A Farewell to Yarns

stop herself. “I wonder if you ever knew about the time Steve went to Michigan when he was thirteen and drove your car around all weekend? He told me many times what fun it was.”
    This exaggeration of a story Steve had mentioned only once reduced Thelma to a sputtering simmer that lasted through the meal. When Mike finally got ready to go, Jane went to the driveway with him, despite his efforts to leave without fanfare. She grabbed his arm as he started to get in the car. “Honey, I know you don’t want to hear this or need to hear it, but I have to say it: drive carefully.”
    To her astonishment, he gave her a big hug. “Thanks, Mom, and thanks, too, for keeping Gramma off my tail.“
    “I love you, Mike.“
    “And I love you, Mom, but the guys are waiting. Remember, you promised not to look at the program or let anybody tell you what we play last. It’s a surprise you’ll like.”
    She stood back and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. Hugging herself and shivering in the cold, she stood her ground until the taillights of the station wagon were out of sight. It was all she could do to keep from running down the street shouting, “Come back. Come back. Stay my little boy. Please don’t grow up!”
    When she came back in the house, Thelma started to say something, and Jane heard Uncle Jim rumble quietly, “Leave her alone, Thelma.”
    After a quiet little cry in the guest bathroom, Jane washed her face and emerged to serve dessert. Uncle Jim’s warning had worked. Thelma didn’t even comment on the fact that all the Christmas decorations were up, but the presents were sitting in a heap in the corner of the room, waiting for a tree to arrive.
    When dinner was over, they organized themselves to go to the concert. Todd was a bit slow getting himself together, but Katie was waiting at the door, fidgeting with impatience. “What’s with you?“ Jane asked. “I’ve never known you to be eager to go to a band concert.“
    “I like ‘em, Mom. And besides, there’s this really neat guy playing with the junior high orchestra I want to show you.“
    “Of course there is. Why did I have to ask?“ Jane said with a smile.
    “I think you really ought to get Mike his own car,“ Katie said, trailing her to the closet. “I mean, he’s got a job and school and band, and you’re always having to drive him someplace, and think how much easier it would be for you if he could take himself. And you would still have your car to go wherever you wanted.”
    Jane slipped on her coat and fished in the pockets for her gloves. “I didn’t come to town on a turnip truck, kiddo.“
    “What do you mean by that?“
    “Just that I know exactly what this excess of consideration for Mike and me is all about. If I were to get Mike a car when he’s sixteen, you’d be in a position to say I should get you one when you turn sixteen. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair. Right?”
    Katie grinned. “It can’t hurt to try. That’s what you always say.”
    Thelma insisted on taking her car and commandeered Katie and Todd to ride with- her, a plan that was just fine with Jane. It gave her a short time alone with Uncle Jim. Of unspoken accord, neither of them had mentioned the murders in Thelma’s presence. Jane was surprised the subject hadn’t come up, but apparently Thelma’s eagle eye for bad news had missed them altogether, or she’d failed to make the neighborhood connection.
    Unfortunately, Jane’s hurried and intensive questioning during the short ride to the school auditorium didn’t provide her with any useful information. Uncle Jim had not only snooped into the file on Phyllis’s death, he’d even called VanDyne and chatted with him about it. He’d also looked over the reports on Bobby’s murder. All of this and he had nothing to add to what Jane already knew.
    “Don’t they go over the sites with a fine-toothed comb for clues?“ Jane asked.
    “Sure, and they found tons of unrelated junk. Sometimes that’s all they find, but every bit of it has to be checked out. That’s what’s so damned time consuming. The dumpster is a real nightmare. Apparently it’s a hangout back there. All kinds of beer cans, broken bottles, the butts of old joints, plus papers and stuff that may have been left by the murderer but probably just overflowed from the trash in the dumpster. They’ve got to check fingerprints on the damned thing with everybody who’s remotely associated with the victims, the mall, and the