by LK Rigel
“So it was an accident after all,” Sara said. “No foul play.”
“A little bit.” Peekie nodded knowingly. “There were two bullets lodged in his bones.”
“Good lord. Are they sure it’s him?” They sat down at a cast iron table and chairs left from the reception. Sara should be glad. Joss would finally find peace, finally be released from his hellish trap, but she felt something like a panic attack coming on. “How can they already know it’s him?”
“Some identification in the pockets, I guess,” Peekie said. “They found it yesterday afternoon. Chief Ken was in for a mochaccino just now and told me about it. He said the coroner talked to the people at the cemetery. They’re going to do as you suggested.”
“What did I suggest?”
“Bury the bones next to the little boy. Today, I think.”
“So soon?” They couldn’t. If they buried his bones in consecrated ground, she’d never see him again.
“Soon?” Peekie said. “Seventy years too late, more like.”
Sara’s heart sank. This wasn’t right. Even when they said goodbye yesterday, a part of her didn’t believe he’d really go.
“The ghost of Turtledove Hill will finally rest,” Peekie said. She raised her coffee cup. “RIP Joss Montague.”
“Rest in peace,” Sara said.
Joss was murdered, and she’d never be able to talk to him about it. It would just hang in the air, an unanswered question, through the rest of her life. If Peekie noticed her heavy sigh, she didn’t comment on it.
“What’s this now?” Peekie said. “What can the chief want?”
“And Bonnie.”
The familiar red convertible followed a Pelican Chase Police SUV coming up the driveway. They parked behind Peekie’s Mini, and the chief and Bonnie crossed the lawn toward the veranda.
Peekie looked at Sara with alarm. “This can’t be good.”
“Bram,” Sara said with a sinking feeling. “Bram’s dead.”
She started down the steps to the lawn, but her legs went wobbly. She took a deep breath and kept going. She’d almost made it to Bonnie and the chief when the bell rang behind her. She whirled around, truly expecting to see Joss sitting on the wall. The bell rang again.
The mourning doves moving around on the beam had knocked rocks off it onto the bell. They flew up to the wisteria on the roof.
Had Joss heard? They couldn’t have buried his body yet, but she couldn’t sense him anywhere. She knew she had to let him go, but she didn't expect to feel so empty, so lonely.
“The hospital tried to call you,” Bonnie said. Her voice was strange. She seemed unsure of herself. Not the usual bold, confident whirlwind. “There was no answer.”
“The cell reception here is sketchy,” Sara said. Why the small talk? Just tell tell me what you have to tell me. She took hold of Peekie’s hand.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blakemore,” Chief Ken said. “Your husband died about an hour ago.”
“No.” Sara swayed and leaned against Peekie. It shouldn’t be a shock, but…Bram dead? She couldn’t process it—even if he did try to kill her. A wave of nausea passed over her.
“I’m going to have to take you in to the station,” Chief Ken said.
“Station?” She was dreaming again. This couldn’t be real.
“I’m sorry, Sara,” Bonnie said.
“According to Ms. Norquist here, you pushed Mr. Blakemore down the stairs.”
“I didn’t mean to tell,” Bonnie said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Was this another hallucination?
“Bonnie, that’s not funny,” Peekie said. “And Chief Ken, since when are Bonnie and Sara Ms. Norquist and Mrs. Blakemore?”
“I saw you,” Bonnie said. “I saw you push Bram down the stairs.”
That’s right. Bonnie was there. Of course she wouldn’t have seen Joss.
“You’re mental,” Peekie said. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you say so at the time?”
“Because he wasn’t dead yet, right?” Bonnie said. “And besides, I thought it was an accident. I kept waiting for Sara to say something. But she didn’t.”
“Wait a minute.” Peekie turned to Sara. “It was an accident, right?”
“Bonnie,” Sara said. “Think about it. Bram pushed me—or pulled me, I mean. Then he tripped. Remember?”
“I…I don’t know,” Bonnie said. “It all happened so fast.”
“We’ll cover all that at the station.” Chief Ken had his handcuffs off his belt, but he put them back. “I’m real sorry about this, Mrs. Blakemore. But we should go.”
This wasn’t happening. “Rafe,” Sara said. “He’s got a crew inside the house.”
Bonnie said, “I’ll tell him—”
“No,” Chief Ken said. “Peekie can talk to Rafe. Bonnie, you’re coming with me. I need your statement too.”
The chief separated Sara and Bonnie in the SUV. “I doubt there’s been any murder in Pelican Chase.” He gave Bonnie a look in his rearview mirror. “And I want to keep it that way.”
Just after they turned onto Highway 1, the chief’s cell phone started playing the Doctor Who theme music. “Hi, sweetie. I’m in the SUV. She’s here with me. No, it didn’t ring. Yes. How is that possible? That’s good news then. I’ll tell her. Bye, sweetie.”
“What is it?” Sara said. She couldn’t imagine any possible good news.
“Sara, it seems your husband is alive.” Chief Ken drove past the turn onto Bird Way and stayed on Highway 1 headed for Fort Bragg. “And he’s awake.”
- 25 -
Residual Effects
“THEY SAID HE WAS AWAKE.” Sara sat down by Bram’s hospital bed. He was still hooked up to the same machines, and his eyes were closed. The only difference was his breathing tube was gone.
“He’s out of the coma,” Dr. Kasaty said. “But he’s sleeping now.”
“But how could you say he was dead in the first place?” Sara said.
“He died,” Dr. Kasaty said. “His heart stopped. There was no brain activity. But our head of critical care wouldn’t give up. Using a new protocol from Stony Brook, he cooled your husband’s body and was able to operate and achieve resuscitation.”
“I’ll wait outside for Peekie,” Bonnie said.
“Peekie?” Sara voice sounded to her like it was coming from someone else. This was all like a slow-motion dream. Joss was gone. Bram was dead. She was suspected of killing Bram—no. Bram was alive. The world made no sense.
“I called Peekie to let her know Bram is okay,” Bonnie said. “She’s coming to give me a ride back to my car.”
“Good, good,” the chief said. “But even if Mr. Blakemore isn’t dead, this is still a police matter. I’m awful sorry, Sara, but until this is cleared up you’re looking at attempted murder.”
“Kenneth Kasaty, you goose.” Peekie was at the door. “There is no way Sara tried to kill anyone.”
“Sara?” The voice was raspy and broken, but it was Bram. He was awake—but something was horribly wrong.
“Good lord,” Sara said. “His eyes!”
They were no longer blue. For just a split second, she thought she was seeing someone else. Bram’s cornflower blue eyes were now hazel.
“It’s called acquired heterochromia,” Dr. Kasaty said. “Change in eye color due to trauma. It’s rare, but it’s a documented phenomenon.”
It was creepy.
“I want everyone out of the room,” Chief Ken said. “I need to take Mr. Blakemore’s statement.”
“Where am I?” Bram said. “Did I have an accident at work?” He looked at everyone in the room, one by one, slowly, his puzzled expression deepening. “Who are all these people?”
COMING FROM DR. KASATY’S office, Sara turned onto Bird Way in a daze. How was she going to explain this to Bram?
Not that she owed him any explanations, but it was going to be awkward telling him she was pregnant. As far as he knew, they hadn’t had sex in eight months.
&
nbsp; Sheesh. How had they lived like that?
Still, she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation. It had been six weeks since his miracle recovery. He’d spent the first four of those weeks at the hospital in intensive rehabilitation, learning to eat and talk and walk again. He’d been home for two weeks now, and he seemed a different person. Nicer. Sometimes she sensed he wanted to renew their life together.
That wasn’t going to happen.
His disgust for her on the stairs that night was real, even if he didn’t remember it now. A big part of Bram had hated her for a long, long time. She could forgive it. She couldn’t forget it.
And she couldn’t be married to it.
Not that this was a marriage. They still hadn’t touched each other. In a perverse reversal, Bram actually seemed open to the idea. She’d had their furniture moved to Turtledove Hill while he was in the hospital, but she continued to sleep in the guest bedroom while he slept in their bed in the master suite.
Good lord. He was going to think she was having an affair. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t believe she’d had unprotected sex with him while someone else was in his body. It would be funny—if it wasn’t so not funny.
A baby. She’d wanted this for so long, but she’d always figured Bram would be a part of the adventure. She was thrilled and sad, all at the same time.
She spotted Bonnie’s Lexus parked outside The Book Beak and swung her car into the next free space. They hadn’t spoken to each other since Bonnie accused her of pushing Bram down the stairs. Even when she agreed to sell Gracien the vineyards, Bonnie had dealt strictly with Sara’s agent.
But this particular errand couldn’t be done through intermediaries. She took a leather journal out of the glove compartment. She’d been driving around with it for a while.
Bells jingled as she approached The Book Beak, and Gracien Poole met her coming out the door. “Ah, Sara,” he said. “I was just telling Bonnie the bank is funding today. The money should be wired to escrow this afternoon.” He held out his hand. “Thank you again.”
“I’m sure Aunt Amelia would bless the sale, Mr. Poole. The only thing holding her back was finding Joss Montague’s remains, and you solved that mystery.” It still hurt when she thought of him.
There was no reason to keep the land now, and a big immediate chunk of money would make things so much easier. Bram could leave with a big settlement. With his brain injury, he wasn’t going to be working for a long time. She wouldn’t leave him with nothing. And she’d be able to properly renovate the house—and care for the little one to come.
Bonnie was sitting in her usual place. Rafe Corazon was with her. A queasy look came over her face when she saw Sara at the door.
“Halloo,” Peekie called out from the espresso bar. “The usual?”
“How about some peppermint tea instead?” Sara said. She pointed at Bonnie who was starting to collect her things. “Stay there.” She sat down across from Bonnie. “I have something for you.”
“A subpoena?” Bonnie said nervously. She looked at Rafe.
“Ya me voy, ladies.” Rafe laughed and raised his hands. “This is my cue to get back to work.”
“Oh.” In dismay, Bonnie watched him leave the shop.
She looked different. Her hair was looser, and her outfit was simple, slacks and a nice top. Her makeup was less intense, not so plastic. She was less gorgeous. More pretty.
“I tried to tell you before,” Sara said. “I’m not angry with you.”
“You’re not mad that I accused you of murder and almost had you arrested.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Sara shook her head and smiled. “No. I’m not. It was a weird night, and Bram was acting weird. The problems in my marriage weren’t your fault.”
“That’s generous.” Peekie put a pot of tea on the table in front of Sara. “Isn’t it, Bonnie?”
“Not really,” Sara said. “In a way, it’s selfish. I want to live forward now, not look back.”
She didn't want to hold grudges ever again. She’d let go of her resentment of her dad. She’d forgiven Bram for being screwed up. She’d even forgiven herself for misunderstanding Bram all these years. She wasn’t going to waste her time “hating on Bonnie” as Bram once put it.
“Well, then,” Bonnie said. “What is it?”
“What is it?”
“You said you have something for me.”
“Right. That first day I came to Pelican Chase, at the rehab center I heard you ask Aunt Amelia where something was. I forgot all about it until I found this in the house. I thought it might be what you were looking for.” Sara handed Bonnie the journal. “I think it belonged to your mother.”
“Oh, my god.” Bonnie opened the journal and scanned a few pages. “I knew she must have kept a journal. I knew it. Dad said she was always writing in one when they…when they were together.”
“That’s wonderful then,” Peekie called over her shoulder on her way to help a customer at the register. “A real treasure.”
“It is.” Bonnie leafed through the pages. “I asked Amelia about it a million times, and she always blew me off.” She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad I found it,” Sara said. “I was cleaning out the aerie—the room at the top of the house. I found it in the desk up there, in a drawer underneath some porcelain snowdrops.”
“What are you going to do with the place?” Bonnie said. “I always dreamed of restoring it to its former glory, but Amelia wasn’t interested.”
“I think it would make a great bed and breakfast,” Sara said.
“A wedding spa,” Bonnie said, hugging her mother’s journal.
“Spring weddings on that front lawn would be lovely,” Sara said. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she sipped her tea. The peppermint aroma alone made her feel better. “My wedding was from hell.”
“I’m sorry,” Bonnie said. “Truly.”
“I laugh about it now,” Sara said. “I was pregnant. One day Bram said let’s go get married. We can go to Tahoe and just do it. I agreed. I was still pretty religious then. He wanted to do the right thing. And I loved him.
“Anyway, by the time we got up to South Lake Tahoe, it was late. At the wedding chapel, they said we had to get a license and the closest place was the clerk’s office in Carson City. So we drive to Carson City. By then it’s dark. We have to go to the back parking lot. There’s a dim light from a bare light bulb on these rickety old stairs up to the back door where someone buzzes us in.
“We get to a room with a huge woman sitting behind a desk. I mean she’s huge, like a character from a Peter Max cartoon. You know, like that cartoon movie The Yellow Submarine. She’s completely white. Pale white skin, white clothes, white hair piled up high on her head. We sign a bunch of papers and I write a check and we go off with our license back to South Shore.
“We find the only wedding chapel still open. The guy that marries us is the tallest man I’ve ever seen in my life. He looks just like Lurch from The Addams Family. His assistant is a tiny little guy like something out of a David Lynch movie who sells Bram a bouquet of blue and white plastic roses for me.
“By the time we get out of there I'm starving. All I want is something to eat, but no nice restaurants are open. In Tahoe! Can you believe it? We stop at a Denny’s then drive back down the hill. My wedding day.”
“Not art,” Bonnie said.
“Hardly.” Sara sipped her tea. “You know, a wedding spa isn’t a bad idea. It might be just the thing for Turtledove Hill. A way to atone for my insult to the gods of marriage.”
Bonnie shifted in her seat and looked down at the journal in her lap. One little tear rolled down her cheek. “That was my thought,” she barely whispered.
“Of course, I’d need a partner if I was going to do it right,” Sara said. “Someone who had a great sense of style.”
Bonnie’s eyes grew large, so full of hope that was cruel to keep her waiting.
“I don’t know,” she said frankly. “But I’d like to try. I have a lot of ideas.”
At least she was honest about it. Sara took that as a good sign. “Let’s get together soon and talk about it seriously.” She left Bonnie with her mother’s journal and went to the register to pay for the tea.
“Peppermint tea, eh.” Peekie said. “Are you sick?”
“Not really.” Sara needed to tell Bram about the baby first. He deserved that much. “So how are things with Spot? I’ve been out of the loop these last few weeks.”
“There are no things with Spot,” Peekie said. “We are arch nemeses.”
“I don’t think so.” Sara raised an eyebrow.
“Shut it, now.” Peekie slapped her playfully with the receipt.
“Vain to deny it, Peekie. I know what I know.”
“One dance does not a love affair make,” Peekie said as Sara turned to go.
Bonnie met her at the door. “Be careful, Sara,” she said. “Bram is…he isn’t safe.”
“I appreciate that, Bonnie, but he’s not dangerous. Not anymore. He doesn’t remember anything. Nothing about Pelican Chase at all. I had to tell him about Aunt Amelia. He didn’t even remember quitting his job.”
“Just be careful,” Bonnie said.
“I will,” Sara said. “Trust me. Bram will never hurt me again.”
- 26 -
Song of Songs
THE MAILBOX AT THE END of the driveway was usually full of junk mail. Today there was also a certified letter from the school district informing Sara that her layoff was final. There was also a card from Cindy with a picture of her and Dad and Becca.
Sara wasn’t about to pursue a relationship with Cindy—or Dad, for that matter—but she was glad the bad blood was gone, and it was nice getting to know Becca. Since reconnecting, Sara and her little sister had exchanged quite a few emails. In fact, since the internet was installed at the house Sara was on line far more often than Bram.
He still wasn’t himself. In the hospital he had to learn basic functions. At home he’d had to learn to use the computer and to drive again. He’d asked where the stick shift was, forgetting that his new truck had an automatic transmission. Dr. Kasaty had said there was probably residual brain damage, so slight it didn’t show up on tests.