The Quick Red Fox
“I had to go down through town and out the far side to get to it. It was a little after ten o’clock when I got there. Some orderly soul had set it up with the requirement that all trailers be parked in herringbone array on either side of a broad strip of asphalt going nowhere. The entrance was an aluminum arch, tall and skinny, with a pink floodlight on it.
The trailers were large, all snugged down off their wheels, with little patios and screened porches added. About half of them were dark. Pat...ricia had lived—and died in front of—the sixth one on the left. It was lighted. I parked and went to the porch door. As I raised a hand to bang on the aluminum frame, a big woman appeared, silhouetted in the inner doorway.
“Whatya want?”
“I want to talk to Martha Whippler.”
“Who are you?”
“The name is McGee. I was a friend of Patty’s.”
“Look, why don’t you go away? The kid has had a hard day. She’s pooped. Okay?”
“It’s all right, Bobby,” a frail voice said. “Let him in.”MoreLess
The trailers were large, all snugged down off their wheels, with little patios and screened porches added. About half of them were dark. Pat...ricia had lived—and died in front of—the sixth one on the left. It was lighted. I parked and went to the porch door. As I raised a hand to bang on the aluminum frame, a big woman appeared, silhouetted in the inner doorway.
“Whatya want?”
“I want to talk to Martha Whippler.”
“Who are you?”
“The name is McGee. I was a friend of Patty’s.”
“Look, why don’t you go away? The kid has had a hard day. She’s pooped. Okay?”
“It’s all right, Bobby,” a frail voice said. “Let him in.”MoreLess
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