Are You Haunted (part fifty-three)

Are You Haunted

(part fifty-three)

He pointed the cigarette at Isobel. “That distinction tells you a lot. See, Davis had a particular gift. It was the thing I liked about him myself, and I got to know him pretty well. If you introduced him to someone, recommended a restaurant, gave him a business tip, he’d fire off a little note―‘Just to let you know what a help you’ve been’. Makes people proud of themselves, that someone listened to them and took their advice. And it paid him back. When he was working Chicago, he got all in and among the Reds. They liked him, they trusted him. Likeable guy.”

“He was a rat.”

“He,” said Summers with dignity, “was an agent of the U.S. government. Well… More of a contract worker.”

Distinction or not, Isobel hardly cared for it, but she was not rushing Summers.

Her boss had instructed her, in a speech that, among his gripes, contained a word or two of praise, “If a guy wants to prop up the counter all day, let him, so long as he’s a customer. I got a bench outside if he’s waiting for a bus.”

Isobel understood, gossip being what it was in a small town, that she might call herself Gilshannon, but Baker knew an Alfin Tovey when he saw one. She had told Alfin she appreciated his news. That her job didn’t entitle her serving free meals to friends. That she had no intention of asking Baker for hours off, would spend no portion of her wages on her husband’s troubles; and that, if his own family couldn’t raise bail, or after gathering a sum of money, decided the spending of it would be wasted on Dennis, he would have to lump it.

“Cold-hearted,” Alfin said, with cheer. “Give him your best of luck, then, by way of your two cents in?”

“Do not.”

Dennis was charged with criminal trespass and criminal damage of property belonging to the Drybrook trust. But as she went about her chores, Isobel thought about this dilemma. They were not all like Lloyd Guy, the authorities…

Her grandparents had tenanted one of the little company-built houses along the river. These were gone into private ownership, and had grown, post-war, straitened touches of individuality…a carport, a screened porch; for the rentable rooms, an attic built on.

She telephoned an old neighbor. “Mrs. Wert, do you know who’s living at Lloyd Guy’s?”

“No. Fat man, though?”

“Can you carry him a message for me?”

Summers tucked a dollar under the edge of his ashtray. “What I have to say to you, you may not like hearing.”

“You don’t care to drive me out there tonight. To tell the truth, I’m tired and I’d rather not go. They can’t teach Dennis any bad habits in jail, Mr. Summers. But I hope you’ll help me see Powell tomorrow. I have no car of my own.”

“Ma’am, what we need to do, the thing you won’t like, is talk all this over with Mr. Guy. We need go to him like a couple of wide-eyed innocents, and say, Mr. Guy, sir, can you help us?”

52

Haunted
Are You Haunted (part one)

(2019, Stephanie Foster)