There Was an Old Woman

Chapter Twenty-five


You’re going out in those? Mrs. Yetner’s parting shot was a zinger—a gibe masquerading as an innocent question. Evie would have bristled had it come from her own mother. But she loved it coming from Mrs. Yetner. She gave her startled neighbor a quick hug and chuckled as she hurried back to her mother’s house to shower and dress for the hospital.

When Evie pulled the shower curtain, two roaches ran down the drain. In the shower, she let hot water run hard, pounding her sore shoulders and neck. Was that man really going to arrest Mrs. Yetner? More likely he’d said that to rattle her. If that had been his intention, it worked.

Right after Evie had helped Mrs. Yetner off with her boots, she’d looked out and seen the officer and Frank Cutler talking, their heads bent. The man had acted like a police officer, but since when did police badges say SECURITY? Maybe he was a private security guard.

The golf ball was no figment of Mrs. Yetner’s imagination. When Evie had picked it up and scraped dried mud off its dimpled surface, she could tell that it was no ancient relic, either. Still, it could have been lying in the marsh for months, and there was no way to tell whether Mr. Cutler had been the one who’d launched it.

Before Evie left for the hospital, she made sure all the windows were shut and set up roach bombs on the bathroom and kitchen floors. SUPER FOGGER, the label read. PRO GRADE. The bomb didn’t just have a warning label. It had a warning booklet that peeled off the can: Hazards to humans and domestic animals. Environmental hazards. Danger of explosion. Leave the premises for at least four hours. Ventilate thoroughly before reentering.

The label almost talked her out of it until she noticed on the kitchen ceiling four translucent wormy creatures, which sadly she recognized as moth larvae. As she rushed out of the house, bombs activated, locking the door behind her, Finn was in the driveway raising her mother’s garage door. He waved to her.

“Hey,” she said, heading over to him.

“Everything okay?”

“We had a little excitement.” She hadn’t realized, but she was out of breath.

“I heard. Something about a golf ball.” He shook his head and picked up a red square gallon gas can from the ground by his feet. The contents sloshed. “This should be enough to get you to a gas station. And the fix to your front steps is only temporary, but at least you won’t kill yourself coming and going.” He unscrewed the gas cap and inserted the can’s long yellow spout into the opening.

As he started to pour, Evie smelled the pungent gasoline odor. She glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to stop for gas on her way to the hospital.

“There,” he said, pulling out the spout. “Hop in and give it a whirl.” He came around, pulled open the driver-side door, and gestured with a welcoming hand. Then he hesitated. “Hold on. Stay back.” He crouched alongside the car. Unhooking a flashlight from his tool belt, he played the light under the car, around and behind the rear wheel.

“What?” Evie stepped closer. Then she smelled it. The odor of gasoline had gone from strong to overwhelming. She put her hand up over her face.

“Your mother’s car didn’t run out of gas.” Finn stood and faced her, brushing his hands off on his pant legs. “Gas ran out of it.”