Free The Beast of Barcroft by Bill Schweigart Page B

one.
Enhydra
lutris
.”
    “Sea otter?”
    “The longer hairs are the guard hairs, the shorter are the underfur.”
    “You can tell that just by looking?”
    “That’s me at half rigor.
Au revoir
.”

Chapter 10
    F RIDAY, N OVEMBER 14
    It was already dark when Ben pulled into his driveway after work and saw the rear half of his house awash in blue police lights. That would be impossible, he thought, unless cruisers had driven right into his backyard. He turned off his car and sat for a moment, regarding the lights, then Madeleine’s house. He had more to contend with than rats and bobcats now.
    That morning, he had left Madeleine’s for home, locked all the doors and windows, and spent an hour in the shower, scrubbing the filth off him. Even in his cubicle, hours later, he was convinced he could smell animal urine, no longer certain if it was in his nostrils or just his mind. Should he call the police, he wondered? If that half-ass witch was telling the truth and truly was Madeleine’s mother, she had more of a right to be there than he did, which was no right at all. It took effort, but he tried to look at things from her perspective—crazy, certainly, but grieving. Would he have reacted the same way if someone came into his house uninvited? Then he thought of the state of the house, and his disgust for someone capable of staying there overrode his tenuous empathy. In the light of day, it seemed so unreal, but that morning in the predawn, he had feared for his life. And now it was dark again.
    He got out of the car and walked into the backyard. He scanned the lawn and the corners as he approached the fence between his house and Hazel’s behind him. If there were any lingering animals, he figured the commotion would have scared them away. Several police cars were parked on the street behind his, and one still had its lights on. He was about to call Hazel from his cellphone when he saw an officer exit the back door, lean forward, and put her hands on the tops of her thighs. It was Cushing. He watched her take deep breaths for a few moments, then called out.
    “Is Hazel okay?”
    She shot up.
    “I didn’t see you.”
    “What’s going on?”
    She walked to the fence. By the time she reached it, she had collected herself.
    “Were you friends with Ms. Bennett?”
    “I’d say more like allies.”
    “Allies?”
    Ben jerked his thumb toward Madeleine’s house. “Is she okay?”
    “No,” she said, looking back at the house. “She’s definitely not okay.”
    “Oh.” Both were quiet for a minute. “That’s really sad. I just saw her last night too. What happened exactly?”
    “That’s what we’re trying to determine. What time was it that you saw her?”
    “Around eight or eight thirty. At the Community House on South Buchanan.”
    Officer Cushing removed her notepad again. “Did she have anyone who would want to see her hurt?”
    “Enemies? Jesus, it wasn’t a heart attack?”
    “Please answer the question.”
    “I would say she probably considered a lot of people enemies. I don’t know how many people considered her one though. Or considered her at all.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “She was the neighborhood’s prickly old lady. The kind who always had something to say about your grass being too tall or where you parked your car. You know, ‘get off my lawn’ and all that.”
    “Did you ever have any run-ins with her?”
    “I suppose that’s the single benefit of living next door to Little Shop of Horrors over there. Hazel and I had a common enemy. Hence, allies. So it was foul play?”
    “We’re trying to figure that out.”
    “Something shook you up. Just tell me.”
    “ ‘Shook me up’?”
    “Should I say you look like hell?”
    She turned. “Have a good evening, Mr. McKelvie.”
    “Come on, I’m going to find out anyway.”
    “I’m sure you will, sir.”
    She was almost at the house.
    He called after her. “Hey, can you at least tell me if it’s something the