Rhythm & Clues

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  “Why aren’t you at work?” he asked, the observant retired cop in him coming to the surface. He knew I usually worked Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. If my memory served me, today was Wednesday. “Are you sick?”

  From the casual question, I was pretty sure he didn’t know yet about the family crime spree. “No, but Steele gave me today off.” I paused, thinking I should have told him I was a little under the weather. It would have been less suspicious than Steele giving me a day off. “I had a bunch of personal errands to take care of, and we aren’t that busy at the office right now. What’s up?”

  “Have you talked to Mom yet today?”

  “Yes,” I answered truthfully. My brain kicked to full alert. “Earlier. Why?”

  “Just that I’m having trouble reaching her. I’ve been trying both the landline and her cell phone.”

  “You know Mom. Sometimes she just wants to be left alone. She was fine when I spoke to her. Is there anything the matter?”

  He hemmed and hawed, a sure sign he was bothered by something. “I got a call from my ex-wife a little bit ago. Seems Lorraine and Elliot had a big fight, and Lorraine has taken off. Elliot thought she was heading for California. She’s not answering her phone either. Lorraine has always had a special relationship with Mom, so I wanted to see if she showed up there.”

  I pushed my face back into my pillow and let loose with a strangled scream. There was no easy way around this. I might fib once in a while to Clark about some things, but about his daughter, there was no way.

  “You okay, sis?” I heard him call from the phone.

  I put the phone back to my ear, resigned to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, even if it did mean Clark was going to go ballistic. I craned my neck to make sure the door that separated the master suite from the rest of the house was shut tight. “Don’t worry, Clark, Lorraine is here with me. She arrived in California last night.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something when Greg and I called you? Her mother and I have been very worried.” Through the phone I could hear his blood pressure jiggling like a nervous tic, threatening to rise.

  “Because I didn’t know she was here then. She went straight to Mom’s. Now she’s here with me.” I paused, took a deep breath, then tacked on for good measure, “Mom’s here too. We’re all at my house.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line—long, swollen, and sore, like a boil about to erupt. “So why didn’t you tell me that when I first said something about trying to reach Mom?” he asked, his words measured and barely restrained.

  “Because I was dreaming about ice cream?” I suggested. Yes, it was a lame answer, but it was all I had at the moment.

  “What in the hell are you not telling me, Odelia? What is going on out there?”

  I took a deep breath. “Why don’t you sit down, Clark. I have a lot to tell you.”

  “I was sitting until you started lying! Now start talking.”

  I told my brother everything from the time I got the call from Mom right up until I brought Lorraine and Mom back to my place. When I was done, there was an even longer silence from Clark’s end than before. I began to worry that he’d had a stroke. “Clark? You still there?” When I heard heavy breathing on the other end, I took a breath of relief.

  “I’m grabbing the first plane out,” Clark announced. “The three of you are to remain in that house until I get there. Do. You. Understand?”

  Considering that Phoenix was a very short plane ride, with frequent flights to Southern California, I calculated that Clark would show up too late for lunch but in plenty of time for supper. “I understand, but you know Mom.”

  “I don’t care if you have to hogtie the woman, Odelia. Keep her there—and Lorraine. I’ll call Andrea Fehring and see if there’s anything new on the case.”

  “Don’t tell Greg about this, okay?”

  “Of course I’m going to tell him. He’s staying with me, and he should know.”

  “But it wasn’t me that found the body, and I don’t want him to come charging back home for no reason.” I took a deep breath before I snapped at him and made him angrier. “Look, Clark, tell Greg what happened, but let him know I had nothing to do with it and that you’ll be here handling it. He’s been looking forward to this trip, and I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

  More dead air, then Clark finally said, “Okay, I’ll convince him I’ve got this. You weren’t involved, were you? It will be an easier sell if you weren’t.”

  “No, Clark, I wasn’t. I just went to the police station when Mom called. Like I told you and Greg, all I was doing for her was checking out information about Shankleman on the web. It wasn’t me climbing through that window.”

  “Not that you haven’t done such stupid things and worse,” he growled. “Put my daughter on the phone. If she won’t answer her damn phone, I’ll go through you.”

  Now it was my turn to pause before speaking. “Clark, the three of us were up all night and didn’t finally get to bed until just about an hour ago. I really don’t want to wake Lorraine just so you can yell at her.”

  “Dammit,” he yelled, “I’m not going to yell at her!”

  “How about I have her call you when she wakes up,” I suggested. “You and her mother.”

  “I might be on a plane by then,” he countered.

  “Then you’ll see her when you get here.” I was determined to stand my ground. “Between her breakup with Elliot and this, Lorraine has been through a lot in a very short time. Let her rest before you come at her like a charging bull.”

  I expected him to bellow again, but he didn’t. After another pause, he simply said, “Have her call her mother as soon as she wakes up. I’ll call now and let her know that Lorraine has been found and will be calling. It will give her some comfort. I’ll text you when I know my flight number and time.”

  “Are you going to tell Lorraine’s mother about the police and the body?”

  Instead of yelling, Clark barked out a short laugh, somewhere between a chuckle and a cough. “Not on your life, sis. I’ll leave that dirty deed up to Lorraine. Frankly, I don’t care if she does tell her. Lorraine’s an adult.”

  Huh. That wasn’t Clark’s opinion on what he should know or not know, but I kept my mouth shut on that subject.

  Before he hung up, Clark let out a string of swear words that scorched the air waves. They were said half under his breath, and I don’t think they were meant to be aimed at anyone in particular—at least I hope not.

  I couldn’t go back to sleep after Clark’s call, so after using the bathroom I decided to head to the kitchen and see what I could put together for dinner. I had planned on finishing up some skimpy leftovers tonight, but that was before dinner went from a party of one in front of the TV to a family gathering.

  I was shocked to see my mother seated at the dining table reading. Wainwright was resting on his big bed located where the kitchen and dining area bled into the great room; he had a full view of both. Muffin was curled up on the kitchen chair closest to Mom. When I realized what Mom was reading, I wasn’t happy at all. Spread across the table were the printouts of my research on Boaz Shankleman and Acid Storm. I had been reading them last night and left them on the coffee table when I went to bed. In all the hubbub, I’d forgotten they were still out in the open.

  “Boy,” Mom said, looking up at me, “that Cydney Fox really caused a major ruckus back then, didn’t she?”

  “What are you doing up, Mom?” I asked, stopping at the table, hands on my hips. “You need to get your rest.”

  “I slept a little, but my inner clock is all whacky. Not to mention, I drank a gallon of coffee at the police station. I thought a cup of herbal tea might help.” She put her eyes back on the paperwork. “I checked on Lorraine. The poor kid is totally zonked out.”

  “Good.” I continue
d on to the kitchen, which was separated from the dining area by a short, low counter. I knew that scolding my mother for reading through the papers I left in full view in the living room would fall on deaf ears. Since it was about Shankleman, she’d consider herself part owner.

  I opened the fridge. It was slim pickings. There were things in the freezer I could pull out and thaw, but I didn’t really feel like cooking on a hot summer day. We had a side-by-side refrigerator-freezer combination so it was easier for Greg to reach both. I stood in the coolness escaping from the freezer and considered the possibilities. Clark would be here for dinner, and he would be huffing and puffing about Mom and Lorraine. I also knew my big brother loved a good surf and turf on the grill. Greg was the real grill master in the family, but I could char a mean steak myself. Maybe a nice filet and some seafood would soothe the savage beast? And maybe if I put Clark in charge of the grill, it would give him something to do besides bellow about what had happened. However, that would mean a trip to the grocery store. I turned to look at Mom, who was soaking up the information she was reading, and wondered if I should tell her that Clark was coming or let it be a big surprise. Then I remembered that I’d promised to have Lorraine call her mother, so at some point I’d have to spill the beans that Clark had called. I closed the fridge door and took a seat at the table.

  “Mom, why haven’t you returned any of Clark’s calls? He just called me and said he couldn’t reach you. He’s also trying to reach Lorraine. Her mother is worried about her after speaking with Elliot.”

  She never looked up. “Is that who you were gabbing with just before you came out of the bedroom?”

  “Yes. I told Clark about last night. He’s about to hop a plane to come here.”

  That got Mom’s attention. “And that is exactly why I didn’t call him, Odelia. I don’t need Clark bitching and moaning about what happened. You shouldn’t have told him.”

  “He would have found out some way or another,” I said, getting a bit defensive. “He is friends with Andrea Fehring, you know.”

  Mom chuckled. “Don’t you think they’re more than friends by now?”

  Clark had voiced an interest in Fehring a while back, then seemed to drop it. I think she’s great, but given Clark’s ties to Willie Proctor, a romantic connection might be tricky for everyone.

  “I thought he’d dropped the idea about dating her,” I told Mom, “but I know they’re friends and go to dinner once in a while when he’s in town.”

  “If they’re sweet on each other,” Mom pointed out, “it could explain why she came to the station in the middle of the night to look after us.”

  “Or maybe she did it because she’s friends with all of us,” I suggested. “She’s been here many times in an unofficial capacity.” Mom didn’t say anything. Her tight-lipped smile spoke volumes. Then something odd scooted across my brain like a mouse scurrying across a kitchen floor. When Fehring saw me with Steele, she never asked about Greg. She didn’t seem at all curious about why he wasn’t with us. Did she already know he was out of town? Were Clark and Andrea Fehring closer that I thought, and she knew when she arrived at the station that Greg was with Clark in Arizona? I wrote question Clark about his relationship with Andrea Fehring on my mental to-do list.

  “Where did you get all this stuff?” Mom asked, referring to the printouts she was reading. Fortunately, the Marigold web address wasn’t present on any of the information.

  “It’s a research site I use for work,” I told her, only half lying. “I thought it might be helpful when we were looking for Shankleman.”

  She looked up at me and leaned back in her chair. “What do you mean were looking for him? We still are, Odelia. Unless you have him tucked in a closet somewhere.”

  “Mom,” I began, leaning forward. “You heard the police today. They are now looking for Shankleman. We’re to get our noses out of this and keep them out.”

  She picked up her mug. Taking a drink, she snorted into its depths. “Yeah, like that’s ever stopped us.”

  She was right, but for me this was over. I stood up. “Mom, if we’re to eat tonight, I need to run to the store. Can I trust you here with Lorraine?”

  “What do you mean by that remark?” she snapped, glancing up at me. “Are you afraid I’m going to drown her in your tub?”

  I slipped my feet into my espadrilles, which I’d left by the back slider. “Just stay put, okay? I need to run to the store to get some groceries.”

  “Okey dokey,” she answered, her eyes back to poring over the research information.

  ten

  When I returned almost ninety minutes later, I was relieved to see Mom’s car still in the carport. There had been a fifty-fifty chance that she’d be gone by the time I got back. I hadn’t planned to be gone so long, but Greg had called me just as I’d pulled into the grocery store parking lot and we’d talked for quite a while. Well, in reality, he talked, yelled, demanded, and ordered, and I listened, once in a while making attempts to calm him. In the end I’d worn him down, pointing out that we were fine, Clark was on his way here, and Greg’s annual trip was too important to interrupt. After all his fussing, Greg agreed to go on to Colorado while Clark babysat us.

  Wainwright greeted me as I made my way into the house, my arms laden with two heavy canvas bags of groceries. I heard people talking and stopped short when I recognized the voices. From the back door I could see most of our living room, all but a chunk to the left where the kitchen wall jutted out. I had correctly matched the names with the voices. On the sofa, prim and proper and not at all happy, sat Shelita Thomas. She stood up, hands on her hips, when she saw me.

  After putting the bags on the counter, I greeted her. “Shelita, what a surprise to see you here.” Frankly, I didn’t realize she knew where we lived, then remembered that our address, along with our phone number, was on Mom’s emergency card at Seaside. That damn Mona, I swore to myself, guessing she was the source of Shelita’s information. When this was all over, I was going to bring up to the owners of Seaside’s management company my concerns about Mona being a leaky pipe of confidential information.

  Without greeting me back, Shelita demanded, “Where’s my father?”

  “Your father?” I parroted. “I would imagine he’s home. He’s certainly not here.”

  “I tried telling her that I’ve been trying to reach Art, but he’s not answering,” Mom added.

  “It’s true,” I said to Shelita. “Mom has been trying to reach him. Have you gone by Seaside?”

  “Of course I have. I went as soon as Mona told me about what happened there last night.” Shelita glared at Mom as if she were a serial killer caught with blood dripping from her hands. “Dad’s not home. I assumed he was with Grace.”

  “Well, you assumed wrong,” I told her, trying to not let her anger fuel mine. “We were at the police station all night, then came here after stopping at Seaside to pick up some stuff. Mom is staying with me for a few days. Art was not one of the things she packed.”

  “Well, where is he?” She looked from me to Mom, then kept her eyes on Mom.

  “Believe me,” Mom told her, “I wish I knew. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning when Odelia came to visit. Was his car there? Maybe he took a ride down the coast to San Diego. He loves to do that.”

  “He does?” Shelita seemed surprised.

  “Yes. That man’s a driving fool,” Mom said, “especially in the summer. He often drives down to San Diego and visits the museums or walks around the harbor or Coronado Island. Other times he goes north and visits Santa Barbara. Sometimes he just likes to find a nice beach and sit and watch the ocean. I go with him sometimes, but mostly he prefers to go alone. He says it helps him relax and think. It’s his happy place.” Mom stared at Shelita. “He goes on these road trips at least once a week in the summer. Didn’t you know that?”

  From the look on Shelita’s face,
my guess was she didn’t know that about her father. I did. In spite of the frequent friction between my mother and me, Mom mostly kept me in the loop as to her whereabouts, if only for safety reasons, and she usually told me when she and Art were heading out on one of these day trips. Once they’d even invited me to go along on a drive to Malibu. Once there, I had treated them to lunch at a seaside café. It had been a lovely day.

  Shelita finally found her voice again. “Even if he is on one of these trips, why isn’t he answering his phone?”

  Mom shrugged. “Beats me. Best I can tell, maybe he was upset by what happened at Seaside and decided to take a drive to think about it. Maybe he turned off his phone to get some peace and quiet on the drive, or maybe he forgot to charge it? He’s always forgetting to charge his phone.”

  “True,” Shelita said in frustrated agreement. “It’s why I wanted him to get a landline when he moved in there, but he refuses. He claims he only needs one phone.” She narrowed her eyes at Mom. “So Dad wasn’t with you last night at Mr. Shankleman’s?”

  Mom shook her head back and forth like a pendulum. “Like I told the police, it was just Lorraine and me there last night. Lorraine’s my granddaughter.”

  “Give it some time, Shelita,” I told her, my voice adjusted to calm her. “I’m sure Art will be back tonight. Just leave him a voice message to call you when he gets home.”

  Shelita picked her purse up from the coffee table, then turned back to Mom. “Does Dad ever stay overnight on some of these trips?”

  Mom paused before answering. It was the kind of pause that made me study her closely, unsure if she was trying to think or thinking of a sidestep to the question. With Mom it’s difficult to tell. She likes to play the forgetful old lady card to her advantage and does it often. “He has a few times,” she finally answered. “It depends on how late it gets or how tired he is from all the walking when he’s there. His vision isn’t that good at night, so he doesn’t like driving after dark.”