5 Death, Bones, and Stately Homes by Valerie S. Malmont

Author:Valerie S. Malmont [Malmont, Valerie S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-07-12T23:27:00+00:00

Fifteen

As usual, I got lost shortly after leaving the borough. Cassie had given me directions in typical Lickin Creek fashion. "Turn right at the second-to-last traffic light on the Marshallville Road (how was I supposed to know which light was second to last without driving all the way to Marshallville and turning around), go about five or six miles (it turned out to be eight) until you come to where the Seven Star Fruit Stand used to be (used to be?), turn there (she hadn't mentioned whether it would be a right or left turn, which gave me another opportunity to get lost for half an hour), drive past three barns, a house, and a cornfield, then turn left at the second farm road and keep going till you see the pond. (It was dried up and looked nothing like a pond.) Go around it, to the right, I think, and just keep driving up the side of the mountain till you reach the green fence. Keep blowing your horn there, and eventually someone will come to let you in."

It was late afternoon, and the sun had dropped behind the pine trees when I finally reached the green fence Cassie had mentioned. Fence was hardly the word I would have used, for although it was made of chain-link, a screen of dark green netting behind it made it impossible to see through. And I estimated it to be at least ten feet high. A few weeks ago I had watched King Kong, the original Fay Wray version, not the new one, and this tall, dark fence was reminiscent of the wall that protected the islanders from Kong and his prehistoric buddies. If this farmer kept cows in there, he would never have to worry about them getting out and wandering onto the highway, as happened in Lickin Creek about twice a week in the summer.

I pressed the horn, waited, and wished again that Garnet's truck was air-conditioned, even though he'd told me several times you didn't need air-conditioning in Pennsylvania. I was steaming, both physically and emotionally as I pressed the horn for the tenth or maybe even the hundredth time.

One more toot and I'm out of here, I thought, just as the enormous gate slowly swung open.

"Howdy. You Tori Miracle?" The man who came toward me through the opening was well over six feet, but dwarfed by the height of the fence. He had gray hair pulled into a ponytail, which protruded from the back of his green John Deere tractor cap.

"Sorry to take so long," he said, leaning his arms on the passenger's-side window. "I saw you coming on the security camera, but I thought I'd save myself the hike and wait till the other guy got here."

"What other guy?"

"Go ahead and drive on in and wait for me. I'll close the gate."

"What other guy?" I repeated.

"There was a van coming up the road about a mile, mile and a half behind you. I thought maybe you were traveling together.

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