Unringing the Bell by Judy Higgins

Author:Judy Higgins [Higgins, Judy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gossart

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jacob pulled into the driveway of Inez Winter’s bungalow and parked behind an old model Toyota Corolla. A 1960’sVolvo sat on blocks between her unattached garage and that of her neighbor’s, and in the middle of her lawn, her son, whose name Jacob had forgotten, leaned over the engine of a Mazda sports car that flamed red-orange in the early afternoon sun.

Engrossed, or deaf, or both, the son didn’t look up when Jacob got out and walked over and introduced himself, but continued tightening the steel clamps on the radiator. “I’m here to see Mrs. Winters,” Jacob said, raising his voice. Then he remembered the son’s name. Pavel.

Pavel stopped his tinkering and swiveled his head to stare at Jacob for a few seconds before straightening and wiping a hand over his face, leaving a black streak. “And your business is?” Dropping his wrench to the ground, he leaned back on the fender, pulled a pack of Camels from his shirt pocket, and tapped the pack on the back of one hand to extract a cigarette.

“I’m a friend of the Hunters; I have a question for your mother about Mrs. Petrowsky.”

“She’s in there,” Pavel said after an interval, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the front door.

Should any such contest arise, he’d have to remember to nominate Pavel for the Conversationalist of the Year Award, Jacob mused as he made his way up the walk to the half-open wooden front door. Reaching through the opening, he tapped on the metal edge of the screen door, rattling it against the frame.

“Come in,” a raspy voice answered.

He stepped inside, letting the screen door squeak shut behind him. Inez Winters, dressed in a blue chenille robe and a pair of too-large men’s herringbone slippers, slumped in a chair, an orange and black afghan draped over her lap.

“Excuse me for disturbing you. I’m Jacob Gillis. John Hunter and I were classmates in high school. I’m so sorry about the death of your friend.” Nose twitching at the smell of licorice, one of his least favorite aromas, he took a step forward. The drapes were drawn and the room lit only by a low wattage table lamp. In spite of the gloom, he noted the abundance of porcelain figurines, collector’s plates, cheap souvenirs, crocheted doilies, furniture store art.

She examined him through red-rimmed eyes, one hand fumbling to close the gap between the lapels of her robe while the other held a pipe of black licorice suspended between lap and mouth. A smear of black specked her lower lip. A brown pottery bowl on the table beside her held a couple dozen of the candies in assorted flavors.

“Shut the door,” she said at length. “First Pavel, and now you. Don’t you young men know how to close doors? I can’t go jumping up every minute with my arthritis.”

“Sorry.” He closed the door. “I returned to Goose Bend recently, and I’m working temporarily for the District Attorney.” When a puzzled look crossed her face he

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