Chance Encounters - Ch. 18

From the rough draft of Chance Encounters by Pat Otterness.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 Hiram looked different. Maybe it was just the suit and tie. Maybe if was the haircut. But no … it was something else. Something about his jaunty walk as he approached my door. Something about his smile. I was intrigued.

“How did it go?” I asked him. He had just returned from his session with Social Services.

“Umm … good I guess.”

Okay, now I knew something was up. Harm never started with “Umm” unless it was something he didn’t want to discuss, or he was going to ask a favor of me. He hadn’t been doing that hardly at all lately.

Our mailman, Ralph, was the worst kind of gossip, one who never even pretended he wasn’t open to gossiping. This suited my purposes very well. I stood near the mailbox waiting for his arrival and planning what I would say to get things started. It wouldn’t do to appear to be too eager.

Ralph handed me my mail and asked about my day. This was his way of sliding into a gossip session. Excellent!

“We’ve had some excitement here,” I said, thumbing through my mail.

“Oh? Anything I should know about?” Very casual.

“Bones.” I ripped open one of my envelopes and pretended to read its contents.

“That guy that’s missing? Donkins?”

“Nope. Not him. Too soon for him to be bones.” I opened another envelope and glanced at its contents. “In the lake, though, near where Donkins disappeared.”

“Odd,” said Ralph. “Any idea who?”

“Nope,” I said, putting the mail in my pocket. “Anybody gone missing in that area in the past? Anybody just kind of disappear?”

“Happens from time to time,” Ralph said thoughtfully. “There’ve been a few. Old man Donkins and his wife just sort of faded away. His son, too, but kids leave home so you don’t think of them as disappearing. I thought maybe the son had moved away and the parents might have followed. That happens sometimes.”

“Yep. It does. Keep thinking. The sheriff is going to need help figuring out whose bones they’ve found.”

“I’ll do that,” said Ralph, gunning his engine a little. “Nice chatting with you.” He pulled away, eager to share this news with the next person he met on his rounds.

I stood there for a few minutes, wondering what had happened to Squirrel Donkins’ parents. I’d have to see if Skeeter knew.

Hiram had decided to pick Skeeter up from his first day of school instead of having him take the school bus. Jordan was waiting when Hiram and Skeeter arrived back at my house. Two smiling faces.

“Did you meet Skeeter’s teacher?” I asked Hiram. “Max Brown?”

“Just for a minute. He seems nice.” Hiram grinned. “He seemed to think I was your husband.”

Jordan said nothing. He left the room.

“Everyone thinks that.” I sighed. “What is it with people, anyway? Don’t they have any imagination?”

“What should they be imagining?” Harm was still grinning. “I didn’t tell him I wasn’t. I thought it would be fun to pretend.”

“Pretending won’t make it happen, Harm. You need to get out there and find someone who truly appreciates you.”

“Maybe I will,” he chuckled. “Maybe I will.”

Something was definitely up with Harm.

“You got the hots for Margo Finch?” I quipped but Hiram had left the room. I didn’t think he’d heard me, so I just laughed to myself.

Skeeter was full of news about his day. Mr. Brown, it seemed, had been as good as his word. Skeeter had had an excellent first day, despite the odds.

“I met some kids, too, “he told me. “There’s this one guy whose dad is a mechanic. He said maybe I could come to his house some weekend and meet him.”

“Are you interested in becoming a mechanic?” I asked him. There was so much I didn’t know about Skeeter.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But I’m interested in learning how things work. My dad was an engineer.”

“I had forgotten that. Maybe you’ll follow in his footsteps.” I moved Skeeter’s books off the couch, onto the floor. “Jordan wants to talk to you, Skeeter.”  Jordan was chatting with Hiram in the kitchen. I went to fetch him.

The two men had their heads together but broke apart when I entered the room. Guilty looks. Hmmm? I pointed Jordan in Skeeter’s direction and took another hard look at Hiram, who seemed a little redder than usual. Something was definitely up with Hiram.

“Skeeter,” said Jordan, “I guess you know we’re pretty sure your dad is dead.”

“Yes, sir.” Skeeter nodded. “I know.”

“When we find his body, it’s not going to be in … very good shape. I mean, you’re not going to want to see him.”

Skeeter’s eyes opened wide. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to do that.”

“The thing is, I need to ask you for some of your DNA so we can get a positive identification.” Jordan held up a test tube and a swab. “All I need to do is swish this around inside your mouth to gather some skin cells. Is that okay with you?”

After a moment, with an air of resignation, Skeeter said, “I guess so. Sure. Will it hurt?” He frowned.

“Not at all. It will only take a moment.” Jordan took the swab out of its wrapper and held it out in Skeeter’s direction.

After a brief pause, Skeeter opened his mouth wide, allowing Jordan to get a good sample.

“Thanks, Skeeter,” said Jordan. “This will make things easier for us.”

“I hope you find him soon,” Skeeter replied. After a moment he reached into his pocket and pulled out the zippered wallet. “Chat said I should give you this.”

“Thank you.” Jordan took the wallet and slipped it into an evidence bag. “I’ll get it back to you soon. He looked at me. “Chat shouldn’t have given this to you before we examined it. Did you know that?”

“Yes sir, I did,” said Skeeter, manning up to his responsibility. “I really needed it.”

“I know,” Jordan replied. “Chat sometimes does the wrong thing for the right reasons.”

Was that a blush I saw on Jordan’s face? Must be my imagination.