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A short time later, Kate and Sheera stood beneath a portico, its ceiling curved and varnished like the hull of a boat, and knocked on the glass storm door. The main door was open, which allowed them to see through the interior of the house to the windows, ocean and islands beyond. When no-one came to the door, Kate knocked again.
“It’s open! I’m in the kitchen.”
They walked in, took off their shoes by the front door and left them on the oversized mat alongside the rain boots, slippers and sundry shoes already piled there. Stepping through the foyer, they entered a large room divided by furniture into two separate areas. The closer area held a dining table, chairs and sideboard. Further back two wing back chairs, a sofa and an easy chair arranged around a large coffee table formed a comfortable living room. All along the side and far wall were windows affording a view of the channel leading to open water beyond. It was a stunning view and the house and furnishings were oriented perfectly to appreciate it. To her right was the kitchen.
“Oh, it smells wonderful,” said Kate as she and Sheera entered the room. “Is that homemade bread in the oven?”
Kate stopped short. The man who turned to her was tall and slender, in his early 60’s and wore a white chef’s hat, an apron dirty with flour, and held a large wooden spoon that he’d been using to stir a vat of soup.
“Oh, my goodness! We’re in the wrong house. I am so sorry. We were looking for Matt Timmons. Please forgive the intrusion,” said Kate, backing out of the room.
“Well if it isn’t Rambo?”
“What? No. I…”
“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” said the man, pointing the spoon at her threateningly. “You’re just lucky that little girl is with you.” He paused to give Sheera a gentle smile and wink, before turning back to Kate with a severe look. “Otherwise you’d hear the full extent of my wrath.”
“Your what? Listen. There must be a mistake.”
“Matt told me all about your ‘mistake’. Like that excuses your savage attack. If he doesn’t press charges, I will. What do you think of that, Rambo?” The man punctuated his words by shifting his weight to one foot and planting the back of his hands on his hips like a scolding mother.
Just then Matt called from the front door. “Hey, Pops, what’s going on. Who’s Rambo?” Rounding into the kitchen he stopped abruptly. “Oh, you’re here. Hi. Pops, this is Kate Brown and the little girl she was protecting, Sheera. Kate, this is my father. Everyone calls him Pops.”
Pops swept the hat from his head and gave Sheera a low bow with an elaborate wave of the spoon. “You, young lady, may call me Pops.”
Standing back up, pointing the spoon menacingly at Kate he said, “You, can call me Mr. Taylor.”
“Pops!” said Matt.
“Mr. Taylor. I am so, so sorry. I don’t blame you for your… um… wrath. I’d really like to make it up to you, and Matt of course, and…”
To everyone’s surprise, not least her own, Kate burst out laughing and kept laughing uncontrollably. She laughed so hard she doubled over, crossing her legs so she didn’t wet herself. Matt and Sheera couldn’t help but laugh too. Even Pops’ expression relaxed from stony to amused in spite of himself.
Eventually Kate gained control and wiped the tears from her face. “I’m sorry. It was the pose. Your son does a brilliant imitation, Mr. Taylor. When we first met, out in the woods, he tried to put me at ease, told me he was gay and struck this pose. You did it, just now, and I finally put all the pieces together. You and Nick are both Matt’s fathers. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. You should be very proud of your son. He only tried to help. It was entirely my fault.”
Pops grunted and turned back to the stove, but Kate caught a glimpse of a smile widening his cheeks.
“Alright, out of my kitchen,” said Pops. “Matt, set the table. I just heard from your Dad. He’ll be joining us before long. Although I have a mind to lock him out. I can’t believe he didn’t sit in on the questioning or at least call you a lawyer. Evelyn had been right there.” He interrupted his own tirade and called over his shoulder, “You better set a place for Tom Bollis too. He’s bound to be tagging along. He’s like an overgrown puppy…” Pops kept muttering a steady stream of consciousness, indifferent to the fact everyone had left the room.
Matt walked around the table setting down bowls and spoons. Kate stood by watching and Sheera, tired and at ease, curled up under the table.
“Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. I had to have my hands measured – whatever that’s about. Please, don’t tell me,” said Matt, pre-empting Kate’s explanation. “I really don’t want to know. Dad says we just have to let them do their thing, that they’ll get it right. Eventually. Hey and don’t worry about Pops, he’s all bark and no bite. You’ll be calling him Pops in no time.”
“Matt. Your father, Pops, he’s awesome. All fierce and loyal and kind and silly. Did you notice Sheera wasn’t frightened at all?”
“Yeah he’s great with kids. He would’ve loved to have grandkids.” Matt surprised himself with the truth of it. Pops must have been disappointed, about his divorce, that he didn’t want children. Nick too. If so, they’d never said so.
“I wonder why,” Kate was saying.
Matt had lost track of the conversation. “Why what?”
“Why Sheera is frightened of some men, not others? Pops, for one. She didn’t shy away from Nick either. Tom couldn’t pick her up but Nick, no problem.”
“Gaydar?”
“She’s five, Matt. I bet it’s because they’re older, like grandparents or something. Doesn’t explain Detective Anders, though.”
“Darth Anders? Nobody could be comfortable around him.”
Kate laughed. “No really. She trusted him right away. Of course, he did scare off a deputy for her. Maybe that’s all it was, he came to her rescue.”
“Like you.”
Kate gulped. No, nothing like her.
“Yeah, well, anyway. Pops is just great. He obviously thinks the world of you. Thanks so much for inviting us to lunch. Oh, and Anne said to invite you to the party. Something about you being the main attraction.”
“Oh Christ. She’s got to be setting me up. I used to be married to her sister. My ex and I are friendly enough. We’ve moved on. Anne, not so much.”
“Well, it’s your call, obviously. I’m not even sure we’ll still be here tonight. But if I am, I hope you’ll come.” Kate tucked her hair behind her ears and the two stood smiling at one another.
Pops came out carrying a basket piled high with hunks of steaming homemade bread. With a hand on her back, Matt guided Kate to a chair next to his usual seat. Pops arranged hot pads on the sideboard and sent Matt off to the kitchen to retrieve the soup. Matt returned, grimacing at the weight of the giant tureen, and set it down with a bump and a slosh.
“Careful, Matt!” scolded Pops coming up behind him.
“I couldn’t see. The steam fogged up my glasses.”
“That’s why you use the lid,” said Pops, as if for the thousandth time, and swatted Matt with the hand towel from his shoulder. Pops centered the tureen just so, while Matt wiped off his glasses and caught Kate’s eye.
“Always the architect.”
Satisfied with the relative positions of the soup and breadbasket on the sideboard, Pops turned back to the table. “Right, you girls go wash up while Matt…. Oh for God’s sake, son. I told you to set the table.” Ticking off each item with his fingers Pops continued. “We need napkins, forks, knives, salad plates, butter, jam. You’d think you’d never done this before.” He turned abruptly to Kate. “Do you think Sheera will want honey?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer and swung back to Matt. “Put honey on the table just in case.”
By now Matt was rolling his eyes and Kate was laughing.
“And don’t forget the dressing. Not the sweet one, the other two.” To Sheera he said, “Come on, little lady. Hop, hop. The washroom’s right over there.”
“Yes, Pops,” called Sheera, skipping over to the bathroom.
Kate stood stunned while Pops followed Matt back into the kitchen. A moment later Matt returned and set the butter on the table. Kate grabbed his arm.
“She answered him. ‘Yes Pops’. Just like that.”
It took a moment for Matt to realize what Kate was saying. He met her wide smile and they hugged one another. Pops walked back in the room in time to see the embrace.
“Oy. At least wait until the bruises heal before you start mauling him.”
Kate barked a laugh and pulled away.
“Christ, Pops!” said Matt.
“It’s just like when he was a teenager,” said Pops to Kate. “Bringing the girls ‘round to grope in the parlor, three yards of tongue…”
“Pops, stop, I beg of you.”
Kate held her stomach, trying to contain her laughter, but it escaped in bursts of giggles. She walked over to Pops, gave him a hard hug and a light peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Pop looked at her, not sure what he was being thanked for.
“Sheera answered you – without even realizing it. It’s the first thing she’s said other than my name.”
Pops darted a glance over to the bathroom just as Sheera was opening the door.
“Of course, she did. Don’t make a big deal about it.” He punctuated the admonishment by pointing salad tongs and flashing a glare at each of them in turn. He then turned to Sheera as jovial as a dancing bear.
“Come over here little lady, you can take a seat here. Matt get her a phone book and a cushion. Kate, your turn to wash up. Oh, the croutons! They’re probably burning.” Pops headed back to the kitchen. “Matt the lid! The soup will get cold.”
Just as Kate was sitting down, she heard stomping on the porch and then Nick and Tom’s voices as they entered the house.
“Jeff,” bellowed Nick from the foyer. “I promised Tom lunch.”
“Hey Pops,” called Tom. “Tell me I smell your cassoulet.”
“Good nose. Vinegar or hot sauce?”
“Vinegar,” called Nick. “What’s Anne’s car doing here?”
“Hot sauce,” called Tom to Pops. He was surprised too. Tom had been around long enough to know Anne and Matt avoided each other.
Nick entered the room in stocking feet and stopped short. “Oh, Kate, you’re here?”
Tom immediately poked his head around the corner. “Hi.” After a pause. “Kate.” He stared at her. She looked great. She was smiling.
Matt walked in from the kitchen. He reached past Kate, resting a hand on her shoulder, to put the butter on the table.
“Don’t look so surprised, Dad. It was a mistake. We’ve moved on.”
Nick raised an eyebrow.
“Oh hey, Kate,” called Tom, still stuck in the foyer, one boot on, one boot off. “I have your pack. It’s in the truck. I was going to drop it by Anne’s after lunch, but I can give it to you now.”
“Oh Tom. You’re a godsend. Where’d you find it?”
Tom looked at Matt and saw him tense. He didn’t know how to answer. He wouldn’t lie, but obviously Matt hadn’t fessed up that he’d taken and tossed it. Not his business. A glance at Nick, who was studying his son, decided it. Definitely not his business. “I’ll just go grab it from the truck. I’ll be right back.”
“Tom, hold up a sec. I’ll come with you. I have something to tell you.” Kate snatched up her crutches. She entered the foyer and crinkled her nose. “Ew, you’re a mess. Hope it was worth it? Any luck?”
“Some. You first.”
“Outside.”
Tom laced his boot as she slipped her shoe back on. As soon as they were through the door, she spilled the news about how Sheera answered Pops without even realizing it.
“No wonder you’re beaming. Has she said anything else?”
“No, not yet. But it has to be a good sign, right?”
“Great sign. And I heard about Sheila, how you think it might be her mom’s name. That was great work. They’re really impressed down at the hall.”
“They found someone? They found Sheila?” asked Kate.
Tom reached into the back of the pickup, pulled out her pack and slung it over his shoulder. Instead of heading back inside he leaned against the side of the truck and motioned for her to do the same. There they stood, facing one another, hips against the truck, arms propped on the side rail.
“If we had, I would have told you right away.”
Kate nodded and took a deep breath.
“Kate, they still might. It takes time. The important thing is that you’re trying. You’re the only one who really understands her. Detective Wentworth said the way you two communicate was like watching an episode of Lassie.”
“You mean all I have to do is get Sheera to bark and all will be revealed?”
“I’m saying you’re still our best hope to get ahead of this.”
“Detective Anders said the same thing. I’m mission critical. Tom. I don’t know how to make her talk. I don’t want to make her talk. It’s wrong. You can’t ask me to do that. I won’t.”
“Kate. No-one’s asking you to make Sheera talk. We’re just hoping you’ll keep listening. You’re really good at listening.” Tom had moved closer to Kate and his forearm rested alongside hers as he cupped her elbow. Her warmth, the moment, felt intimate, until he noticed her expression. She looked skeptical. Tom grimaced. “Good at listening to Sheera, I mean. To me, not so much. Usually you just send me away.” He dropped her arm and stood back.
The front door banged open. “Oy. You want lunch or not?”
“Coming Pops,” called Tom. He hiked her pack higher on his shoulder and the two made their way side-by-side back to the house in silence. Just outside the door, Kate turned to him.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the pack. And for telling me what I need to hear. I’ll do my best.” Kate winced at the thought, ‘her best’. She turned away and reached for the door.
Even when she’s not smiling, she’s beautiful thought Tom.
Matt had been waiting for them, watching. Once they were inside, he held Kate’s crutches while she kicked off her shoe. Kate was silent, grim. She didn’t even look at him. Matt assumed Tom had told her about the pack.
“Pops is taking drink orders,” said Matt. “Go on. We’ll catch up.”
Kate clumped her way toward the kitchen. Matt hovered in the doorway, looking down on Tom as he unlaced his boots.
“Why are you here?” said Matt. “Shouldn’t you be digging through trash bins or something?”
Tom paused to look up at Matt. “You toss some other evidence I should know about?”
“Oh please. Her pack has nothing to do with anything and you know it.”
Tom dropped the laces and slowly rose to a stand. “What I know Matt is that your little stunt was a nuisance and a distraction. When you gathered up all her stuff you trampled the crime scene and your fingerprints ended up on the tape that bound the little girl. Waste of time we don’t have.”
“There’s no way I could have known…”
“True enough. But you knew you were stealing her money and identification. Could have been quite a problem for her.”
“A problem? Being attacked for no reason was a problem. You would have gone after her too.”
“Maybe. Probably. Except I would have found her. And the girl.”
“Really? You sure about that? Because I hear you went looking for a lost hiker and couldn’t find her. Face it, you’re no more a hero than I am, and Kate knows it.”
“Kate? Is that what this is about?”
“You’re not her type. She won’t be impressed by a gun and uniform.”
“Not really why I wear them, Matt. Look, you want to impress Kate, don’t let me stop you. You’re off to a great start. Just tell your Dad he can find me over at Revere Memorial Hall when he’s through.”
“Matt. Tom. Soup’s served,” called Pops.
“Sorry, Pops,” called back Tom. “I really should head over to the command center; see how they’re coming along. Save me a bowl, would you?” Tom squatted down to re-lace his boots.
Kate came clumping back to the foyer. “You’re leaving? You were going to tell us what you found out?”
“We found where Sheera was brought ashore.” He darted a glance at Matt and turned his attention back to his boot. “I should go. Nick can fill you in.”
“Nonsense,” said Pops appearing around the corner, filling up the last of the space in the foyer. “You can’t run an investigation on an empty stomach. Isn’t that right, Nick?” called Pops over his shoulder.
“What?” called Nick back.
“Kate?” called out Sheera.
“Coming.”
A moment later Sheera appeared through the thicket of legs, wrapping her arms around Kate’s thigh. Kate teetered and both Matt and Tom reached out to steady her.
“What the hell is everybody doing? We having lunch or what?” said Nick, coming to stand behind the crowd by the door.
Tom shrugged his coat back on. “Thanks anyway, Nick, Pops. I should go check in with the team.”
“Plenty of time for that after lunch. No time like the present to get to know one another.” Nick locked eyes with Tom over Kate’s shoulder and tilted his head toward Kate and the child.
There was an awkward moment when Tom looked back and forth between Nick and Matt.
Jeff broke the silence. “Listen to the boss. Me. It’s time for lunch. If you want dessert, you will take your seats, now.”
“That’s no idle threat,” said Nick. “Come on, everybody.”
With a commotion of dragging chairs, shuffling seats and switching of glasses, the crowd of six convened at the table. At first there was hardly any conversation beyond pass the butter and praise for the cook while the serious business of eating took place. But as people got up to serve themselves seconds, and in the case of Tom and Nick thirds, the pace slowed, and real conversation started up.
“You’ve heard our news,” said Kate. “What’s yours?”
Tom’s mouth was full. He gestured for Nick to fill them in.
“Tom followed the trail all the way from where Kate found Sheera to where she’d been carried ashore. We got a couple good foot impressions. Looks like our man wore a size 12 boot.”
“Rules me out. I’m a size 10,” said Matt. “You learn to do that by hunting?”
Tom looked Matt in the eye and finished swallowing. “Partly.”
Kate’s eyes went wide.
“Rules Kate out too,” continued Nick. “Most women for that matter. Not Tom, though,” he said with a wink.
Tom raised his glass to Nick across the table, took a swallow of water and popped more bread in his mouth.
Nick continued. “Common enough size. Tread’s more telling. The really impressive part, though, is that by the snap of a twig, the depth of a heel print, and something about tides and print erosion, Tom figures the perp came to the island mid to late morning and left the island within an hour of arrival.”
“Or two,” cautioned Tom. “The prints coming and going were similarly blurred and with a twelve-foot tidal range, scuffs on the rocks in the intertidal zone give a pretty good idea about timing. Pretty straightforward.”
“For a hunter,” said Matt.
Tom refused to be goaded. “A dog could have done just as well except the marshland and clam flats stink too much for a dog’s sensitive nose.”
“Don’t be fooled,” said Nick. “Tom put on a clinic out there. The Sheriff should invite him to lecture this fall.”
“You’re staying in Maine?” asked Jeff.
“For a while anyway. I’m taking a hiatus from the NPS to get a Master’s in Climate Studies.”
“No kidding, where?”
“Orono to start. It’s through the University of Maine’s Climate Change Institute. I start there in January although they have research expeditions around the world.”
“And between now and then?” asked Jeff.
“I don’t know. You offering room and board?”
Throughout the meal, Kate buttered and Sheera ate piece after piece of the warm, thick chewy bread Pops had made, content to watch and listen. As Pops headed back into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and Matt and Nick cleared the dishes, Tom came over to say hello to Sheera and find out what Kate’s plans were. Before Kate could respond, Sheera tugged on Kate’s arm with some urgency. Tom stood back to give them privacy and Kate leaned in close as if Sheera might whisper in her ear. Instead she scrunched her face and pinched her nose.
“Who me?” joked Kate, knowing full well she meant Tom.
Sheera shook her head. Looking hard at Kate, Sheera covered her mouth with both hands, and then pinched her nose again.
“Sweetie,” said Kate, aching for this child all over again. “You don’t have to cover your mouth. You can say anything you want. Even that he smells. He knows. He won’t be mad.”
Sheera shook her head again, obviously frustrated. The gears in Kate’s brain ground as she tried to figure out what Sheera meant. And then she got it.
“The man who covered your mouth. He smelled too? Like Tom?”
Sheera nodded. Kate gathered the girl in her lap and gave her a tight squeeze. Her mind was racing now. The bad guy smelled like Tom. The smell was distinctive, rank, the smell of brine and decay, rotten eggs and dead fish. Who smells like Tom? She was excited now. That had to be it.
Tom had watched Kate’s transformation from casual to confused to elated. He glanced at Nick and realized he’d seen it too. Kate knew something. Either Sheera had told her or Kate had figured it out. Either way, it looked important.
Tom cleared his throat. “Um, Kate. What’s up?”
Matt entered the room carrying two cups of coffee. He edged past Tom to put a cup down by Kate and then slid into Sheera’s seat. Tom glanced again at Nick, who spun his finger, encouraging him to continue.
“Kate, did Sheera tell you something? Something we should know?”
Kate smiled at Sheera and gave her another squeeze. “Sheera told me. The bad guy. He smells.”
“Smells,” repeated Tom.
“You mean, like, a homeless guy?” asked Matt.
“No. No. He smells like Tom.”
Matt sat back a laughed. “I knew there was something fishy…”
Kate cut him off. “Exactly!” She looked triumphantly at Matt, then Tom, then Nick.
Nobody said a word.
“But don’t you see. Tom smells fishy because of where he’s been. The clam flats. Maybe the bad guy’s a clam digger or something.”
Tom followed Kate’s logic. It was a leap. If it panned out, a breakthrough. Tom squatted to be eye level with Sheera.
“Sheera. Is Kate right? Is the man who… took you, is he a clam digger?”
Sheera shrugged. Tom looked to Kate for a translation.
“Yes, no, maybe. What does a clam digger look like?” interpreted Kate.
Tom tried a different approach. “Does he look like me, Sheera?” He stood up. “My height?” He pulled up Matt, who was somewhat shorter, to stand beside him. “Or his height?” Pops, who was taller than all of them, came into the room carrying dessert. Tom turned Pops to face Sheera, “Or Pops? Is he as tall as Pops?”
Sheera shrugged.
“To a child, everyone’s tall,” said Nick. “But you’ve got the right idea. Why don’t you boys serve up some dessert and take it into the living room. Pops and I will join you in a few.”
Matt and Tom eyed each other skeptically but did as they were told. Over the next few minutes Pops and Nick came back and forth, piling up various articles of clothing onto the coffee table in the living room, everything from flannel shirts and suspenders to hats and foul weather gear to fishing waders and hunting vests. Tom had a growing suspicion about what came next. It was a good idea. If he smelled like the perp, maybe they could make him look like the perp too.
The last item on the pile was the chef’s hat. Nick objected but Pops insisted on it. Matt was directed to the couch next to Kate and Sheera, Tom to stand in a spot opposite them, while Nick and Pops took their places in the wing back chairs. Tom was going to play dress-up with Sheera.
“I blame you for this,” said Tom to Kate.
Kate clapped her hands and laughed. She absolutely loved the idea.
Matt too seemed wildly enthusiastic. Tom figured Matt thought playing dress-up would humiliate him. Whatever. If this worked, it would narrow the search dramatically.
For the next 20 minutes, to the entertainment of all, Sheera got to tell Tom just by pointing what he should and should not to wear so that he not only smelled like the bad guy but looked like him too. It was hilarious and effective, assuming what they learned was true. Tom was dressed like a lobsterman. Bait fish and clam flats smell a lot alike. They called it in to alert Marine Patrol.