S Is for Silence

way to get a cup of coffee at this hour?” she asked.
    “Nope. I tried. I guess we could find a water fountain but that’s about it.”
    We ended up sitting together in the main lobby for lack of any place better. It was a small cheerless area clearly not intended as a waiting room. At least the ER had offered a television set and a few live green plants. I said, “You heard about the car?”
    “That’s all anybody’s talking about. I guess there’s no doubt it’s hers.”
    “Not in my mind. I mean, what are the chances another car would be buried out where hers was last seen?”
    She shifted in her chair. “I’m going to ’fess up to something, but I don’t want to hear you scream. You promise?”
    “Scout’s honor.”
    “As it so happens, I saw Foley at the Tanner property that Friday night.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Tinkering with a bulldozer that was parked near the road. I heard him start it up.”
    “You’re positive it was Foley?”
    “I couldn’t swear it was him, but who else could it be?”
    “Just about anyone,” I said. “In the as-it-so-happens department, what were you doing there?”
    “Ty and I had gone out to the house. We weren’t supposed to be dating, and it was the only place we could think of where we wouldn’t be seen. We were in that second-floor bedroom in front when we heard him drive up.”
    “And you were…what—smoking dope? Making out?”
    She rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of blond hair behind one ear. “Oh, please. None of us smoked dope in those days. We’re talking about the ’50s. We were square as they come.”
    “So you were doing what?”
    “Okay, we were necking if you must know the truth. When the car pulled up, we thought it was a security guard coming to check on the house, so we hightailed it out the back and waited until we heard the ’dozer start up. Ty figured that would cover the sound of the truck.”
    “So you didn’t actually see Foley face on?”
    “I just told you that. The point is, if it was him, he had plenty of time to dig a hole.”
    “What kind of car? I’m assuming you’d have recognized the Bel Air.”
    “Of course. Most of the time I can’t tell one kind of car from another, but I know it wasn’t Violet’s. Her car was pale and it would have stood out. There was enough of a moon that it would have been obvious.”
    “What do you remember about the car? Two-door? Four-door? Light? Dark?”
    She made a face, shaking her head in the negative. “I saw it, but I didn’t really look. I was scared we’d get caught and that’s all I cared about. And before you even ask, no, I didn’t tell the guys from the sheriff’s department.”
    “Because you didn’t want to admit you were trespassing?”
    “Because at the time, it didn’t mean anything. Violet wasn’t even missing. When we saw the guy—Foley, or whoever—it wouldn’t have occurred to me he’d be doing anything like that. Digging a grave. God, it gives me goose bumps. I’m only telling you now because we know the car is buried there.”
    “You remember anything else?”
    “No. Well, yes. The guy was smoking. I remember that because we could smell it through the open window all the way upstairs.”
    “Height? Weight? Anything like that?”
    “Nope. It was dark and I only caught a glimpse. You think I should talk to the detective?”
    “Absolutely,” I said.
    “Even if it gets Foley in more trouble?”
    “You can’t even claim it was him. All you can say is there was a guy out there working on a bulldozer. The detective’s name is Nichols. He needs to know.”

    By the time I got back to the emergency room, Foley had been released. He emerged from the examining area, clutching a head trauma precaution sheet and the pain pills he’d been given to take home with him. His eyes were already looking bruised, and I imagined that by the next day, the purple would be intense. He had a splint taped over the bridge of his nose, and it made his eyes seem as close together as a collie’s. Both nostrils had been packed with half-inch-wide strips of white cloth, and I could see sutures across his chin. I had to guess there were others on the inside of his mouth. Luckily for him, the pain medication was wiping out the ill effects of his drinking binge. He looked subdued. His eyes were fixed on Daisy’s with the mute, pleading look a puppy lays on you when there are table scraps at stake.
    Daisy drove him into Cromwell, me trailing along behind in his