The Edge

"Of course," Cotter said easily. "I saw Jilly just a little while ago. She's looking really good. She got one of the nurse's aides to wash her hair. She looks normal. It's amazing."

I said to Maggie, "I heard you talking about Charlie Duck. It really is a shock for a little town like Edgerton. Did you bring in the crime-lab people from Portland? They're top-notch. The medical examiner-Ted Leppra-is one of the best M.E.s on the West Coast."

She shook her head. "I know how he died. He got bashed on the head, his brain filled up with blood and smashed bone, and that was the end of him. I don't see any need for an M.E. to translate that for me in medicalese-it's a waste of time.

"Poor old Charlie. He's been here for at least fifteen years. The funeral's on Tuesday. Everyone will be there at the League's Christian church."

"The League?" I asked.

Maggie said, "The BITEASS League, remember? Since everyone in town is a member, the League keeps up one central place of worship. Different religions can have the building at different times. In the case of funerals, it's an interdenominational service. Representatives from all the religious groups will take a few moments to speak. Since old Charlie was an agnostic, everyone will get equal time. If he'd been a Baptist, say, they'd get the lion's share of the time. Come if you can, Mac. You can meet the rest of the folk in town.

"Or are you heading back to Washington? Since Jilly's awake again, there's no reason for you to stay, is there? Has she told you about what happened Tuesday night? Does it match your dream?"

"I'm going to speak to her about it right now," I said, wishing Maggie hadn't said anything about it in front of Cotter Tarcher. But in the long run I couldn't see that it would make any difference. Who cared if anybody thought I was nuts? As for Tarcher, he hadn't acted like an ass, at least not yet.

"I hope she'll talk to you," Maggie said to me. "When I was in there this morning, she claimed she didn't remember a thing. She acted shocked when I told her we were worried because it looked to Rob like she'd driven over the cliff on purpose. She didn't say another word. If there's something more, maybe she'll tell you, Mac."

I said, "Maybe nothing's going on, Maggie."

"I hope you're right. I'm just worried she might try to hurt herself again."

Cotter looked back and forth at each of us. "Try to drop by tonight, Mac. My parents would like to meet you." He shook my hand, harder than necessary, nodded to Maggie, gave me a look that said he could whip my ass anytime, and left. He was easy to dislike, on spec.

"Maggie," I said. "Were you invited over to Paul and Jilly's house on Tuesday night?"

"No. Why?"

"Laura Scott told me Paul and Jilly were expecting other people. She had to leave early, so she didn't know how many people or who they were."

Why did I have to know? It didn't matter. What mattered was speaking to Jilly, making sure that she was okay now, that she wasn't depressed or bent on trying to kill herself again.

I thought about Laura, about how I'd never before met a woman who drew me instantly as she had. No, I wasn't going back to Washington just yet. There was the Tarcher party tonight. It should prove interesting.

"Mac, before you go see Jilly, there's something else about Charlie Duck's murder, something that's really weird. I didn't want to say anything about it in front of Cotter, but hey, you're a cop too."

"You know something?"

"Yeah, but I don't know if it means anything. Someone killed Charlie, then ransacked his house. I've had my guy dust for fingerprints. I've made a search myself. I didn't find anything, nothing that might have been of interest to anyone. Whatever the murderer was looking for, he probably found it. He took the murder weapon with him."

She drew a deep breath. "Maybe you can help me figure this out. After Doc Lambert called me, he said that Charlie regained consciousness just a moment before he died."

My heart speeded up, I don't know why. I waited. "Doc Lambert said Charlie was real frantic, mumbled a whole lot of stuff, but the only thing he could really make out was 'a big wallop, too much, then they got me.' Doc Lambert said he died then. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Have the M.E. in Portland do an autopsy," I said. "Do it right now."

"Why?"

"Because I've got this feeling, a real burning in my gut, that this wasn't a random killing and burglary. Charlie Duck wanted to speak to you. He wanted to speak to me. I wish he'd done it yesterday, but he didn't, obviously because he didn't think he was in any danger. But he was. Someone walloped him, it was too much, then they killed him."