The Dead Man in Indian Creek by Mary Downing Hahn Read Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Downing Hahn
wondering when we were having dinner, that's all."
Parker was trying hard to sound sarcastic, but I knew he was upset. And who could blame him? This late and no dinner? I'd eaten at six, a big helping of steak and potatoes, salad, and chocolate ice cream, and I was already starving again.
"I told you I had to work late, honey." Pam squeezed around Evans to see us better. "I left a frozen pot pie in the freezer. Didn't you see it?"
"I don't call that dinner," Parker said.
Evans reached into his pocket and hauled out a moneyclip stuffed full of bills. Selecting a twenty, he offered it to Parker. "Get yourself something at the Dairy Queen," he said. "Your Mom's helping me with an important shipment."
Parker ignored the money and Evans. "Come on, Pam," he said. "Let's go home."
"Honey, you heard what George said." Pam's voice had a pleading tone that reminded me of Charity trying to wheedle a favor out of Dad. "Take the money and treat yourself and Matthew to something nice. Banana Loveboats or triple scoop cones."
While Pam and Parker stared at each other, Otis ran back into the parking lot. At the sight of Evans he growled deep in his throat, and Parker grabbed his collar.
Evans frowned at the dog. "I forgot to congratulate you two on your appearance in the paper." He gave Parker and me a long, hard look.
Parker shrugged and busied himself petting Otis while Evans lit a cigarette. Exhaling a long, slow curl of smoke, he said, "It's getting so a man can't take an early morning ride without somebody reporting him to the police."
In the silence following this remark, I stole a quick look at Pam. She was leaning against the doorframe, and her hair was backlit so it glowed around her head like a halo. It was too dark to see the expression on her face, but I did notice her hand reach out and rest lightly on Evans's arm.
"Fortunately the police don't take kids very seriously," Evans added. "I guess you just got a little carried away playing detective, right?" He smiled now, one arm around Pam, the other hanging loose.
Pam shifted her position and the light over the door shone down on her face, bleaching it white, casting shadows over her eyes.
"Take the money, Parker," she said, "and get something to eat. I'll be home in an hour or so."
Without looking at either one of them or taking the money, Parker turned away. "Let's go Armentrout," he said.
Just once, when we were in the shadows on the sidewalk, I looked back. Evans had put the money into his pocket, and he and Pam were embracing again, their bodies black against the light behind them.
8
W ALKING BACK TO my house, Parker and I didn't say much. Even Otis was kind of subdued. Instead of running in circles, sniffing everything, he just plodded along beside Parker, looking as glum as he did. Sometimes I think Otis picks up all of Parker's moods, reads his mind or something.
Finally I said, "Well, the van wasn't there."
"No." Parker kicked a stone and Otis chased it kind of halfheartedly. "Something's worrying Pam," he said. "Did you notice how tense she was?"
I nodded, remembering her face with the harsh light over the door shining down on it.
"Evans was pretty nervous, too," Parker added.
"At least the police took you seriously enough to talk to him," I said.
Parker glanced at me. "Just because we didn't see anything tonight doesn't mean Evans isn't involved,"
he said. "What about keeping the Olde Mill under surveillance?"
I started to make another joke about watching too many cop shows, but I stopped myself. Parker was looking at me like a little kid, anxious, worried, maybe even scared.
"For Pam's sake," he said before I had a chance to say anything.
"Pam?"
"If Evans murdered that guy, what about her? Either she knows something or she doesn't. Either way, she could be in danger."
We were standing still now, under a streetlight, staring at each other. All around us, the neat lawns of Woodcroft lay in shadow. Lamps and TVs glowed in windows, a car drove
Parker was trying hard to sound sarcastic, but I knew he was upset. And who could blame him? This late and no dinner? I'd eaten at six, a big helping of steak and potatoes, salad, and chocolate ice cream, and I was already starving again.
"I told you I had to work late, honey." Pam squeezed around Evans to see us better. "I left a frozen pot pie in the freezer. Didn't you see it?"
"I don't call that dinner," Parker said.
Evans reached into his pocket and hauled out a moneyclip stuffed full of bills. Selecting a twenty, he offered it to Parker. "Get yourself something at the Dairy Queen," he said. "Your Mom's helping me with an important shipment."
Parker ignored the money and Evans. "Come on, Pam," he said. "Let's go home."
"Honey, you heard what George said." Pam's voice had a pleading tone that reminded me of Charity trying to wheedle a favor out of Dad. "Take the money and treat yourself and Matthew to something nice. Banana Loveboats or triple scoop cones."
While Pam and Parker stared at each other, Otis ran back into the parking lot. At the sight of Evans he growled deep in his throat, and Parker grabbed his collar.
Evans frowned at the dog. "I forgot to congratulate you two on your appearance in the paper." He gave Parker and me a long, hard look.
Parker shrugged and busied himself petting Otis while Evans lit a cigarette. Exhaling a long, slow curl of smoke, he said, "It's getting so a man can't take an early morning ride without somebody reporting him to the police."
In the silence following this remark, I stole a quick look at Pam. She was leaning against the doorframe, and her hair was backlit so it glowed around her head like a halo. It was too dark to see the expression on her face, but I did notice her hand reach out and rest lightly on Evans's arm.
"Fortunately the police don't take kids very seriously," Evans added. "I guess you just got a little carried away playing detective, right?" He smiled now, one arm around Pam, the other hanging loose.
Pam shifted her position and the light over the door shone down on her face, bleaching it white, casting shadows over her eyes.
"Take the money, Parker," she said, "and get something to eat. I'll be home in an hour or so."
Without looking at either one of them or taking the money, Parker turned away. "Let's go Armentrout," he said.
Just once, when we were in the shadows on the sidewalk, I looked back. Evans had put the money into his pocket, and he and Pam were embracing again, their bodies black against the light behind them.
8
W ALKING BACK TO my house, Parker and I didn't say much. Even Otis was kind of subdued. Instead of running in circles, sniffing everything, he just plodded along beside Parker, looking as glum as he did. Sometimes I think Otis picks up all of Parker's moods, reads his mind or something.
Finally I said, "Well, the van wasn't there."
"No." Parker kicked a stone and Otis chased it kind of halfheartedly. "Something's worrying Pam," he said. "Did you notice how tense she was?"
I nodded, remembering her face with the harsh light over the door shining down on it.
"Evans was pretty nervous, too," Parker added.
"At least the police took you seriously enough to talk to him," I said.
Parker glanced at me. "Just because we didn't see anything tonight doesn't mean Evans isn't involved,"
he said. "What about keeping the Olde Mill under surveillance?"
I started to make another joke about watching too many cop shows, but I stopped myself. Parker was looking at me like a little kid, anxious, worried, maybe even scared.
"For Pam's sake," he said before I had a chance to say anything.
"Pam?"
"If Evans murdered that guy, what about her? Either she knows something or she doesn't. Either way, she could be in danger."
We were standing still now, under a streetlight, staring at each other. All around us, the neat lawns of Woodcroft lay in shadow. Lamps and TVs glowed in windows, a car drove
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