I looked idly around the room and spotted the bowl of peaches. Suddenly, it seemed terribly important to me that someone enjoy them. I didn’t want them anymore, couldn’t bear the thought of them, but someone must have them. “Jeanine,” I called to the female cop.
“Yes, Alex.” She came over and stooped beside me. “You okay, honey? Can I do anything for you?”
Ordinarily I don’t like the casual ‘honey,’ but Jeanine was a warm-hearted young woman who would be another Mrs. Madeiros in thirty years, so I didn’t make any smart retort. “Jeanine, I bought those peaches yesterday afternoon, and I really don’t think I can eat a thing. But they are too beautiful to waste. I want you to take them home for you and the kids.”
“Well . . .”
“Please, you’ll be doing me a favor.” You see, I could have added, the daffodils are wilting, and Janet is going away. Let’s at least save those gorgeous peaches. It made perfect sense to me.
“Well, if you insist. They sure are beauties and we’ll all love them.” She looked into the kitchen and then at me. “I can understand they might not set well with you, honey.” She took the bowl into the kitchen.
Dr. Marsten came out and confirmed that Janet had a broken wrist, that he had put it in a soft cast and given her some painkillers and provided Jeanine additional ones to give her later. He patted both Fargo and me on the head with similar disinterested kindness, bowed a courtly goodnight and left, followed by Janet and Jeanine, who said goodnight and thanked me for the peaches as if we had all been at a neighborhood quilting bee. Janet stared straight ahead, pale, composed, pouting and seemingly unaware of anyone in the room.
I started to stand up and go to her, but cancelled the move. There was no “her” and “me” anymore.
Sonny turned to Mitch. “Go with them. Get Janet booked and settled, and make her as comfortable as you can. On your way out, drape some crime scene tape around here. Otherwise Mrs. M’s snoopy son-in-law will be in here collecting souvenirs—and probably selling them. Tell Mrs. M. everyone is okay and her property isn’t damaged. Give her the key but tell her she can’t come in or disturb anything for a while. I should be back at the station in—oh, no more than an hour.”
Mitch nodded, told me he was glad I was okay and walked out stiffly—no doubt from his sojourn in the easy chair.
Sonny came back out and sat down, filching one of my cigarettes and blowing a cloud of smoke wearily toward the ceiling. I raised my eyebrows but said nothing. There was a question I had to ask, and it mortified me. “You’ve known this for a while, haven’t you?” I finally got it out.
“Well, maybe part of it. You see,” he said, “I found out a couple of days ago that Janet probably stayed at the Holiday Inn.”
“I thought you had all the motels checked out earlier.”
“I did. Sanchez went around. But he asked the clerks if any unusual-acting men had checked in that night or the next morning. Nothing specifically about women. The dopey kid who was night clerk at the Holiday Inn said the only two men who registered that night were regulars—salesmen who come every month. He didn’t bother to mention that a half-drowned woman dragging a fifty-pound duffel bag had crawled in and paid cash about three a.m. of the morning in question. When I found out Sanchez hadn’t asked about women, he went back again and the clerk told him about Janet.”
“How did you know to come here?” I asked.
“Oh, that was easy enough,” he smiled. “It was my timing that was poor. Well, let’s see where we are. Yesterday morning, the Stonington Police sent through a fax on Terrence’s background, which included serving in the Coast Guard. That was just one coincidence too many around Janet.”
I nodded. “Yes, Janet told me about that—was it yesterday? I’m all screwed up. God, Sonny, what an idiot you picked for a sister. She had me completely fooled.”
He smiled, but nicely. “Well, she had a lot of us fooled. You, me. Aunt Mae told Mother she was ‘a delight.’ I suppose you know Mrs.
M. wouldn’t let Jeanine and Mitch in here. Said she refused to believe Janet was a criminal and that she felt sorry for Mitch if he had nothing better to do than look at Janet’s intimate clothing. Don’t feel too bad.”
“Yeah. I guess so. Anyway, you went to Stonington.”
“On a hunch, to see if maybe talking to his mother in person would help. I thought she might be calmer now and remember something important. I didn’t get much. She really is an airhead. She stuck to Jane Peaches being the name of his girlfriend, even when I mentioned Janet Meacham, but she did settle on Stamford as being where he lived. Which was no help, Stamford is a sizeable city.”
It occurred to me that Sonny and I had found out much of the same information at about the same time. Of course I had garnered my facts either lying on a beach drinking beer or standing with a gun at my back. Still, I wondered what sort of fool he must think me. There had been a collage of early warning signals I had ignored. Thank God he had not.
“While I was there,” he said. “I talked to some of the state police guys at the troop barracks. They took me out for a late lunch, being nice to the poor rube cop. But they didn’t know even as much as I did about what had recently turned up. I went back to the barracks to get my car, and lo and behold, a make had come in on the Acura used in Plymouth. A guy named Allingham had sold it to a Stamford used car dealer Stamford. It seemed legitimate, but confusing. I mean, obviously the car wasn’t still sitting in the dealer’s lot, it’s impounded in Plymouth. So why hadn’t the dealer either filed papers that he had sold it and to whom, or reported it stolen?”
“Unless he was in on the robberies, too, would have been my first thought,” I said, amazed at how collected I sounded. “But that’s wrong. I don’t think he was.” Something nagged at me, a memory just out of reach about cars.
Sonny nodded. “We all figured the dealer was part of it, too. The state cops saw no need to go all the way down there that night. They said they’d look into it Monday.” Sonny shook his head sadly at this example of out-of-state cooperation. “That ticked me off a little. I thought it was more urgent than that. I was beginning to get very uneasy about Ms. Peaches. I figured most car lots stay open pretty late, and I could make it down there if I pushed it.” He ground his cigarette out.
“I did, but they were closed. I didn’t know car dealers close Sundays in Connecticut. Wouldn’t you think someone might have mentioned it?” When Sonny starts bitching about other cops, you know he’s tired.
“Well, I decided since I was down there, I’d see if I could locate Mr. Allingham and hear what he had to say about the Acura. I found the offbeat little suburb where he lived, and found Allingham, finally, in the Episcopal Church there.”
“Looking for sanctuary?” I asked.
“Him or me? No, he’s the rector of the church. Nice man. He had me to his house next door for a drink. Believe me, by then I needed one. He told me about the people who owned the car lot, name of Krause. They’d been his neighbors for years, salt of the earth. He said the only thing about them that might be dishonest was they probably gave him too much money for the Acura. Apparently Allingham’s wife died some months back, and a few weeks ago he sold her car, since he no longer needed two.”
My head hurt. I felt as if I could go to sleep right there in an upright chair. Sonny looked at me sharply. “How you doing?”
“Tired,” I said. “And feeling like the dolt of the century. The more I hear, the dumber I feel. My luck with women goes from the bad to the ridiculous.”
“That’s exactly right—luck. It had nothing to do with you. And luck always changes in the long run.”
“Sometimes you really can be sensitive, Sergeant.” I was feeling weepy and didn’t want it to show.
“Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “Now about the Krauses. Allingham told me they lost a daughter to drowning not long ago. He said how happy they’d been to meet a young woman who was a lot like their kid, even looked like her. It thrilled them
that she took a job they had open. Guess who?”
Suddenly I remembered what Janet had told me on the beach. Where was my brain? “Janet! I forgot—she told me yesterday about borrowing cars from a job she had.”
“Yep. They let her use a car off the lot, just being nice. Last week she said she had to drive to New Hampshire regarding some family illness and asked for a car in good shape for the trip. They gave her the Acura. Worry really set in when she wasn’t back by mid-week. With no idea where to reach her, they mentioned it to the minister. They didn’t want to call the police and embarrass her if nothing was wrong.”
“Is there anybody nice she didn’t take advantage of?” I sounded peevish.
“Not that I know.” Sonny grinned. “I wanted to go see the Krauses right then. Allingham said it was late, asked me not to go till morning. I guess the wife hasn’t been strong since her daughter’s death.”
“Did Allingham put you up?”
“No, I went back to Stamford and checked into a hotel, for which—given the price—I am very glad I can bill the town of Provincetown!”
“I’ll never tell you ordered breakfast in bed.”
He looked both startled and guilty. Do I know my brother or what? I wanted to laugh at his discomfort, but I didn’t dare. I had a feeling I might not stop.
“So,” he continued, “I met with the Krauses this morning. They were chagrined, but essentially told the same story Allingham had.
Even now they insisted it was nothing more than a delay with some reasonable explanation.”
I felt tears well up and wondered whom they were for. The Krauses? Janet? Me?
I blinked them back, hoping Sonny wouldn’t notice.
“And can you believe it,” he mused, “when I told them she would now be wanted for questioning in a robbery and double murder. They insisted I was dead wrong. And then added they would hire her the best defense lawyer they could find!”
“Well,” I said wistfully, “She was nice in a way.”
“Yes.” Sonny’s voice was gentle. “She was.” It then occurred to me we were both using the past tense.
“How much of this little drama did you witness?” I cleared my throat and waved my hand around the room.
“Most of it. I hot-footed it back here. When I found out Janet hadn’t been apprehended and that Mrs. M. had balked at a search, I got worried. I just had a feeling she was in town somewhere. But first, I thought I’d just cruise by here and see if the lights were on or if—God forbid—she was at your place. Then I noticed the Madeiros car parked around the corner.”
I was fading fast. Maybe a cigarette would help. I pulled the pack and lighter back from Sonny’s side of the table. I wondered idly what number of today’s allotted five this one was? I stifled a giggle. What was wrong with me?
“I knew the Lady M. wouldn’t park on the street when she had a perfectly good garage waiting for her, if she could just get inside it without taking off a fender. So I called in and told Mitch to get some people to sit on her car and to seal off the block just in case we had trouble. I walked up the drive, and could see the whole thing through the window. What would have happened if Mrs. Madeiros had wandered over to bring her a pie, I cringe to think.” He stretched his hands in front of him and cracked his knuckles, which irritated the hell out of me.
“Once inside the little entry, I was afraid Fargo would jump up and give the whole thing away. Thank God, he was only interested in you. He looked at me once, but you were what he was focused on. He just kept staring at you, looking worried, obviously planning his move. Man, that dog!” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. My brave, beloved Fargo!
Sonny gave me an odd look before continuing. “I’m not sure you really appreciate that dog.”
I knew I could never tell him quite how much. I just fondled Fargo’s ear and nodded to Sonny to continue.
“Anyway, I couldn’t move closer to get a good firing angle. I didn’t dare startle her in any way. You can’t tell what an amateur will do with a gun. I was afraid to shoot her from where I was for fear the bullet would go right through her and into you. I was well and truly stuck. Then Fargo leaped and knocked you aside a nanosecond before she fired. He must have sensed she was going to. I jumped her and got her gun. That’s that.”
That wasn’t quite that. I knew perfectly well what Fargo had done. Perhaps he had sensed she was going to shoot. But he hadn’t soared across the room to push me out of the way. He had felt the building tension and was scared to death, and tried to jump into my arms.
My creampuff.
Of course he had saved my life willy-nilly, and he was the love of my life always. He would go down in the annals of Provincetown as the world’s bravest dog.
And no one would ever know different except the creampuff and me—and we wouldn’t care. We were together. I leaned down and hugged him and tried to smother my tears. But not before Sonny saw them. Damn. And then he reached across and tousled my hair and handed me his handkerchief. Oh, hell, now I was really crying.
Sonny reached out an awkward hand to help me up and held my coat for me, probably for the first time in our lives. “I’ll take you home in my car and see you tucked in,” he said. “Your car will have to be checked for prints and all that stuff. Give me the keys and I’ll get it to you at some point.”
“Fine,” I agreed. “Oh, I guess the keys are in it, or Janet has them. I don’t.” We started down the driveway, Sonny holding Fargo’s leash. The chilly air was fresh and just slightly damp against my aching head. It felt good. “Sonny, I know you’ve got a long night in front of you, but would you mind if we walked home? I feel fuzzy. Maybe the air would do me good. And I’m sure poor Fargo badly needs some outdoor time.”
“Sure. No problem. Unless you’d like to spend the night at Mom’s? I can get my car later. Let’s hope nobody steals it. I think I left the keys in it. Larry Cole would have a stroke.”
“He’s already had one, thanks to me, bless his miserly little heart. And, no thanks, I’d rather just go home. I’ll call Mom and let her know I’m okay.”
I saw Mrs. Madeiros standing on her back porch, alert and watchful, and imagined she would find her soap operas somewhat tame after this evening’s action. She looked as if she had been crying.
Chapter 16
It had grown dark as we turned up Commercial Street. Under a streetlight, I had checked my watch and was surprised to see it was after eight o’clock. I think I was still somewhere back in the late afternoon.
The streets were quiet on an off-season Monday night, few cars, fewer still pedestrians. That didn’t displease me. I wasn’t ready to face the world or be around much noise quite yet. I was still trying to digest everything that had happened, and obviously it was not going to be a speedy process.
I could see that Fargo’s leash was taut. Doubtless he knew exactly what time it was and would like to get home to his dinner. Come to think of it, I felt empty myself, but I wasn’t sure it was hunger.
Probably not surprisingly, my legs were wobbly and I felt slightly light-headed—if you can feel light-headed with a clanging headache. I couldn’t seem to get a handle on my thoughts. My head spun, and I did think Doc Marsten had missed a concussion.
A few feet ahead was one of the park benches the town has thoughtfully placed along the sidewalk for footsore tourists. I aimed for it, saying I’d like to rest a minute and have a cigarette. Sonny was surprisingly agreeable for a man with a long drive behind him and a busy night ahead. In fact, he’d actually been nice for something over three hours now, which must be some kind of record for us. Fargo sat on the bench between us, making sure he was touching us both. He’d had a rough day, too.
As I lit a cigarette, Sonny pulled a bottle of wine from his duffel pocket. “I figured this was yours and there was no reason to leave it there,” he explained. Actually I had given it to Janet a few days back, in case she needed creative inspiration at some point. But I doubted its ownership would come under questi
on now.
From another pocket he took one of those knives that has everything on it but a blade. He finally found the corkscrew and opened the bottle. Now that was really thoughtful of him, I smiled to myself. But he took a long pull on the bottle and rested it on his knee with no sign of offering me a sip. Well, nobody’s perfect.
“Nice wine,” he commented. “What is it?”
I took the bottle and a good swallow before I answered. “Of course it’s nice. It’s a good claret . . . a companionable little wine with just a hint of sassiness to . . .”
“Oh, shut up, Alex. Unless you read the label or the wine list you wouldn’t know Burgundy from Tokay!”
“Sure I would. Burgundy is a real dark red and Tokay . . .”
“You know what I meant. Anyway, are you okay?”
I’d have to be a whole lot worse before I’d admit it to my brother. “Oh, I think so. My head aches and I’m shaky. But I’ll live. And that reminds me, it sounds kind of pompous, but thank you for saving my life.”
“I told you, it’s Fargo who saved your life. I have never seen anything like that. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.” Hearing his name, Fargo turned toward Sonny and whuffled on his cheek.
“Maybe the first round goes to Fargo,” I conceded, “But I rather imagine Janet would have fired again, and I doubt she would have missed her target a second time at that distance. So I am twice saved, once by Fargo and once by you.” Now the dog turned back toward me and panted on my cheek. “Dammit, Fargo, this is not a bloody tennis match.”
Sonny laughed and scratched the dog’s neck. “Whatever. But what I meant before was, are you going to be okay . . . uh, about Janet?”
I was surprised at how calm and objective I managed to sound. “Not hardly. Only yesterday I was the love of her life. Today she casually takes a shot at me—after begging me to run away with her into the sunset and, oh, yes, by-the-by, to dispense with my brother. My God, Sonny, is my head injury a little more serious than Doctor Marsten diagnosed, or is there something just a tiny bit wrong with this picture?”
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