CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mrs. Goudeket tottered into the marble lobby of the schoolhouse. A flaring pressure lamp threw grotesque shadows against the polished walls and the room was almost empty. Some men dozed over their card tables and desks. Outside the last of the ambulance-fitted six-by-sixes was rolling noisily away with the last of the casualties.
Chief Brayer's head snapped up from a nodding doze as she cleared her throat.
"Chief?" Mrs. Goudeket said timidly. "Just a few hours since I asked, but I think things have changed a lot, hah?"
He focused on her with difficulty and said at last, "Oh. The lady from the hotel."
"Goudeket's Green Acres," she said automatically, with pride. "I was thinking that now maybe things are more under control, hah? So maybe you could spare me a car, some gas. I have to get back, look over my property—" If it still is my property, the thought came, unwelcome.
"A car?"
Mrs. Goudeket was exasperated. "You heard. A car! Look, if it makes you feel better, I could take some people with me. You need shelter? I have room. Believe me, by now I bet I have more room than you can imagine. We have food, too." Food for the booked-solid week, which would now be a week of hundred-per-cent cancellations and empty tables.
Chief Brayer looked wearily interested. "Yes," he said absently, "you would have food. All right. I yelled at you before, didn't I? I'm sorry—"
She shrugged. "No apologies, please. Your language—But you meant well. You were busy."