Heading over. Hold tight, I replied.
The sun shone overhead, but vapor spewed out of my mouth with each breath. I trudged to the Reservoir stop, not wanting to endure all the stops on the B-Line.
Twenty-five minutes later, I rapped my knuckles on Lucy’s apartment.
Sam opened the door, a fake grin on her face. “Cori! What brings you over?”
Lucy peered around Sam, a mystified expression on her face.
“Uh, I was just in the neighborhood.” Kat was right. I was a horrible liar.
Sam looped an arm through mine. “Would you like a beer?”
“Yes, please.” I gritted my teeth.
Sam patted my arm and whispered, “Thank you.”
We settled on the couch, each with a beer, not saying a word. So far, my dashing to Sam’s rescue was crashing and burning.
“What have you two been up to?” I asked, tweaking the corner of The Long Thaw Harpoon label.
“Putting a jigsaw puzzle together.” Sam tried to sound like that was the most exciting thing to do on a Saturday with your girlfriend.
“Really. I love putting puzzles together.” I swallowed a significant amount of beer to force a giggle back into the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t resist.
Sam glared as if she was envisioning ripping my toe nails off one by one and force feeding them to me. But then her face softened. “I didn’t know that. Would you like to help us?” Sam jolted off the couch, not giving me a chance to decline.
“Sam, I’m sure Cori would prefer relaxing.” Lucy motioned for Sam to retake her seat.
“Come on.” Sam tugged on Lucy’s arm. “It’ll be fun!” The former cheerleader was laying it on thick. “I can’t wait to see the final product.”
Yeah right. Sam wanted my help to end her jigsaw puzzle misery.
“Bring it!” I played along.
The three of us sat at the table by the window. I whistled at the view. “I could sit here all day.” The ocean seemed endless, and boats of all sizes bobbed in the harbor.
Lucy straightened in her chair.
Sam snapped her fingers in my face. “I thought you were the jigsaw queen.”
“Just you wait. I’ll have this baby done in no time.” I swooped up a piece and hunted for its place. My phone chimed. “After I get that,” I said.
Sam sucked in air.
“Can Kat and Harold come over and help?” I asked after reading a text from my wife wondering where I’d disappeared to.
“Yes.” Sam practically bounced in her seat. “The more the merrier. Right, Luce?”
Lucy stiffened, but nodded.
“Great. They’ll be here in twenty.” I snapped a piece into its rightful place. “Told ya!” I crowed.
“Great work!” Sam scooted over a handful of pieces.
“Should I order food?” Lucy asked.
Sam nodded. How was she not exhausted from putting on such a show? “Chinese. We can make a party of it.”
With slumped shoulders, Lucy shuffled to the kitchen.
I whispered, “Are you sure this is a good idea? It’s obvious Lucy doesn’t want any puzzle helpers.”
“That’s not true,” Sam brazenly lied to my face.
I punctured the air with a finger.
She pantomimed raising a white flag. “Okay, okay. But please don’t go. If we don’t finish this puzzle today, I’m going to flip my lid.”
I bent over the table. “What happens if she buys another one?”
“I’ll burn it.” She jerked her head to the fireplace.
Lucy sauntered back into the room before I had a chance to ask Sam why she didn’t burn this one. Sam and I plastered our happy faces on. “Food will be here in thirty,” Lucy said. “I’m going on a beer run.”
“Do you want me to go?” Sam stood.
“Nah. Keep Cori company.” Lucy gave a half wave.
When the door closed, Sam and I eyed each other.
“This is going splendidly,” I said.
“Shut up and keep working.” Sam quaffed her beer.
I snapped another piece in place. “Really, how is this much different from watching a game on TV?”
“It just is,” Sam said through clenched teeth.
“I think you want it to be.”
“What does that mean?”
“Maybe the fault isn’t with Lucy. Kat and I have noticed she’s really trying lately. Showing more affection. Telling us about her fantasies.” I pointed a puzzle piece at Sam. “Why aren’t you trying harder?”
“I’m doing the puzzle, aren’t I?” Her tone lost its forcefulness.
“And inviting the world to help to get it over with.” I gestured to the plastic baggies filled with puzzle pieces. “She’s obviously gone to a lot of trouble. Why?”
Sam scrunched her forehead. “Good question.”
“For someone who wants to marry Lucy, you might want to open up with her more.”
“Are you suggesting I don’t want to get married? That I’m self-sabotaging?” She crossed her arms.
It was hard not to shout, “Glad you noticed.” Instead, I said, “Nope. Just pointing out you suck in the communication department.” I smiled sweetly.
She pretended to be engrossed with the puzzle, but I could tell she was deep in thought.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.
“The reinforcements are here.” Sam hopped up and skipped to the door, ever the cheerleader, as if my speech and her pondering had no effect. Maybe it was time to bring out the big gun: Kat.
Kat held up a six-pack of Harpoon Leviathan. Its alcohol content was ten percent.
“Now that’s thinking. Let’s get Lucy stinking drunk so she forgets about your jigsaw-puzzle sabotage.” I rose from my seat and kissed Kat on the cheek before whirling around to give Harold a hug. He clung on, instead of his usual dude hug. “You okay?” I asked him.
He nodded, but avoided my eyes. Harold was many things at the moment, but he wasn’t okay.
“Would you like a beer?”
He shook his head. “Got any gin?” He looked to Sam.
“Of course. Come with me.” Sam led him to the kitchen.
“How bad?” I asked Kat.
“Bad. Here?”
“Horrendous. Not sure how I walked into the middle of this.”
Kat studied the nearly finished puzzle. “This isn’t good. Not one bit.”
Before I had a chance to probe, Lucy strolled in with beer and the Chinese. “Hi, Kat.”
Kat gave her a chin up smile. Lucy responded with an I’m trying shrug. I realized they’d been having conversations without cluing me in. While I’d been coaching Sam, Kat had been working with Lucy. And from the looks of it, Kat possessed way more intel than I did.
“Shall we get to it?” Lucy half-heartedly gestured to the puzzle.
“Are you sure? We don’t want to finish what you two started,” Kat said.
Lucy’s resigned dip of her head didn’t ease the awkwardness. “Might as well. We don’t have that much left.”
All that was missing was the Eiffel Tower set against a pink-purple sky at dusk, the center of the puzzle.
Sam and Harold joined us.
“I haven’t done a puzzle in years. Mom and I used to work on them.” Harold set his gin and tonic on a coaster and squinted at a piece. He deftly locked it into place. Less than sixty seconds later, he had found the home for two more pieces.
“Looks like we have a new puzzle champion.” Sam patted Harold on the back.
Harold cruised through the remaining pieces on the table while the rest of us chowed down on Chinese. Lucy, maybe in an effort to keep her mind off Sam’s sabotage, bussed the plates and leftovers to the kitchen.
“Babe, where are the rest?” Sam rifled through empty bags.
Kat and Lucy exchanged a worried glance, but then Lucy shrugged and retrieved a Ziplock bag out of the cabinet drawer next to
the couch. “These are the final pieces.”
“Are you sure you want our help? You’re so close to finishing now.” Kat stared at Lucy.
“Hell yes, we want help.” Sam was overly enthusiastic. “I wouldn’t want to deny Harold any happiness today,” she said, her tone softening.
The deep-set crease in Kat’s forehead was an irrefutable sign I was missing something, something so obvious I’d be kicking myself for weeks to come.
Harold sifted through the pieces. “There’s writing on these.” He held up a piece, comparing it to the box. “But there isn’t any writing on here. Weird.”
Kat nudged my foot under the table.
“Any veggie spring rolls?” I asked.
Kat narrowed her eyes. Clearly she didn’t want me to stall for time. She wanted me to fix the problem, but how could I fix it without understanding the problem?
“In the kitchen.” Sam held a piece. With the end in sight, she focused on the matter at hand. Her face wore a deer in headlights look, as if she sensed she should be doing something different but she couldn’t change course.
I stood and stretched my back. “Anyone want anything?”
Everyone but Kat declined. “I’ll come with you.”
I tendered my hand, which she squeezed the life out of. When we were in the confines of the kitchen, I wormed my hand free. “Jesus. What was that for?”
“You need to stop it. You need to stop it now!” Kat paced the five steps from the counter to the fridge, and then about-faced and retraced her steps.
“Stop what?” I dipped a spring roll into soy sauce.
Kat knocked it out of my hand. “Go in there and stop Harold, the puzzle machine.”
“But why? Sam wants it done, and Lucy seems resigned to it now.” I scooped the splattered spring roll into my palm and then dumped it into the trash can. “Such a waste.”
Kat gripped my arms with both hands. “Who gives a fuck about the spring roll? Lucy is about to pop the question!”
“Propose?”
“The jigsaw puzzle.”
“The jigsaw puzzle,” I repeated, hoping some clarity would emerge.
Kat shook my upper body. “Lucy and I put the puzzle together weeks ago and she used a marker to write, ‘Will you marry me?’ on it.”
“Wait. She’s using the puzzle to ask Sam to marry her?”
“Yes!”
“That’s kinda sweet. Odd, but sweet.”
Kat groaned. “Focus. We need to stop Harold.”
“Right.” I slapped my forehead with my palm. “Stop, Harold.” I eyed Kat for guidance.
Kat shoved me through the swinging door.
The three of them glanced up from the puzzle.
“Uh, Harold, I need you.”
“Can it wait? I’m almost done.” He waved to the puzzle and took another sip of his drink.
“Nope. Can’t wait. Come here,” I barked.
Harold threw down a puzzle piece and glowered.
“Please. It’s a Twitter thing,” I added.
I dragged the reluctant man through the door.
“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Is G-Dawg or Finndale back?”
Kat put a finger to her lips. “Lucy is going to propose.”
“What? How do you know?” Harold tried to snoop through the door, but Kat slapped his hand. “Ouch!”
“Shush!” we both said.
Silence filled the front room—the type of silence that comes right before a storm. And then Sam shouted, “Fuck!”
Kat’s mouth formed an O.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Then there was a squeal.
“Is that a happy or sad squeal?” I asked.
Kat placed her ear to the door. “Happy, I think.” She pressed harder. “I think I hear kissing.” Without another word, she forced the door open.
Sam and Lucy were embracing.
“Shall I get some champagne?” I asked.
“In the fridge.” Lucy didn’t let go of her fiancée.
“I can’t believe you!” Sam said.
Lucy swiped blonde strands off Sam’s cheek. “I was thinking Paris for our honeymoon. What do you say?”
“Hell yes.” Sam peered at the puzzle. “You must think I’m such an ass.”
Lucy laughed. “Next time I come up with a plan to propose to a girl, I’ll think of a faster way.”
Sam punched her shoulder. “Next time? You’re only getting married once. And I was trying to come up with a way to ask you. Wasn’t I, Cori?”
I nodded. “She was.” I didn’t have to lie. Thank the fucking gods. And for the first time in weeks, Sam seemed completely at ease. Maybe thinking of a way to propose was too much pressure for her.
“Cori, are you forgetting something?” Kat jerked her head toward the kitchen.
“Uh—”
“The bubbly.” Kat smiled.
“Right! I’m on it. Harold, help me get the glasses.”
He hastened into the kitchen, grinning.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t be happier.” His beaming face attested he was telling the truth.
“You’re a good man, Harold. One of the best. I have no doubt you’ll find someone to settle down with. Until then, you’ll always have Kat and me to keep you company. And in London, no less. Ooooh, maybe you’ll meet an English lass.” I tapped my fingertips together.
He looked to his feet. “I do like a girl with an English accent.”
I swatted away a rude thought about his inability to find girls with a pulse, let alone ones with an accent. Now wasn’t the time. Instead, I hefted the bottle. “Let’s help our friends celebrate.”
Chapter Fourteen
April arrived almost as fast as a wink of the eye. It was Sunday, and all of us were at Barbara’s for the weekly family dinner. Everyone was present and accounted for, except uncle Roger, who would soon return from playing tennis.
The cerulean sky, sixty-degree weather, and chirping birds called the five of us to sit on the back deck while we waited for the last family member to arrive. Dad and I had the Sox game on the TV, which Barbara had installed outside because she hated baseball, and Roger, in her opinion, watched too much.
My aunt looked at her watch and tsked. “I don’t know what’s keeping him. He’s never late.”
“I can man the grill for you,” my father offered. He was the guy you wanted to do your taxes, not to cook a fifty-dollar steak.
Barbara lightly pinched him on the cheek before handing the tongs to Kat. My father shrugged it off. Sidling up to Kat, he asked, “Are you excited about London?”
My mom and I exchanged a glance. Dad was your typical guy. He didn’t talk much, but ever since the accident, he, like everyone else in the family, went the extra mile to help Kat and me through the painful ordeal by keeping us focused on the future.
“Excited and scared.” Kat scraped the barbeque rack with a metal brush.
“Scared?”
“What if I fail?” Kat kept her eye on the grill, twisting the knobs to spark the flame.
“Not possible. You’re the best artist I know.” He puffed his chest out and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder.
The doorbell rang.
Everyone exchanged questioning looks. It wasn’t the type of community where salespeople or religious nuts came a-knocking, and Barbara and Roger didn’t entertain much anymore.
I laughed. “We’re like bad actors in a murder-mystery game. I’ll go see who’s at the door.”
“Thank you, Cori,” Barbara said.
Two police officers stood on the front porch.
“Hello,” I said, unsure what to think.
“Is this the home of Roger Ginnetti?”
“Yes, he’s my uncle.” I was about to ask whether something was wrong, but my vocal cords seized up.
“Is his wife home?”
“Cori, who’s at the door?” My aunt shouted from the kitchen.
Not answering, I eyed the police officers. The gray-haired one was more imposing than the other, who must have been a rookie. He couldn’t have been older than twenty. He stepped from side to side, his duty belt creaking hideously in the deathly quiet.
My mind flashed back to that terrible night. Had police officers shown up at my house while I was drinking at the bar?
“Cori—” My aunt turned the corner. “Oh. Can I help you, officers?”
“Are you Barbara Ginnetti?” The older cop asked, his tone low and soft.
“Yes.” My aunt blotted her wet hands on a dish towel and then put her hand out to shake.
“Ma’am, is there some place private where we can talk?”
“Of course.” Her voice wavered. She motioned for them to enter the office to the right of the entrance. “Cori, please go tell your mother to join me.”
My feet refused to budge.
She nudged me. “Please.” Her eyes implored me to act.
Somehow I managed to make it to the deck. Kat and my parents turned to me.
“Goodness, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kat’s smile slipped off her face once she peered into my eyes.
“I…”
Kat rushed to my side. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Barbara?” Mom demanded.
“With the cops in her office.”
“What cops?” Mom didn’t wait for a reply.
Kat rubbed my back. “Did they say anything?”
“They asked if this was Roger’s house and whether Barbara was home.”
My father chased after my mom. If I didn’t fear the worst, I would have laughed—my father, the overweight accountant stuffed into chinos and a navy Polo, never chased anything in his life.
“Do you think…?” Kat left the rest unsaid.
I nodded.
“Oh God.” Kat collapsed onto the arm of the wicker sofa, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.
Tears slithered down my cheeks.
Dad returned and wrapped his arms around me, pulling Kat into the embrace.
And that was when I knew for certain Uncle Roger was dead.
Chapter Fifteen
Confessions From the Dark Page 16