The Dead Caller from Chicago by Jack Fredrickson Page B

you.”
    Theodea handed me a water glass half full of whiskey. “This will work quicker than the stove.”
    â€œYou’re sure you’ve brought no bad news?” Endora asked.
    â€œI’ve brought no news at all. They’re building a new house on Leo’s block; he’s disappeared, and you and Ma are on the run. What’s going on?”
    â€œWere you followed?” Theodea cut in.
    A new wave of chills grabbed me. I leaned closer to the stove. “There was a man, back at the ferry ticket shack in Mackinaw City.” I took two long sips of the whiskey.
    Theodea touched the handle of the gun at her belt. “You think he could have followed you here, to Eustace?”
    â€œNot even Arnie Pine will venture out again in this storm.”
    â€œLater?”
    â€œNo doubt.”
    â€œHow can you not know anything?” Endora asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. “You’re Leo’s best friend.”
    â€œLeo told you nothing?”
    â€œHe was frightened. He said to take his father’s old Ford because no one knew that car. He didn’t want to know where we were going. He said he couldn’t say more because it would endanger us.”
    I looked over to the corner. Ma Brumsky sat passively. I couldn’t tell if she was listening. I wondered if she was in shock.
    I told them what little I knew, beginning with the phone call Leo received.
    â€œYou never thought to return Leo’s call when you were in Iowa?” Endora’s words came fast, clipped. Furious.
    â€œIt’s like that with us—”
    â€œDamn it, Dek. You could have returned his call.”
    I lifted my glass of whiskey to hide behind another sip.
    â€œAnd now you’ve led someone to us?” she added, her voice shaking.
    â€œEndora!” her mother said.
    Ma Brumsky stood up, grabbed an umbrella from a brass urn, and went toward the back of the tiny cottage. A second later, a door slammed.
    â€œI’m sorry I put you in jeopardy” was all I could think to say.
    Theodea Wilson shook her head and offered a half-smile. “No. Outhouse. She brought lots of little bottles of alcohol. And big bags of prunes.”
    It cut the tension. Even Endora laughed, briefly. Then, “How do we help Leo?”
    â€œI need to hear anything else you can remember.”
    The wind blew hard. Endora looked over at the front door, as though someone were about to charge in. “Leo said we had to be careful, to make sure no one was following us. He said we were in danger. He said to stay away, until he called. I’m not using the phone, to save the battery—”
    The door began banging in rapid succession, as though someone huge were pounding on it. Mrs. Wilson took a yellow slicker from a hook by the door, slipped it on, and stepped outside. She was back in less than a minute. “The wind’s blowing forty, fifty miles an hour. The lake is white. Not even Arnie Pine would attempt the crossing now.”
    â€œLeo said powerful people might try to get to us,” Endora said, turning to me.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI told you I don’t know!”
    â€œHe said nothing about something he’d been given, a long time ago?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œHow about a Snark Evans?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œIt was a name he mentioned, during that phone call I overheard.”
    â€œNo; never.”
    The plywood shuddered against the window as Mrs. Wilson hung her slicker on a peg by the door. “This is a cheap movie,” she said.
    â€œ Key Largo, ” Endora said.
    Her mother forced a laugh. “ Key Largo, ” she agreed. Her hand had strayed again to the handle of her revolver.
    Ma Brumsky came in the back, a huge gust of wet wind slamming the door shut behind her. She eased out of her coat and took her place in her chair. She said nothing.
    â€œYou’re sure: He told you nothing about where he’d be?” I asked