Corkscrew Read Online Free

too obvious about ogling one another's girlfriends. None of them had seen the kid.
    Nobody had at the north lock, either, so I crossed the bridge there and drove back down the other side of the lake, the side his cottage lay on. I met his mother, about two miles up from their cottage, still calling. For the exercise more than anything, I walked back with her as far as the lock. It was only about a quarter of a mile. Sam needed the airing, and she was getting anxious, more because of what her husband would say, I thought, than for her son.
    "He's Ken's stepson," she explained nervously. "It's just a coincidence that they're both named the same. My first husband's name is Harry."
    "Does your son get on well with his stepfather?" I asked her, and she shot a glance at me.
    "What makes you ask?" Her mouth was a straight line. I could read the tension in her face.
    "A standard question. If they don't get on, Kennie might be tempted to stay away longer for fear of a licking when he goes home, that's all."
    "That won't happen," she said firmly. She glared like a lioness protecting her cub. "I won't let him beat Kennie."
    "Has he tried it before?"
    "He did once, when we were just married. Kennie threw a tantrum at dinner, and the next thing, Ken pulled him away from the table and whacked him, hard, before I could stop him."
    "Then you stepped in?"
    "Yes," she said, and then suddenly closed her mouth on her next word and shook her head, angry at herself.
    "And did your husband stop right away?" I let the question dangle a moment before adding the one I really wanted answered. "Or did he take a swing at you?"
    She gasped. "I've never told a soul," she said. "I told my friends I'd walked into a door."
    We came around the last bend in the road that led to the lock, and I stopped. "It's a story I've heard a lot of times, Mrs. Spenser," I said. "It won't go any further. I just needed to know so I can be around when your son turns up. It won't happen again then."
    She looked up at me and smiled, a nervous little twitch at the corners of her mouth. It lit up her whole appearance. "Thank you," she said. "But I'll be fine. Just find Kennie."
    We walked down to the lock together. There were a couple of fishermen there with an illegal case of beer open beside them. They put a coat over it as we came up, and I ignored it. Beer and fishing go together, and these were steady-looking guys, not drunks. I asked them if they'd seen the boy, and they hadn't. Neither had the lockkeeper, so we walked back to the car, and I drove her to the house.
    Her husband was already there, with a fresh drink. This time he made an effort to be pleasant. "I've walked all the way down to the lock," he told us. "Called and called, nothing."
    I had Sam in the backseat of the car, and I let him out. "How about giving me something Kennie's worn—a dirty shirt would be fine—and I'll turn the dog loose to look for him."
    The husband shook his head. He didn't look worried at all. "It won't help. He's been missing since I dropped him off in town, the other side of the lake. He could be anywhere." He didn't look at me, just lifted his gin and sipped, slowly, shutting me out.
    "I understood he'd left from here," I said. He was beginning to be a pain.
    "Yeah, well, I thought about it. Carol was off painting, and it got too quiet for me and Kennie, so we took a ride around to the town." To the liquor store, I thought, but didn't speak. He waved one hand casually. "The facts are still the same. He's always home by lunchtime, and today he isn't."
    "Where did you see him last?" I cracked the question at him, trying to shatter the glassy haze he had set up between us. He looked up in surprise. I guess film students don't talk that way.
    "Like I said, in town." He spread his hands apologetically. "I'm sorry if I've wasted any of your valuable time. I'm sure you've got better things to do."
    I turned to his wife. "Do you have that shirt, Mrs. Spenser? I'll head over to the liquor store