Out of Their Minds

9

It had been a good day. Not so good for fishing, for I had only four bass on my stringer, but good for being outdoors on the river, good for the chance to renew acquaintance with the river world, for recapturing some of the nuances of a half-forgotten boyhood. Mrs. Streeter had packed a lunch for me and had asked about the black eye and I had been evasive, managing a feeble joke. Then I'd fled to the river and had stayed all day. Not fishing all the time, but exploring as well, poking the canoe into tangled backwaters and little twisting sloughs, looking over an island or two. I told myself that I was smelling out good fishing spots, but I was doing more than that. I was exploring this stretch of water I had dreamed about for years, seeking out the texture of it and the mood, trying to fit myself into this strange world of flowing water, of forested island, of barren and shifting sandbar, and the wooded shores.

Now, with the shadows returning, I headed for the motel, hugging the shore, fighting the current with awkward paddle strokes.

I was a couple of hundred yards from the dock when I heard someone call my name—a whisper that carried across the water.

I lifted my paddle and held it poised. Looking at the shore. The current began to carry the canoe slowly down the river.

"In here," the whisper said and I caught a flash of color at the mouth of a tiny backwater that ran into the shore. I dipped my paddle and drove the canoe into the backwater and there, standing on a log that slanted down the bank with one end anchored in the water, was Kathy Adams. I urged the canoe over until it bumped against the log.

"Jump in," I said. "I'll take you for a cruise."

She stared at me. "That eye!" she said.

I grinned at her. "I ran into a bit of trouble."

"I heard you were in a fight," she said. "I think you are in trouble."

"I'm usually in trouble," I told her, "Of one sort or another."

"I mean real trouble this time. They think you killed a man."

"I can easily prove…"

"Justin Ballard," she said. "They found his body just an hour or so ago. You fought with him last night."

I nodded. "I think so. It was dark. There were three of them, but I never got a good look at them. The one I hit may have been this Ballard boy. I only hit one of them. After that the other two were all over me."

"It was Justin Ballard you fought with last night," she said. "And the other two. They were bragging around town this morning about it and Justin's face was all smashed up."

"Well, then, that let's me out," I said. "I've been on the river all day long…"

And then my words ran out. There was no way to prove I'd been on the river. I'd not seen a soul and probably had been seen by no one.

"I don't understand," I said.

"They were around this morning, bragging about what they'd done to you and they said they were going to hunt you up and finish the job. Then someone found Justin dead and the other two have disappeared."

'They don't think I killed all three?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know what they think about it. The village is shook up. A bunch of them were going to come down here and get you, but George Duncan talked them out of it. He said they shouldn't try to take the law into their own hands. He pointed out there was no proof you'd done it, but the village thinks you did. George called the motel and found you were out fishing. He said for everyone to leave you alone and he called the sheriff. He figured it would be best to let the sheriff handle it."

"But you?" I asked. "You came out to warn me…"

"You bought my basket and you walked me home and we made a date," she said. "It sort of seemed to me I should be on your side. I didn't want them to catch you by surprise."

"I'm afraid the date Is canceled," I said. "I am very sorry. I had been looking forward to it"

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I said. "I'll have to think about it."

"You haven't got much time."

"I know that. I suppose the only thing is to paddle in and sit and wait for them."

"But they may not wait for the sheriff," she warned.

I shook my head. "There's something in my unit that I have to get. There is something strange about all this."

And there was something strange about it. There had been the rattlesnakes and now, less than twenty hours later, a farm boy dead. Or was it a farm boy dead? Was anybody dead?

"You can't come in now," she told me. "You have to stay out fishing at least until the sheriff gets here. That's why I came to warn you. If there's something in your unit, I can get it for you."

"No," I said.

"There is a back door to all the units," she said, "off the patio that faces on the river. Do you know if that back door is unlocked?"

"I suppose it is," I said.

"I could slip in the back and get…"

"Kathy," I said, "I can't…"

"You can't come in," she said. "Not for a while, at least"

"You think you could get into the unit?"

"I'm sure I could."

"A big manila envelope," I said. "With a Washington postmark and a thick bunch of papers inside. Just get the envelope and then clear out. Keep out of the entire business once you have that envelope."

"This envelope?"

"Nothing incriminating," I said. "Nothing illegal. Just something that must not be seen, information that no one should have."

"It's important?"

"I think it's important, but I can't let you get involved. It wouldn't be…"

"I'm already involved," she said. "I've warned you and I suppose that's not very law-abiding, but I couldn't let you just come stumbling into them. You get back on that river and stay there…"

"Kathy," I said, "I'm going to tell you something that will shock you. If you're sure you want to take a chance with that envelope."

"I want to do it," she said. "If you tried it, you might be seen. Me, even if I was seen around the place, no one would pay attention."

"All right, then," I said, hating myself for letting her do a dirty job, "I'm not only going out on that river, but I'm going to run, very fast and hard. Not that I've killed anyone, but there's another reason. I suppose the honest thing would be to give myself up, but I find, regretfully, that I have some cowardly tendencies. I can always give myself up, later on, perhaps."

She stared at me, frightened—for which I couldn't blame her. And perhaps with somewhat less regard for me than she'd had to start with.

"If you're going to run," she said, "you'd better start right now."

"One thing," I said. "Yes?"

"If you get that envelope, don't look inside. Don't read it."

"I don't understand any of this," she said. "What I don't understand," I told her, "is why you're warning me."

"I've told you that You might at least say thank you."

"I do, of course," I said.

She began backing up the bank.

"On your way," she said. "I'll get your envelope."