by Sanna Hines
Jim came out, shaking his head. “I’m a person of interest,” he said, “because I had keys to that house. They’re impounding my truck.”
Holly shot to her feet. “Did they arrest you?”
“No. Just ‘checking things out.’ Nothing will come of it. I’ve been with people on shoots or at home all week, so I can account for my time, but it’s damned inconvenient. Good thing I have a spare truck key in my wallet. The animal control guys took the dog.”
“You told them about Teddy?” Liv cried.
“I wasn’t supposed to?”
Liv rushed to the glass window. “I have to talk to the detective again. Let me in!” As soon as the door buzzed, Liv whipped through it.
Holly rubbed her face. She’d felt guilt about concealing evidence, but the matter was out of her hands. “Uncle Jim, do you need a ride home?”
“Nah. I’ll call Eric. He didn’t leave with the rest of my crew. Probably still by the hotel flirting with that designer friend of yours. Give my best to your mother. Mike—” Jim shook hands before he left the building.
Minutes later, Liv and the detective came through the door. Putnam patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry,” he said. With a nod to Holly and Mike, he strode outside.
Liv’s skin was puffy from crying. She wiped her face while saying, “Teddy’s mine. He said so—” She pointed toward the window. “Only I’ll have to wait. They’re taking him to a vet, then the crime scene lady will look him over, then we can pick him up.”
“I didn’t plan to be here all day,” Mike said, frowning. “I have work to do.”
“You always have work,” Liv said. “Don’t they ever give you a day off?”
“No, not really, and besides, my mother is home alone. Someone should be around in case she has a problem.”
“What about me?” Liv said. “I need things, too. I’m—”
Mike stood up. “Selfish. Selfish and spoiled like your mother.”
“Don’t you dare talk smack about my mother!” Liv yelled.
Holly stole a glance at the gawking receptionist. She said in a steady tone, “Look, we’ve all had a hard day. Let’s…um…let’s go to my house. We can get some lunch and figure out what to do.”
“I don’t want to impose on your family,” Mike said. “We can go to a restaurant.”
“My mom’s a chef,” Holly explained. “Even her leftovers are to die for. The house is only minutes from here. So, okay?” she asked Mike and Liv. “Okay?”
Sullen nods. Holly led the way to Mike’s car and directed him as he drove the streets of Portsmouth’s South End. “There—the house on the corner. Cream paint, black shutters.”
The frame colonial stood directly behind a narrow sidewalk, but a strip of brick paving along the side was wide enough for a car that wouldn’t fit in the driveway. “Off-street parking,” Mike said in awe. “Nice. Nice house, too.”
“It has problems,” Holly admitted while Mike pulled alongside. “There were materials shortages during the war.”
“Oh, right—rationing.”
“I meant the Revolutionary War.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me George Washington slept here.”
“He didn’t, but his runaway slave made dresses for my great-great-whatever grandmother.”
Mike turned a dubious face toward Holly, obviously trying to decide if she was teasing. “House’s been in my mother’s family for seven or eight generations,” Holly tossed off before saying, “Hey! Cam’s here.”
“Don’t tell him about the body,” Liv whispered. “Please. I can’t go through all that again right now.” Holly peered over her shoulder at Liv’s face. She looked worn out. Delayed reaction? “Later,” Liv said wearily. “We’ll tell him later.”
Cameron was holding a hose, watering asters growing along the fence separating back yard from driveway. He called out, “Holly! Didn’t know you’d be here.” He turned the nozzle and set down the hose. “And Liv. Why’d you leave so early last night? Your friends are pretty cool. Filming went good today. You should’ve been there.”
“I was here,” Liv said. “Doing other stuff.”
Cameron turned to Mike. “You are…?”
Holly realized the two hadn’t met. She introduced them. “Where’s my car?” she asked.
“POS gave me trouble all the way to Portsmouth,” Cameron groused. “It’s burning oil. Drove it straight to the garage. Walked home for lunch—Mom’s leftover scallops were worth the hike, but I have to go back to work now. Say, uh, Mike? Could you give me a lift across town?”
“Sure,” he said flatly. “Seems my day’s freed up.”
“Hey, if it’s a problem…” Cameron began.
“No. No problem,” Mike said. “You ready to go?”
“Pretty much. Just need to turn off the tap.”
“I’ll do it,” Holly said. “You go ahead.”
“Thanks, man,” Cameron said as he rounded the front of Mike’s car. “Dope ride. I can show you one that’s outside weird when we get to the garage. Guy rolled in with Mass. plates last week. His van’s running funny, he says, and the A/C’s not cold enough. He leaves it with us to pick up today.
“So I check out the wheels,” Cameron continued, “and inside, the van’s done up with fancy hydraulics, like it was made to lift an elephant. And clean! Like factory-new, not a speck of dust, like you could do surgery in there.”
“Hydraulic van?” Mike said. “From Boston?”
“Probably. He sounded Boston.”
“My wife made her brother put together a hydraulic rig for their obese mother. She was afraid the mother wouldn’t fit a regular ambulance if she needed to go to the hospital.”
“This brother extra tall with a rad mustache?” Cameron asked.
Mike shrugged. “I haven’t seen him in years. He didn’t even come to the wedding. He’s got issues, doesn’t deal with people. Brent’s a hermit,” Mike said, “who sticks close to home.”
“So why,” Cameron wondered, “would a hermit from Boston come to Portsmouth?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Day 8—Saturday
With her mother at work, Holly found herself in charge of lunch. She offered the best goodies in the fridge, but nothing enticed Liv.
“Want to talk about it?” Holly asked. “What happened today, I mean.”
“NO! I want…I want to think about something else.” Liv clutched her temples with both hands and shut her eyes.
Holly sliced homemade bread and English cheddar. She’d make her own favorite comfort foods: grilled cheese and tomato soup. To sell Liv on the soup, she noted, “The vegetables came from the garden.”
Liv opened her eyes to glance out the window above the sink. “It’s a big garden,” she said. She swiveled toward the back wall. “And that is one big fireplace. All you need is a cauldron to make witch’s brew.”
Holly eyed the walk-in hearth unchanged since colonial times. “Potions season doesn’t start until November 1st.”
Liv turned to stare at her.
Holly grinned. “November 1st is Celtic New Year—and it’s my birthday.”
“Really? Mine’s October 31st.”
“I knew that.”
“Bet you didn’t know Uncle Mike’s birthday is November 1st, too.”
“Three Scorpios—yikes!” Holly shook her head while laying sandwiches on the iron skillet. “Think Mike will want grilled cheese?”
Liv shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Holly went to the fridge for the container of soup. “You two don’t get along very well, do you?”
“He hates my mother, thinks she did something wrong, but he’s the one who’s wrong. My mother’s great. She’s beautiful, and funny, and… and I wish I were home.” Sighing heavily, Liv added, “She doesn’t treat me like a baby. Everyone around here thinks I’m an infant.”
“You mean because you have a bodyguard?”
“Yeah!”
“Let’s hope they
catch this kidnapper soon. Once he’s put away, things will go back to normal.”
Liv sat back and drummed her fingers on the counter. “Because of what’s happened, because of, uh, Natalie, maybe it’s good you’re around.”
Smiling, Holly focused on fixing Liv’s lunch. When she took a seat beside her, Liv tore into the grilled cheese. Holly munched her own sandwich with unexpected satisfaction. For the first time, she felt at ease with Liv.
The peaceful mood didn’t last. Mike rapped on the door and walked in, saying sharply to Liv, “Looks like you’re getting your way. I called Mother to let her know what was going on. Naturally, she was upset by the news, but she said you could have the dog.”
“Yes!” Liv punched air. “I knew she would.”
“You’re responsible for walking him,” Mike warned. “Your grandmother can’t. Jen won’t. I don’t have time.”
“No problem. I’ll take Teddy out before school, after school, and at night.”
“Wait a minute. I’ll have to go with you,” Holly realized.
Liv gave her a toothy grin. Holly rolled her eyes. She went to the stove to get Mike’s lunch.
“I also called the police,” Mike went on, nodding when Holly handed him a plate. “The dog won’t be released for hours. We’ll have to wait to pick him up at the Humane Society.” Mike looked at his hands. “I’d like to wash up.”
Holly showed him to the bathroom. When she returned, she found her brother Eric in the kitchen, talking fast with excitement. He was telling Liv about the crime scene, what the police had done while the others were at the station. Holly tried to wave him off so Liv wouldn’t start brooding again, but Eric wasn’t one to pick up on subtleties.
“Enough, Ricky!” Holly warned. “Liv’s heard enough.”
“It’s just so cool,” Eric insisted. “Like crime shows on TV.”
Liv told Holly, “I can’t finish my lunch. It was good, though.” She smiled thinly and then looked through the kitchen window. “I’m going outside to sit in the sunshine and check voicemail.” She tapped the phone lying next to her plate.
“Eric, help Liv find a chair cushion. I think Mom stashed them in the mudroom for the season.”
“Okay,” he said, “but I’ve gotta hit it. We’re setting up at the brewery. Late-afternoon gig.” He wrinkled his nose. “We’re warm-ups for the night group. Make me a sandwich to go?”
“You play in a band?” Liv asked.
“Lead guitar and vocals.” Eric flashed his proud, dazzling smile at her. “You should come.”
“Can we?” Liv asked Holly. “Can we hear the music? I’d like that.”
“Let’s ask your uncle. Where is he, anyway? Hope he didn’t fall in….”
Mike appeared in the hallway arch. “I sneaked a look at your house. It’s an interesting mix of old and new.”
“So’s yours,” Holly said.
“Ours is younger by at least fifty years, and it’s a city house. This is cozier, quainter. I keep expecting a guy in knee-breeches to walk by. Is that original glass in the windows?”
“Mostly.” Holly looked at her brother, who was tapping his foot. “Eric, I’ll make your sandwich. Liv, go do your catching up. Mike, sit. I have to reheat your food.”
Holly put the soup into the microwave, then she turned, arms crossed, deciding it was time to have it out with him. “Look, do you have to be so hard on Liv? Snarking at her at the police station, then here? I just got her calmed down after this morning’s horror show when you came in loaded for bear. I wish you’d cut her some slack.”
Mike’s eyes turned narrow and fierce. “It’s not your business.”
“Liv is my business,” Holly said. “I’m responsible for her—and I’m not used to worrying about other people’s feelings. Now, my mother…” Holly arced an arm across the kitchen. “She handles emotions like soufflés; before you know it, they rise. But me? I’m stumbling around in the dark here—and you’re not making things easier.”
“There’s a history,” Mike mumbled.
“No doubt, but history’s about the past. We’re all struggling with today. You’re angry— I get that. So am I. I’m furious a girl’s life was stolen, all the things she’ll miss, her family’s grief….” Holly stopped. Tears clouded her eyes. Blinking hard, she gulped to clear her throat.
“You’re not acting like a cop wannabe. They’re supposed to be tough.”
“I need a thicker skin,” Holly admitted, “but Liv doesn’t. She and her friends worked so hard to help the kidnapped kids, I don’t think it crossed their minds they could fail. This shock blew a hole in her world. So…so ease up, will you? And—ohmygod, the sandwich is burning!” Holly whirled round to rescue the grilled cheese.
When she served Mike’s extra-crisp sandwich and his soup, he held up a hand, signaling defeat or agreement—Holly didn’t know which. In the awkward silence, she focused on making her brother’s lunch.
Eric breezed in. Snatching his sandwich from the plate Holly held, he stopped to greet Mike. “Can’t expect Holly to make introductions. She’s Socially Challenged.” With a wicked grin, Eric added, “Thanks for the fuel, Hol. Are you coming to the brewery to hear us play?”
Holly looked at Mike. He shook his head. “Liv’s too young to go to a bar.”
“It’s a micro-brewery and restaurant, so yes, she can,” Holly told him. “I’ve been going there since I was little. My dad bought into the place when they were just starting out. It’s kind of our hang out.”
“Maybe we should go back to Boston,” Mike said. “Come back for the dog tomorrow. I have work, and—” He stopped when Holly crossed her arms again. “Okay, okay. This place have good beer?”
“The best,” Eric assured him.
Eric drove into town with his equipment, but Holly suggested a walk to Mike and Liv. Exercise lifted spirits; they all needed a boost.
Their route for the half-mile trek into downtown took them along the Piscataqua River, past Strawbery Banke’s ancient cottages and into modern Portsmouth where New-Age boutiques and wine bars faced disapproving churches. A few blocks farther and Holly pointed to a spot across the street. “There’s the brewery.”
They entered a narrow space with rustic tables and a wide bar. Bypassing the mostly middle-aged crowd, Holly led on toward an interior staircase, saying, “Lower level’s where we’re going.”
Another long, narrow room lay below, but this one held their generation. After being carded and hand-stamped, Mike grumbled, “Thought I was past all this.”
“Butch—” Holly smiled at the bouncer. “Cards everyone. You should see how happy that makes the oldies who venture down here. And he watches who’s drinking what,” she added for Liv’s sake.
“Isn’t that your designer friend, Jessica?” Liv asked, waving toward the far end of the room where Eric and his group were testing their instruments.
“Uh huh. Jess and Eric are tight, so no surprise she’s here. Go talk to her about your costume.”
Liv looked uncertain. “Are you coming?”
“Only if you want me to know what you’re wearing.”
“Stay here.” Liv moved off toward Jess.
Surveying the half-filled room, Holly said, “Ah, my favorite spot’s still open.” She plopped down on a worn leather couch at the back of the room.
“You want to be here, away from the band?” Mike sat next to Holly, sinking into the marshmallowy surface. “Oh! It’s like a crash couch.”
“With some bands, this is the best seat in the house, but Eric’s group isn’t deafening. They do an R&B-folksy-rock thing. Eric says the sound is popular in Europe just now.”
“You spend a lot of time here, I take it.”
“Income from this place kept our family afloat when my father died and my mother was just learning to be a chef. I used to wait for her while she picked up checks or whatever.” Holly pointed at a shrouded pool table. “Weeknights, they have the game tables open, so, yeah, I’ve clocked hours in h
ere.”
“If your family was short of cash why didn’t you sell the house?”
“Can’t. It’s indentured.”
Mike frowned. “Indentured means it’s a bound servant.”
“Oh. Well, something like that,” Holly answered airily. “Anyway, the house passes from generation to generation for a dollar. I’m next in line.”
“What if you leave Portsmouth?”
The question surprised Holly. “Who would want to live anywhere else?”
“Me,” Mike said. “I’ve never been out of New England, not counting business trips. Oh, I did make it to California to check on my sister and Liv once for my mother’s benefit. She won’t fly, so she sent me. At school, I had friends from all over, but there was never any time to visit them.”
“Why not?”
“Work came first. I started in Dad’s law firm when I was sixteen. Every break and summer, I was there.”
“So that’s how you got your job?”
“No. The firm has a nepotism rule. Family members can’t work there full time. After I passed the Bar, I had to job hunt like everyone else. When I was hired, I rushed home to tell my dad. He said, ‘Well, of course. You’re my son.’”
“He was that important?”
“He thought he was.” Mike stood. “I’ll spring for some drinks. What do you want?”
“Order me a Holly Special. Get one for Liv, too.” Mike tilted his head. “It’s ginger ale with lots of maraschino cherries. I’m working.”
“So you are.” A grin spread across Mike’s face. “For once, I’m not!” Holly watched him walk toward the bar with a lighter step.
Eric’s band started playing. Mike delivered Liv’s drink and a plate of nachos, ducking back to the bar to get the other fare. Back at his seat on the couch, he told Holly, “Liv likes it where she is.” Holly watched one of the Howard boys edge in beside her. The Howards seemed to have an endless supply of sons. This one was near Liv’s age, so that was okay.
And so was the music. People danced to the fast songs, but stood still through the slower, melancholy ballads. Does anyone write happy love songs? Holly wondered as the room filled up.