The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [293]
We turned up the short drive to the house, seeing no sign of life at first, but then finally spying a man in overalls walking from the house to a large green barn what was hidden behind one of the corn fields. He looked to be about forty-five or so, and seemed a decent, friendly enough type: as he spread chicken feed from a bucket around to a group of hens what were clucking in the barnyard, he made some pleasant, maybe even affectionate little noises, smiling as he watched the birds scurry around to peck at the food. Watching him, I pulled the surrey to a stop in front of the house.
“We’re in the wrong place” was all I could say.
Miss Howard just studied the scene for a few minutes, looking troubled; then she got down off the buckboard and moved up to a gate in the white picket fence what bordered the front lawn.
“Stay here,” she said, passing through the little gate in the fence. El Niño didn’t much like the idea of her going to talk to the unknown man in the barnyard by herself, but I told him to just relax, pointing out that she was almost certainly carrying some kind of firearm. All the same, he produced his little bow and one of his short arrows from inside his dinner jacket (he’d rigged the lining of the garment to accommodate his weapons) and kept a steady eye on what went on across the yard.
“Excuse me!” Miss Howard called as she reached the corner of the house. At the sound the man turned and, smiling pleasantly, trotted on over to where she was standing, which was just within earshot of the rest of us.
“Hello,” he said, setting his bucket down and wiping his hands on his overalls. “Something I can do for you?” Looking past Miss Howard, he caught sight of the rest of us in the surrey; and though I don’t think the sight of two black men made him feel exactly easy, he didn’t seem to get overly nervous about it.
“I hope so,” Miss Howard answered. “My name is Sara Howard. I’m an investigator working with the Saratoga County District Attorney’s office. I’m looking for Mr. and Mrs. George Franklin.”
The mention of the Saratoga D.A. also didn’t seem to rattle the man as much as it should have, certainly not as much as it had the other people we’d visited in the area. The fellow’s eyes grew puzzled, but he didn’t lose his smile completely. “They’re my folks,” he said. “Or were. My father died five years ago.”
“Oh,” Miss Howard answered. “I am sorry. And your mother?”
“Over in Hoosick Falls, visiting my brother and his wife,” the man answered. “They’ve got a store there. She won’t be back ’til tomorrow afternoon, I’m afraid. What’s this all about?”
Matching the man’s pleasant tone, Miss Howard asked, “Would you be George Franklin, then? Or Elijah?”
The man cocked his head in surprise. “Looks like you know all about us, miss. I’m Eli—that’s what I’m called. Is there something wrong?”
“I—” Miss Howard glanced back to the rest of us, looking like she wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. “Mr. Franklin—if I may ask, have you had any communication from your sister recently?”
“Libby?” For the first time, a cloud seemed to pass over Eli Franklin’s features, and he glanced at the ground uneasily. “No. No, we haven’t any of us heard from Libby for—well, for quite a few years, now.” When he looked up again, the fellow wasn’t smiling anymore. “She in some kind of trouble?”
“I’d—really rather discuss the matter when your mother’s here,” Miss Howard answered.
“Look,” Franklin said, “if there’s something my mother needs to hear, I think you’d better let