by Beverly Long
“Is Gabe having trouble figuring out his life?” he asked finally.
“I have no idea.” She realized her voice had gotten a little louder when the dog raised its head again. “Sorry,” she mumbled in the dog’s direction. “I thought we’d sort of figured our lives out together. And that we’d continue doing that for the next thirty or forty years.”
“If you think something is going on, then why don’t you talk to him about it?”
“I’m working up to it.” Rena sipped her coffee. “Let’s talk business. It’s easier.”
“Okay. Who stays here with Tess?” A.L. asked.
“I can,” Rena said.
“I can, as well,” A.L. said. “And she doesn’t seem to have a preference.”
“Agree,” Rena said. “You were kind of hard on her last night. But I think it broke the ice, so it was probably a good thing.”
“Yeah. McKittridge charm.”
Rena tilted her chin down. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re charming?”
“I think my mother did. The year I was six and didn’t have any front teeth.”
“You should probably let that go.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I think it is going to have to be me who stays.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to talk to Marie Wallace again, ask her about her volunteer work with BHP. Ask her if she ever circulated a petition for the Gizer Hotel. And if I ask all those questions and you’re not there, I don’t think it’s going to go well. She clearly felt more comfortable with you. You’ll get more out of her.”
He was probably right. “It’s Sunday, which means church. Given that she’s the secretary, I imagine she attends services. I’ll leave after breakfast.” She heard a bedroom door open and close, and Tabitha, who’d seemed to be sleeping, shot up like a rocket and ran down the hallway. Now that was loyalty.
Maybe she should get a dog.
“Good morning,” Tess said, walking into the kitchen. She was holding Tabitha, who was busy trying to lick her face. She set the dog down so that she could pour a cup of coffee. “I’m glad you helped yourself. I’m usually up pretty early, but for some reason, I slept better last night than I have for weeks.”
That was good. Maybe. They were going to need her to be alert. But it could also be bad. Maybe Tess was looking forward to next Friday because in some crazy way she saw it as a way out of her miserable life. Ugh. Every minute this got tougher. “A.L. and I were discussing who would stay. It’s going to be him.” She watched to make sure that Tess didn’t show any negative reaction to having a man staying in the house with her.
“Fine,” Tess said. “You’re not bad in the kitchen,” she added, looking at A.L.
“Wait until you see what I can do with bacon.”
“I don’t have any bacon.”
“We’ll have to fix that situation,” he said.
Tess smiled. “I had bacon ice cream last year when I was in California. It was actually pretty good. That could have made a bucket list item.”
“Enough with the bucket list,” A.L. said.
“I’m going to make one. A list. Today.”
It was something to keep her mind occupied, Rena thought. And maybe keep her out of A.L.’s hair, and vice versa. And if the things on the bucket list encompassed decades, that would be a good sign. “If there’s no bacon, what is it that you normally eat for breakfast?” Rena asked.
“Yogurt. Fruit. Granola.”
“Toast?” A.L. asked, his tone hopeful.
“There’s bread,” she said.
“I’ll probably survive,” he said, looking at Rena.
Twenty minutes later, they were all fed and A.L. and Rena were standing next to their SUV. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said.
“Same for you.”
“You think the two of you will do okay?” Rena asked.
“We’ll be fine. We don’t have to be friends. I just need to make sure she doesn’t lose her shit.”
“I don’t think she’s going to,” Rena said. “You know, I think we could have done a lot worse. All in all, this has been a rather pleasant surprise.”
A.L. nodded. He wasn’t as confident. Maybe it was his experience with Liz and her various relapses. One day she’d be striding forward with big, sure steps, and the next she’d be huddled in a corner, her hair matted and her clothes filthy, unable to remember how she’d gotten there. “I’ll make sure she gets back to Baywood.”
* * *
Rena slipped into the back of the church just as services were starting. Pastor Rife was at the podium leading the congregation in prayer. The church was almost full.
She and Gabe didn’t belong to a church. She knew that irritated the rest of Gabe’s family, because they filled a pew at the Catholic church every Sunday. But to their credit, they rarely mentioned it, with the exception that on Christmas and Easter she and Gabe were expected to put in an appearance. Chreasters. That’s what Gabe called it. But neither of them wanted to disappoint his parents, so they went.
She glanced around, looking for Marie. Found her at the far end of the fifth pew from the front. There was somebody to her right, but there was just enough distance between them that Rena didn’t think they were together.
Pastor Rife had a nice voice and kept his sermon to fifteen minutes. There was guitar music and a small choir that was pretty good. It certainly wasn’t the worst way to spend time. When it was over, she watched to see what direction Marie headed in and caught up with her as she exited one of the side doors.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Rena asked.
Marie pulled back in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying the service,” Rena said. “You know, after we spoke with you last week, we had an opportunity to talk to Pastor Rife.”
“He mentioned that.”
Rena figured he had. “And I got to wondering about his services and thought this would be a good opportunity to check it out. Now that I’m here, would you have just another minute that you could talk to me?”
“Where’s your partner?”
“Busy,” Rena said. “Doing whatever he does when he’s not working.” They were outside now. “Where’s your car?”
“I walked. It’s such a lovely morning.”
“Great. I’ll walk back with you.”
“All right,” Marie said, not sounding too happy.
Rena waited until they were a block from the church and had separated themselves from everyone else. “You volunteer with Baywood Historic Preservation, don’t you?”
“Is that a crime? To volunteer?”
Like most of Marie’s responses, this was weird, if not purposely antagonistic. “No, of course not. I volunteer with a couple organizations myself,” she said, trying to calm the waters. It was true. Hers mostly involved kids, but if historic buildings were your thing, go for it. “So many good causes out there. What made you pick Baywood Historic Preservation?”
“I don’t remember.”
That raised the hair on the back on Rena’s neck. Marie had started volunteering within the last year. There should have been something that prompted that action. “I’ve heard that organization does some good work,” she said, trying another angle.
“Was that a question?” Marie asked.
“Nope. Just making conversation. Were you aware that one of their recent projects was to save the Gizer Hotel?”
“I’d heard that,” Marie said.
“Great old building, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
Marie was an onion that didn’t want to get peeled. That was too goddamned bad. “We reviewed a listing of volunteers for Baywood Historic Preservation. You signed up as Marie Devine.”
Marie missed a step, almost tripping on an uneven piece of sidewalk. “I d
on’t think that’s possible.”
“I saw it myself,” Rena said.
Marie shrugged. “That’s very odd. I don’t know why I would do that.”
Very true. She couldn’t imagine suddenly reverting to her maiden name. It would be one thing if Marie had used both—say, one in her personal life and one in business. But that hadn’t been the case. Just didn’t make sense. “So you can’t think of any reason why you would do that?”
Marie shook her head. Score one for the onion.
“When is Jane Picus’s funeral?” Rena asked, trying another tactic.
“On Tuesday. Visitation at ten, services at eleven-thirty.”
“How’s Terry Picus doing?”
“I guess okay. Pastor Rife has had most of the conversations with him.”
That seemed odd. Since Jane had been her friend. But maybe that was how it worked at the church. Maybe Pastor Rife liked having his hands in the details. She thought of what the pastor had said about Marie, that she was normally very pleasant. Thought of what Violet had said, that Marie had seemed happier since meeting a new guy. She didn’t want to burn Violet by letting Marie know the source of her information, but she was curious about Marie’s personal life. Maybe there was another way.
“Marie, Detective McKittridge happened to mention that you used to live in the big colonial outside of town. Such a great house.”
“I loved it,” Marie said. “But when I got divorced, it had to be sold.”
“That’s tough stuff,” Rena said. She knew the apartments that Marie lived in now and guessed that they were less than five minutes away. She suspected that Marie wasn’t going to invite her in. “I’ve got a friend who got divorced a couple years ago. She’s recently started dating again and has found a nice guy. How about you? Found anyone special yet?”
“I...uh...have dated a little. No one serious.”
Rena suspected that Violet’s information was accurate and wondered why Marie would feel compelled to hide it.
Rena stopped walking. “Well, it was nice chatting with you, Marie. Have a good day.”
“Yes. You, too.”
* * *
A.L. called Rena midafternoon. “How did your conversation with Marie Wallace go?”
“It was fine. With the exception that I think she lied to me.”
“Because?”
“Because I found a way to ask her if she was dating again, and she basically denied it, said she had but nothing serious. That doesn’t match up to what Violet said.”
“Maybe he’s married.”
“I thought of that. And that’s a legitimate reason to want to keep it a secret. But again, Marie did spill her guts to Violet.”
“But we’re the police. More authority.”
“I know. There’s a thousand explanations why she might not be forthcoming, so I’m trying not to read too much into it. But also, she had absolutely no explanation for using her maiden name of Devine when she signed up to volunteer at BHP. I just don’t know what to make of her. Anyway, how’s your day going?”
“Tess is pretty much ignoring the fact that I’m here. She sat on the back porch most of the day.”
“Drinking wine?”
“No. Coffee and water. I got the feeling she needed some space so I watched the Brewers game on television.” He rarely had time to just sit and do nothing so it had seemed a little odd. But not bad. “I suppose Gabe is happy that you didn’t draw housesitting duty.”
“I haven’t told him yet,” Rena said.
She’d had a two-hour drive back to Baywood, and she’d been there for more than six hours. In eight hours, she hadn’t had time for a text or a quick phone call. “You know the rule. Don’t go to bed mad.”
“I’m not mad,” she said. “And I won’t be going to bed for hours.”
“Now who’s being deliberately obtuse?” A.L. asked. He kept his tone light, but he was serious. He did not want his friend to have marriage trouble.
“Rena the obtuse,” she said. “I like it.” Then she hung up.
Shaking his head, he dialed Jacqui. He didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone, but he’d told Traci that he was going to talk to Jacqui about Golf Course John on Sunday. It was Sunday, and he’d didn’t want to not follow through. Jacqui needed to be on her toes and make sure that Traci, who was a good kid and all that, didn’t do something stupid.
“Hi, A.L.,” Jacqui said.
He could hear noise in the background. “Where are you?”
“At a baseball game,” Jacqui said, sounding annoyed. “Craig coaches varsity boys.”
Jacqui must really like him if she was willing to sit on bleachers on a Sunday afternoon when her kid wasn’t even playing. “Listen, do you have a minute? It’s about Traci.”
“Hang on,” she said.
He waited. A minute or two later, she was back. The background noise had faded.
“Okay, I can talk now. What’s up?”
A.L. told her about meeting Golf Course John and about confronting Traci. He finished with, “I told her it had to stop. That she’s too young.”
“Oh my God, of course she’s too young. I can’t believe this. What the hell else is she lying to us about?”
He thought about the rum and Coke and the skipped class. But he’d promised Traci. This was why parenting was the hardest job of all. You were damned if you did and damned if you didn’t. “I think she’s a good kid, Jacqui. And a lot of that credit goes to you.” It was true. Whatever kind of wife Jacqui had been, she’d always been an excellent mom. “She’s got good judgment. I actually think this guy is pretty decent. He’s simply too old.”
“So the boy she’s going to prom with? What’s the story there?”
“I asked that question. Just friends.”
“I’ve got half a mind to tell her that she’s grounded and can’t go.”
“It’s prom,” he said.
“I know that,” Jacqui snapped. “It’s just... I don’t want her to be stupid. To get caught by something stupid.”
Like she had been. By a surprise pregnancy.
“I know,” he said. “And that’s why we just have to keep talking to her. Keep the dialogue going. Make it easy for her to come to us.”
“I’m going to have a talk with her, all right. A big talk. But I won’t ground her. Unless she’s a little shit about what I have to say.”
He smiled. “Fair enough. I just wanted to make sure that we were on the same page. Enjoy the game.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Out of town,” he said. “Working.”
“Right. Well, it’s looking stormy in Baywood. I’m hoping for lightning. They’ll call the game.”
Nineteen
Monday, May 16, Day 6
He and Tess had coffee together and then he made some scrambled eggs and toast for them for breakfast. She’d drifted off to sit in front of the television and, for the last hour, had been scribbling in a spiral-bound notebook. Suddenly, she closed it. “I’m going to take the dog for a walk.”
A.L. flipped the television off. He’d had more than enough of the morning talk shows, anyway. Why the fuck the politicians simply couldn’t get something done confounded him.
“You don’t need to come,” she said.
“You go, I go. Plus, I could use the exercise. I’m not used to sitting around.”
“Tabitha is a sniffer. You may not get your heart rate up.”
A.L. shrugged. “The sun is out and the air is warm. I think I’m okay.”
He grabbed the key that was hanging on a hook beside the front door. He made sure it was for the front door before slipping it into his pocket. He opened the door and flipped the lock, which was worth nothing in terms of safety, but it was there and he couldn’t bring himself not to use it. They walked outsid
e, and A.L. shut the door.
Tabitha was pulling at her leash, anxious to get going. But after a quarter of a mile, he understood what Tess had said about the dog being a sniffer. She was fascinated by everything and it was slow progress. “How long have you had the dog?”
“She’s four. I got her as a puppy. I was grateful to have her once my daughter left for college. My house was kind of quiet.” They walked a bit farther. “You said you have a daughter.”
“Yeah. She lives with my ex-wife in Baywood. I get to see her a lot.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Divorce is hard on kids.” She stopped to let Tabitha inspect something that looked like wild violets. “Hard on adults, too. You know, that’s why I learned to surf.”
“Because you got divorced?” A.L. asked.
“Because my ex-husband always told me that I’d never be able to do it.” She smiled at A.L. “He’d surfed in college and thought he was so damn cool because of it.”
“So you showed him,” A.L. said.
“Right,” Tess said. “To this day, he’s said nothing about the shark attack. Not one word. Didn’t even send a damn card when I was in the hospital.”
“Maybe he feels guilty. Probably knows that he had something to do with your decision to try it.”
They walked in silence for about a quarter of a mile. “I really hate that, in the end, he’s right.”
It took A.L. a minute. “You got attacked by a shark. I don’t believe that speaks to your surfing ability.”
She shook her head. “No. He’s right about the fact that I won’t be able to do it. It’s hard to have to give up something that you love.”
“You don’t feel safe going back in the water?” A.L. asked.
“It’s not that. Surfing requires incredible balance. Mine has been compromised.”
“I think I’ve read stories where other surfers, maybe even professional ones, lost limbs but got back on a surfboard.”
“That’s true. But they were younger, already very accomplished. I’m a visit-the-ocean-a-couple-times-a-year kind of gal. It won’t happen for me.” She gently tightened Tabitha’s leash to get her moving. “I lived for those vacations,” she added, sounding wistful.