"I'll be damned." Ray patted Sunshine on the head, slid into the driver's seat of the S2000, and drove off into the night.
I went into the house thinking stepdaughter. I'd been operating under the misbelief Pyle was Amber's sire. I wondered who Amber's birth father was, and I wondered if he was left-handed. I thought I knew how to find out.
44
Empty stretchers covered in smooth white linen stood ready for patients in the cubicles of the Pedi ER. My co-worker, Yveline, and I sat behind the small nurses' station counter finishing an unplanned reorganization of the supply shelves and drawers.
I spun the alphabet wheel and clicked out the last label on an obsolete label maker. "I think I'll ask to go home early. Nothing happenin' here. It's quiet out there, too." I pointed in the direction of the adult ER. "Friday night. Catch an early movie. Pretend I have a life."
"Fine with me. I can sit alone and be bored or sit with company and be bored. Anyway, Sharon will be here in thirty minutes." The shifts staggered in the ER, allowing for expanded staffing during expected high-volume times.
I clocked out and hurried through the automatic glass doors of the ambulance entrance to the employee lot where I had parked my red Mini under an anemic looking palm tree. Preparing for the sweltering heat, I slipped out of my baby-animals-print warm-up jacket.
I'd worn white jeans-cut uniform pants and a pink knit pullover. I inspected myself. I was clean and looked pedestrian enough to do some investigating. I wasn't going to the movies. I planned to talk to the lady who found Amber lying between her dead mother and brother. I wanted the anonymity of not looking like a nurse.
As I drove out of the parking lot, I emptied my cargo pockets, making a pile of the scissors, pens, calipers, penlight, and stethoscope on the passenger's seat. I arranged my jacket over the whole mess. Then I dug around in my purse for a tube of lipstick, which I hurriedly applied at the first traffic light. At the second light, I straightened my hair, then turned at the third light.
Naomi Edelstein called the police after discovering the crime. During the first few days of the media frenzy, I'd read an interview with Edelstein in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel. She answered questions in generalities. I assumed at the time someone, probably Dick, had asked Edelstein to keep her comments brief.
Edelstein was a teacher at the school Amber attended and had no children of her own. She claimed to be close to the Pyle children, babysitting for them on occasion, and sometimes taking Amber along on her morning drive to the school. Based on the tone of the comments in the newspaper, I was prepared to meet with an aging spinster.
I identified the townhouse Amber called home. Of the sixteen homes in two mirror-image rows, only one featured an overgrown yard with a shred of yellow plastic tape clinging to a ragged-looking bush flanking the front door. I parked in front of the Pyle house while trying to decide which of the adjacent properties was occupied by the schoolmarm.
I selected the house with the sidewalk edged in blooming begonias. The gentleman there introduced himself as Jim and his partner as Frederic. They directed me to the house on the south side of the former Pyle residence. Miss Edelstein answered the door in a long lacy shirt covering a briefly cut rose-colored bikini. Her nails, all twenty of them, matched the bikini, her living room carpet, and the upholstery on her dinette set chairs. If Miss Edelstein was a spinster, I was the all-time winner at Old Maid.
I explained the purpose of my visit, and she invited me to join her in the backyard. She poured each of us a raspberry iced tea, and we sat side by side on the wooden deck. A neat stack of pink towels sat next to a bubbling, foaming hot tub. I had interrupted her plans.
"Tell me about Amber. How is she?" Edelstein asked.
I gave her a brief summary of what the girl had gone through, being careful not to divulge confidential information. "She'll be in foster care until better arrangements can be made. CCS hasn't been able to find any family."
"She has a birth father."
"Pyle isn't her dad," I said in confirmation.
"I think Buddy Lee Pyle adopted Amber after marrying Amber's mother, but the birth father visited on occasion. Detective Schneider took note of it when he interviewed me. He said he might be back to talk to me more, after I returned from seeing my mother. I had to stay in New York longer than planned." Edelstein paused, evidently deciding to skip her mother's problems. "But then Detective Schneider was killed and no one came back, until you."
"What did Amber call Pyle?"
"Poppy."
"When she said her daddy hurt her, who do you think she meant?"
"She called her father daddy."
"The police don't know this?"
"They haven't been back. I assumed Amber cleared up her parentage for the detectives. She was comfortable discussing how Buddy Lee adopted her, but she still had to visit her daddy."
"What's her daddy's name?"
"I don't know. I saw him only once—stocky, balding, medium height. He was well-dressed as I recall, but he leered at me until I became so uncomfortable I excused myself."
"Was he around during the time the crimes occurred?"
"I don't remember seeing him, but I drove Amber to school a couple of days before the murders. She said her daddy was coming, and she had to see him."
"Did she sound like she didn't want to see him?"
Naomi seemed thoughtful for a minute. "I asked her once. She didn't answer, but she slipped away from me at her first opportunity. That was unusual for her. She normally hung around with me until it was time to go to her own classroom. I never asked again. I told her mother about it that same day. We didn't talk about it again."
We chatted awhile longer about Amber and her kin. Naomi made it sound like Amber had the perfect, blended all-American family. I wondered who Amber's father was and how I could find out without Ray accusing me of butting in where I didn't belong. I also wondered why Pyle ran if he wasn't guilty.
45
Back in my car, I glanced at my watch. It wasn't six yet. Maybe Pyle's employer would answer the telephone. I reasoned an equipment rental firm would stay open into early evening to accept returns.
A woman with a mature-sounding voice answered on the first ring. "Rent-4-Less."
"My name's Ursula Krantz." I gave the name of a CCS worker I had met several times. "Children Protective Services. I need to verify the information about Alfred Leon Pyle."
"Weren't you already in to talk to the owner?"
"I was. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but my dog ate my notebook. Can I talk to Mr., ah . . ."
"Frank Vallerand."
"That's it."
"He's not here."
"That's too bad. I was hoping to get some of the details arranged for Amber this weekend. She'll have to wait in foster care until I can see Mr. Vallerand, unless of course . . ."
"No problem. Amber is such a sweet child. Hang on a minute."
I heard a thump. More clanging. Then I listened as she accepted a chainsaw return and settled the account—deposit, less hourly rental fees. A couple of minutes later she came back to the phone.
"I have his file here. What do you want to know?"
"Next of kin?"
"His wife, Amber Lillian Pyle."
That wasn't useful information. "Any mention of other family."
"We don't ask."
"How about Pyle's insurance?"
"Hang on. His original benefits election form covers himself and his wife, no kids. On the most recent form, he listed Amber as his daughter. I remember when he adopted her. They had a party at the house and invited all of us. It was before their boy was born. Buddy Lee commented he was glad to pay for Amber's insurance. He thought it would be a small price to pay to get Amber's father out of her life."
"Do you have any notation of what Amber's last name was before her adoption?"
"No, and I don't remember Buddy Lee mentioning it."
Another blind alley. I needed to find out where Amber was staying and ask he
r what her daddy's name was. That would have to wait for Monday. I'd never get through to the caseworker on the weekend.
Disheartened with my lack of progress, I dropped the Mini in gear and headed for home.
***
My telephone was ringing when I walked into my house. After dropping my pocket book, warm-up jacket, and assorted accessories on the counter in the kitchen, I grabbed at the telephone.
"Hello," I answered as I caught my breath.
"Sophi," Ray said. "I don't want to bother you, and feel free to say no."
"What can I do for you?" He was the last person I expected to be calling for a favor. I expected a call at work to see if I recovered from the previous evening's excitement, but he hadn't. That struck me as cold, and his opening struck me as odd.
"My kids arrived today. The problem is I have to go to Virginia."
Not sure where I fit into his plans, I waited for him to continue.
"Kerri asked if she and Branden could stay with you while I'm gone. They don't know their way around, and I won't be moved into the condo until next week. Lewis offered to keep them, but they prefer you."
"I don't mind. In fact, I'm not working this weekend. I'd love to have the company. Is Branden okay with it?"
"He'll be okay. Branden doesn't want to fend for himself in a strange town, either."
"Can't say I blame him. When are you leaving?"
"I'd like to leave first thing in the morning. I thought we'd take you to dinner, so you and the kids can get reacquainted before I leave."
Ray, Kerri, and Branden pulled into my driveway in a mid-sized rental car a few minutes later.
"Sure isn't the Honda." Ray laughed, climbed out, and opened the passenger side back door for me. He'd always been a gentleman, but we'd moved far beyond that level of dating gallantry.
"What you going to do with it? Want to trade?" I pointed at my Mini. "Plenty of room for three in there."
He frowned.
"A girl can hope."
I climbed into the back seat of the Buick with Kerri, who smiled and touched my hand. Branden gave me a teenager-style monosyllable greeting, but he sounded sincere and, though he didn't smile, he didn't frown either. Maybe I'd make friends with the kid.
We ate at a wings joint, then returned to the house. The kids joined Sunshine in the yard. The dog was delighted with the attention, running back and forth and demonstrating his talent for total-body-wag. Branden had the notion Sunshine remembered him from two years earlier. I didn't have the heart to tell him Sunshine acted like he remembered everyone, having never met a person who didn't give him affection.
Ray and I plopped into rockers on the patio, assuming the places we'd habitually taken for the last several months. It was too familiar, and I tried to keep from feeling comfortable.
"What's happening with Pyle?"
"We have him in custody, but his alibis check out. When Pyle's family was murdered, he was doing a side job across town. The people remember him because they saw his picture in the paper the next day. The press didn't print the time of the murder. They had no idea Pyle was with them when he was supposedly murdering and raping."
"Why'd he run?"
"He didn't know what happened at his house. He stopped to have a beer with his cousin on the way home and got waylaid fixing the sink. Then Pyle saw the news flash and recognized his house on clip. He knew from the report his family was dead, and he panicked. He figured that with his record the police had already convicted him in their minds. Pyle recognized me, but he took off anyway. He thought it was lose-lose for him with all that police firepower around."
"Where was Pyle when Dick was shot?"
"In Alabama with Amy Lynn Durant."
"Quick. From his wife to Amy Lynn before his wife was even cold in her grave."
"That's what I said, too, but he says his relationship with Amy is platonic, always has been. What I didn't know was Pyle's wife was from Parkview and was good friends with Amy Lynn. The wife divorced and moved to Montgomery. When the wife bumped into Pyle in Montgomery, they renewed their old acquaintance from Parkview."
"Did Pyle tell you the name of Amber's father?"
Ray raised one eyebrow, questioning.
"You said stepdaughter last night. Amber is his stepdaughter. He adopted her. The fact is she calls Pyle Poppy. She told me Daddy hurt her."
"How do you know all this?" He pointed an index finger at me.
"Naomi Edelstein told me. You can verify it with her. She said she told Dick, but I guess he never passed it on, or didn't focus on it at the time." I waited for Ray to jump all over me for having stuck my nose into his case, but he didn't pursue it. Maybe he believed I talked to Naomi some time ago, perhaps believing she visited Amber at the hospital.
"We had a problem reading some of Dick's notes, and he didn't put it in his report. No one had a clue the girl wasn't Pyle's kid." Ray shook his head. "Even the cousin didn't mention it. I'll talk to Edelstein before I leave tomorrow."
"Why are you going to Virginia?"
"I believe there's a connection. Ervin's hot to extradite Pyle for Elaine's murder, and I need to see the evidence. Pyle claims to have been in Alabama when Elaine died, though I've been unable to find anyone to corroborate that part of his story. I know Amy Lynn and Pyle were in Parkview when we were there the first time, but they could have easily made it to Montgomery before I made it back to Florida." He stopped. "But first I need to go to the jail and ask Pyle the name of the girl's father. If he'll tell me. He's not very trusting."
The kids and the dog burst onto the patio, and our conversation screeched to a halt. It was obvious Ray didn't want to talk about the case when the kids were listening, and I agreed. Instead, I asked if he minded if we drove to Orlando for the weekend. Kathleen was in the hospital, and I wanted to visit her. Then, I'd take Mikey and Ray's kids to one of the Disney parks. Ray thought it was a good idea and handed over a couple of hundred dollars for the expenses. I planned to grill Kathleen for information about Amber while I was there. She might know Amber's original last name.
Ray kissed his kids goodbye, kissed me on the cheek as if I was one of them, and left. The three of us might have stared at each other for an hour if Sunshine hadn't pestered Branden to play. They played. Kerri and I chatted.
I expected Kerri to continue with her third degree about nursing, and I made myself comfortable in the rocker, preparing to answer her questions, expecting them to be endless. I was wrong.
"Dad wants Branden and me to live with him, finish high school, and go to college here."
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. All my friends are in Parkview, what few I have anyway. But with all that's happened, I haven't heard much from them. They came to Mama's funeral. Then, after, they stayed away."
"Maybe they don't know what to say."
Kerri frowned. "I'm tainted. Back when Branden and I were little kids, Mama had a bad reputation. She tried to make it better, she really did, but when this all happened, people remembered the old stuff. I think my friends are embarrassed to be with me."
I touched Kerri's hand. "Your mother was murdered. She didn't ask that to happen. It's not a shame on her. It's a shame on the murderer."
"In a way, she did ask for it. She went out there at night with that Pyle guy. She knew he was a murderer. Chief Jake said she should have known better than to run off with Pyle."
"I'm not sure that's how it happened. Your dad is going to Virginia to try to figure it out, but Pyle didn't hurt his family here." When she raised her eyebrows in surprise, I decided I'd given her more information than her father wanted her to have. I steered the conversation back to her personal issue. "When the murderer is in custody and all of the facts come out, your friends will understand. Besides, they have to know you need them now more than ever."
She turned sideways in her chair and stared me right in the eyes. I waited, wondering what was coming next. "Why did you and Dad break up? If I'm going to live here, I wan
t to be able to see you, too."
"You can still see me. We can be friends, and I can help you with nursing school if you decide to go. Our relationship isn't dependent on your father."
"But why did you break up? I thought he loved you. He told me he loved you. He was going to marry you." Her eyes glistened. "I thought we might be a family. I'll be grown soon, but Branden needs a normal life, someone at home at night. Dad works all sorts of strange hours. Branden will find a bunch of crazies and get into trouble."
"You could be right about that. There are a lot more opportunities to get in trouble in South Florida than in a small town in Virginia."
"If you and Dad don't make up, maybe we'll go back to Virginia and live with my grandparents. They'll have us, and I don't want to leave Branden. I'm about all he has now—all he can be sure of anyway."
I tuned into her grief and her insecurity. She couldn't bargain for her mother's life, so she was bargaining for her own and her brother's—grieving the loss of her lifestyle and her home as well as her mother. I decided I could give her honesty, if nothing else.
"Kerri," I said, "I love your dad very much, but he won't have me anymore. I questioned his ethics and poked into his business. I made a lot of trouble for him. He isn't the kind of man who can live with a woman who doesn't trust him." I took a deep breath and exhaled, struggling to maintain my composure. "I found what I was looking for. Found out he's a good man. He hadn't lied to me—or to the police—or to you kids. But he believes I shouldn't have gone poking around. He's right. I'm sorry for what I did, but I can't undo it."
We sat in silence for a long time, each of us lost in our own private grief. Kerri broke the silence by ripping open and making public another wound. "Branden still believes Buddy Lee Pyle is his father."
Branden came through the screen door. "What did you go and tell her that for?" His voice cracked, reaching high C.
I leaned forward in the rocker. "Do you think it matters who your biological father is?"
Branden said, "Sure it does? It matters to my dad. Otherwise, why'd he leave right after I was born? He left because of me. So he wouldn't be reminded every day that Mama cheated on him."
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