“Have you found Virginia’s cell phone?” I said abruptly.
Cathy and Robin both looked at me as if they’d forgotten I was in the room.
“No,” Cathy said. “Why?”
“When you watch the film,” I said, “Virginia gets a phone call that clearly upsets her. Maybe it was from Tracy?” I wanted something to tie together.
Cathy look doubtful. “It doesn’t seem likely they’d met, but we’ll ask about that. Naturally, we’ve checked Virginia’s apartment. Her neighbors haven’t seen her in a couple of days. Neither has her mother, who is very worried about her daughter. So she didn’t go to either place she could call home after she vanished from your house.”
“I’m not surprised, since her car was still here after she disappeared,” I said. “You towed it? I can’t imagine Virginia’s disappearance and the death of Tracy are unrelated.”
“Yes, we towed it, and no, those can’t be unrelated,” Cathy said. “Not even you could have luck that bad.” She stood up slowly. She wore her weariness like a coat on her shoulders. “All right, then. Tracy Beal. We can start tracking her movements now that she’s been tentatively identified. We’ll find out how she turned up in your backyard.”
“Good,” I said, not bothering to make my tone any less snappish. I was angry on so many levels.
Cathy looked at me in an evaluating way, if I can call it that. “Roe, do you think I’m not trying my hardest to find out who killed this woman? Do you think I’m not trying to find out where Virginia Mitchell is?”
“No,” I said, flustered. “Not at all.”
“Do you think this is the only case I have?”
I’d never thought about that one way or another. “I guess not?” I said.
“It isn’t. We’ve got an elder-abuse case. I’m helping with the interviews for a teen party shooting at Dr. Clifton’s, same night Tracy got killed.” There was something desperate in Cathy’s face, something I wasn’t able to define.
“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “Are you telling me this because you think we expect miracles?”
“I’m thinking you and Robin have some knowledge you’re not sharing about this Tracy Beal.”
“Not so,” I said forcefully.
“Uh-huh.” Cathy looked at me skeptically, and then she left, taking the depressing picture and the nanny cam recording with her. I walked with her to the door. We didn’t speak.
Since I was already on my feet, I looked in on Sophie. Sound asleep.
When I returned to the living room, Robin was sitting with his head in his hands.
“I know this seems like I was hiding something from you,” he said, not looking at me.
“It doesn’t just seem like that. You did. You suspected Tracy was back on your trail, and you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want you to worry. After all, this is the woman who tried to kill you.”
“Which is exactly why I needed to be on the alert.” I grabbed hold of my temper and sat across from him. “Listen, Robin, you had a valid point; I should have told you I was really sick before you left. I shouldn’t have withheld that knowledge from you. And I should have called you the moment I found the dead woman. But I feel we’re about even, now. What do you say?”
He peeked between his fingers at me, looking relieved. “I say yes. Cathy thinks I’ve concealed something else, something crucial. I don’t know why she feels that way. I can live with her disapproval, but not with yours. Come give me a hug. I’m too tired for anything else—I never thought I’d say that, I must be getting old. Roe, I missed you so much. And I was scared to death.”
I expelled a deep breath. Our teeter-totter relationship was back in balance. Being newlyweds—with a baby and a body in the yard—was no walk in the park.
Chapter Nine
Robin trudged off to our room to sleep. Evidently, Phillip was still zonked out. I was a couple of degrees better than I had been the day before, but I had zero energy. This was the house of dull people.
There were many little tasks I should take care of. I should have asked Cathy when the crime scene tape could be removed from our backyard. I should definitely call my mother; it was really weird she hadn’t texted me. Even though she was out of town, surely some crony of hers had let her know what had happened. Maybe there was a voice mail on my cell? No, and that was her usual choice. I could see the blinking light on the landline answering machine. I told myself I should get up to listen to those messages.
But I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Anyone at all. And I didn’t want to move.
I resorted to my tried and true comfort. I settled on the couch to read a Leigh Perry mystery, one I’d begun three days ago (it seemed like a year). To my chagrin, I had to backtrack to pick up the narrative.
I felt like a different person had started reading this book, and that person had a bad memory.
Whether I was sure about the characters’ names or not, it was relaxing to enjoy a book … all by myself. I sighed when Phillip stumbled into the room thirty minutes later, rumpled and in need of a shave. He made a beeline for the refrigerator, where he poured a huge glass of orange juice. It disappeared in a few gulps. Then he began rummaging in the pantry until he found a Pop-Tart.
“Sis,” he said, by way of greeting. “What’s up?”
“Robin’s home. I understand you called him.” I gave Phillip a steely stare.
He looked guilty. “Well…” He couldn’t think how to go on with the sentence.
“I was mad for a few minutes,” I said, relenting. “But I understand why you did it. You were probably right. Did you know about the nanny cam?”
His blank expression told me the answer. “That’s … what is that?” he said.
“It’s a hidden camera meant to give parents the real picture on how their child’s caregiver acts when the parents aren’t around.”
“You have one?” Phillip was immediately interested.
“Unbeknownst to me, yes. Robin put one in Sophie’s room before he left. He says he told me. I was too out of it to register that … apparently.”
Phillip was wise enough to let that pass by. “So did you watch the recording already?”
“We did, before we turned it over to Cathy Trumble.”
Phillip was clearly disappointed he hadn’t gotten to watch. “See anything interesting?”
I’d seen an intruder in my daughter’s room, and it had scared the hell out of me. “I’ll tell you about it in a minute. Listen, when did Sarah leave? When did you get to bed?”
“Sarah had to be home by eleven thirty,” Phillip said. “She walked out the door at eleven twenty. She’d driven her mom’s car.”
I nodded. Sarah’s family lived only two streets over.
“I was in bed by midnight. I read awhile before I turned out my light. At the latest, that might have been a quarter to one.” Phillip shook his head. “That’s all.”
“I guess you and Sarah saw Virginia during the evening?”
“Not much. She sat in the living room maybe an hour. We talked to her,” Phillip assured me. “She watched part of the movie. She had the monitor, so when she heard Sophie making noise, she left the room. That was about—ahhh—ten? Anyway, we didn’t see her again.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“Like who?”
“Like the woman who got killed. She was in the house. It was on the nanny cam.”
Phillip was aghast. “That’s awful.”
“She went in the baby’s room. With a knife. In Sophie’s room.”
“I would have killed her myself if I had caught her doing that.” He meant it.
I had tears in my eyes. This was a declaration of love. And I knew exactly how he felt, because I did, too. “You’ve been great throughout this,” I said. “And before I forget it, I want to say thanks.”
Phillip gave me an awkward hug. Our mutual dad and my brother’s mom were not big huggers, apparently. But Phillip was learning our ways.
&n
bsp; “You think it would be okay if I went to the track to run?” he asked. “Josh is going. He can bring me home.”
“I don’t see why not.” My conscience twanged, and I looked at the kitchen clock. It was too late to get to church for the service, and I was mostly relieved. I needed to go, but it would have been an ordeal.
Phillip might as well burn off some energy.
In five minutes, Phillip was out the door in track gear. “I’m running to the school,” he called over his shoulder. He’d begun doing that after I’d observed that it was pretty silly to drive to a place and then run around the track. “Oh, Roe, your mom called last night, late. She said you hadn’t answered your cell.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Just for a minute. She was in a big hurry, and plenty unhappy.”
I could no longer ignore my conscience. I had to respond to messages. I called Mother first, but she didn’t answer; if she and John were back from the reunion, she was probably at church. I left a voice mail.
Sarah Washington’s mother had left a voice mail, too. I could tell Beatrice had thought out what she wanted to say very carefully. “I’m so sorry you’ve got troubles. I hope the police clear it up real soon. If you need anything, call me.” I could hear the undertone of relief, of course; Beatrice had to be thinking, Thank God Sarah had left by then.
My pharmacy had called to tell me a prescription was ready for pickup. The children’s librarian had called to say if I wasn’t coming back to work, a friend of hers would love to apply for my job. I grimaced. I had to get off the fence about going back to work. But I was putting all this off until another day. My real life still felt far away from the current situation.
Angel had called, but she hadn’t left a message. I decided to fill her in on recent events later.
Right at eleven, when it was safe to conclude we were all up and dressed (under normal circumstances), our neighbors Deborah and Jonathan Cohen came to the front door. I was not particularly glad to see them.
The Cohens were decent people, but they were sticklers about their property and the appearance of our neighborhood. (Though I had never heard the Cohens’ history, I guessed it had included privation.) They were vigilant about the upkeep of all the houses and yards on McBride Street. You could expect to hear from the Cohens if your garbage can stayed out at the curb after pickup day (guilty once), or if your Halloween pumpkin was rotting on your front porch, or if your Christmas lights stayed up past January 31. In the course of a neighborly conversation, either Jonathan or Deborah would give you a strong hint about correcting your infraction.
I answered the door very quickly, since Robin was still asleep. I was literally armed with Sophie. The retired couple bent over our beautiful baby and admired her, almost as much as I thought was Sophie’s due. They’d never mentioned any children. I figured it would have entered the conversation by now, if they had. Though I was not enthusiastic about talking to the Cohens this afternoon, I had no option; I had to invite them in.
Of course they accepted, since they had a message to deliver.
I put Sophie in her bouncer seat, and she made some tentative moves. She was always surprised when the seat reacted.
After they’d refused a drink, Deborah began, “You can imagine how we felt last night. We had to get out of bed, Lulu created such a ruckus! And we were awfully surprised when we saw the lights, people everywhere, the ambulance and whatnot.” Lulu the dachshund was a frequent barker who could get really excited about a squirrel, or the shadow of a bird flying over the yard. I could only imagine Lulu’s excitement at the flashing lights and the strange people.
“I was certainly scared too, especially with Robin out of town,” I said, playing the I-was-all-by-myself card. Shamelessly. I glanced down at Sophie, and I saw that her eyelids shut for a second. Then she rallied, waving her arms and looking up at me. Who are these people? she was saying.
You might as well go to sleep, I told her.
Deborah and Jonathan (who were weirdly alike, short and stocky with curly gray hair and glasses) exchanged a loaded look. I knew something bad was coming. Something else bad. I went on the alert.
“I’m surprised you’re telling me that,” Jonathan said, with heavy significance. “Since when I got up in the night to go the bathroom I looked out the window and I saw someone I was sure was Robin. I thought, ‘What the heck is Mr. Crusoe doing wandering around the yard at this hour of the night?’”
I could only stare at him. Finally, I got my reply together. “Jonathan, Robin was out of town at a banquet at that moment, winning an award. So whoever you saw, it wasn’t my husband.” I smiled, to show how unconcerned I was.
“If you say so,” he said, in that aggravating passive-aggressive way people have of letting you know they think you are totally wrong.
I had no doubt Jonathan had told the police what he believed he’d seen. Tension tightened my arms and shoulders as I had a sudden rush of raw anxiety. This was why Cathy had questioned Robin so intently and in such detail … because of Jonathan’s big mouth. And his even bigger mistake. I didn’t know who he’d seen, but it hadn’t been my husband. I took a deep breath to control my desire to snap at him. Or pop him one in his confident face.
“I sure hope we don’t have more nights like last night,” Deborah said, leaning forward with an artificial smile.
Message received.
But I was loaded for bear now.
“I certainly didn’t want a woman murdered in my backyard,” I said sweetly. “I didn’t want my babysitter to vanish, either. I hope the police get to the bottom of this, so we don’t have to be scared of something else happening.”
Sophie was diplomatic enough to choose this moment to make a little “Ehhh” noise, which of course was adorable, but her next noise came from another area of her body and was less pleasant. Deborah and Jonathan rose to leave hastily. Thank you, Sophie, I thought.
Though I managed to keep my smile tacked on my face, I was glad to see the back of them. I stood in the doorway, Sophie in my arms in an odorous bundle, as I watched Jonathan and Deborah enter into a spirited discussion as they went out to the street, walked down the sidewalk, and turned in at the flagstone path to their own front door. (God forbid they should cross on the grass.) After a minute I heard barking. They’d let Lulu out.
“They were dumb for thinking they saw your daddy, huh?” I told Sophie. I could tell she agreed with me. I shut the front door behind me, and realized it was such a lovely day I ought to take Sophie outside … after I’d changed her diaper. Maybe we’d sit on the patio for a while. That sounded incredibly normal and relaxing, and I was ready for both.
Chapter Ten
Doing anything with an infant requires planning and several steps. I grabbed the bouncer with one hand, Sophie with the other arm, and went to the patio door. I set down the bouncer, opened the patio door, stepped outside, and reached back to get the bouncer seat. I set it safely in the shadow, and shut the door with my hip. I strapped Sophie into the bouncer. She was wearing a ruffled sun hat.
And then I collapsed into the deck chair, pretty much wiped out. Being sick had drained me of energy and strength. I felt enormous relief that Robin was home, that Sophie was no longer my sole responsibility. My world was not a surreal blur any longer. I turned the pages of the local paper languidly, until I found an article on the elder-abuse case Cathy had mentioned. I felt my mouth pucker up with distaste. It was awful. But there was nothing about the Clifton party shooting; maybe it had occurred too late to make the press run. The paper came out twice a week, now.
I dropped the pages on the ground beside me. I closed my eyes and pretended the backyard looked normal. No crime scene tape, no trampled grass. All was well; all was calm.
I fell into a pleasant stupor, near sleep but not quite. Sophie’s eyes were closed and her face was relaxed. The Cohens had let Lulu inside when she’d barked at their back door, so there was almost no noise. Our street is not a high-traffic a
rea, and the next street east (backing on ours) was lined with houses older and statelier, with expensive and well-grown hedges of boxwood or photinia circling the backyards. Those hedges provided a sound and sight barrier.
We had countered their boxwood hedges with one of our own, at least along our beautiful fence. We’d gotten tall ones for an immediate result, and they’d cost an arm and a leg. We couldn’t splurge on the big plants to go all around the yard, so we were open to view from north and south, from Cohens to Herman sisters.
Speaking of whom … well, thinking of whom … I heard the distinctive squeak of the Herman screen door opening, and then the sound of it slapping shut. After a lazy moment of curiosity, I opened my eyes. I was looking straight into Chaka’s. He was standing on the other side of the fence observing me intently, in absolute silence. I was startled, in an unpleasant way. But Chaka had never been anything but friendly, and I’d watched Peggy and Lena work on his training every day.
“Hi, Chaka,” I said. I’d read somewhere you weren’t supposed to bare your teeth at dogs, since it might be interpreted as a sign of aggression. I smiled with my lips closed. (Though I wondered if dogs even registered that you were smiling, since it was a human facial expression.)
Chaka’s whippy tail began waving to and fro. Peggy had told me that meant the dog was interested, not that it was necessarily happy with you. But the wagging did make me feel better.
After glancing at Sophie to make sure she was still asleep, I strolled over to the fence. “Hello, good dog,” I said, for lack of anything better to say, and Chaka’s tail moved faster.
Peggy came out of her back door. She seemed pleased when she saw I was making nice with Chaka.
“How are you today, Roe?” she called, walking over to the fence. “I hear you were really sick.”
I didn’t even bother to ask Peggy who’d told her that. “Well, I’m not running a fever anymore. Just a little wobbly.” My illness was not more important than the fact that a woman had died not five yards away from where I stood.
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