Blame the Car Ride

by Marie F. Martin

  Randal’s jaw worked, his lips pressed together, and then he spun and hurried down the hill to his car. He sped away like his anger was pushing the gas pedal. Good. He couldn’t go fast enough. Dean was the only person who had seen the guy at the bingo place, and he hadn’t seen Randal with me now. I should’ve marched him right down to Dean and gotten it over with. But I couldn’t because it was impossible to believe my old friend Randal would hurt my old friend Edgy.

  I turned my back on the open grave and curious people to stand facing the wind coming over the hill. What had I done? First, I had suspected Lester, and now I suspected Randal. I shook my head, knowing full well I had purposely angered both of them to see if one might give himself away. Which one had done it? Or was it someone else?

  I worked around the crowd and finally caught sight of Marley and Detective Langnecker standing together laughing. But he also kept watch on the crowd. I could tell even at this distance when he lifted his head and looked up at me. My nerves tightened, and my neck flushed. Theo Wood already had his mind made up that I was guilty, but I really wanted Langnecker to believe I hadn’t killed Edgy. I had to prove it—the sooner the better.

  Let the chips fall where they might, and if they fell on Randal, so be it. Or on Lester Fitch, or on Sid Nelson, or on Dean Hyatt.

  I quickly crossed through the crowd of mourners to Reverend Steele. “Thank you for the nice service. I’m sure Fred appreciated your kindness to Edwina. He just couldn’t say it.”

  Reverend Steele searched my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  My stress had become transparent. “Just a terrible headache. I need to go home and rest a bit before everyone comes for the barbeque.”

  At the bottom of the hill, Marley now walked in front, guiding the detective, Dean, and Ruth to the older part of the cemetery, reading tombstones as they went. Partially down the hill, Patrick was visiting with an old classmate. I started down, holding myself back from running down the steep hillside.

  My son met me halfway. He took one look at me and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Please, get Marley’s keys and take me home. She and Ruth can ride with Dean.”

  “Where is she?”

  I pointed. “On the other side of those trees.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” He loped across the side of the hill.

  The wind picked up as I worked toward the Jeep. I looked back up the hill at the people who were watching me go. Feeling the scorch of their curiosity, I glanced up to check the sky, hoping a storm was moving in. A few clouds ran along the eastern mountain tops. It was clear to the west. The weather would hold for our barbeque—but this the last thing I needed to be thinking of when my mind was obsessed with wanting to yell at those people who did not belong at Edgy’s graveside. She would have been horrified at their staring. Then, of all things, I spotted Detective Theo Wood making his way across the hilltop toward the pastor and the reporter.

  I escaped into Marley’s Jeep.

  While Patrick drove, I leaned back in the seat, my eyes closed. The motion and sound of the car calmed me enough to bury my overwhelming need to prove my innocence before Theo Wood convinced the deputy county attorney that I was the one who had murdered Edgy. I finally set aside my deep internal panic and concentrated on my son. He had aged but looked good with his tanned skin. He probably had been out sailing near his home on Puget Sound. From the looks of him, he’d spent time in the wind and sun. The fact that I didn’t know how he spent his time hurt. Why did I always wait for him to call? I should call him more often and hear about how his day had went.

  “When were you going to tell me?” I asked.

  “You figured out Bonnie left?” He sounded defeated.

  “It was only a matter of time. I sensed your marriage was in trouble when we all went to San Diego to send my grandson’s destroyer off to who knows where.”

  “Both of the boys are okay.”

  “You and Bonnie are much like your father and I were when you kids first left home.”

  “She walked out.”

  “Was your fling worth it?”

  “Why do you call my love affair a fling, like it was nothing?” My son glanced at me. “Why is it different from what Dad did?”

  My headache doubled its beat along my forehead and the back of my neck. Weak and upset, I swallowed bile. “Dad didn’t. In a way, I did.”

  He almost jumped in the seat. “What the hell do you mean?”

  The actual truth is hard to keep secret forever, and I had just put my foot in it. I did not want to have this conversation in a car at a cemetery. “My head’s splitting. Just take me home. I’m not talking right now. But just so you know, you’re not the only one with secrets.”

  “You can’t just say something like that and then clam up.”

  “We will talk later when I calm down.” Without another word, I looked out the side window and leaned against the door, ready to jump and run as soon as we reached home.

  Patrick suddenly laughed. “I get it. I bet you’re referring to Grandpa’s fling with wrinkled-up old Virgie Wood.”

  I frowned at my son. “You know, Patrick, you sound a lot like your father.”

  “Good.” He returned my frown.

  “I don’t want to argue. Just tell me what you think you know.”

  “I’ve known all along. Dad told me when I jumped on him for not talking to any of us after the warehouse burned. He had just closed off again, just like he did after old lady Wood killed herself.” Patrick hit the side of his hand on the steering wheel. “I still can’t believe my grandfather was banging the poor woman and apparently had been since I was a kid. And you thought we could keep it quiet. The whole damn town knew. Theo has hated us since then. That’s why he went after Grandpa for arson and fraud. Even tried to get Dad.”

  Patrick suddenly stomped hard on the brakes. The Jeep lurched. I jerked tight against the seat belt. The car stopped just in time to avoid an elderly couple and their fuzzy dog traipsing down the center of the narrow road at the steepest grade of the hill.

  The woman jumped, the dog barked, and the man spun and swore at us.

  Patrick gripped the steering wheel. “It’s Lester! He must have been watching Fred lower Edgy’s ashes into the grave. I should just run over the old bastard.”

  Shocked at the thought, I shook my head. “I didn’t see him anywhere, and he has his wife with him. He could’ve just been out for a walk. Be patient. They’ll get out of the way.” I held my breath, praying Patrick wouldn’t stop and challenge Lester.

  But he didn’t stop, just pumped the brakes, and we crept along as they marched down the middle of the blacktop and didn’t step aside until the road widened at the bottom.

  After we passed them, Patrick glanced at me. “We still need to have that heart-to-heart, and that’s all I want. No blame to anyone.”

  “I promise we will.” And then suddenly, of all things, merriment bubbled up and I laughed out loud, barely able to speak, “Everyone who might be Edgy’s killer came to her funeral except Sid, and he flew away. She would’ve loved this sendoff.”

  Just like that, my headache seemed better.

  Chapter 17

  T wo aspirin and twenty quiet minutes on my bed calmed the headache. I pattered downstairs to find Patrick, whose soft singing carried from the kitchen. His shoulders and knees moved in rhythm as he sang the lyrics to “I Love a Rainy Night.” I listened to his mellow voice for a moment, then lightly applauded.

  He grinned at me over his shoulder before brushing the rest of the chopped garlic, sage, and onion from his palms onto the racks of pork ribs. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “I haven’t heard you singing for a long time.”

  “Remember when Edgy taught me to dance for my junior prom? That was her favorite song back then.”

  “I had forgotten. She taught you dance steps far better than I could’ve. She was such a good sport.”

  He slid the savory, herb-spiked ribs into the ref
rigerator.

  “Yum, that smells good,” I said.

  “I learned good things from you, too,” he said, arching one brow. He wanted to go farther with whatever he was thinking but only added, “Let’s go set up the backyard. Marley and Ruth may be a while at the cemetery.”

  “No telling how long your sister will wander around looking at old tombstones.”

  He washed his hands and followed me into the garage. We carried two folding tables to the patio and set them up alongside the flagstones. The legs settled into the lawn, and the tops leveled.

  “We need to set up the canopy,” Patrick said.

  “It’s in the basement.” I shrugged as he just looked at me. “Your father said to store the frame in the shed and the cover in the basement, so I do.”

  Shaking his head, Patrick headed to the basement, and I strode across the yard to the far rose bed to clip blossoms for the centerpieces. Inside the shadowy potting shed, I pulled on a pair of leather gloves and selected a sharp pruner. The rush to prepare for guests lightened my mood. Busyness always lifted my spirits. I grabbed up a tray, and a sudden purring rumbled at my feet. I jumped. “Dammit, Felix, you scared me half to death. Go home, I’m too busy to play with you.” He lay his ears back against his silver tabby fur as I shooed him out the door. He belonged to Ida next door and was a super mouser who usually let me cuddle him. But there was no time for kitties, and besides, I didn’t want to trip over him like the last time he had slipped unheard into the shed. Luckily, I hadn’t fallen on the spade.

  I went straight to the red rose bushes with Felix following me and had cut only a few when Patrick said behind me. “I see a rhythm in your work. Must be left over from hearing me sing Edgy’s song.”

  “I’d like to give you credit, but it’s busy hands and picturing Lester shuffling down the middle of the cemetery road with his fuzzy dog and pudgy wife. He acted so blasé, but I’m sure he fought a battle not to give us the finger. He’s such a nasty man and was forced to play nice. I see humor in that.”

  “Yeah. I was hoping he’d trip and fall flat on his know-it-all face.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  His tight expression told me he wanted to respond to my teasing, but his aggravation held him back.

  “I’m sorry we haven’t had the talk you need, but I’m working up to it.”

  I thought he might protest, but instead he asked calmly, “Are you about done cutting flowers? I need a hand putting up the canopy.”

  I laid the tray of roses on the bench and followed Patrick. I should leave his sorrows alone and give him space. His alley fight with Lester had been harder on his conscience than mine. I was glad my son had walloped him a couple of times.

  Patrick dumped the aluminum legs from the skinny canvas bag and sorted through them. We stretched each one to its fullest, then shook out the topper and attached the legs, forcing them upright. The topper wobbled and dipped, a little like how we felt on this hard day. To my relief, we finally steadied it, and Patrick set the anchor pins. Wonderful shade covered the tables.

  While we worked, Patrick gave me sideway glances as if I had turned into some mysterious artifact. “What is it?” I asked him, even though I had no desire to talk about what he wanted to hear. What had happened between his father and me had died along with Mel.

  He motioned toward the chairs under the weeping willow. “I’d like to just sit in the shade and talk for a few minutes before everyone arrives.”

  How could I say no? I crossed to a favorite lawn chair, and he placed himself in the one Mel had always used. We both batted away dangling willow fronds.

  “You need to water the lawn,” Patrick said as he held onto a shivery branch tickling his neck. “And you need to have this tree pruned.”

  Nothing for it but to answer his unasked question. “Okay, you win. If you must know, I had a secret infatuation that almost destroyed our marriage. It isn’t something I like to admit or even think about.”

  “Infatuation? I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “It isn’t making whoopee in a straw pile.”

  Patrick laughed. “Where do you come up with sayings like that?”

  “From Grandpa York, rest his soul.” Maybe that would end the questions, but Patrick quickly came back to it.

  “I always thought Dad caused the split.”

  “Do we have to talk about this when we just buried Edgy and I’m suspected of killing her?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know Detective Langnecker’s investigating me, as well as Dean, Lester, and that Sid from the Blue Moon.” I counted off on my fingers. “I don’t know who else should be on his short list except Randal.”

  “Okay, even if I accept your list, why Randal?”

  “He sold drugs to Edgy.”

  Patrick leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

  “I am. I’m also sure that Theo Wood would sell his soul to see our family pay for Grandpa Cooper’s foolishness. He knows Randal is a friend of mine. He will use that somehow.”

  Patrick shook his head at me like I was a naughty child. “Pretty slick how you changed the subject. I don’t need details, but I’d like to understand why you were unhappy with Dad.”

  “It wasn’t a midlife crisis like you’d expect. I’ve come to believe we simply grew apart after the fire. Your father was into his work and climbing mountains. Me, into fantasy. I dreamed of more than a life with a workaholic and became infatuated with a man I couldn’t avoid. I kept the need to myself, just hungered for what was missing. Silly, but that’s what happened.”

  Instead of the expected condemnation, Patrick’s look of compassion touched me. “I’m sorry you were unhappy.”

  “Your father and I dealt with it and survived our disappointment in each other. Lately, I have realized my withdrawal from your father was worse than his from me.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I think your father’s illness started years before we realized it. He just didn’t have the energy to stay connected, and I allowed the chasm to widen. But it’s also possible to reconnect. In fact, the last few weeks I spent with Edgy reminds me of that time.”

  “How so?”

  I wasn’t about to tell him I had tried to reconnect with life at a cheap nightclub Edgy and I went to with the sole purpose of finding a guy friend for me—another unfulfilled dream turned destructive. How does one tell a son that? You can’t.

  Thankfully, a car door slammed out front. I challenged Patrick with a steady look. “I’m not telling your sister, so don’t you dare.”

  “Tell her what? I don’t know any more now than when I asked.”

  The back door flew open, giving me the chance to ignore Patrick’s remark. He was not satisfied with my answers, but my explanation would be the best he’d ever get. Children aren’t entitled to know everything about their parents’ shortcomings.

  The back-screen door flapped open, and Marley scampered down the steps. “You don’t have chairs out yet?” She looked at us for a moment, then went into the garage and carried out a couple of folding chairs.

  Ruth partially opened the same door, eased through, and grinned at me. No traces of weepy sadness. She knew how to handle her emotions, and I admired her for it.

  “Here you all are,” she said. “What can I do to help?”

  Patrick hopped up. “Marley needs help with the chairs, and then we’ll get the grill going.”

  I lingered in the chair, letting the younger ones deal with the setup, letting them help each other like I had wanted to help Fred plan the funeral for Edgy. He’d refused, wanting a small ceremony, just us and a few friends. He had claimed Edgy wouldn’t want a bunch of people gawking as he lowered her ashes into the ground. He’d told me in no uncertain terms, “Now, if they could witness her flying into heaven, I’d invite the world to see her flash upwards.”

  I grinned at the memory. Joy actually awakened in me at the picture he’d implanted. I hope some of those curious
strangers felt guilty for trying to get a peek at how lonely one man could be. Yes, Edgy drove him nuts, and I had witnessed a few cranky words and seen some exasperated gestures lately, but I understood them. Edgy was no picnic with her ups and downs.

  Fred also wanted no part in hosting a party in honor of her, and that was okay. I did and had invited friends from the neighborhood and the church we attended. Through her, I had learned the value of weekly worship and how it fortified life. She’d tried so desperately to find peace, and yet it had eluded her.

  “Mom?” Marley hovered over me. “Are you going to finish the centerpieces?”

  I cut a few more fragrant, sun-filled roses and took them inside to fill vases. The house was peaceful, the only sound coming from the guests out in the yard greeting each other.

  I slipped on a pair of light leather gloves to prune the largest thorns and cut the stems to different lengths. I laid some in one hand and cuddled them with the other hand until they formed a round bunch. After placing them in the vase, I let go. Some of the roses sat firm in the center of the vase, others bent and cascaded. I leaned near and inhaled the sweet attar rising from the ruby petals; such a wonderful perfume they had. Satisfied, I filled the other vases and brushed fallen leaves and pollen from the counter into my hand.

  I sensed someone behind me and turned.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Detective Langnecker said from just inside the doorway. “I wanted to tell Marley thank you for the invite, but I can’t stay. I would’ve told her at the cemetery but didn’t want people to overhear and put your family in an awkward situation. Socializing at your home while an investigation is ongoing would be frowned on.” He smiled a little wickedly. “And I don’t want to give Theo Wood a heart attack, yet.”

  I rinsed away the petals into the garbage disposal and placed a vase of roses into his hands. “Here, carry these outside and put them on the table. Everyone can watch you walk away.”

  He took the wet vase without any acknowledgment and headed out the back door.

  I wiped my fingers on my pant leg and followed him as far as the doorway to see if he managed to place the flowers on an empty table without spilling water. Detective Langnecker seemed a decent sort. Under other circumstances, I would like him. He spoke to Marley and left by walking around the side of the house. She watched him the whole way. My daughter had a new friend, and my heart softened. Maybe that was a sign he would be fair-minded while investigating Edgy’s murder. I could only hope.