Brain Child Page 0,107

way slowly up the hill until the last stems had been cut; then, going the other way, he tore the thickly matted vegetation loose, letting it pile on the sidewalk at his feet. When he was done, he stepped back and looked at the wall once more.

Though it was covered with the collected dust and dirt of the years, and its whitewash had long since disappeared, the tiles remained.

The wall looked exactly as he had thought it should look when he had first come home from the Institute.

He went back into the garage and opened the second box. His father’s shotgun was on top, neatly packed away in its case. He opened the case and methodically began putting the pieces together. When the gun was fully assembled, he took five shells from a half-full box of ammunition and put them in his pocket. Carrying the gun easily in the crook of his right arm, he left the garage and walked once more down the driveway, then turned to the right and started the long climb up toward the hacienda.…

It had been a bad morning for Ellen, and as she started up Hacienda Drive she was beginning to wonder if she was going to get through the next few days at all.

She’d spent most of the morning with Carol Cochran, and none of it had been easy. Part of the time they’d simply cried, and part of the time they’d tried to make plans for Valerie Benson’s funeral. And over it all hung the question of who had killed Valerie.

And then there had been Carol’s oddly phrased questions about Alex:

“But is he really getting better? I mean, Lisa keeps telling me about strange things he says.”

“No, I don’t really remember what”—though Ellen was quite sure she did, and simply didn’t want to tell her. “But Lisa really seems very worried. In fact, I think she’s just a little frightened of Alex.”

Ellen had become increasingly certain that after Valerie’s funeral, the Cochrans and the Lonsdales would be seeing a lot less of each other.

She came around the last curve, swinging wide to pull into the driveway, when she suddenly slammed on the brakes. Piled on the sidewalk, nearly blocking the driveway itself, lay the ruins of the masses of morning glory that had covered the patio wall only two hours ago.

“I don’t believe it,” she whispered aloud, though she was alone in the car. Suddenly the sound of a horn yanked her attention away from the tangle of vines, and she jerkily pulled into the driveway to make room for the car that was coming down the hill. She sat numbly behind the wheel for a moment, then got out of the car and walked back down the drive to stare once more at the mess on the sidewalk.

Who would do such a thing? It made no sense—no sense whatever. It would take years for the vines to grow back. She surveyed the wall, slowly taking in the streaked and stained expanse of plaster, and the intricate patterns of tile that were now all that broke its forbidding expanse. And then, behind her, a voice spoke. Startled, she turned to see one of the neighbors standing on the sidewalk looking glumly at the vines. Ellen’s mind suddenly blanked and she had to grope for the woman’s name. Then it came back to her. Sheila. Sheila Rosenberg.

“Sheila,” she said. Then, her bewilderment showing in her voice: “Look at this. Just look at it!”

Sheila smiled ruefully. “That’s kids,” she said.

Ellen’s expression suddenly hardened. “Kids? Kids did this?”

Now it was Sheila Rosenberg who seemed at a loss. “I meant leave the job half-done.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing, but I’m going to miss the vines, especially in the summer. The colors were always so incredible—”

“What I’m doing?” Ellen asked. “Sheila, what on earth are you talking about?”

Finally the smile faded from Sheila’s face. “Alex,” she said. “Didn’t you ask him to cut the vines down?”

Alex? Ellen thought. Alex did this? But … but why? Once again she surveyed the wall, and this time her eyes came to rest on the tiles. “Sheila,” she asked, “did you know that wall had tiles inlaid in it?”

The other woman shook her head. “Who could know? Those vines were two feet thick, at least. No one’s seen the wall itself for years.” Her eyes scanned the wall, and her brows furrowed speculatively. “But you know, maybe you did the right thing. If you put