Cry for the Strangers Page 0,28
sure I can stomach another set of strangers right now. They upset me. And don’t give me any lectures about how I can’t keep the town the same forever—maybe I can’t, but as long as I’m chief of police, I’ll damn well try.”
“What are they going to do about a place to live?”
“Merle told them to come and talk to me.”
“Then it’s easy,” Chip suggested. “Just tell them the old house isn’t for rent.”
“I told that to the Palmers but it didn’t stop them. They just talked old Mrs. Pruitt into selling them that crummy cabin at the other end of the beach. If she’d have talked to me first, I’d have bought the cabin myself, but she didn’t No, I think the best thing to do is just try to talk them out of the whole idea. If that doesn’t work, I’ll rent the old Baron place to them. A month on Sod Beach in that wreck ought to change their minds for them.”
“You’re a devious old man, Harn,” Chip said with a smile.
“Not devious at all,” Whalen said. “I just don’t like strangers. Now, why don’t you get to work on Pete Shelling? The file’s right here.”
“What’s to work on?”
“Search me.” Harney shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned it was just an accident, but I figure if Miriam Shelling should come walking in here again, it wouldn’t hurt at all to be ‘working on the case,’ if you know what I mean.”
Chip laughed out loud. “Now tell me you aren’t devious.”
“The old dog knows some old tricks, that’s all,” Harney said with a wink. A moment later he was gone and Chip Connor was alone in the tiny police station.
* * *
Glen Palmer watched the police chief drive past the gallery and started to wave, as he did every day. But suddenly he changed his mind and his hand dropped back to his side, the gesture uncompleted. What was the point? Whalen never returned the greeting, never even so much as glanced his way. Glen wasn’t sure if it was conscious rudeness or if the man was merely preoccupied, but he knew he resented it. The chief’s coldness seemed symbolic of the attitude of the whole town. Glen had come to believe that if he could only win the chief’s approval, his acceptance in Clark’s Harbor would begin. But so far he had been unable to make a single dent in Whalen’s shield of hostility. All in good time, he told himself for the hundredth time, all in good time.
That was also the attitude he was trying to take about the gallery itself, but it was more difficult every day. He glanced around at the front room. Tomorrow he would begin spending all his time on the display area. The office could wait, but the display area could not. If he could finish it in the next couple of weeks they could open for business by Memorial Day—and the hell with what the office looked like.
It would be a pretty gallery, Glen was sure. The rough-hewn plank paneling would show off his primitive painting style to its best advantage, and his sculptures, finely finished and glowing with their hand-rubbed patina, would provide a nice contrast. Reluctantly, he decided to swallow his pride and ask Rebecca to pitch in. With a wry chuckle he admitted to himself that her help would speed the work fivefold at least He should have done it weeks ago but his ego had prevented it. And now another afternoon was gone with not enough done. Time to call it a day. He put his tools away, locked up the building, and climbed into the ancient Chevy that served as the Palmers’ second car. It refused to start.
“Damn,” he said aloud. He twisted the key again and listened to the angry grinding of the starter. Three tries later he got out of the car and raised the hood to stare at the engine. But he knew even less about motors than he did about carpentry. He slammed the hood down again and, with the blind faith characteristic of people who know nothing about cars, got in and tried the starter once more. Again the grinding noise, but weaker this time. Glen decided to give it up before he ruined the battery as well.
He searched his mind. Pruitt’s gas station would be closed by now. He considered searching out Bill Pruitt and talking him into taking a look at the car. No good. Pruitt had never