by Bud Crawford
"Same thing with her," Apple said. "fantastic witness, sharp recall, constant note-taker. But she hasn't seen anything we don't already have."
"Anything new from the rest, Mrs. Alden, Ms. Billings, young miss Spence, the astonishing Staedtler?"
"No, sir, not really. Nothing new. I'm not sure Alden is quite such an innocent as she seems. You knew she was pregnant, right? Billings just wants us, and whatever this is, to go away, wants to see less of people and more of her workshop. Wants to get back to being useful, she says. But she's pretty concerned about Vingood, afraid of two opposite things: that he's getting dangerously wound up and about to pop, or that he's gonna go catatonic. I think she means it, that he could go either way."
"That's exactly what I got from talking to him. It's very personal, all of it, even Richter. It reflects on him, it's his fault. I don't see how with Richter. Alden and Vance were on his premises, guests of the establishment. Richter had been a pass-through guest, I suppose. And the connection with Spence, maybe he feels he should have stopped it."
"Did he stop it, you think?"
"A powerful guy, powerfully motivated. Trained in hand-to-hand, ex-marine. Protective of his step-daughter. A little hard to work out the timelines, but he could have done it. Up early, driving fast. Same motivation for him with Alden. But not for Vance. Nothing really covers it all. So. Spence?"
"Guilty as hell, no skills at hiding. A guy she has a row with dies, maybe partly from the row. Her new lover of two nights goes off a cliff. Her sense of herself is sex-centered, I think, if that makes any sense." She looked at Sprague, who nodded, yes. Apple took off her cap and twisted her hair between her fingers. "The tension with Alden started on sex, with misconstrued signals. With James, the sex was everything. So what had been central and good for her transforms into something destructive and scary. She's a lost little thing, tough guy attitude notwithstanding. Might put her boyfriend on the list, one Seth Harper. Seemed to be a lot about him she wasn't telling, real grudging with information. And since jealousy over her is one of our favorite hypothetical motives …"
"We'll check him out. Could be trying to reclaim his girl, or protect her, or do her in. You think she's just a motivator, not a player? Possibly her dissembling skills are better than you think, and the bashful slutty doe eyes mask a lethal heart? Probably not. Maybe she's a co-conspirator. How about Staedtler?"
"Nothing new, continues to amaze. There's nothing I can think of I'd put past her, but I'm a hundred percent she's on our side. Did Ickes have anything, if you don't mind my asking, sir?"
"Not a bit. Just us girls chatting, Apple. No, he had nothing. Whined and sputtered, understands I'm just doing my job, but he's got important work piling up, and needs to leave. Then I asked what it takes to open an account at Metrocor. Said my father left me his savings, eighty-seven thousand in a passbook account. Would that be enough?"
"He flipped?" Apple asked.
"In a millisecond." Sprague smiled. "Ran a little presentation about the difference between working for money, and money working for you. Then he bullet-pointed the options and benefits available at Metrocor. I told him I'd give him a call, when this was all cleared up. He gave me his 'personal' card and a salesman's shake, just firm enough, just long enough, straight-on eyes. Didn't try to send me to the Asheville office, wants the pelt himself."
Apple shut her notebook. "We have a roster of suspects, though nobody very convincing, for several events we strongly believe were crimes. But not one bit of evidence makes a case on any of those events, let alone one against a specific person."
"Exactly so, Apple. But there's more, something I really, really hate about this. We'll do nothing, except wrap up a few details, and maybe that's the end. But it's the other possibility chars my grits. Something else happens, and right after, we'll know what we should have done to prevent it."
Apple straightened in her seat, and slid her notebook into the breast pocket of her uniform jacket. "We should either be going, sir, or get a little better situated for a stakeout."
Sprague uncrossed his legs, pulled the steering wheel down, and started the engine. "Drop you at home? It's way after five. I can't see any urgency getting your notes typed up."
"Yeah. Thanks, sir. I'd appreciate it. Allie and I were planning to go out, night on the town, if I got home early enough." Apple settled back in the seat, snapping her seatbelt.
"Within a day or two," Sprague said, "they'll all be gone, and we'll just have a fat folder full of inconclusion. Maybe forensics will bring in something, or the phone calls to other counties and states, but we're grabbing for vapors. Check with Cindy & Bob in the morning, get the ME's preliminary on Richter, the official medical on Vance. Then we either pursue the leads that all that produces for us or we shut the drawer and pray it stays shut."
~
Marti sat on the edge of her bed, arms around her shins, knees pulled to her chin. She was shaking, as if she were very cold. She could not catch her breath. Her clothes were haphazardly on, the clasp of her suede skirt was in front, her red silk shirt buttoned only half way, two buttons off line. Her panties and bra were in her left hand, her socks and boots must still be in Icke's room. Her hair was wildly mussed, eyes wide, unfocused.
Relax, girl, first thing, relax, she told herself. Nothing happened. Not really. She let go of her legs, dropped her feet to the floor and stretched back on the bed. Her breathing was still raspy, but began to slow. Why did I let that get started? And then why exactly did I make it stop?
She had brought two pillows to Ickes room. When she knocked Madison answered, told her to come in. David was in the bathroom, she assumed, that door was shut and Madison was sitting alone in the bed, bare arms and shoulders above the bedclothes. Hello, sweetie, Madison had said, just bring those over here. When Madison sat up to take the pillows, the bedding fell and Marti could see she was naked. Madison reached towards the pillows, touching them, but not taking them. Marti stepped closer to set them on the bed. Sit here a minute, sweetheart, there's something I want to ask you. Madison pulled the pillows from her, and Marti took another step forward, as she let them go. Madison took her hands, very gently, pulled her forward and down, turned her to sit onto the edge of the bed. Madison sat straight, tilted her head, smiled, and brushed Marti's cheek with her fingertips.
Have you ever kissed a woman? Madison asked. She teased her forefinger along the edge of Marti's ear, brushed Marti's lips with a feather touch. She put her hands on Marti's cheeks, more holding in place than pulling, and leaned her own face forwards. Marti's eyes closed and she let Madison kiss her. Lips brushed gently, then pressed, releasing, pressing again, just the tip of a tongue emerging for a second to touch between Marti's lips. Madison lifted Marti's hands and held them against her breasts as she leaned forward to kiss her again. Marti's eyes opened as she felt the soft swells, the tickle of somebody else's nipples under her palms. Her eyes closed as her lips softened to Madison's kiss.
Marti let Madison open her clothes, unresisting. She felt that she could not move away. She did not know if she wanted to. David's hands behind her pulled off the clothing Madison had undone while Madison pulled her closer. There's not one thing to worry over, little girl, David said. Nothing bad will happen, we'll only do what you want. Marti felt as if she were under water, very heavy water. There were hands all over her naked skin. It was very soothing and very arousing but she could not breathe. She had never been so excited or so frightened. She wanted to tell them to stop, but no words would come. She was sandwiched, three naked bodies rubbing, pulling and probing and whispering, sharp explosive little whispers. Did she want them to stop? She had jumped up and grabbed her clothes. Could have been a dozen people saw her running down the back stairs across the kitchen into her room. Nobody had, she was pretty sure, she hoped not. She was gasping, still could not speak.
Should she tell Seth? There wasn't anybody else. Toni? She had brought it on herself, she knew that. She'd been curious. She'd been turned on, a
t first. They didn't try to stop her when she ran out. What would have happened if she'd stayed? It was all her. She needed to tell somebody. Why was she still shaking? Stupid girl. She stood, stripped off her barely-on clothing, and got in the shower. Later on, after dessert, she'd pour herself a shot of something from the liquor cabinet, like a grownup. She was fine. Nothing happened. Maybe she'd call Seth. She wouldn't tell him anything. Did she want to be with him? Now? Ever? Yes. No.
~
Seth coasted from the curb to the rack by the Carriage House. Marti was done cleaning up, by now. She had tried to call him a few minutes ago, but his phone was lost in a tangle of clothes. By the time he found it, she was gone, without a message. But she had called him. He decided to take it for an invitation and rode his bike up the hill. Felt fine, for the half-mile ride. How would a century feel? Been a couple years since his last long ride. And nothing he had done for his legs or his wind, since then, was good. Well, here he was turning over more new leaves than a poplar tree in a hurricane. Just got to believe in six impossible new Seths everyday before breakfast.
There was the guy he talked to yesterday, getting on his bike. So tea time is truly done. Maybe Marti would go for a ride. She'd walked with him yesterday. That was good, but she'd been kind of freaked, like she was scared. There was some good history to base that on, he knew. But he wasn't that way yesterday. It's not like he can't read his own state of being. Sometimes more able, sometimes less able, to do anything about it. But at his core, he always knew.
Geoff watched Seth's face. Emotions flashed, his lips and eyelids and forehead jumped from mood to mood, fraction of a second for each. Wow. Harness and focus, you got an impressive energy. Alistair believes he's a lying ne'er-do-well, a druggie and a dealer. No love lost. Geoff guessed it was a little more complicated, but Alistair wasn't completely off-base.
"Hi, Seth. Good-looking bike. You race?" Geoff pushed off to roll alongside.
"In college. Long time ago," Seth said. "Still got the bike, just not the legs. Your bike, did you build it?"
"Well, you know, frankenbike, screw this onto that. It's my current road bike, touring and commuting. I've got guards and fenders and racks when I need to haul stuff and wear street clothes. I leave them off if it's just me."
"Why the mountain frame?"
"I like the strength. If I'm alone on the road ten miles or a hundred miles from home, indestructible is worth the weight. When I ride there's no competition, and also nobody running alongside with parts."
"That makes sense. All my training is shave every gram, but that's with teammates and a van nearby. Where are you going to ride?"
"Don't know," Geoff said. "Just going to head up towards the ridge, see what I see. Got a vague map in my head. It's your town, anything you'd recommend?"
Marti had come out of the kitchen, onto the patio above the garden. Seth waved, beckoned her to come closer.
"Hello, Seth," she said, not moving. "Two days in a row."
Marti wasn't unhappy to see him, Seth thought. Not a hot welcome, though, maybe call it lukewarm. "You want to ride?" he asked.
"No, thanks, I'm barely standing up. I'm heading for a nap. Maybe you could show Mr. Fletcher some routes?"
"I came to see you."
"Sweet. I appreciate the attention. But I am really wasted. It's been a horrible couple days. Get some lunch tomorrow, maybe?"
Geoff said, "I'd be happy to follow your lead, Seth. But I'm fine improvising."
"What?" Seth turned back to face Geoff. "Oh, sorry. Yeah, why not? Marti's obviously got plans. I meant what I said about legs, though. You may not have gears deep enough to go as slow as I'm likely to be riding. And I may just have to quit on you."
"Lead on. When you want to quit, I'll either ride down, too, or go a little further. Don't strain on my behalf. If you're just getting back on, you've got to go slow. Be sane about it."
Seth pushed out the driveway, Geoff a few yards after. He wove his way across Montford's uneven grid of streets and began to climb a twisty path up the city side of Town Mountain. It was a minor road, only serving as access to the driveways of the houses perched on the face of the mountain. The route was less steep than the main road, zigzagging so much, but he could see Seth was fighting for a steady pace. His form started near perfect, then he began hiking up his hips as his legs tired. When they reached the top, at Town Mountain Road, Seth pulled his shape back together along the gentler slope of the ridge. He made some loops off the road, none too strenuous. Geoff guessed he was glad the return was downhill. They had gone maybe eight or nine miles, about half an hour, when Seth pulled off the road. It was the same intersection Ellen had used to bring them down into Asheville from the Blue Ridge Parkway. One week today.
"I'm over," Seth said, "except for rolling back down. You can pick up Webb Cove Road right across and snake down through North Asheville. Or get on the Parkway for half-a-mile and take Elk Mountain Road into Weaverville, sort of north-north Asheville. Or just go out on the Parkway, if you want more miles."
Geoff said, "Right here is good for me. I've worked off my teacakes. Thanks for the tour. I've been along this ridge a little, but I liked the wiggle up the side of the mountain."
"You probably also guessed it was twice the distance, half the grade of the main road, to give my poor legs a chance. I used to do this loop several times in a day if I needed a solo workout and didn't want to get too far from support. One time, today, and I'm shot."
"Do you want to lead back?" Geoff asked.
"Nah. I'll follow, if you're okay with it."
"I could take us straight back down Town Mountain Road? Not sure I could reverse the route we took up without ending in somebody's garage."
Seth said, "That's fine, I got no problem coasting down."
Going down Geoff could see the city spread before them, sight lines still free of leaves. A few tall buildings reached up towards them from the center of downtown. A couple were pretty cute, the dome of the Baptist Church, the pink wedding cake of the City Hall. There were a score of Art-Deco specimens from the nineteen-twenties and -thirties that sparkled, even from here, scattered among the nondescript jumble of more recent construction.
Geoff brought them to the edge of downtown, just above the expressway. He pulled off at a Starbucks. Seth coasted behind him into the parking lot. "Hey," Geoff said, "want a cup of coffee, reward for your effort? I'll buy."
"Sure. Rehydrate and recaffeinate, same time. Always been my gateway drug, and I didn't get my tea like you-all did." He locked his bike to the rack by the door. Geoff took the adjacent slot.
It was a typical Starbucks, Geoff thought. Upwards of a dozen people, most in twos or threes. But no one evincing any interest in the other people in the room. It was all laptops and phones, even couples sitting across from each other. Actually there were two women talking to each other. They were next to the only unoccupied table. Geoff claimed that table with his helmet and gloves. Seth followed his lead. The woman facing them smiled, as if giving permission. While they were waiting for their coffee the other woman came to the carafes for a refill. Geoff did not acknowledge that he recognized Patrolman Apple, nor she him. Their eyes flickered together for a second.
When Seth's espresso triple-shot with two biscotti and Geoff's Kenyan grande were ready, Geoff took the seat facing the corner, giving Seth the chair that faced the counter and the doors, back-to-back with Apple.
"So, Seth," Geoff said, "having no choice but watching your butt while we were climbing, I saw perfect form, until about half way up. You stated to rock a little."
"I lost it before half-way. You just don't use those muscles for anything else, do you?"
"Remember a couple things. Nineteen out of twenty people, just taking them off the street, couldn't have pulled it at all. And, it's going to take time and training and patience to get it back, if that's what you want."
"I think I do, you know. It's like a cleansing thing, even now when it feels like my legs are noodle
s and my lungs are half-full of blood."
"One of those specialized pleasures, for sure. I've ridden pretty consistently the last fifteen years or so. But then something comes up and I miss for a week or a month, once almost a year. Getting back takes a little self-kindness and finesse. The trick is avoiding injury. If you tear something on day two, it's awfully hard to get revved up again. A little bit, every day. Don't try anything big until you know you can do it."
"But you remember what you usta could do. It's hard not to let that take you down."
"Step over it, use the same focus and intensity, but on the process, not on yourself. So how long have you and Marti been together?"
"Marti?" Seth sat still for a minute. "Going on for two years. I guess this is about our anniversary. I met her at a party, sometime in April, my senior year, we just kind of clicked." He spun the remaining half of his biscotti between his fingertips, his eyes on the table.