Читать книгу Polly Deacon Mysteries 4-Book Bundle - H. Mel Malton - Страница 33

Carla Schreier ended up in a criminal psychiatric facility It wasn’t a pretty trial, especially after the media got interested in it. We all had our pictures in the paper a few times, but eventually the fuss died down and people stopped talking about it. She lost the baby, and I feel bad about that. It wasn’t its fault and Carla would have loved it fiercely. Still, that’s another very, very big issue.

Freddy disappeared and people say the authorities are still looking for him. George thinks he’s probably managing some dump up in Temiskaming or somewhere. Nobody seems to care much.

None of us knows where Samson Schreier is either, although there’s a rumour going around that he and Mrs. Delaney opened up a bed and breakfast in Minnesota. Could be true. As far as I’m concerned, they deserve each other. Bet there’s a Gideon Bible at every bedside.

Eddie moved in with Aunt Susan after his mother was arrested, because he said he couldn’t handle living with Samson any more. He doesn’t like high school much and he and Susan fight a lot, but he’s still there, tossing bags of grain around the feed store. He wants to be an Olympic wrestler. Earlie Morrison’s coaching him.

I’m still living in George’s cabin with Lug-nut. A large family of squirrels has moved into the attic and they drive both of us crazy.

Every so often we take a hike down to the Chapel of the Holy Lamb to visit Pastor Garnet and put flowers on Francy’s grave, which is covered in snow, now. I still miss her a lot.

I finished the Becker puppet and then was at a loss as to what to do with it. I thought about giving it to him (minus the extra piece, which I pulverized), but I decided it would embarrass him, so I gave it to Earlie. He says he put it in his bathroom, which is fine with me. Becker and I haven’t kept in touch, and I try not to think about him. I’m still smoking dope, anyway.

Last week I signed a contract to build a bunch of black-light puppets for the Steamboat Theatre Company in Sikwan, a town south of here. I guess it’s back to contact cement fumes and theatre people, but we all have to eat.

Oh, and I stopped dreaming about bears.