The Decorator Who Knew Too Much

by Diane Vallere

  “What about the other guy?” she asked unexpectedly. “The cop?”

  A low-level hum rattled my body at the mention of Tex. A year ago, when I thought romance wasn’t going to be a factor in my life, I’d discovered an attraction to not one but two men. Because of similar interests and compatibility, Hudson was the one I chose. If I hadn’t wanted to talk about the nightmares, then I really didn’t want to admit that sometimes in my nightmares, Tex was the face of the man I’d killed. I suspected a therapist would have plenty to say about that.

  “Tex? I mean, Lieutenant Allen?” She nodded. “What about him?”

  “Have you ever talked to him about the nightmares? In his line of work, I imagine he’s had to figure out a way to deal with stress. Maybe he’d understand.”

  I relaxed slightly. “Maybe he would.” I didn’t add that I hadn’t talked to Tex since then. Having made my choice between the two men, it felt somehow wrong to seek out the connection that Tex and I had, like an acknowledgement that there was something missing from my relationship with Hudson. The truth was, Tex was the last person I thought I’d miss, but I did.

  The kitchen grew silent as Emma put away the signs of breakfast. I declined her offer of eggs and ate a bowl of cereal instead. When I was finished, I packed a few essentials into a small yellow bag with a synthetic Gerbera daisy affixed to the front and draped it across my lime green short-sleeved top and white pedal pushers printed with pineapples (Butterick 8989). I pulled on a white straw hat with multicolored tassels, slipped my feet into a pair of yellow canvas sneakers, and eased a pair of white-framed sunglasses onto my head.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind loaning me your bike?”

  “Not at all. I bought it years ago and it mostly sits around in the garage. Jimmy will be happy to see it getting some use.”

  “Where is the job site?” I asked.

  “Head like you’re going back to the airport. They’re working out by the tip of Whitewater River. Here,” she said, and pushed a sheet of paper toward me. “Jimmy wrote directions for you.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder how you managed to stay out of this project.”

  “The idea of working outside in this temperature is crazy. I don’t know how they talked you into it in the first place.”

  I shrugged. “It sounded like fun,” I said.

  She put both hands up palm side out. “I wouldn’t have said yes, but that’s me.”

  I slipped on my sunglasses, gave Rocky a talk about playing nice with Heather, Mortiboy, and Emma, and left. The bike was a nice change from sitting in a car, but I was particularly cautious thanks to the unfamiliar streets and yesterday’s accident. Soon enough, I passed signs announcing Whitewater River. I approached a public lot and swung the bike up to a rack next to a copper statue of a cactus plant. The lot was half full, though I didn’t see any people milling about.

  In front of me was a sand-covered path that led to a small wooden pier. A map near the copper cactus pictured the entirety of Whitewater River, making it clear that 90 percent of it was to my left. The pier jutted out over a narrow body of water and was empty except for an army-issue duffle bag that sat to the side next to an abandoned Starbucks cup. I walked down the pier and looked around for signs of Hudson or Jimmy or anybody else. As I reached the end, their voices carried across the water to me. I spotted them standing on the other side.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out Hudson’s name. He looked away from the group, but didn’t see me right away. I took my hat off and waved it back and forth over my head. The gesture caught his attention, but not before my hat slipped from my fingers and sailed into the river.

  I stooped down below the railing and stretched my arm forward, trying to grab the hat. The current slowly brought it closer to me. When it was within reach, I kept one hand on the wooden rail and tried to grab it.

  That’s when I saw a pale white face staring up at me from underneath the surface of the water.

  FOUR

  I screamed. I scrambled backward on the pier, the soles of my sneakers pushing off against the base of the railing. My hat floated past and continued its journey downstream. My cell phone rang. I pulled it out and answered.

  “What happened?” Hudson asked. I looked across the river. Already the group of men had broken up. The bridge was to my left, and commuter traffic was heavy. They would have made better time if they’d had a boat.

  “There’s a body below the surface of the water,” I said. “A man. I’m going to call 911.”

  “After last night, your mind might be playing tricks on you.” He paused. “I’ll be right there.”

  The hesitation in his voice troubled me more than I cared to admit, but the idea that I’d imagined what I saw was worse. I stood up and crept to the edge of the pier and looked into the water a second time. It took several seconds of scanning the surface before I made out the movement of human hair waving gently beneath the surface.

  I hadn’t imagined it.

  “911, please state your name and emergency,” said a female voice thick with a Spanish accent.

  “My name is Madison Night. I’m at Whitewater River on the pier next to the copper cactus statue. There’s a man in the water. I think he’s dead. His face is bloated and he’s below the surface. He hasn’t floated up so I think he’s tied to something.”

  I heard her fingers clicking on a keyboard. “Do you know the identity of this man?” she asked.

  “No. I’m from out of town.”

  “Are you in immediate danger?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “At the moment, yes, but my group is headed this way.”

  “Where were they?”

  “On the other side of the river.”

  “Please remain where you are, ma’am. I’m sending the police.”

  I moved from the pier to the base of the cactus statue. If the temperature was high, I didn’t notice. I stared out across the parking lot at the scattering of cars, focusing on the bucolic scene and not the memory of the face in the water. By the time I’d taken inventory of the cars in the lot, Hudson and Jimmy’s truck pulled in. Hudson jumped out as the sound of sirens filled the air.

  “After I hung up, I looked again. I didn’t imagine it. There’s a man in the water and he’s dead.”

  “Come here,” he said. He opened his arms and I stepped into them. “I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

  I rested my head against his black T-shirt and felt myself start to shake. His arms tightened around me. A black and white SUV with “Palm Springs Police” painted on the side in bright blue letters parked next to the Jeep. The officer, a black man in a uniform, climbed out of the driver’s side. His partner, a short but compact white man with a shaved head, climbed out of the passenger side. They headed toward me. “Madison Night?” the black officer asked.

  I pulled away from Hudson. “That’s me.”

  “Officer Buchanan,” he said. “This is Officer Truman.” I shook Buchanan’s hand first and then Truman’s. Buchanan put his hands on his belt, jostling the equipment that hung from it. “Can you show us what you saw?” he asked.

  I walked them down the pier toward the spot where I’d seen the body. The sun was approaching its apex, and a bright shimmery glare hit the surface of the water, making it difficult to see into the depth. I pointed. “Right there is where I saw him,” I said. “He’s under the water. His hair is long enough to float around.”

  “I don’t see anything,” Officer Truman said. His mirrored sunglasses made it difficult to tell where he was looking, but I sensed he was looking directly at me.

  “I think he’s caught on something,” I said.

  “You think he’s caught on something,” Officer Buchanan repeated slowly. “Why do you think this, Ms. Night?”

  “His head rose up to
just below the surface but then disappeared. If he wasn’t caught, his whole body would float up, wouldn’t it?”

  “Are you a doctor? Medical examiner? Do you have experience with dead bodies?”

  I didn’t think it was the time to acknowledge the answer to one out of his three questions was yes. “I’m a decorator. I’m here from Texas on a job. My team came here earlier today and I was meeting up with them. They were on the other side of the river and I was trying to get their attention by waving my hat. I dropped the hat and it landed in the water. I saw the body when I was trying to get it back.”

  The two officers looked at each other. I stood back from the end of the pier and pointed to the abandoned duffle bag. “What about that?” I asked. “It was here when I got here. Maybe there’s identification inside. Maybe it belongs to the body.”

  “There is no body,” Buchanan said. Truman stooped next to the duffle bag and used a pen to lift one of the handles and look inside.

  “There is a body. I saw it.”

  “Not much we can do until we see it,” Buchanan said. “Can you show me again where you saw this body?”

  “Over here.” I led him back to the railing where I’d waved to Hudson and pointed down into the water. “I know this is an unusual call, but trust me, Officer, I know what I saw.”

  Hudson and Jimmy approached. Hudson held a long silver pole with a net on the end of it. Jimmy had his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes diverted. He was embarrassed by me. I’d been in his town for less than a day and between the accident, the nightmares, and now this, I’d already been involved in three separate dramas. Any first impressions I might have made would be impossible to overcome.

  “I know this isn’t standard equipment, but Jimmy had this in the truck and we thought maybe you could send it down in the water. If there’s something there, you’ll find it. If not, you won’t.”

  “Who are you?” Buchanan asked.

  “Hudson James. Jimmy’s brother-in-law.”

  “Do you know this woman?” he asked, and tipped his head toward me.

  Hudson nodded. “She’s part of our team,” he said.

  Buchanan looked across our faces. “What kind of team? What are you doing here?”

  Jimmy spoke up. “We’re a construction crew. I bought the land out by the quarry and we’re going to build a strip mall. These two just came in from out of town, so we’re meeting today to get them up to speed on the plans and schedules.”

  Buchanan seemed to accept that as a positive endorsement of my character. He took the pole from Hudson and handed it to Truman. “You want to give it a try?”

  “Sure. Might come up with some bass.” The two officers laughed.

  My stomach turned with the casual way the officers were treating the situation. I knew what they’d find when they put the pole into the water. I turned away from the scene and faced Hudson. “Does anybody mind if I sit in the truck?”

  “Just don’t leave,” Buchanan said.

  I left the pier and passed a shiny dark blue Chevy Avalanche with a parking ticket under the windshield wiper. The vehicle was part SUV and part pickup truck. I looked around the rest of the lot and spotted at least six additional SUVs, all of similar body type, all in various states of cleanliness.

  My mind was playing tricks on me. It had been a long time since I’d had a vacation—too long. Part of the reason I’d agreed to this trip with Hudson was because I thought a break from Dallas would be a good thing. I needed to relax and learn to let go of the memories that haunted me.

  Hudson joined me. “Want some company?” he asked.

  “Please,” I said. “I don’t think I’m going to be too popular with Jimmy after today.”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  We sat in the bed of the truck in silence and watched the officers search the area. At first the search was limited to the pier and the water. Soon they were joined by additional vehicles and additional officers, some in uniform, some in wetsuits. Jimmy grew impatient, eventually sending his crew home. Hudson and I remained in the lot. Several hours passed. No body was found.

  “I didn’t make it up.”

  “I know you didn’t. But without a body, there’s not a whole lot they can do.” He reached a hand up and stroked my hair. “Do you want to go back to the house? You had a rough night. Maybe we should call it quits.”

  “No. You said it yourself, I’m part of the team. I came here to work. I don’t want Jimmy or anybody else to think that I’m going to be more of a problem than a help.”

  “Nobody’s judging you.”

  I moved Hudson’s hand from my hair and squeezed it. “Not true. I’m judging me and right now I don’t like the verdict.” I smiled. “Give me five minutes to apply a second coat of sunscreen and I’ll be good to go.”

  Eight hours later, after the officers had searched the lakeside grounds and a dive team had searched the river, Officer Buchanan came over and gave us the news. It appeared as though my imagination had cost the city of Palm Springs a bundle of money, and Jimmy had lost an entire day of work. Hudson loaded Emma’s bike into the back of Jimmy’s truck and we climbed in. As we pulled away from the parking lot, I couldn’t help noticing the dark blue Avalanche with the parking ticket was the only vehicle left in the lot.

  FIVE

  It was a quiet drive. I stared out the window, wondering if we’d all end up sitting around the grill again, this time talking about my wild story. I doubted it. While last night felt like a bonding evening of shared stories around the adult-version of a campfire, today felt different. Jimmy’s attitude toward me had changed from friendly to something more distant. These people didn’t know me; they didn’t know that it wasn’t in my nature to make things up or to seek out the spotlight for dramatic effect. I’d been in their town for all of twenty-four hours and the way he’d see it was that I’d cost him valuable time. First the nightmare and now the face in the water. I’d lost all credibility. Would Tex have believed me? Did it matter?

  “Let’s go out to dinner tonight,” Hudson said.

  “Fine with me,” I said. “I hope Emma didn’t go to any trouble. We should have said something before we left.”

  “I meant just us.” He glanced at me. “After all, this is supposed to be part vacation.”

  “You mean give Jimmy and Emma the night without us so he can tell her all about what happened today.”

  “You closed Mad for Mod for a couple of weeks, right?”

  “Right. Two-week closure.”

  “Two weeks is a lot of time to spend together while we’re here. I think maybe it’s good to establish that it’s not going to be the four of us twenty-four seven. We’ll be working with Jimmy during the day and sleeping at his and Emma’s house at night. You know what they say about fish and visitors. If we don’t take the opportunity to go our own way every now and then, it’s going to get really tiresome really fast.”

  Hudson used sound logic to counter my suspicion, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d gotten us off on the wrong foot and would have to be conscious of damage control.

  “Dinner out sounds nice,” I said. “But let’s find a place that lets us eat outside, okay? One that has water misters so it doesn’t feel so hot and dry. I’d like to take Rocky with us.”

  “You got it.”

  Any awkwardness I expected to feel after Jimmy told Emma about the events of the day was avoided by the fact that Emma wasn’t home. Jimmy went straight to the kitchen and helped himself to a beer. Mortiboy was on the sofa. He jumped up and walked over to Hudson, who scooped him up and scratched his ears.

  Jimmy held up his bottle. “You want one?” he asked Hudson.

  “No, Madison and I are going to get cleaned up and go out to dinner. You don’t mind, right?”

  “Nope. Emma’s out shopping for curtains or something. I don’t know when she�
�ll be home. If you’re going out, I’ll order a pizza.”

  “Where’s Heather?” Hudson asked.

  “Where’s Rocky?” I asked.

  Jimmy looked back and forth between us. “Heather was acting up because she couldn’t find her stuffed rabbit. The only way to get her to calm down was to let her spend the night at the neighbor’s house. Your dog is in your room. I checked on him when I came home.”

  I excused myself and went to change. Rocky jumped down from the center of the comforter and ran to me, hopping up on his hind legs in his own not-so-subtle quest for attention.

  “Hey, Rocky,” I said. I eased myself down to the carpet and accepted his puppy kisses. “Do you want to get out of this house tonight?” I asked. “Do you want to go exploring Palm Springs? Maybe Hudson will take us to Frank Sinatra’s house. Or Elvis! Do you want to go see where Elvis used to live? Do you?”

  Rocky hopped around and yipped as though seeing where Elvis used to live was the greatest suggestion in the world.

  When Hudson told me about the job in Palm Springs, it didn’t take me long to accept. Palm Springs was a cornerstone of mid-century design, having the highest concentration per capita in the world. The visitor’s center sold maps for five dollars that detailed the residences of famous players from the fifties and sixties. I’d added a few additional sights that I wanted to see to my list and programmed them into my phone’s GPS. Our days might be spent working on redeveloping the properties that Jimmy had purchased, but our early mornings and nights would be dedicated to the preserved history, flea markets, and thrift shops around town.

  I tucked my hair under a pink-and-white-striped shower cap and hopped under a cool spray to revive myself. I dressed in a soft yellow eyelet dress that was fitted over the bodice and spilled out into a full skirt over flat silver sandals that showed off my lilac pedicure. It had been a splurge prior to leaving, and the technician had talked me into having tiny yellow and white daisies painted onto my toenails. I clipped a pair of vintage daisy earrings onto my ears and freshened up my makeup with a dusting of powder and a fresh coat of sheer pink lip gloss. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Hudson stood in front of me in his jeans and nothing else.