Page 24 of The Furies

She didn’t say which weighed heavier, though, and I suspect we might have differed on it anyway.

“I’m not entirely unsympathetic,” I said, by way of compromise, and I wasn’t. I knew how hard it could be for ex-cons to survive on the outside. The straight world, or what passed for it given the ubiquity of human frailty, was more hostile to those who had served time than it was to most constituencies.

“No?” said Ambar. “Forgive me if that sounds hollow to my ears.”

“Do you know where Raum is staying?”

She reddened. “He was staying here.”

“But not any longer?”

“No.”

“Can I ask the reason for the move?”

“You can ask. You won’t get an answer, though, not from me.”

“Which brings us back to where Raum is currently laying his head.”

“Cheap motel beds, when he can’t find a couch to surf.”

She started to go back inside. My window with her was closing.

“One last question,” I said.

She banged her head gently against the doorframe in frustration.

“What is it?”

“What were you and Raum arguing about earlier?”

“You saw that?”

“Some of it. I heard it, too.”

“A door pane at the back of the house got damaged last night. I was worried. I thought someone might have been trying to break in, but Raum told me it was probably just an animal.”

“Why would he say that?”

“Because the screen door was all torn up, and the glass was scratched.”

“Would you mind if I took a look?” I said.

“Yes, I would.”

And with that, Ambar Strange closed the front door in my face.

CHAPTER XXVI

I’d enjoyed more productive working days, having learned virtually nothing from my encounters with the Sisters Strange. By now it should have been clear to me that their problems, and those of Raum Buker, whatever form or combination they might take, were really none of my concern. Neither sister gave signs of welcoming my interest, and Raum himself was unlikely to buck that trend. On the other hand, I’d made a vocation out of curiosity, and it was too late to seek alternative employment now.

But it wasn’t solely a matter of personal or professional stubbornness. Raum had disorder following him like a dog in heat—Ambar was right about that much—and he’d brought it to the doors of the Sisters Strange. If he did have plans on the boil, they were likely to involve dishonest dealings, if only for want of many alternatives. The Stranges might have believed themselves capable of handling him, and under ordinary circumstances they would doubtless have been right: Raum was no match for two smart women, because most men aren’t a match even for one. But you don’t watch someone tear strips from his own skin, especially a man with Raum Buker’s history, without becoming concerned for those around him. Everything about Raum felt off-kilter, and perhaps Will was right to fear that he might prove a danger to Dolors or Ambar. If I walked away, and something happened to either or both of the Sisters Strange, I’d have to live with my failure to act, and I already had enough guilt to sustain me for two lifetimes.

And there was Will himself to consider: I’d agreed to work for him, and that had to amount to more than two inconclusive conversations before turning tail. Will might have been a quiet, shy man, but he hadn’t succeeded in a business like lumber without his share of strength and stubbornness. If he cared enough about Dolors Strange, he might feel impelled to act on her behalf if I gave up, and whatever his better qualities, they would be no match for Raum’s worse ones.

Any further inquiries I might have wished to make, though, were curtailed by an urgent call from my lawyer, Moxie Castin, for whom I also did investigative work. At Moxie’s request, I spent two days looking for a reluctant witness in a domestic manslaughter case, eventually tracking her to a camp up by Chamberlain Lake. By the time I’d convinced her to return to Portland to testify, the stakes in the game being played by Raum Buker and the Sisters Strange had been raised again, and a new player was making his presence known.

CHAPTER XXVII

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