The Errand Boy by Don Bredes

Author:Don Bredes [Bredes, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-46191-9
Publisher: Crown
Published: 2009-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

AS SOON AS I got to the pay phone on the porch at Sullivan’s, I called the farm. “You just sit tight for a few,” Brenda told me. “I got about ten more pints to seal, and I’m outa here.”

Maggie Cruikshank was at the register selling lottery tickets to a dark-skinned couple who had just bought two folding beach chairs, a six-pack of Sam Adams, and two of Maggie’s ready-made subs. The snazzy blue Mini Cooper outside, with the Connecticut plates, must have been theirs.

Maggie nodded at me as I passed by. “Think we might see a couple trays of raspberries sometime today? Hopefully?”

“Today or tomorrow. You’re at the top of the list, Maggie.”

“I better be.”

The tourists took the chance to stare at me. I had done my best to comb the spruce needles out of my hair with my fingers.

Maggie counted out their change. “Wilma’s coming around, I hear.”

“She is. Myra’s been there the whole time, nursing her along.”

“Well, God bless that girl. I swear, if they ever ran a contest for all-around greatest kid, she’d win it every damn year.”

I took a shopping basket. What did we need? Milk, bread, and dish detergent. The eternal verities.

The first of Sullivan’s three interior aisles was L-shaped. The dairy case was in the back beside a floor-to-ceiling honeycomb of brass postboxes. When I rounded the end of the first aisle, I came upon Kandi Henderson checking for her mail, crouching with her back to me in blue cycling shorts, cleated shoes, and a sleeveless T-shirt, wraparound shades up in her wind-tangled hair. Her brown swimmer’s calves and shoulders were perfect. She stood up and grinned at me, a little forcefully—in apology, perhaps, for her rudeness at the lake the other day. Her plastic handbasket held a brick of sharp cheddar, red grapes, a loaf of French bread, a tomato, and a bottle of zinfandel.

“You have the day off?” Like a schoolboy, I couldn’t help trying to stake a brief claim on her attention.

“Sort of.”

I nodded. Her sunglasses had left red ovals right at the bridge of—

“Are you OK, Hector?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look kind of crazed. Is Wilma OK?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Someone played a trick on me last night. I’m still feeling the effects.”

“They did?” She glanced toward the front of the store, letting me know she had no interest in chatting.

“I don’t want to keep you, Kandi, but as long as I have the chance there’s something I want to ask you.”

She stiffened. “If it’s connected to the murder, I won’t go there.”

“What are you afraid of, Kandi?”

“What difference does it make? Shit, Hector, you’re an open book. All you’re after …” She stopped herself, shaking her head.

“Tell me what the threats are. I can protect you.”

“I don’t want your protection—or anybody else’s!” She headed off toward the register.

I caught up with her. “Kandi, come on, this isn’t about you and you alone. It’s about all of us. It’s about this town.”

“You know what?” She spun on me, white-faced.

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