“George did it; I can do it, too.”
Annie snorted. “You’re forgetting one very important thing.”
“What?” Thea responded, her voice defiant.
“George loved your mother. It wasn’t a burden to him.” Annie paused, then added, “Can you say the same?”
Thea could not meet Annie’s eyes.
“No, I didn’t think so.”
Sucking in a lungful of air, Thea peered up at her friend. She felt as if she were looking at an alien. They’d been friends for forty-plus years and had been through a lot together. There’d been a lot of tears and some anger as both of them had held the other’s feet to the fire when warranted. But this felt different—and Thea couldn’t understand why. Her voice hardening, she said, “Why are you being such a bitch about this?”
Annie didn’t flinch. “Because I’m not going to stand by and watch you do this in a half-assed way. It’s too important.”
Thea was confused. “What—being the caregiver or investigating George’s death?”
“Both. You can only do one of them and do a decent job of it.”
This gave Thea pause. “Oh,” she said.
“Look,” Annie went on, “I know you don’t want to be the caregiver, it’s your role by default, but you do have other options. I just don’t understand why you want to do this investigation. Is it your way of getting out of being the caregiver, shunting the burden of that off onto your aunt or whoever else you can wrangle into helping you?”
Again, Thea felt stung. Was Annie close to the truth, is that why the accusation hurt so much?
Annie narrowed her eyes. “Ah. I see I’ve hit a nerve.”
Inside, Thea was squirming, but she had thought she was keeping her exterior cool. Wrong. There was no point in her ever trying to hide anything from Annie. “Damn you!” she said, faking outrage. But there was no heat in it—and she knew her friend could see that, too.
Annie was silent for a moment. “Are you ready to tell me the truth?” she said finally.
Thea rubbed at the back of her neck where she could feel a knot of tension building up. “I suppose so,” she muttered.
To her credit, the gloating expression that crossed Annie’s face faded quickly. “I’m all ears,” she said with the barest trace of smugness in her voice.
Thea took her time, bringing her hand down to her plate to pick at some crumbs from the homemade blueberry muffins Annie had brought over. “You asked me before if I was afraid of my mother,” she began.
Annie nodded.
“Well, it’s not exactly her I’m afraid of,” Thea admitted.
“Then what?”
Thea pushed the plate aside. “It’s everything. It’s all too much. I’m scared to death to be the caregiver—the only things I’ve ever taken care of are my animals. And they’re so easy, they’re grateful for any little thing I do for them. But Mother, well, she barely knows I’m here, and yet her whole life is now in my hands. What if I screw it up? What if I give her the wrong medication? Or let her slip in the shower? What if she throws a temper tantrum, or what if she bites or hits me? What do I do then?”
“You deal with it,” Annie said, leaning forward and reaching out to touch the tips of Thea’s fingers. “Because you’re capable. Just because you haven’t done it before doesn’t mean you can’t do it. You can.”
Thea pulled her hand away from Annie’s touch. “Maybe,” she said. “I really don’t know. I should have paid more attention to George and how he handled her—it seemed so effortless with him in charge. Luckily, so far I haven’t been alone with her, but I’m terrified as to how I’ll deal with her once Beryl leaves to go back to Chicago.”
“I think you’ll surprise yourself with how well you’ll deal with her. After all, she’s your mother.”
Thea sat silent for a moment. “She feels more like a stranger.”
“Like I said, I’ll help you.”
Thea sneaked a smile across her face. “You want to move in?”
“Can I bring Joe? And the dog?”
“Sure. Just don’t bring Dan.”
Annie’s brow furrowed. “You know Dan is buddy-buddy with the Chief of Police. He could put a word in his ear and get them to re-open the investigation into George’s death.”
Thea snorted. “Oh, I’m so sure that would be a top-notch investigation. Everything by the book. With the same conclusion that Mother did it.” As an afterthought, she added, “Besides, from what you’ve told me in the past, Dan would probably be near the top of the list of murder suspects.”
Annie’s face went white. “Don’t even think such a thing. Dan is a jerk, but he’d never...”
Thea stared back at her friend. Now the shoe was on the other foot. “Why are you so protective of him,” she asked, knowing she’d never get an answer. “You’re right, I can’t really see him pushing George off a cliff, but from what you’ve told me the two of them have been at odds for years—especially on that Downtown Renewal committee—what’s it called?”
“SOD. It stands for Save Our Downtown.”
“If I were in England I’d say SOD off!”
Annie managed a chuckle. “I think Dan would have said the same thing about George.”
“What was it with the two of them? Whenever I’d ask George about Dan he’d always change the subject.”
Annie sighed. “It was a political thing, then it became personal.” She frowned. “Or maybe it was personal and it became political. You know how things are in this town—everybody thinks they know everybody else’s business better than their own. Well, George thought he knew better than Dan—and Dan didn’t take too kindly to that.
“When they both got on the SOD committee, they were always in opposite camps. Dan thinking he was being a ‘visionary’ and wanting to try some outlandish idea, and George taking the accountant’s approach and wanting proof that something would work before committing any funds to it.
“Over the years their opposition intensified. It became a kneejerk sort of thing. At least, I’m pretty sure it did on Dan’s part. If George was for it, Dan was against it and vice versa. It got so that when Dan came home from SOD meetings all he would do was complain about George. I stopped listening after a while...” She gave Thea an apologetic look. “I can’t really tell you any more than that.”
She paused, frowning. “I don’t even know where Dan was when George died. His secretary said he was out of the office, but when I tried to call him on his cell he didn’t answer.”
Thea didn’t get too excited about this final revelation. She could put Dan on the list of suspects, but both she and Annie knew that the most likely reason Dan hadn’t answered his phone was because he was with his latest mistress.
“Well, from what you say,” Thea responded, looking for something with which to reassure her old friend, “Dan is probably not George’s only enemy in this town.”
Annie nodded half-heartedly. She hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath. “Look, I know you thought the world of George, but there were a lot of people in this town who he rubbed the wrong way—”
“Enough to push him over a cliff?” Thea interjected.
“I don’t know about that,” Annie admitted. “But George was always sticking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted. A lot of people resented him for that.”
“What about the Collins family?” Thea asked. “George was CFO of their company for a lot of years. Wouldn’t he know where a lot of their bodies are buried?”
“Hmm,” Annie mused.
“What?” Thea said, somewhat puzzled by Annie’s reaction. It sounded like her friend had shifted gears again. “Is there something you find amusing about this?”
The look that Annie gave her was a little too “oh-so-innocent.” She asked, “Are you out to wreak your revenge on Whit Collins because he spurned you back in junior high?”
Thea tossed her head. “He didn’t spurn me. He didn’t even know who I was.”
A sly smile spre
ad across Annie’s face. “That’s not what he says.”
Thea was momentarily taken off-guard. “Who? You mean Whit? When did you talk to him about me?”
Annie picked up a muffin and with agonizing deliberation peeled the paper away, obviously enjoying drawing out her big revelation. “Oh, we’ve talked about you several times. I’ve seen him at a few reunions—” stopping abruptly, she gave Thea a pointed look, as if reminding her that she had never attended even one of their high-school reunions, “he comes even though he didn’t graduate with us. He doesn’t drink anymore, I think he’s in AA.” She batted her eyes at Thea. “He always asks me about you.”
“Really.”
“Uh huh. You know he’s divorced now—or maybe I should say ‘between marriages.’”
“How many have there been?”
“Three, at last count. I guess he’s trying to keep up with Beryl.”
“Then he’s someone I should definitely stay away from.”
“That’s hard to do in this town. The Collins family is everywhere and into everything.”
Thea couldn’t restrain herself. “You see?” She tapped her index finger on the table top for emphasis. “Plenty of other people in this town might have had it in for George. You yourself said that a lot of people resented him.”
“But...” Annie began, clearly at a loss for words. “I-I just can’t believe...”
“Auntie D. and I both think that George went to the overlook to meet someone that day.”
Annie’s face paled. “Your aunt thinks that too, huh?”
“Oh,” Thea let her irritation show, “if it was just me you’d think it was some kind of hare-brained idea?”
She was surprised by Annie’s lack of reaction. Instead of the smart-ass, snarky response that she expected, Annie’s eyes appeared to glaze over—as if she were looking at something from the past, an unhappy memory.
Thea sat silent, waiting. When her curiosity got the better of her, she blurted, “What the hell is going on with you?”
Several more seconds passed until Annie’s gaze finally met her own. “You’re really serious about this investigation, aren’t you?”
“Yes, and if you’d give me a cha—”
“No!” Annie cut her off. “You can’t!”
Thea flinched at the vehemence in Annie’s words. “Why…” Her voice trailed off as a strange transformation came over her friend. At first she thought it was a joke, a typical Annie move: an over-the-top reaction to something Thea said that would fake her out and end with Annie gleefully going, “Gotcha!” Then Thea realized that something was different this time. Annie’s eyelids fluttered, her breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and a paroxysm of emotion abruptly swept over her face and body.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but a stream of tears escaped them anyway. Her mouth quivered, then contorted into an anguished grimace, and choking sobs came out of it. Her nose turned red, running with mucous. Her body tensed, then shook and jerked as if convulsing
Thea sat frozen, wanting to comfort her oldest and dearest friend in the world. She hesitated, then reached out to touch Annie’s hands, which were curled into fists on the table. Annie yanked them away. She opened her hands and pressed them into her solar plexus as if protecting her core.
Confused and helpless, Thea watched this display of emotion that was like nothing she had ever seen from her friend. In fact, she thought that the last time she had even seen tears in Annie’s eyes was at her mother’s funeral a few years before.
After several minutes the spasm, or whatever it was, seemed to slow, then pass. At last, Annie cracked open her eyes, but didn’t look at Thea. She wiped away her tears and blew her nose on a paper napkin. “I have to go,” she rasped out.
Oh, no, you don’t! Thea longed to say. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what that was all about.
Instead, when Thea spoke, she made her voice appear calm and level. “Is this about Dan?” she asked. “You know…as a suspect?”
“Dan?” Annie’s voice was scornful. “He wouldn’t have the nerve….”
“Then…” Thea paused. Who else would Annie be so upset about? The only other likely candidate would be her son, Joe.
But he was fourteen…that couldn’t be possible. Then Thea gasped. There was one other possibility: Annie’s daughter, Heather. She was twenty-five, and Thea remembered that Dan had gotten her a cushy job in the City Council office. That job had put her in direct contact with George.
Annie’s swollen green eyes were full of fire and fury, and Thea had the feeling that her friend could read her mind, could practically see the words, ‘Is it Heather?’ blazed across her forehead.
The feeling was confirmed when Annie grabbed her purse and her jacket and slid across the bench. “Damn you!” she spat at Thea. Seconds later, the side door slammed shut.
CHAPTER 8
Stunned, Thea sat motionless. Unable to make any kind of sense about what she had just witnessed. Unable to stop her own emotions from spilling over into a confused, roiling mix. Almost unable to breathe.
Annie had been her best friend since forever. Over the years, there had been plenty of ups and downs in their friendship. There had been spats and even periods of time when they’d been out of touch, but even then Thea had known that all she needed to do was pick up the phone and call Annie and they’d be right back to that moment when they’d first bonded: during naptime in Miss McCarthy’s kindergarten class, lying next to each other on their throw rugs, whispering and giggling together.
But today felt as if some terrible divide had grown between them. Some secret horror that only Annie knew—that she had kept from Thea all these years. And it seemed to have something to do with Heather. And George’s death. Was it possible that Annie had some reason for suspecting her daughter of pushing George off the overlook at Rivercliffs?
As absurd as that possibility seemed, Thea did remember George, who was always the consummate gentleman, having some nasty things to say about Heather. Part of her job at the City Council was to liaise with the SOD committee, and George had had several run-ins with her over that and—oh my God—Thea remembered a recent phone call where George had told her he was thinking of filing a complaint against Heather with the mayor’s office. Would that be motive enough for murder? Highly doubtful.
So there must be something else. Some reason that Annie had such deep-seated fears over her problematic daughter. Annie and Heather had never shared the closeness that Annie had with her son. In fact, until Joe had come along when Heather was already eleven years old, Annie had considered herself a miserable failure as a mother.
Heather had always been a Daddy’s Girl, practically from birth. Their mother/daughter estrangement reached a peak when Heather was a teenager; her behavior had even prompted Annie to suspect that her daughter was taking drugs, but Dan had ‘pooh-poohed’ this and said Annie was imagining things. In recent years, Annie had barely spoken of Heather to Thea.
On a hunch, Thea got up and went to the sun porch and flipped through the old newspapers stacked there for recycling. She found the paper for the day that George died and looked under the listings for “Events.” There she found a mention of a luncheon being held at the country club for a retiring City Council staffer. No doubt, Heather would have been at that luncheon, and that gave Thea pause. The proximity of the country club to the overlook at Rivercliffs was something that both she and Annie knew only too well. On a dare one night back in their senior year, they had sneaked onto the grounds of the country club via a hidden, shortcut path—its opening was mere yards from the overlook.
So this was at least part of the reason Annie had been so worked up: she had known that Heather had been only minutes away from Rivercliffs when George had fallen to his death.
But there had to be more to it than that. There had to be a reason Annie had her suspicions about her daughter, something that had seemed to crack open her very psyche just a few minutes ago. And it was apparently some
thing that Annie was determined to keep hidden.
Thea cleared the table and filled the dishwasher, then poured herself another cup of coffee and went to stand by the kitchen window. An overwhelming feeling of sadness flooded through her.
Over the last few days she had gotten used to grief for George hitting her at odd moments. Like earlier this morning when she had found Mother tossing aside the golf magazines that George had neatly stacked on the shelf of the table next to the recliner. Thea’s eyes had misted over as she’d gazed at George’s name on the subscription labels. She’d taken the magazines and put them in her stepfather’s office, not ready to throw them out just yet.
But standing by the window now, this sadness wasn’t for George, but for her friendship with Annie. Since grade school she had pretty much held nothing back from Annie, yet she had known for years that Annie kept things from her. Thea had always assumed that they were things that had to do with Annie’s moribund marriage. Clearly, it must be more than that. There must be hurtful things, dark secrets. She guessed from Annie’s behavior today they must be about Heather. And they must be bad enough to make Annie afraid of Thea prying into George’s death.
Also, Thea realized, Annie had not wanted to say anything to her, yet her emotions and her own body had betrayed her. She had broken down, revealing her anguish over her fears about her daughter—and then she had been angry with Thea for figuring it out.
What would happen if Thea pursued the investigation and it led to Heather? Would their friendship survive? After this morning, was it dead already? A pang of regret sliced through her. Because she knew she couldn’t stop—not even for Annie.
The game show blaring from the den sounded as if it had been interrupted by a commercial for something “soft and fluffy” with a syrupy, inane tune to accompany it. Thea sipped the strong coffee and let her gaze drift out the window. Nearby was a pussy willow tree, its branches ripe with green buds about to burst. Back in L.A. the orange trees would be in full bloom, their fragrant white flowers sending out a sweet, tropical perfume. Sam had planted a tree for her soon after they’d moved to the ranch, and even on cool March nights she often slept with her windows open just to let the scent waft over her as she lay dreaming. Here, spring was barely a promise.
What Has Mother Done? Page 5