Chapter Twenty-five
Ellis thumped on my door as soon as he and Hank returned, demanding I join them for a drink. I tried to plead an upset stomach, but once again he threatened me with a doctor, saying that this time he really meant it.
As we walked toward the staircase, Ellis bounced off a wall. He was utterly soused.
We took our usual spot by the fire. His and Hank’s initial excitement at interviewing eyewitnesses had gone sour after only three days and was compounded by Ellis’s anger at not being able to view the site of the bombing, despite having traveled all the way around the loch to get there.
He relived their outing from the comfort of the couch, sputtering about “pulling rank” and “having someone’s head” and other such nonsense. Eventually, his rant segued into the interviews themselves. He held his notebook open, stabbing it with a finger.
“Two humps, three humps, four humps, no humps…Horse head, serpent’s head, whale-shaped, coils. Goddamned white mane, for Christ’s sake!” He threw his arms up in frustration. “Scales on another. Eyes of a snake, eyes at the ends of antennae, no eyes at all. Crossing the road while chewing on a goddamned sheep. Gray, green, black, silver. Dorsal fin, flippers, all arms, no limbs, tusks. Tusks, for the love of God!”
He glared at me as if I’d made the offending observation. When I didn’t respond, he turned back to Hank.
“Vertical undulation. Flaring nostrils. Otters. Deer. Lovelorn sturgeon. Giant squid. Rotten logs exploding from the bottom. The only thing we haven’t heard is fire-breathing with wings.”
“I’m sure we will,” said Hank. He was leaning back with his legs crossed, blowing rings of smoke.
“How can you be so calm about this? How the hell are we supposed to figure out what’s true when so many of them are obviously lying to us?”
“We should stop paying them, that’s how,” said Hank. He successfully blew a smaller smoke ring through a larger one. He leaned forward and poked me on the knee. “Maddie, did you see that?”
“I did,” I said.
So did Angus, who was watching from behind the bar.
“If you’d learn to smoke, I could teach you all kinds of tricks,” Hank continued. “Watch this—”
He exhaled a vertical loop before sucking it back into his mouth.
“Hank, for God’s sake!” said Ellis. “Get back on topic. If we don’t pay them, they won’t meet us.”
“And if we do pay them, they’ll lie. If people are willing to meet with us just to tell their story, they’re more likely to tell the truth.” Hank turned to me. “What do you think, darling girl?”
“I really don’t know,” I said. “I can see both sides, I suppose.”
“What was that?” Ellis said, swiveling toward me. “Would you please repeat that?”
“I said I really don’t know.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, “and yet you’re always offering opinions.”
I decided to ignore the insult and poked through the remainder of the pie. I was looking for pieces of rabbit, because I didn’t care for the mushrooms. Unfortunately, they were the same shade of brown.
A fully formed thought crashed into my head, a coup de foudre. I put my fork down and looked at Ellis, feeling my eyes grow wide.
He had decided upon sight that the elves’ cups were noxious, but there was absolutely nothing noxious-looking about them other than their red interiors.
“Stop gaping,” Ellis said. “You’ll catch flies.”
“Ellis!” Hank snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you? That’s Maddie you’re talking to.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, setting my napkin by my plate and rising.
Ellis scowled and shook his head.
“Shall I walk you up?” said Hank, rising quickly.
“No thank you. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, although he came around the table and touched my elbow. “Maddie, he doesn’t mean it. He’s just being a knucklehead. He’s under a lot of stress.”
“Stress,” I said. “Yes, of course.”
—
I tried to wrap my head around the enormity of what I suspected. If I was right, not only would it prove Ellis immoral on a completely different scale, it would also negate the entire purpose of this foolish, arrogant venture. Finding the monster wouldn’t restore his honor, because he had no honor to restore.
Over the course of the night, I became convinced.
He hadn’t crashed cars because he couldn’t tell if the light was red or green. He’d crashed cars because he was drunk. Likewise, it was no coincidence that the dresses and jewelry he bought me were almost exclusively red. He knew it set off my green eyes. And the only reason I could think of for him buying me a bright red gas mask case was that it matched my gloves.
The thing I found most abhorrent was that he’d made such a show about trying to enlist a second time, then acted so devastated when they’d turned him down again. The entire spectacle was designed to garner sympathy, which—incredibly—he seemed to think he deserved. It was a production worthy of my mother.
—
I made sure I was the first one down the next morning, bringing my coat, gas mask, and gloves with me. I set the gloves on the table and waited. I was usually the last one down, so I didn’t know who would arrive first.
To my relief, it was Ellis.
“Good morning, darling,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “You’re up early. Big plans?”
I was momentarily shocked by his cheer. I wondered if he even remembered the previous night.
“Just tromping around the countryside,” I said, trying to match his tone. “I wish I had my watercolors.”
“Your paintings would be entirely washed away by the rain.” He pulled a logbook out of his duffel bag and opened it.
I fingered my scarlet gloves, flattening the thumbs carefully against the palms.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” I said. “Which reminds me, I’m so glad you got a weather-resistant case for my gas mask. I’m sure a cardboard box would have dissolved by now.”
“Nothing but the best for my girl,” he answered.
“But I am curious why you got this color.”
“To match your gloves, of course. Say, what do you suppose a fellow has to do to get some breakfast around here?” He craned his neck, searching for Rhona.
“But my gloves are green,” I said.
“No they’re not, they’re red.”
“No,” I said, slowly. “They’re green.”
He looked down at the gloves, and then lifted his gaze until it was locked on mine.
“Well,” he said, just as slowly, “you told me they were red.”
“Did I?” I said, still playing with the gloves. “That must have been another pair. These are green, and it’s a rather odd color combination. I feel a bit like a Christmas wreath.”
I looked up. He was unblinking, his expression cold as granite.
“Anyway,” I continued, “if you find yourself back in Inverness, I could use a new pair. These ones have water stains all over them. And this time I would like red—did you know there’s a saying, that red is the new badge of courage?”
Hank appeared beside me. “What’s up, kids?”
“What color are these gloves?” Ellis demanded.
“What?” said Hank.
“Maddie’s gloves. What color are they?”
“They’re red,” said Hank.
Ellis stood so suddenly his chair legs belched against the stone floor. He tossed his logbook into the duffel bag, pulled the bag onto the chair, then yanked the coarse-toothed zipper so hard it took him three tries to get it closed. He threw me a final searing glare and stormed outside.
After a couple of seconds, Hank said, “Christ. You two aren’t falling apart on me, are you?”
Instead of answering, I stared into my lap.
He pulled out a chair and sat. “Is this about last night? He was just being stupid. He’s under boatloads of stress. If the Colonel doesn’t forgive him, he’s seen the last cent he’s going to until we find the monster. And even then, the Colonel still has to forgive him.”
“You underestimate the powers of Edith Stone Hyde.”
“I hope so, because he sent her a letter yesterday morning. That’s why he got so snockered last night.”
I was shocked. “He wrote to her? What did he say?”
“Well, he didn’t show it to me, but I assume he threw himself on her mercy and begged for divine intervention with the Colonel.”
“I had no idea he was going to write to her.”
“He didn’t want you to worry.”
“Because I’m so delicate?”
“Because he wanted to protect you.”
“Well, he has a funny way of showing it.”
Hank sighed. “If you’re talking about last night, they’re just words, Maddie. You know he didn’t mean any of it.”
“I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t think he even remembers. He’s taking my pills and washing them down with liquor.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just told you.”
His eyes met mine with something like comprehension.
“When did this start?”
“He’s always helped himself, but it’s really ramped up since we got here.”
“I had no idea.” He stared into space. After what felt like an eternity, he took a deep breath and slapped his thighs. “All right. Don’t worry, darling girl. I’ll straighten him out.”
“It’s too late,” I said.
“I’ll straighten him out,” Hank said firmly.
When the front door clicked shut behind him, I whispered, again, “It’s too late.”