by Roslyn Woods
Blue sensed his approach first and started barking happily. Tavy turned to look back. She smiled pleasantly as he caught up with her, almost as if she were glad to see him, but he couldn’t be sure that she didn’t just feel a little sorry for a guy who was fifty-two and all alone—a giver of orchids to a woman who wasn’t interested. And he would have to keep in mind the fact that she was a woman who was already involved with someone—someone in Portland. Likely someone rich, someone her own age, someone with so much more to offer than he had. Why even think about it? He’d already decided to remain single. He had no interest in getting involved with Tavy Bishop. No interest at all.
“Good morning,” she said. “I thought Blue could use a walk after guarding me all night long.”
“She probably could,” he said, smiling back. “You just starting out?”
“No. We were up early. I thought I’d just round the block once more,” she said. “To be honest, I thought I’d have a look at all the cars parked on the street up ahead.”
“I did the same thing last night,” he said, falling into step beside her.
“Last night?”
“I have insomnia, so I run at weird hours. Anyway, I looked for a gray Caddy, but I didn’t see one.”
“I’m afraid you’ll think I made it up.”
“No. Someone killed your dad. Someone hid in your house and turned the gas on the other night. You have to be watchful,” he answered. “I hate it that you’re alone in the house.”
“Blue’s there. She makes it possible for me to sleep. I know she’d wake me if there was a problem.”
“And then what would you do?”
“Call you, I guess.”
“Good. I can’t believe I even thought of staying away for a night.”
“You do have a job. Your life can’t just stop because your neighbor has issues.”
“It isn’t stopping my life to be available if you need me.”
She looked at him then. “Thank you, Gus. I don’t want to be trouble for you.”
“You’re not trouble,” he answered. Then, changing the subject, he said, “Listen, I called your landline yesterday, but I don’t have your cell number.”
“Oh! I’ll give it to you.”
“Just as a precaution. If you called me from your cell, I’d want to know it was you calling.”
“Sure. When I get back to the house.”
“And do you think you should call Austin Home Security Systems and get surveillance and alarms installed?”
“Yes. I was wondering about doing that. I think it’s a good idea,” she answered.
“You know, I just put coffee on. Uh—would you like to come by for a cup?”
That sounded lame. What was he doing? She had a guy. End of story. So why was he feeling so hopeful that she’d say yes to a cup of coffee?
“I could use a cup. I’m just not getting enough sleep,” she said.
“I don’t think I ever do,” he replied. “It’s why I run. Mostly, unless I have something on my mind, it helps.”
They were walking together now, continuing in the direction Tavy had started, rounding a corner, heading for Birdsong Lane. “But have you had enough exercise?” Tavy asked. Maybe she was noticing that he hadn’t even worked up a sweat.
“Yeah. I’m good. Needing some coffee myself. We can check the directory and find the number for Austin Security,” he said.
They reached Gus’s street and turned in the direction of his house, only two blocks away now. “By the way,” he said, “I heard from Maddie.”
“You did? But her phone—”
“She emailed last night. Said her mom wouldn’t go after her backpack and phone after they left your place.”
“Well, Madison was refusing to go to the door,” Tavy said smiling. “She wanted her mom to do it.”
Gus chuckled. “Maddie can be contrary. I’ll have to take her later.”
“Do you think she’ll go to the door?”
“Maybe. If not, I’ll do it. I need her to have a phone. It’s my contact with her. Plus, I guess she left her keys and whatever else was in the pack.”
“How did she email?”
“She’s got an iPad.”
“All kids have them now, I suppose.”
“She seems to think it’s essential to life. I’m glad it wasn’t in her pack. Her mother wouldn’t have let her use her computer to email me. She’d have had to use the landline, and it would have scared me to get a phone call from her late at night.”
“I can imagine,” she said wistfully. “I wish—I wish my dad had been as devoted to me as you are to her.”
“It’s possible he was.”
“No. He may have had some feelings of guilt about me, maybe some nostalgia, but he couldn’t have left me like he did with the kind of feeling you have for Maddie.”
“Maybe not, but we don’t know what circumstances caused your father to act as he did. I remember him saying once that he made a decision years ago that ruined his life.”
“Colleen?”
“Possibly, but I kind of think it was something else.”
They had reached Gus’s house, the lacquered fence gleaming in the morning sunlight. Tavy liked everything about the front yard—the yellow and red tomatoes climbing a trellis, the squash flowers on the plants beneath them, the lemon trees at either corner of the house, and the marigolds peaking out from under crawling cucumber vines.
“By the way, did you notice most of the veggies were already gone from the crates when you passed by this morning?” she asked.
“I did,” he smiled, opening the gate. “People get so they know which day you’ll put them out. They start depending on it.”
“Does it make you feel burdened?”
“It makes me feel useful,” he said, reaching in his pocket for his keys as Tavy and Blue followed him to the front door.
“And now I get to see your house,” said Tavy.
“Yes. It’s a modern style, as you can see. Not too big, but just right for Maddie and me.”
“It seems big,” Tavy said as she entered the foyer.
“Only about fifteen hundred square feet,” he said, actually having a moment of wishing he’d picked up a little before inviting Tavy to come over for coffee. He liked his house just fine—liked its lines, the wood pieces he’d built—but he didn’t know if he was showing everything to advantage with newspapers and books tossed about. Thankfully, Florencia made everything shine every Friday, but this was already Tuesday, and it was probably in need of her ministrations.
“It’s so different from my father’s house,” Tavy observed.
“Yes,” Gus answered, “a completely different style. Your dad liked it, though. He saw my cabinets and learned I’d made them, and that was when he decided I should work on your house.”
“I can see why,” Tavy said. “Your wood furniture is beautiful. I suppose you built it all?”
Gus didn’t know why he felt relieved. She liked it.
“Most of it, yes. I’ll get the coffee and we can sit at the table in the kitchen,” he said, over his shoulder. He found mugs and placed them in front of the Mr. Coffee that was plugged in on the counter while Tavy walked around the kitchen, Blue settling on a pillow in the corner of the breakfast area. “Just black, right?” he asked.
“Right, unless you have nonfat milk.”
He placed the mugs on a smallish dinette that faced sliding glass doors overlooking the back garden. “Two percent?” he asked while pushing a newspaper and stack of books to one side of the table.
Tavy glanced at the stack of books. Saving Capitalism, The Great Divide, A Fighting Chance.
“Just black,” she said. “I really like your house. The cabinets are lovely, too.”
“I’m glad you like it. Have a seat,” he added, making a mental note to buy nonfat milk.
“Gus, there’s something I need to tell you—something I learned about my father.”
“Okay.”
; “When I saw Rand Miller on Sunday, he told me my father was an artist.”
“You didn’t know that?”
“I knew he painted, had been an art teacher at Reed, but I didn’t know he painted under a name other than Bishop.”
“That I didn’t know either. You’re sure?”
“You’ve heard of Edwin Baird?”
“Of course.”
“That was my father’s painting name.”
“How can that be? Why would—”
“Rand thinks he was hiding from my mother. He started a corporation and sent child support through it. The house, everything he owned, was in the name of the corporation. Shell told me she had a terrible time finding me because she knew my father as Edwin Baird.”
“I’m having a hard time believing your father spent his life hiding from your mother. He wasn’t a cowardly kind of guy, Tavy! He was solid. Honorable.”
“It’s hard for me to hear that.”
“But it’s the absolute truth. So when he said he’d ruined his life, all I can think is he made a mistake, and then—I don’t know. He had to leave, but I don’t know why.”
“It makes no sense to me.”
“I know his parents lived in Cornwall. Are there other relatives?”
“I don’t know, but Vincent said my grandparents are dead.”
Blue let out a low growl and rushed to the front door and commenced to bark before the doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Maddie,” Gus said, “but she’s early. Usually never gets here before ten or eleven. Manfred must have brought her. Just a minute.”
He got up and headed for the entrance, wondering why Blue was barking. She always seemed to know if Maddie was at the door. Maybe it was because she wasn’t using her key, or maybe Manfred had walked her up.
He looked through the peephole before turning the lock and pulling the door open.
“Hello, Dr. Kerr,” said Sgt. Gonzalez. “Detective Wilson and I were hoping to ask you a few questions.”
Chapter 47
Tuesday, August 11, 1 p.m.—Shell
When Shell got back to the gallery, neither of her partners looked any happier than they had when she had left. She walked in and found Leo standing near the entrance, adding a “sold” marker to the very painting Vincent Bishop had said he wanted to buy, and Billie was working on something behind the counter.
“Hi, Shell,” he said. “Did you have a nice lunch?”
“No, I did not have a nice lunch!” she answered, her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of her computer bag.
“What? Why?” he asked, looking up from his work. Leo just turned from the blue and orange painting to look at Shell, wide-eyed.
“Why didn’t you tell me Vincent Bishop had been here asking to talk to me?” she asked, fuming.
“I told you to tell her, Billie,” said Leo. “You’ve brought this on yourself!”
“What has he brought on himself?” Shell asked.
“Billie! Tell her!” Leo said. Then turning to Shell as Billie stood behind the cold marble counter looking worried, Leo added, “I’m sorry, Shell. It’s what we were arguing about. Billie is so bent on protecting you that he’s not treating you like an adult.”
“What? What are you protecting me from, Billie?” she asked, turning to face the friend who had recruited her into joining the gallery’s partnership.
“Oh! That man! He’s horrible!” Billie said, slamming the ledger in front of him closed.
“What? Leo?”
“Of course not! Vincent Bishop! He’s not—nice! I could see him leering at you that day he came in here with his mother. I knew what he wanted when he came back claiming to want your help with making a purchase,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just sell him the painting?”
“Because he didn’t want to work with me or Leo. He only wanted to talk to you. Besides, we were just getting the show up, and Evelyn was here—”
“Tell her about the flowers,” Leo insisted.
“Flowers?” Shell asked.
“Oh! He sent a bouquet of roses to you the day after he came in here the first time.”
“What? Thursday? So why didn’t you tell me? It’s not the first time I’ve had to tell someone I’m not interested. Why did I know nothing about these roses?”
“Because—I—I threw them away.”
“Hmm. You know you put me in a really bad position. I had no idea what to expect—”
“Shell,” Billie said, “you’re not yourself. You’re jittery—nervous. You and Dean nearly ended your relationship over jealousy two months ago! I don’t think you’re in a state to handle that kind of trouble. Are you?”
“Billie! I’m perfectly capable of turning Vincent Bishop away and throwing away his flowers. No one is a threat to my relationship with Dean.”
“And are you perfectly capable of keeping Vincent Bishop’s interest in you secret from Dean? Because I know how honest you are, and you know if Dean learns about him pursuing you, he’s going to be upset. That would mean you’d have to deal with a whole new shitload of trouble. Last time something happened between you and another man—”
“Nothing happened between me and Brad!”
“My point exactly! Dean didn’t trust you, and it was terrible for you. I just didn’t want you to have to face any trouble right now. It hasn’t been that long since the kidnap—”
“I’m just stunned,” she interrupted, staring at him. “I would think you’d have a little confidence in my ability to handle a small matter!”
“I have every confidence in your integrity. I’m just not sure how strong you are—”
“Well,” Leo said, interrupting, “I think you’re very strong. And I think you’re getting stronger every day!”
“Thanks, Leo,” she answered, still fuming. She knew Billie meant well, but he wasn’t helping. “Billie—my relationship with Dean is my own business,” she said quietly. “I want you to treat me the way you did before the kidnapping. I mean it. Dean and I will either be together or we won’t. You can’t help me with him.”
“But you’re perfect together! It’s just that you’ve both been through—”
“I know what we’ve been through.”
Billie looked back at her with tears in his eyes. “You’re mad. I was trying to be a good friend.”
“I know. I’ll get over it. I’m going home now,” she announced.
With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the gallery.
“Well, that went well,” Leo said. “Kudos to you for taking care of Shell.”
Chapter 48
Tuesday morning, August 11, 9 a.m.—Tavy
Tavy stood and watched from the kitchen as the surprised Gus turned to Blue. “It’s okay, girl. Cut.”
The dog stopped barking, sat down, and whined before Gus pulled the door open wider.
“Come in,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Sgt. Gonzalez. “It shouldn’t take long. Just a few questions.”
“We can sit in here,” Gus answered, motioning toward the L-shaped, leather sofa. “I’m afraid I have a guest—” he began.
“Oh, but I’m just leaving,” Tavy interrupted.
“Please don’t go,” Gus said, looking back to where she stood. “I’d like you to be here.” His voice was utterly calm, but his eyes asked her to stay.
It occurred to Tavy that he might want a witness to what the detectives had to say, or maybe he just didn’t want her to leave because they hadn’t finished the conversation they’d begun.
“Okay,” she answered quietly.
“Our questions may be rather personal, Dr. Kerr,” Gonzalez warned.
“I don’t have anything to hide from Tavy,” Gus argued. “I want her here.”
“Okay,” Gonzalez said, seating himself on the low sofa, Wilson following his lead and taking a place a few feet away.
Gus himself took one of the red, round-backed armchairs t
hat faced the sectional while gesturing for Tavy to come and take the other.
“There’s coffee,” he suggested, turning back to Gonzalez. “May I offer you some?”
“That would be nice,” the sergeant said.
“I’ll get it!” Tavy said, still standing in the kitchen doorway, wanting to avoid being in the room when the detectives started questioning Gus.
“You don’t have to do that,” Gus said, starting to get up.
“I know, but I’m up,” she answered, signaling with a wave for him to sit down again, “and I think I know where everything is.”
She had seen the cupboard where Gus got the mugs, and there was a sugar bowl and an empty creamer on the counter beneath it. A serving tray was leaned up against the modern, red and almond-colored, mosaic backsplash. It was perched behind the clear glass canisters of sugar, flour, and coffee, and Tavy thought the drawer beside the sink held the spoons.
She poured two mugs and put her own cup and Gus’s on the tray. Then, turning to get some milk to put in the little pitcher, she noticed that there were a great number of pictures attached to the refrigerator with magnets. Among an array of photos of Maddie and Blue, she saw a newspaper clipping attached to the freezer. Was that Gus?
38 Arrested at City Hall, it read, but only Gus appeared in the photo, tall and handsome, a large, yellow sign beside his face: We Are the 99%. Under the photo a caption was printed: September 29, 2012, Dr. Angus Kerr, professor of agricultural science at Austin Community College, demonstrates for fair distribution of wealth.
She stared at the photo for a good ten seconds before she read the words again. Of course. It all made sense now. Gus hadn’t been arrested for drunk driving. He had been arrested for demonstrating. Hadn’t it been obvious all along? His work for Food is Free, the books that lay about his kitchen? What had Rhoda said?
He’s such a bleeding heart!
And what had Gus said about Rand Miller? I’m not the radical left, but he certainly is the radical right.
Tavy was experiencing a wave of shame and relief as she stood staring at the clipping. No wonder her father had befriended him, bailed him out, included him in his will. He was Gus. Wonderful father, artisan, gardener, humanitarian.