Mermaids of Bodega Bay

by Mary Birk

  Marisol wrote nothing at all about a lover. Maybe she did not trust that her husband would not read the diary and thus, had not felt it was safe to put anything about being with another man in its pages. One thing was clear, though, the young expectant mother was excited about her child’s imminent arrival. Lenore had been wanted, and she had been loved by her mother and, from everything he’d heard, by Andrew Grainger. But maybe that had changed when the girl’s existence interfered with him marrying Anne.

  Reid left the café when he realized, with not a small amount of guilt, that he was keeping the waitress from shutting the place down for the night. She locked the door behind him and flipped the Open sign to Closed. He walked across the parking lot to his car, his feet crunching on the gravel. He glanced around; the town seemed to have all gone to bed.

  That was the last thought he had before the first shot rang out and he hit the ground.

  .

  DAY SEVEN – FRIDAY

  FEBRUARY 20

  Chapter 60

  REID STOOD OUTSIDE of St. Martin’s Church and watched Lenore Grainger’s family and the town gathering to mourn the loss of the little girl. The steady drizzle of rain matched the somber mood of the day. Press vans were parked in front of the church. Inevitably, the reporters were being filmed giving on-the-spot accounts. The Bodega Bay police were there in force, keeping the majority of the press out of the churchyard, although a few reporters had been allowed to attend the Mass. There was no keeping this story out of the news, but at least the church service would not be disturbed.

  The rain soon made staying outside impractical, so Reid moved inside the church to a position where he could stand against the wall at the back and see everyone who entered. The seats in the church filled quickly, but there wasn’t enough room for everyone to be seated. Many of the mourners had to stand along the back and sides.

  A small sad coffin sat at the front of the church, surrounded by flowers. The musky scent of incense wafted through the old church. A table near the coffin was set up with photographs of Lenore Grainger at different stages of her life. The family pews were filled with the Grainger and Echeverria families. Reid was surprised to see that Anne was not sitting with Andrew Grainger. Graham and Meg sat together in the family pew. Reid knew Meg had slept at the Mermaids last night but had gone back over to her house that morning so that she could attend the services with her husband. Graham seemed to be trying to be solicitous of his wife, although Meg appeared oblivious to his attentions.

  Anne and Jeanne came into the church followed by their mother, Irene Michaels, who was holding each of Jeanne’s children by the hand. Irene must have arrived that morning from San Francisco. Reid wondered where his mother-in-law stood on the subject of his reappearance in Anne’s life.

  An usher led them past where Reid stood. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Being this close to Anne was almost more than he could bear. But so was the thought of being away from her. At least here, he could look at her without her noticing. Thirsty, he drank in the sight of her. His eyes took in every detail of this woman who had such a hold on him, but no matter how long he looked, his thirst was not assuaged.

  Anne’s hair was swept up on her head, and when she passed him, almost close enough for him to reach out and touch her, he saw that she was wearing her pearl-drop earrings. Her face was swollen from crying, but rather than detracting from her beauty, it gave her a soft, vulnerable appearance that made him want to pull her into his arms and protect her.

  The usher guided Anne and her group to the pew directly behind the ones taken up by Lenore’s more immediate family. Reid willed his eyes away from her so that he could continue to observe the participants in this painful farewell ritual. He moved his gaze down the pew from Anne and saw Dr. Kempton with his wife, and next to them, Martha Warren and her husband. Gus Warren had his arm around his crying wife. No sign of the mother-in-law. Gus hadn’t come home last night until after Colin stopped his surveillance, so he’d be picked up right after the service and taken in for questioning.

  The priest and altar boys filed into the church and the service began. The plaintive sounds of solemn hymns accompanied by muffled crying filled the church. Someone jostled Reid’s arm, and he looked over and saw Jack Shelton moving to stand beside him. He nodded to the FBI agent in acknowledgement and then turned his head back to listen to the priest address the congregation.

  Shelton whispered, “Still nothing on who might have shot at you. We’re still running the ballistic tests.”

  Reid nodded. He hadn’t expected anything different. He’d called Shelton after he’d recovered from the surprise. He’d not been hit, and he had the feeling Shelton thought he’d mistaken a car backfiring for a gunshot until they’d seen the hole in the café window behind him and found two bullets lodged in the wall inside. Luckily the waitress had already been in the back of the building and out of the line of fire.

  Reid brought his attention back to the service. The priest told of having known the Grainger family since he had come to Bodega Bay and about the child’s parents having both been members of the church and about baptizing Lenore. He spoke of a beautiful child who had been tragically left without a mother, and now, after her death, would surely be reunited with that loving spirit. But his comforting words weren’t able to quell the palpable grief that was pulsating from the people sheltered by the walls of the church.

  When the service ended, the family and mourners went outside and walked the gravel path to the cemetery adjacent to the churchyard. Shelton and Reid joined the group but stayed in the background. Reid wanted to be certain he didn’t intrude or come face-to-face with Anne.

  The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was filled with dark, ominous clouds that threatened more rain at any moment. A funeral sky. Reaching a spot where he could see the empty grave, he was struck by the utter sadness of the sight of the little coffin being lowered into the ground. A child’s death, especially by murder, was a violation of every natural law. And the other circumstances surrounding her death further profaned her memory.

  Shelton jabbed Reid in the arm with his elbow, kept his voice low. “Look at the headstone. Isn’t that from Edgar Allan Poe?”

  Reid hadn’t noticed the inscription until then. Under the child’s name and the dates of her birth and death, in an old-style script, he read: “The rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore.”

  Nevermore.

  Chapter 61

  REID LEFT SHELTON and went back to the church. Anne’s mother and the children had not been at the burial, and he surmised that although they were in attendance at the services, Jeanne had decided that the scene in the cemetery would be too difficult for the children. She was no doubt right about that. It was wrenchingly hard on him and he hadn’t known Lenore.

  Inside the church, Irene sat on a bench in the anteroom with Phillip and Hannah working on coloring books on the floor. When Irene saw him, she smiled in greeting, then stood and they embraced.

  She gestured to the children, who didn’t look up from their coloring books. “We’re just waiting here for Jeanne and Anne.” She looked him over. “It’s been a long time, Terrence.”

  He nodded. She must know how complicated his relationship with Anne had become. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad you stayed to help Anne.”

  “I’ve not been much help, I’m afraid.” Reid crouched down to see what the children were coloring. They’d had fun at the Clam Shack the other night, indulging in telling each other jokes of the preschool variety. He’d had to dredge up every “knock-knock” joke he could think of from his distant past to keep up.

  He smiled. “May I see your picture?” He reached his hand toward Phillip’s coloring book. Abruptly, Phillip pulled the book away so he couldn’t see it.

  “Go away.”

  Reid couldn’t hide his surprise. “Sorry, old chap.” He stretched to his feet and looked at Irene, confused.

  She shook her head and shrugged, then tri
ed to help. “Phillip, can’t Uncle Terrence see your picture?”

  “No.”

  “Why not, sweetie?”

  “I hate him and he talks funny.” The boy looked defiant, and Hannah followed suit, moving her coloring book in case Reid tried to look at hers, and giving him a look with her aunt’s big blue eyes that would someday bring men to their knees.

  Reid tried again. “Did I do something wrong? Are you guys mad at me?”

  Phillip was silent; Hannah ignored him and resumed coloring. Reid looked at Irene in a silent plea for help. She looked at him in a way that let him know he was on his own. She must have some idea, then, what was wrong. He would just have to plow through it alone.

  Again he bent down so that he was eye-to-eye with Phillip, who seemed to be the leader in the plot against him. “Can you tell me what I’ve done?”

  Stony silence.

  “Please tell me so I can put it right. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go on doing whatever stupid thing it is I’ve done, never learning any better.”

  Phillip looked at him, accusing. “You know what you did. Mom said you did it before, too.”

  “No, I don’t know. Please tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you, you poop head!” Anger shot from the young boy’s eyes and his lip trembled. “You made Auntie Anne cry and you’re breaking her heart!”

  Reid was startled. Again he looked at Irene for help.

  Anne’s mother raised her eyebrows and looked back at him. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

  *****

  The churchyard was clearing quickly. On his way to his car, Reid saw Jeanne and Anne return to the church. He watched the Graingers driving away, followed by the police cars that had been protecting the perimeter of the area from the press vans. Jack Shelton had taken off long ago, but the press vans were still there, and Reid realized they were waiting for Anne to leave.

  Jeanne’s car was parked on the street. To reach it, Anne would have to run a gauntlet of reporters. He thought about calling the police station and asking for a squad car to be sent out, but knew that, even if they could spare someone, it would mean Anne having to hide out in the church until it arrived. Why had Grainger left her there unprotected?

  He turned back and went into the church.

  The women were gathering up the children’s things and starting for the door. He avoided looking at Anne, instead directing his attention to his sister-in-law. “Jeanne, are the reporters leaving you alone?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, the vultures are out there waiting for Anne. Will you please get your car and bring it around? I’ll lead her out when you’re right in front. You might want to take the children so there’s no delay while they’re strapped into their car seats.”

  Jeanne nodded, took the children and left. Reid stayed by the door, leaving Anne and Irene back inside the entryway. At least the reporters didn’t come inside the church.

  When he saw Jeanne’s car pull up, he nodded to Anne and her mother. “Irene, can you walk quickly in front of us? We’ll be right behind you. I’m going to let them get some shots they can use so they’ll be more likely to leave Anne alone for a while.” He looked at his wife. “Do you have some dark glasses you can put on?”

  She reached into her purse, took out a large pair of dark glasses, and slipped them on.

  “Perfect. Let’s go.” He put his arm around Anne’s waist and they followed Irene down the church steps to where Jeanne’s car was waiting. “Keep your face serene but solemn, and look slightly in their direction. Don’t flinch.”

  The expected blizzard of camera flashes, shouting reporters, and video cams was over in moments. Anne kept her face composed and moved unhurriedly until he got her into the car and closed the door behind her.

  He turned back to go to his car, his hand still feeling her warmth where he had touched her. The press vans started packing up to leave. He knew they’d been trying to get pictures of the two of them together for days. Now that they had what they wanted, interest should die down.

  A young woman reporter approached him. She wore a black raincoat and her drab hair was bedraggled from the weather. The van she was with was idling by the curb, waiting for her. She looked a little nervous. She must be new.

  “Lord Reid, I don’t suppose you could give me a quote?”

  He smiled at the girl, shook his head.

  She shrugged good-naturedly and started to turn away, obviously not having had any real hope of getting anything in the first place.

  “But I could give you some information you may not have.”

  “You’re kidding? Really?” She turned back, and the smile that flashed across her eager face made her suddenly pretty.

  “Really.”

  She quickly pulled out her pen. “What?”

  “She passed the FBI’s polygraph test with flying colors.”

  “Your wife?”

  He nodded. “Don’t use my name as the source.”

  “Okay. I won’t.”

  “Give me your card. If I have anything else I can share, I’ll call you.” He’d dealt with the press for years and knew how it worked. He knew she was much more likely to respect his wishes if she thought that he would be an ongoing source.

  She nodded, grinning, and ran back to the waiting van.

  Chapter 62

  REID REACHED the Bodega Bay police station just after eleven, just as Colin Burke’s police car was pulling in. Out of the passenger side door emerged a burly man who looked none too happy to be there. Gus Warren.

  “I don’t know why this couldn’t wait. Martha needs me with her right now.”

  Friends and family of the Graingers were getting together at the Colony house after the funeral. Of course, Martha needed to be there. Reid hadn’t gone as he didn’t feel it was necessary or appropriate, and as much as he could, he’d tried to avoid seeing his wife when she was with Grainger. He could take either one of them separately if he had to, but not as a couple. Besides, he wanted to be present at this interview.

  Colin, pointedly ignoring the man’s grumbling, opened the door to the station. Reid caught the door and followed.

  Chief McLendon was leaning against Rose’s desk, drinking a cup of coffee and going over some papers. “Gus, thanks for coming in.”

  “As if I had any choice.”

  “We just need to talk to you.” Then gesturing to Reid, he said, “This is Superintendent Reid—he’s helping the FBI out. He’s going to sit in while we talk.”

  Reid followed the chief and Gus to a small room at the end of the hallway.

  “You could at least offer me coffee if I have to miss all the food over at the house.”

  “Sure. Black?”

  Gus nodded.

  The chief called back. “Rose, could you bring Gus some coffee, nothing in it?”

  They sat down at the table. After Rose had deposited a cup of coffee for Gus and closed the door, McLendon began.

  “You know why we need to talk to you?”

  The sullen man took a drink of his coffee. “If the FBI is involved, I doubt it’s about a traffic ticket.”

  The police chief chuckled. “True. It’s about a couple of other things. You don’t mind if we tape this do you?”

  Gus looked suspiciously at the little device on the table. “I guess not.”

  “Great. And Rose would shoot me if I didn’t get the paperwork.” He slid a piece of paper toward Gus. “You’ve seen this before. Your rights?” He handed the man a pen. “After you read it, just sign and we can get this over with.” The chief smiled. “You know the drill. You and I have been through this before.”

  Gus nodded. He signed the paper and pushed it away. “So what do you want to talk about? What couple of things?”

  As they’d arranged, McLendon started. “Lucy Shearling, for one.”

  Gus seemed surprised, almost relieved. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That was a cryin
g shame. Martha’s all broke up about that.”

  “What do you know about what happened to her?”

  “Just what Martha told me. Some crazy guy broke in and tried to rape her. Killed her.” He shook his head.

  “Gus, you saw her last Friday, didn’t you?”

  The man seemed to be thinking back. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes-s-s.” He drew out the word. “She stayed at our house. She left Sunday.”

  “What do you know about the bruise she got on her face?”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying I had something to do with that?”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course not. All I know is she showed up with a beaut of a welt on her face. Probably some guy gave it to her.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She could be a bitch sometimes. The guy probably just got tired of it and belted her one. Knowing her, she was probably asking for it.”

  Reid, still just observing, thought, no love lost here between uncle and niece.

  Chief McLendon picked up his coffee cup. “That’s just it, Gus. She told her friend you did it.” Reid knew the chief was bluffing, but he sounded believable.

  “Me? That’s crazy. I never touched her.”

  “Why would she say you had?”

  “She’s a liar.”

  Reid took over. “Mr. Warren, where were you Wednesday night?”

  “At home.”

  Reid shook his head. “That’s not what your wife says. She said you were out until about three in the morning.”

  The man gave them a sour look. “Okay, so I was out, you know, just seeing some people, having a few brewskies. Then, when the bar closed, I drove around a little. After that, I went home.”

  “Their names? These people?”

  “Just some guys in the bar. I don’t know their names.”

  “What bar?”

  “I can’t remember. Someplace in Santa Rosa. Any place I go drinking around here, someone goes telling the wife.” Then, apparently realizing that admitting to having been in Santa Rosa hadn’t been such a good thing, he drew himself up, indignant. “But I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Lucy. Swear to God.”