A care-giver appeared with documents, which Rob signed, while Meg ran out to the car and drove it to the entrance. He was wheeled to the car door and decanted with only a few groans. She fastened his seat belt, and he handed her a sheaf of papers.

  “Prescriptions?”

  “Painkillers, blood thinners, muscle relaxants.”

  “Sounds lethal. I’ll fill them when you’re on your back again.” She drove home cautiously.

  Two hours later, she returned from rearranging her own schedule, filling Rob’s prescriptions, and tidying his house, where she ran into a sortie of McCormicks with suitcases. She locked Rob’s home office because of the computer and left everything else to fate and chance.

  When she returned, Rob lay on the hide-a-bed in conference with Jeff Fong and Jake Sorenson, who had seized the business records from Drinkwater’s office and were about to go out to his house. Drinkwater was still missing. The department had issued an APB, and Rob was asking for an arrest warrant—he was emphatically still on duty. At least he was lying down. Flat.

  Meg left the deputies to it and went off to the kitchen to cook. The phone rang as she was mixing biscuits. When caller ID showed Earl Minetti’s name, she was tempted not to answer.

  Minetti was brusque but not quite rude. He asked for Rob. She took the phone to the living room—Rob’s cell phone sat on her counter recharging—and handed it to him. “It’s the undersheriff.”

  “Neill,” Rob said, just as brusque as his new boss.

  “Yeah, I’m under doctor’s orders to lie still for three days. You are? When? All right. No, Drinkwater hasn’t responded. I started leaving messages for him before seven this morning. Must be out of town.”

  Minetti’s voice went on at length.

  Rob kept his face impassive. Meg had never heard him criticize Minetti in front of a department member. “Yes, sure, Earl. I’ll do what I can. Right.” He hit the Off button and handed Meg the phone. “Thanks. Earl is going to call in state investigators in the morning.” That must have felt like a slap in the face.

  Jeff and Jake groaned. One of them said, “Fuck.”

  “In the cards,” Rob said without emotion. “The staties will take the Drinkwater case file, so copy it. See what you can find in his records by tomorrow. Look for evidence that somebody did him a large favor.”

  “Who?” Jeff asked. He looked puzzled.

  Rob closed his eyes. He was gray
in the face and not from ash. “A familiar name,” he said heavily. “Somebody in county government. We can hope it was Hal Brandstetter.” Commissioner Brandstetter was safely dead.

  Jeff glanced at Meg.

  Rob said, “And in case you’re wondering, I swore Meg in as a reserve deputy last fall, remember?”

  Jeff and Jake nodded.

  “My lips are sealed.” Meg spoke lightly but she meant it.

  “Call Linda in and that kid Corky has working for him, the computer nerd. And Jake—”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t work all night. You had a heavy morning.”

  Jake said, “I’m not tired.”

  “Liar.”

  Meg was fond of Jake. His sister drove the bookmobile. He was technically in the uniform branch, but Rob borrowed him a lot. Now he looked more than tired. They had found the rest of the Gautier family—crushed and smothered in their beds—about the time Rob’s back gave out.

  Rob turned to Jeff. “You can use my office in the annex. Play this by the book every step of the way. I want a golden chain of evidence.”

  Jeff said, “What if Minetti sticks his nose in?”

  “He won’t. He’s got other things to do. If he asks, tell him the truth. You have the records. You got them properly. You’re preparing them for the state boys.”

  When the phone in Meg’s hand rang, she almost dropped it. “Hello?”

  “Meg, it’s Beth McCormick.”

  “Oh, my dear, how are you? I’m so sorry about Mack.”

  “Thank you.” Beth sounded as if she were speaking from the far end of a long, hollow tube. “I need to talk to Rob. Is he there?”

  Puzzled, Meg handed him the phone. “It’s Beth.”

  He took a long breath. “Hi, Beth. Not a problem. You’re welcome to use the house as long as you like. Skip and the baby will want to be near Peggy, too. I’ll drop by for underwear from time to time when I’m allowed to move again. Oh. Okay. What, she what?” He sat bolt upright. “Ouch. Jesus, yes! The woman’s a genius, and I damn near didn’t vote for her.”

  Beth’s voice went on for some time. She sounded agitated. Meg, Jake, and Jeff stared at Rob. A healthy color touched his cheekbones, and his eyes sparkled.

  At last he said, “I do not have a single doubt, Elizabeth. And you’ll have help. Yes, well, you have more experience than he does, by a long shot. Remember that. If he gives you guff, I’ll break his legs. Good-bye, honey. Thanks for telling me.” He pushed the Off button and collapsed onto the pillows.

  Jeff and Jake were staring.

  “What!” Meg shouted.

  Rob was sweating with pain, but he grinned. “The governor, bless her, just asked Beth to serve out Mack’s term as sheriff of Latouche County.”

  In the burrows of the Nightmare

  Where Justice naked is,

  Time watches from the shadow

  And coughs when you would kiss.

  —W.H. Auden,

  “As I Walked Out One Evening”

  BETH WAS FURIOUS. If she hadn’t been—if she’d just been desperately unhappy and surrounded by her grieving children, if she’d just been in pain and beside herself with anxiety for Peggy—she would have told the governor to take a hike. But Beth was as angry as she had ever been in her life. She wanted to Do Something. So she said yes.

  “Excellent,” the governor said kindly. “I’ll make an announcement tomorrow afternoon. Don’t feel that you have to take up the reins immediately. I’m sending counsel from the attorney general’s office to help the county with insurance issues, and a man from the disaster team.”

  A wave of advice swept over Beth. She lay back on her pillows and listened. The governor had been elected by the tiniest margin in the history of the state and had survived the recount. Beth had to admire her confidence.

  Beth’s eldest, John, was watching her with anxious eyes. The others had gone off to explore Rob’s house. She managed a smile for John. She managed to thank the governor.

  John took the receiver and replaced it on its cradle. “What was that?”

  Beth told him.

  His jaw dropped. “Good God!” He looked so blank, Beth’s fury surged. Did he doubt she could do it?

  “I need to talk to Rob. He’s probably at Meg McLean’s house. Find her number for me.” She watched John’s dazed face as he fumbled with the county phone directory.

  Rob said the right things, or maybe he just listened. Beth poured out her reservations. Afterwards, she couldn’t recall the content of their talk. The tone was enough. Rob didn’t just welcome the appointment, he was delighted. Why? When she’d hung up, she remembered Earl Minetti.

  She swore John to secrecy and sent him away, because she needed to think. It was a good twelve hours since the landslide. She was exhausted, grieving, and in some pain. When she had eaten a little of the tasteless hospital dinner and taken her medications, she fell asleep.

  She did not wake when her children returned. They watched and whispered. She did not wake later, when they had gone off to Rob’s house, and another patient was brought in from surgery. The nurse told Beth she had used a bedpan and been given more pain medication at three a.m., but she didn’t remember. She finally woke at six, and everything came back to her in a waking nightmare. Mack and Peggy. Mack was gone. Frantic, she rang for the nurse, who assured her that her daughter was holding her own.

  After the care-givers had attended to Beth’s needs, and she had looked at breakfast, she finally got around to thinking. By that time, it was too late to turn back, and she found she didn’t want to. Anger still burned close to the surface. She didn’t try to damp it.

  The phone rang—the superintendent of schools, extending condolences. He said nothing about her appointment as sheriff. Maybe he didn’t know yet. She thanked him. The phone rang again—her principal. He was a kind man who had stood by her in difficult meetings with parents, of which she had seen a lot. He told her not to worry, that her colleagues were covering her tutorials and that the district had supplied a substitute for her classes. She told him he would have to find a permanent replacement and why. His congratulations sounded warm.

  She hadn’t yet told her other children. Her third caller—at barely half past nine—was John, who talked about making “arrangements.” She winced at the word. John said he hadn’t told the others about her appointment either. He thought she should tell them. He sounded forlorn.

  “Your father wanted to be cremated.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but Mack had been firm.

  “Yes, Mom, I know. I need to talk to Father Martinez about the Requiem Mass.”

  “When?”

  Silence at the other end. He cleared his throat. “Is Monday too soon for the funeral?” It was Thursday.

  Beth forced herself to agree. He promised to notify the relatives—Mack had six brothers and sisters, all living, though his parents were dead. She would have to call her own mother and sisters soon.

  “And I’ll go to the bank and the credit union, stop your credit cards, look into insurance. Things like that.”

  “Oh, Johnny, honey, this is so much work for you.”

  “Well, it’s my kind of work.” He was the financial officer for a Portland firm.

  He told her Skip and Dany were on their way to the hospital. Two neighborhood women had organized a play group for the younger grandchildren in Rob’s living room. It was too wet for them to play outside. Beatie and Cieran, ages ten and twelve, were supposed to help. Beth sent up a prayer to St. Jude to protect Hazel Guthrie’s furniture. She had known Rob’s grandmother well.

  And so it went. The daughters-in-law would take turns tending baby Sophy for Skip and sorting out the pies and casseroles flowing in from bereaved constituents. Beth’s other sons, Jimmy and Mike, and Dany’s husband, Peter, had had to drive back to Portland. They would return Saturday. Dany was organizing a rota, so somebody would sit at Peggy’s bedside all the time until she regained consciousness. The family response wa
s wonderful in its way. With all her heart, Beth wished it weren’t necessary.

  At last she remembered the governor’s upcoming announcement and suggested that John warn the others. John agreed. He said he would come by the hospital later.

  The phone rang again, Madeline Thomas asking about the funeral. Beth told her the tentative plans, and struck by a sudden insight, asked Maddie if she had called the governor.

  “Yes. I hope you don’t hate the idea, Beth. It seems logical to me. You’ll do a good job. Nobody wants Minetti running things.” She described the press conference.

  “That was officious of him, but I suppose someone has to deal with the press.” Beth paused for thought. “I told the governor yes.”

  Maddie made a noise that sounded like whew.

  They talked awhile. Maddie said Beth ought to confront the press herself as soon as possible. Otherwise, Minetti would have time to build support, which might be awkward.

  “I’ll discuss it with my son.”

  Maddie ignored that. “I imagine the governor called the commissioners, but you’d better talk to Tergeson yourself—he’s a Republican, you know, and won’t like the governor interfering. Might as well call Hank Auclare, too, so he won’t feel left out.”

  “Maybe Karl would like to make a statement to the media for me.”

  “You could ask him.” Maddie sounded doubtful. “He might be flattered. He’s a pompous old fart.”

  “I can’t appear in public,” Beth blurted. “I don’t have any clothes!”

  Maddie chuckled. “Then issue a press release.” She wished Beth well and hung up.

  It was literally true. Dany had bought Beth a nightgown in the gift shop. Otherwise, she was stripped of all belongings. It was a strange feeling. She had never thought herself acquisitive, but having nothing was disconcerting. She thought of Mack, and the black cloud of grief moved closer. She was angry enough still to push it aside, but she knew it would soon envelop her.