by Sandra Balzo
‘No, dear,’ Hannah said. ‘This is Vickie’s friend. The doctor is the lady. The one who prescribed the pill to relax you?’ She turned to us. ‘I’m afraid she’s taken to them a bit too … readily.’
‘Do be careful about that,’ Vickie said from behind Jack. ‘Prescription overuse in the elderly is—’
‘I don’t like doctors or shots,’ Nancy snapped. ‘And I don’t have a headache.’
‘I’m glad you’re feeling a little better,’ I said to her.
I couldn’t blame the woman for being testy. Everybody was talking about her like she wasn’t here. Maybe Christy was right about people treating the elderly like they’re invisible.
‘I think my partner Sarah is coming down with something, too,’ I told her on the theory that her misery would like a little company.
Hannah blinked. ‘Is she really?’
‘There must be something going around,’ Jack said. ‘Happily, it doesn’t seem to last long.’
Nancy shifted her weight from one foot to another. ‘Can we go?’
‘Are you tired, dear?’ Hannah turned to us. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think we’ll take a little break.’
‘Would you like us to drop Nancy at your house, Hannah?’ Vickie asked. ‘Then she can lie down in her own bed.’
‘Thank you, but she just needs to sit for a bit.’ As she started away with her elderly charge, Hannah seemed to remember something. ‘Oh, Maggy, when I saw Bernie Egan this morning he said to say hello. Maggy’s friend is the attorney overseeing mother’s trust,’ she said by way of explanation to the other two.
‘Bernie’s a good guy,’ I said.
‘Yes, he is, and I’m sure a good lawyer, too. We’re just running into a bit of trouble accessing the trust in order to pay,’ she glanced self-consciously at Vickie and Jack, ‘expenses.’
‘Funerals can be terribly pricey,’ Vickie said.
‘We all need to pay the piper eventually,’ her paramour contributed.
Cheery thought. But I was wondering why Mort couldn’t give Hannah some sort of friends and family discount, given their relationship. Or maybe an EZ payment plan. I mean, even Pavlik cut me a little slack when I was a murder suspect. And I do mean ‘a little.’ Like enough to hang myself.
‘I know,’ Hannah said, reddening. ‘And I’m sure we’ll get it worked out. It’s just that Nancy needs to come with me tomorrow and it’s difficult for her. Just being here has taken its toll.’
Hannah’s eyes were wide and moisture-filled. I thought any moment they’d burst like rain-heavy storm clouds. And so I made an Amy-like offer. ‘I’d be happy to go with you and help, if you’d like.’
‘Or we could, right, Vickie?’ Jack offered.
‘Well, I suppose—’
But Hannah wasn’t having any. ‘That’s very kind, but Maggy is an old friend.’
‘It’s good that you have somebody here,’ Jack said. ‘Somebody who knows you well, I mean. I was but a stranger in town until Vickie came along.’
Sweet.
Of course, Hannah had meant that Bernie and I were old friends, not she and I. But neither of us enlightened Jack Andersen. It – along with most everything else in Brookhills – was none of his business.
SIXTEEN
Leaving the mortuary, I realized I hadn’t stopped by Pavlik’s place yet to pick up the things he needed.
Passing my house on Poplar Creek Drive, I continued south to Brookhill Road and then turned west out of town and toward the Brookhills County administration complex, which included the sheriff’s office, as well as the county’s court and jail facilities. Kind of one-stop shopping for criminals.
Just past the complex on Brookhill was Pavlik’s two-bedroom Cape Cod-style house.
Crunching up the gravel driveway, I parked my Escape and climbed up the concrete steps. Fetching Pavlik’s key from my purse, I turned it in the lock and stepped into the living room. The main floor consisted of this room and the kitchen behind it, and on the other side of the house were two small bedrooms with a bathroom between them.
Built in the early fifties, the place would be ‘retro’ in Amy’s opinion. I kind of liked it because it reminded me of the house I’d been brought up in, but with none of the supposed ‘updating’ of subsequent decades. This house was fifties’ kitsch with no apologies.
Looking around, I tried to remember what I was supposed to get.
Toothbrush, of course, since the only spare in my house was Frank’s, something I hadn’t had the nerve to tell Pavlik after he’d plucked it out of the glass next to my sink and used it.
The toothbrush in his bathroom was worn, the bristles bent. I’d stop at the drugstore and pick up a new one on the way home. I did grab his tube of toothpaste. It was a different brand than mine. I preferred gel but Pavlik was a paste man. Can this relationship last?
We would see.
Pavlik would need a jacket now that his leather one was sadly destroyed. I sorted through the front hall closet and settled on a North Face that I laid across the back of the couch. Maybe I’d buy a new leather jacket for him. For us.
Moving to the bedroom, I found underwear and socks in one drawer. T-shirts in another. Jeans in a third.
I lifted out a pair. They looked like they’d been ironed. I sniffed. No. Could that be spray starch?
I collapsed on the bed. The made-up bed, I might add.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a neat man. Ted had been a bit of a slob and Pavlik was fastidious by comparison. But … could I possibly take on the care and feeding of a man who starched his jeans?
Would Pavlik think I was a slob because I didn’t iron my own jeans? Or even wash them each time I wore them?
Or every other time. They just started feeling comfortable after—
OK, Maggy, settle down. You are an adult. Pavlik is an adult. Neither of you is going to change your habits at this stage of life. And you’re not expected to. For better or worse, you are now temporarily co-habitating.
Think of it as a fact-finding mission. A trial run. A weather balloon.
Yeah, that’s it.
So reassured, I stood up and tried to think what else he might need. Absently, I pulled open the drawer next to the bed.
And closed it.
Then I opened it again.
A framed photo of Pavlik and Susan was smiling up at me. And he was wearing our leather jacket.
I pushed the drawer firmly closed, rocking the lamp on top.
I steadied it. So Pavlik had a photo of his ex in the night stand. Big deal. Susan had been a big part of his life. They’d been married for over a decade and were a couple longer than that. They had a child together.
And, I reminded myself, it wasn’t like the photo was on the dresser or hanging on a wall. It had been put away.
In the night stand.
Why in the world had I looked in there anyway? Nobody keeps anything much in a night stand. Except things they need at night. Books. Sex toys. Pictures of their ex.
Argh. What was wrong with me? One moment I’m questioning our compatibility, the next I’m jealous. How exactly does that work? But …
Pavlik had moved to Brookhills, to this house, after his divorce. Wouldn’t you expect that picture to have been packed away in a box somewhere? Why take it out?
Then again, maybe the night stand had been moved intact, drawers full, contents forgotten. I knew people who did that. Sure, that was probably it.
Or at least it was the explanation that would keep me from feeling … What was this I was feeling? Jealousy? Sadness? Or just plain ridiculousness? I mean, I probably had pictures of me and Ted laying around my place. Pavlik was likely stumbling over them willy-nilly right this very moment.
I moved to the closet to pick out a couple of dress shirts that Pavlik liked to wear with jeans, the sleeves rolled up. A pair of khakis. Sneakers.
Stuffing it all in a white plastic garbage bag, I let myself out of Pavlik’s house, locking the door behind me.
&nb
sp; ‘You didn’t have to make a special stop to buy me one,’ Pavlik said, holding up the new toothbrush. ‘I know mine is trashed but I was fine using your spare. It’s practically new.’
That was because Frank didn’t brush regularly. ‘It was no problem,’ I said, pulling a bottle of wine out of the pharmacy bag.
Pavlik slipped an arm around my waist. ‘You know, it’s not like we haven’t swapped spit before.’
Frank lifted his head from his water dish and we exchanged looks.
‘I was getting ready to retire that toothbrush to clean grout,’ I lied.
‘A woman who cleans grout with a toothbrush,’ Pavlik said, kissing me. ‘Be still, my heart.’
I had cleaned grout with a toothbrush. Once.
I sniffed the air. ‘Is that tomato sauce?’
‘Yes, though pretty basic. All I could find was canned tomatoes, garlic powder and basil.’
I was surprised he’d found that. ‘I had basil?’
‘Behind the shriveled limes.’
‘Oh, yeah. I bought that by accident when I had Sarah over for mojitos. I thought it was mint.’
‘You didn’t smell it?’
‘Well, no. I was in a hurry.’ See? It was already happening. I was making excuses for my perceived inadequacies. ‘We substituted the basil and the drinks were pretty damned good, in fact.’
‘It does sound good, actually,’ Pavlik said, taking the wine. ‘Want me to open this?’
‘Can you do it with one arm out of commission?’
‘I can try,’ he said. ‘If you’ll keep the bottle steady for me.’
Maybe this living with somebody wouldn’t be so bad after all. ‘How was your day?’
Pavlik was rummaging in the drawer for the corkscrew. ‘Shouldn’t that be my line? You were the one off at work while I kept the home fires burning.’
‘Oh, God,’ I said. ‘Please don’t tell me you tried to use the fireplace. The chimney hasn’t been cleaned for years and the flue—’
Pavlik was grinning up at me. ‘Only an expression. Frank and I spent most of the day warming the couch.’
‘Did you have any trouble with the Wi-Fi?’ I said, holding the bottle so he could pull off the foil.
‘I didn’t use it.’
‘Really?’ I held out my hand for the foil. ‘What a good patient you are.’
‘Not really. I didn’t have much choice. The county exec called to tell me I’ve been placed on leave.’ He wasn’t looking at me.
‘Medical leave?’
‘That’s what they’re calling it.’ Now he met my eyes.
They were so dark that I couldn’t read beyond them. ‘But that wouldn’t be unusual, would it? At the bank, if you were going to be out more than two weeks, I think it was, they had to put you on short-term disability so you got paid.’
‘I know. Hold that.’ He gestured to the bottle.
I wrapped my hands around it as he tried to turn the screw into the cork. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking that you’d be better off doing this by yourself.’ He handed me the corkscrew.
I twisted it into the cork and pulled. ‘You know what I mean. You were shot and the department has put you on medical leave. Do you think there’s more to it?’
He slid out a chair and turned it around with one hand so he could straddle it backwards. ‘I think there was a prisoner escape, a stolen police weapon and a shooting that left me wounded and a deputy dead. And God knows it could have been worse, given where it happened. And then, to top it all off, the detective whose weapon was stolen killed himself after refusing the psych evaluation I’d ordered for him.’
‘Taylor was afraid he’d lose his job?’
‘Or that they’d think he was becoming unhinged, which would have resulted in the same thing. Or maybe he’d just made up his mind and didn’t want anybody to stop him.’
‘From killing himself.’
Pavlik was gripping the back of the chair so hard his knuckles were white.
‘We’ll never know. Hell, if it were up to me I’d put me on leave.’
All the chatting about toothbrushes and spaghetti sauce – just bluster to cover what he was really thinking. ‘It wasn’t your fault. None of it.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it was. All of it.’
We drank the wine and ate the tomato sauce over noodles salvaged from a forgotten box of macaroni and cheese in the cupboard.
It wasn’t a good night, but it was one I was glad we’d weathered together.
SEVENTEEN
‘Frank jumped in bed with us at about three,’ Pavlik said, pouring a mug of coffee the next morning.
Sarah and Amy were taking the opening shifts for the next week or so, since getting both me and Pavlik showered and dressed with only three good arms and one bathroom between us was time-consuming. I had, though, promised to meet Hannah Bouchard at Bernie’s office at nine.
‘Oh, really?’ I was searching through my purse for the car keys.
‘Really. And don’t pretend you slept through a hundred-pound sheepdog leaping onto the foot of the bed and then shoving his way up between us like a battering ram.’
‘I had no idea,’ I said innocently. ‘In fact, I was shocked to find that it was Frank’s nose pressed against the small of my back this morning.’
‘I hope you were both shocked and disappointed,’ Pavlik said, coming up behind me. ‘Frank doesn’t have much of a nose.’
Frank raised said fuzzy muzzle from his breakfast.
‘You’d be surprised,’ I said, leaning down to give the sheepdog a rub. ‘It’s just hidden under all that fuzz.’
Vindicated, Frank went back to his food.
‘Soooo …’ Pavlik said, wrapping his arms around me. ‘Does Frank sleep with you every night?’
‘Not usually.’
Frank threw me a dirty look but didn’t stop eating.
‘Not usually, I mean,’ I restated, ‘when I have a sleepover.’
‘Which is why I’ve never had a hairy butt in my face before.’
‘You had the butt end?’ I asked. ‘He was the other way around this morning.’
‘Only because I made him switch. Though his breath is no picnic either.’
‘I know.’ I turned in Pavlik’s arms and gave him a kiss. ‘And I’m sorry. But I let him up on the bed after the divorce, when …’
‘You were lonely.’
‘I was going to say when he was small. Or at least smaller. But yes, I was lonely, too. It’s just kind of morphed since then.’
‘Well, it’s your house and your bed, so your rules,’ Pavlik said, letting me go. ‘But if there are going to be three of us we’re going to need a bigger bed.’
A new bed? That was a big move. ‘Frank will sleep on the floor tonight. Right, Frank?’
He pfffted, blowing the hair out of his eyes momentarily, and stalked out of the room.
‘I’ll buy you a doggy bed,’ I called after him. ‘You’ll like that.’
‘Sure he will,’ Pavlik said. ‘If it’s a California king. Which would probably be a good size, come to think of it. Want me to look online?’
‘Sure,’ I said, despite being anything but that. ‘I’d better go now or I’ll be late meeting Hannah.’
I gave him a quick hug and then pushed back to study his face. ‘How are you, really?’
‘Are you asking if I’m going off the deep end?’
‘I guess so.’ I hesitated and then added, ‘Do you think you should talk to somebody?’
‘A shrink? Maybe.’ He tipped my face up to study it. ‘Are you worried that your suggesting it is going to send me to my gun, like Taylor?’
My stomach twisted. ‘No. Well, maybe yes, I did hesitate because of that. But not seriously. I mean, you never would. Right?’
It was a mish-mosh of a statement/question but Pavlik got it. ‘You don’t have to worry. And as for the psychiatrist, the department will probably require it before they have me back, anyway. I
f they have me back.’
‘Please,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet.’
‘Because there are enough to worry about that have?’ Pavlik said. ‘You’re right. I just need to find something to occupy myself. Sitting around watching television with Frank will drive me batty.’
A harrumph from the next room. Somebody had gotten up on the wrong side of bed. Which was pretty much impossible, since he’d been smack in the middle and exited over the footboard.
‘Maybe I’ll call Hallonquist and find out what’s happening in the hunt for Andersen.’
‘Excellent idea.’ I slipped my purse over my shoulder. ‘By the way, his smooth-talking brother is dating Vickie LaTour.’
‘Botox Vickie?’
‘The very one,’ I said, starting for the door. ‘And I said dating, but Vickie is talking about an engagement. I’m worried.’
‘You should be. The guy has bilked a lot of women out of a lot of cash.’
I stopped. ‘So Jack Andersen was some sort of a gigolo? When I heard “fraud” I assumed he’s a Bernie Madoff type. You know, getting wealthy people to invest in his schemes and then taking off with their money.’
‘Pretty much, but change “people” to “women” exclusively.’
‘Aw, geez,’ I said, rolling my eyes skyward. ‘I’m going to have to tell Vickie. She’ll be crushed. And Sophie triumphant.’
‘Sophie?’
‘Daystrom. Her foul-weather friend.’
‘Foul—’
‘I’ll explain tonight. I’m late already.’ I opened the door.
Pavlik put his good hand on it. ‘So how many sleepovers do you have? I mean, that Frank doesn’t join.’
‘Not nearly enough.’ I removed his hand. ‘And they’re all with you.’
I was thinking this cohabitating thing wasn’t so bad when I arrived at Bernie’s home office door. Finding it locked, I knocked.
‘What?’ Caron Egan swung open the door.
‘Good to see you, too,’ I said, giving Bernie’s wife a hug.
‘Oh, Maggy, I’m so sorry but you couldn’t have come at a worse time. I’m on deadline and if it’s not Bernie’s door, it’s his phone. The man needs to get a separate office. And a receptionist.’