Earl Ouellette was staying in town, in a small apartment above Myles Johnson’s garage. Bird thought he saw Johnson as he got out of his car, a shape standing in the shadows just inside the house, behind a dirty screen door. He waved. The shape disappeared. Bird wondered how the man was doing, understanding as he did that it would be pointless to try to find out. The cops he’d seen on this visit had been polite enough, but there was a palpable sense running underneath the pleasantries that they wanted him gone, that Bird’s presence in town was just a reminder of things they were all trying very hard to forget. Fair enough, he thought. With any luck, this would be his last trip to Copper Falls.
Earl stepped out as Bird climbed the stairs to the apartment door, lifting a hand in greeting. Bird looked up, squinting in the sun.
“Earl. How are things?”
Earl shrugged, stepping aside to let him pass. “I’ve been doing all right. Yourself?”
“All good. Thanks for taking the time.”
Earl followed Bird inside. The apartment was dingy but neat. A sagging sofa along one wall was the only piece of furniture in the place, and Earl settled at one end while Bird looked around the room: there was a stack of clothing folded up in one corner, and a countertop along the front wall with a few papers stacked on top, a hot plate, a sink, and a smallish fridge. His eyes slid over the papers—insurance, it looked like, and a large white envelope with the name politano associates stamped in one corner—and bent to examine the fridge. Two pictures were pinned there with a magnet, in between a business card for an insurance adjuster and an old-timey postcard that read greetings! from asheville, n.c. One of the photos Bird had seen before, the one of Lizzie in her yellow dress, gazing back over her shoulder. In the other, she was younger, a little girl with scabby knees, sitting unsmiling on the steps of a trailer with a raggedy-looking cat in her arms.
Behind him, Earl cleared his throat, and Bird peered back.
“Nice photos,” he said.
“Ayuh. I only have the two,” Earl said.
Bird indicated the postcard. “What’s in Asheville?”
Earl’s mouth gave a funny little twitch, like he’d started to smile, then thought better of it and hauled it back in.
“Friend of mine.”
Bird waited for more explanation, but Earl just sat, letting the silence play out. Not one for small talk, Bird thought. Well, that was fine. His own father had been the same way. And there was no need to linger here. He shifted his weight to fish an envelope from his pocket.
“Well, I’ll just get to it. Like I said on the phone, victims’ compensation finally approved this. I’m sorry for the delay. It doesn’t usually take this long.”
Earl took the envelope with a nod, and set it aside without opening it.
“Appreciate it. You didn’t have to come all this way.”
Bird shrugged. “It’s better this way. Gives me a chance to check back in with the family, see how they’re getting on. Anyway, hopefully the money will be a help to you.”
Earl’s mouth twitched again and he nodded, saying, “Every little bit helps,” but Bird couldn’t help noticing that he still hadn’t bothered to look at the check. Like it didn’t really matter. It was a weird show of confidence for a guy who was living above a garage and spending his nights on a sofa. He glanced at the fridge again.
“How about your insurance, on your business? They come through for you?”
“We been back and forth on it. They tell me it takes longer when it’s arson, even if t’wasn’t you who done it.”
“You think you’ll get back what the place was worth?”
Earl did smile then, but only a little. “Hard to say. Lot of memories there. Hard to put a number on a thing like that.”
“Well, if there’s anything else I can do . . .”
“No need, Detective. I got folks looking out for me.” He pressed his lips together, nodding a little.
“That’s good,” Bird said, but Earl didn’t seem to hear him. He was still nodding.
“My Lizzie always looked out for me,” he said.
Bird nodded, too.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
Earl said, “Ayuh,” and stood up.
So that was it, Bird thought. A brief conversation, all things considered, but sometimes they were like that. It wasn’t just the local law enforcement; the families of the deceased weren’t always happy to see him, either, especially not after so much time had passed. Some labored through a few minutes of pleasantries before something hardened behind their eyes and Bird found himself shooed out the door. Some never opened the door at all. He understood. Not everyone appreciated the reminder of what was lost. For some people, the only thing to do was leave the past behind, let the dead rest, and carry on without them. Earl Ouellette was doing that. Bird would do the same, although he’d make one more stop before he left. Just a quick one, at the place where they’d buried her, to say hi and goodbye and I’m sorry.