Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

while.”
    “Inside? Where did they get a key?”
    “Seems like nobody needs keys to get in the Hartley house.” Mrs. Covington stopped rocking, and the cat hissed, leapt to the porch, and scurried away. "Company's coming."
    Julia looked at the dim outline of the woman's face, with its wizened roadmap of wrinkles. The wind changed a little, rattling the leaves. Beneath it, hushed at first but rising, came the sound of a car engine on the road. Headlights swept around a bend and sliced across Mrs. Covington's house. It was Walter's Jeep.
    "Speak of the devil," murmured Mrs. Covington.
    Walter parked in front of Julia's house, got out and walked over to the porch. He carried something that Julia couldn't make out.
    "Howdy, Mrs. Covington," he said, adding more quietly, "Hi, Julia. I came by to see how you were doing."
    "How do, Walter," Mrs. Covington said. "Say, is your Aunt Peggy going to make her apple butter this year?"
    "Soon as the apples finish falling."
    "She always was the best cook in the Triplett family, in my book. Don't go telling your momma that, though."
    Walter's grin flashed in the weak light from the apartments. "I'm not as dumb as I look." Then, to Julia, "I took a look at that appliance you gave me to fix." He held up the bag he was carrying.
    "Great," Julia said, not wanting to talk about possessed clocks in front of Mrs. Covington, who probably already thought Julia was batty, the way she double-checked her locks, kept her windows shut in the heat of summer, and rarely ventured outside after dark.
    "When you going to come finish up the mulching?" Mrs. Covington asked Walter.
    "It's on my list." He moved closer to Julia. "Did you ever hear back from the police?"
    "The Creep's out," she said. “I guess he’s got friends.”
    "Figures."
    Mrs. Covington watched in darkness. Julia said, "I've got to go, Mrs. Covington. See you tomorrow."
    "All right," she said. "Mind my words, hear?"
    "Good night," Walter said to the old woman, whose hand flickered in a wave.
    Julia walked toward her house, Walter beside her. When they were out of range of Mabel Covington's hearing, Walter said, "She's a strange old thing, ain't she?"
    "Everybody's strange around here," Julia said.
    "Everybody. What's that supposed to mean?"
    It means if I weren't afraid that a Creep might be waiting in my house, I don't think you would be stepping foot across my threshold again. It means maybe I'm not crazy at all, maybe it's the rest of the world, and by my solitary saneness I'm the piece that doesn't fit the Life Puzzle.
    "I'm just tired and babbling." She fumbled in the purse for her keys, tucked the canister of mace in her hand, and unlocked the door. Before entering, she glanced at Mabel Covington's porch. The woman had lit another cigarette, and its glow bobbed with her rocking. Julia stepped inside and turned on the lights, blinking against the brightness.
    "Leave the door open, if you don't mind," she said to Walter.
    "The bugs will get in and eat you alive."
    "It's not the bugs I'm worried about." She slipped the mace into her pocket where she could quickly retrieve it if needed. She didn't sit in her chair, hoping Walter would take the hint.
    "Your eye looks better," she said. The swelling had gone down, though the flesh around his eye was red.
    Walter took the clock from the bag and set it on the coffee table beside the baseball cards. "Like I said, I'm not any electronics expert, but I couldn't find anything wrong with it. The circuit boards look sound, and I've never heard of a microchip just going off the deep end."
    "So your diagnosis would be to throw it away and forget about it?"
    "Sometimes something's broke and you just got to go replace it."
    She moved to the hallway and yawned, even though her pulse was racing. "I'm tired, Walter. Long day."
    Walter nodded, not looking at her. Was he thinking of her bedroom waiting just a few yards down the hall? Or of his lost wife?
    "Thanks for checking the clock," Julia said. She wondered if she could reach the bat under the bed if he decided to attack. She tried to look sleepy over the fear, and then became angry at herself for doubting the only person who had helped her.
    "She got into it, didn't she?" Still Walter stared at the floor, or maybe past years.
    "Got into what?"
    "About my wife."
    Julia put her hand in her pocket, touched the mace. "Well . . . "
    Walter clenched his fists. His face tightened, the crease in his cheeks no longer cheerful. "She was probably in