by Bush, Nancy
“I’ll call Auggie myself and get him here. I just need you to say you’ll be here.”
“Okay, now you’ve got me wondering what the hell is going on. I don’t want to talk to Dad. I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”
“I understand, but this is important. Come for six o’clock dinner,” she said. “I’ve talked to Suma and she knows I’m having guests. I just need to give her a head count.”
“Anyone else you’ve invited?”
“Verna and Stefan.”
“I hope you’re kidding.” At her silence, September said, “You are, aren’t you? July . . . ?”
“No.”
“Are you nuts? What for? Now you’ll never get Auggie there. Whatever you’re planning, count him out.”
“But you’ll come,” she pressed.
September rolled her eyes. “Sure. How can I miss it? It’s already been a shitty day. Might as well make it worse.”
July took no offense, just said, “Good.”
“You know the feds are asking me about the family. That’s where their investigation is leaning because of the warning notes I’ve received.”
“Yeah? Well, they’ve got a lot of people to look at, don’t they?”
“You don’t think there’s anything there, do you?” she couldn’t help asking, unable to quite fathom July’s mood.
“You mean, do I think someone’s stepped over the line from greed, treachery, adultery, and basic lying to murder? No. But then what do I know?”
“Are you all right?”
She exhaled heavily. “Yes. I’m all right. It’s been an unbelievable week, that’s all. Just, be there tonight.”
“All right. Good luck with Auggie, July. Really. He won’t come.”
“He might,” she said in a hard voice, then clicked off.
“You get him to do that, you’re a better woman than I,” September said aloud after she’d hung up.
She had to leave her table to stand in line for an iced coffee, keeping an eye on it, hoping no one would take it. She lucked out and was able to get her drink and save the table, and she took the chair that gave her a clear view of the front door. She spent the next few minutes feeling like a weight was on her chest. She wasn’t going to give up on the investigation. She couldn’t.
Her mind went back to when she’d been asked into another room again by “good agent” Donley, who’d then proceeded to ask question after question about the Rafferty family. September had dutifully answered, though she hadn’t wanted to. Yes, she was angry at her father and Verna; their actions had led to her mother’s death. But they, along with everyone else, just couldn’t be part of the Do Unto Others case. She wouldn’t believe it, and she kept that information to herself. She only offered up banal information and was only half into the conversation at all, until he brought up her sister May’s homicide.
“Your sister was killed in a robbery attempt at a fast food restaurant in Laurelton when she was seventeen?”
“Louie’s. It was a local burger joint, but it’s no longer there.”
“She and her friend were held up by a man with a knife?”
“Erin worked there, and May was just visiting her. She used to do it all the time.”
“Do you know what happened? The sequence of events?”
September had glared at Agent Donley. First she was taken off the case, now she was being treated like a hostile witness, which, in fact, she probably was. She didn’t see what May’s death could have to do with her family’s supposed involvement in this. “All I know is that Erin was working and May went to see her. Some guy came in with a knife and demanded money, and then he held the knife to May’s neck and forced them both into the back room. It was about ten o’clock, and there was no one else there, although I think kids came in later and thought the place was empty and stole some things. It was caught on videotape, I believe. I was fifteen at the time.”
He asked a few more questions about May, and then some about her two stepmothers, and then, sensing she was seething, he let her go back to work.
She had a cold feeling inside that the feds were trying to blame all this—May’s death, too—on the Raffertys. It was nowhere near the truth. Nowhere . . .
Jake appeared a few moments later in blue jeans and a white shirt. He wore Nikes instead of cowboy boots and she recognized that this was his casual office attire, a perk of being your own boss. To her shock he actually came up and kissed her hard on the lips before he sat down across from her.
“There’s a greeting,” she said, smiling.
“I missed you.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, holding on to it as if he couldn’t bear to let go.
She was caught off guard by his mood. “Bad morning? I thought I was the only one.”
“I’m glad you’re off the case. Sorry. I’m worried about you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stand the thought of someone else working it, especially because he’s targeted me. I’m not going to quit.”
“How are you going to stay on?”
“I’ll just keep searching on my own. I’ve got leads to follow.”
“Don’t, Nine. Just back off.”
She pulled her hand away, hurt and frustrated. “I called you for support. If you can’t give it, I might as well leave right now.”
He stared at her and she could hardly look at him without thinking about making love to him. “I’ll help you,” he said. “If you won’t quit, then I’m in this with you. I’ll come over after work and we’ll start tonight.”
“Jake, thank you, but—”
“He’s got your fourth grade work as well. We can start by checking out the fourth grade class pictures. I’ll ask my mother to find mine, since yours is missing.”
She gazed at him helplessly. “You just can’t know how much I want that, but believe it or not, I’ve got a dinner at my dad’s tonight. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to ever see him again, but July twisted my arm, hard.”
“Then, I’ll see you afterward,” Jake said. “I liked having you overnight.”
She shook her head at the speed this relationship was traveling. “I like having you have me overnight,” she admitted. To his flashing grin, she shook her head but said, “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”
By the time September arrived at Castle Rafferty—now she was calling it that, too—there were a number of cars in the parking area. She quickly scanned for Auggie’s Jeep and was kind of gratified that it wasn’t there. Whatever July’s great mystery was, Auggie hadn’t been convinced.
It had been a draggy afternoon. When she returned to the station after meeting with Jake, Gretchen and George were back. The probable murder-suicide was looking more like a slam-dunk. The husband had shot the wife as she was walking into the house carrying a bag of groceries, which tumbled down a short flight of stairs that led up into the kitchen from a back room off the garage. He had then walked past her and into his den where he turned the gun on himself.
“It’s going to be mostly report filing from here on,” Gretchen said, and that’s when D’Annibal came out of his office and told the room at large, Bethwick and Donley included, that September was off the Do Unto Others case and showed them the anemone report with the red IX.
The only saving grace was that Gretchen said she would type up the notes on the murder-suicide as she’d been on scene, and George quickly agreed, so September was basically free to work on something else. Since the Zuma case was off the Laurelton PD’s collective desk as well, she pulled out a report on the body of a man who’d been found half-naked, zip-tied to a flagpole some six months earlier. The tox report said he’d ingested a number of pills, including a roofie, and then died from the combination of pills and hypothermia when the late February temperature dropped into the twenties. There was a note hung around his neck, in his own hand: I have to pay the price for what I’ve done. The case was listed as a homicide, as the general consensus was that he couldn’t zip-tie his hands
behind his back without some help. But there were those who felt maybe it was an assisted suicide. The guy was a postal worker with a wife and teenage son, and everyone was completely baffled by his behavior.
There’s a reason, September told herself, but it was a half-hearted attempt to get engaged in something other than Do Unto Others when everyone else was working the case. She knew she should bring Gretchen up-to-date on what Hague had said, but she didn’t really have the opportunity and she was glad to leave at five to go home and change, even though the rest of them were staying on.
Now, she rang the bell and the door was opened almost immediately by March’s ten-year-old daughter, Evie, whose big blue eyes and bright smile were a welcome sight. September gave her a big hug, which surprised Evie, since she didn’t see her aunt that often, but she hugged her back.
“Dad and Aunt July and Grandpa are on the patio with Rosamund and Aunt Verna and Uncle Stefan,” Evie said. “And Aunt July’s boyfriend’s here, too.”
“Ahh . . . I guess I’ll head to the patio.” Aunt Verna and Uncle Stefan. Neither of them was any part of the Rafferty family anymore and September could have done without seeing Verna. She blamed her and Braden for her mother’s death. Was it fair? Probably not. But she didn’t really care what was fair. Her mother was gone and they’d kept the secret of their affair and how it had played into Kathryn’s death for far too long.
“Rosamund’s going to have a baby,” Evie said, as if she were delivering big news.
“I heard.”
“I’m going to have a new cousin,” Evie said. “I only have cousins on my mom’s side so far, but now I’ll have one on my dad’s!”
Strictly speaking, little Gilda/January would not be Evie’s cousin, but her aunt, but the idea seemed to make the girl happy so who was she to point out the flaw in her logic. And anyway, if “Aunt July” were to get on the baby track, Evie might have another cousin coming along very soon.
She braced herself for walking out to the patio and joining the family. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing here, especially given how she’d left things with her father, but she didn’t really want to alienate July and she was seeing Jake later, so she could get through the next couple of hours by just thinking about last night, if need be. A vacation in her head. A lot better than thinking about the last eight hours.
March was actually standing by the barbeque while Suma brought out trays of food and placed them on the large outdoor table with its huge tan-and-white-striped umbrella. A pitcher of lemonade lay sweating on the table, and September saw there were two empty glasses left. Everyone else had one in their hands, so she stepped up and poured herself a glass.
“If you’d like something stronger, the bar’s in the den,” her father said diffidently. His eyes had tracked her progress from the moment Evie had led her to the patio.
“Thanks, this is fine,” September said. She tried to keep her voice noncommital but her tone sounded stiff to her own ears.
“I brought Cat’s Paw, in case you change your mind,” July said by way of greeting. “Best Pinot Noir around.” She headed September’s way, leaving Dashiell by the hors d’oeuvre tray of ahi tuna slices with sesame seeds, ginger, soy sauce, and scallions on the plate. She linked her arm through September’s and led her away from the group toward the kitchen, but her move nearly ran her into Verna and her hovering son, Stefan. Verna and Rosamund were standing with their backs to each other so that neither of them had to look at the other.
On the heels of July’s greeting, Verna declared, “Oh, Nine! I saw your interview on television. Have you got any leads on this monster? I swear, the whole world’s getting worse. I don’t know how you stand being a cop!”
Stefan was gazing down at the top of Evie’s blond head, looking as if he were on some distant planet, or maybe just wanted to be. He felt September’s eyes and looked up and nodded to her.
“It has its challenges,” September said to Verna tensely. She didn’t know why it bothered her that Verna called her Nine when she wasn’t bothered by anyone else doing it.
Dash came sauntering over and said genially, “Good to see you again.”
September felt a clock ticking in her head, counting down to a bomb. She wanted to blast Verna and creepy Stefan, too, though all he did was stand by quietly and observe. She didn’t want to talk to them. She didn’t want to ever see them again, but she was saved from answering by July dragging her away from the dining room and into the virulent lime green kitchen where they could be alone.
“What the hell are you doing?” September asked her sister when they were out of earshot.
“You’re not the only one pissed at Dad, y’know,” she said, dropping her smiling hostess act and regarding September with barely leashed anger.
“Are you mad at me?” September asked.
“I’m mad at Dad and Verna and Rosamund, too, just because she’s such a bitch. I’m not thrilled with March, either. You and Auggie are the only ones I even like in my family.”
“Well, it’s mutual. What about Auggie? I thought you said—”
“He’ll be here,” she said. “How much do you know about Dad and all his women?”
“All his women? I . . . not much. I know about Verna, obviously, but that’s it. I’m sure there were others,” she said, releasing a deep sigh.
“There were others,” July confirmed. “I kinda want to get into that tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because he deserves it. And there’s Rosamund parading around like she’s the fairest in the land, and the only thing good about that is it infuriates Verna and she looks like she’s been sucking on a pickle all night, her lips are so pursed with anger.”
“Yeah, but . . . what’s changed? Is this because I found the note?”
“It was nice to know you finally knew what I’ve known for years. Maybe not about Mom finding the note, but about Dad’s lifestyle.” She grimaced. “All I would like is a baby, and maybe a husband, too, sure, but nothing seems to be working, whereas Dad just threw it away and then he gets Rosamund pregnant!”
“What about Dash?” July dug her fingers into September’s arm and September said, “Ow,” and yanked it away.
“When Auggie gets here, we’ll deal with everything. I’m sorry that Evie’s here. I didn’t count on March bringing her, but hell, she’s in this family, she might as well know.”
“Auggie?”
“I told you he’s coming. He’s just late. I told him he could bring his girlfriend. I mean, what the hell, why not? But he’s coming alone.”
“But he is coming.”
“Yes,” she said as if she were tired of telling her the same thing. “Yes. Yes, he is.”
“What’s going on?”
“July?” Rosamund’s voice preceded her into the kitchen as she appeared from inside the house. Twin spots of color suffused her cheeks. “Okay, I’m just going to say it. I don’t appreciate the way you took over and made these plans like . . . well, like you own the place. You’re staying here for God knows how long, but it wasn’t by my choice.”
September slid a glance at July to see how she was taking being berated, but her sister’s face was shuttered as she answered, “Duly noted.”
Which only pissed off Rosamund further. “This isn’t your house!” she declared. “What part of that don’t you get?”
“I’ve made plans to move out. Don’t you worry. I’ll be gone long before January arrives.”
“Gilda,” Rosamund grated.
Through the window September saw Auggie’s Jeep wheel into the lot and park next to her Pilot. “You did it,” she said in amazement and admiration to July, sliding past Rosamund, yanking open the front door and meeting her twin as he climbed from his car. “July said you would come. I didn’t believe her. What the hell’s going on?”
Auggie’s gaze slid past her to the open doorway where July now stood. “I guess she didn’t give you the preview,” he said.
“What pre
view? There was no preview.”
“I hear you got pulled off the case,” he said, looking down at her.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’re doing a happy dance.”
“I think it was the right move,” he agreed. “D’Annibal told me about the newest message. Jesus, Nine. You know you shouldn’t be on the case.”
“Who better?” she challenged him, closing her ears to his concern.
“I wish I wasn’t so entrenched in this other case, but I can’t back out now.”
“I’m not one of your damsels in distress,” she gritted. “Now, what the hell are you doing here really? Tell me. Or, I’m going to think you’re a pod person, or something.”
“I’m not staying long,” he told her as he moved to meet July. He gave his older sister a hug as he entered the house, and July looked past him to wave her hand for September to hurry up and join them. As September moved toward the house, she pulled her cell phone from a pocket and checked the time. Seven fifteen. Though she was curious to know what was going on, she wondered how long she’d really have to stay.
It took another twenty minutes before Suma brought the final dishes to the table, serving plates brimming with salads and vegetable dishes, all with an Asian flair. March had finished the barbequed, five-spice chicken and sat it in the center. The family was seated by then, with Braden at one end and Rosamund, her lips in a hard line, on the other. July sat across from September and nearer to Rosamund than Braden with Dashiell on her right and Verna and Stefan beside him. Auggie sat next to September, across from Dash, and with Evie beside him and March at the end near Braden, literally her father’s right-hand man.
Braden’s gaze was all over Auggie, but he was giving their father his profile. When Braden said, “It’s good to see you, August,” he managed a curt nod, but, whatever had gotten him to come to the house was clearly not meant for Braden to think it might be something more.
March began passing the plates around, helping his daughter with the heavier ones, and everyone began serving up except Rosamund, who was holding her glass of lemonade to one side, as she surveyed the group. “Okay, July,” she said in a tsk-tsk tone. “Let’s get on with it.”