Aunt Mary frowned. “You mean the Kilgore baby?” “That was it. The Kilgore baby” Aunt Mary shook her head. “That wasn’t the Kilgore baby they found.”
“It wasn’t?”
Aunt Mary shook her head. “They never did find April Kilgore’s baby. Although no one doubts that that boyfriend of hers killed the baby. He ended up in jail for hitting April Kilgore so hard that she lost the hearing in one of her ears.”
“That wasn’t the Kilgore baby?” said Nina. “Whose baby was it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember if they ever found out. It was a newborn. The mother had smothered it and put it in a trash bag and buried it in the park.”
“A newborn?” Nina said, shaking her head.
“They figured out that it had only been there for a day or two. I guess you missed that when you were reading the papers.”
“I was only reading about Mom,” said Nina.
“Naturally,” said her aunt.
Nina frowned and continued to unpack her aunt’s suitcase. The phone rang on the bedside table and Mary picked it up.
“Yes, I’m home,” Mary said cheerfully. “Just got here a few minutes ago. Thank you. Nina’s taking good care of me.”
Nina glanced at her aunt, who was smiling warmly at her as she spoke. Nina smiled back.
Aunt Mary put her hand over the receiver. “It’s for you, dear,” she said. “It’s Rose Connelly.”
Oh no, Nina thought. She took the phone from her aunt. “Hello?” she said in a guarded tone.
“Nina, it’s Rose. I wonder if you could come over. I need to talk to you.” Nina was fairly certain that Rose wanted to talk about Jimmy, and Nina didn’t have time for that discussion today. “I’m really … kind of busy here.”
Nina’s aunt was shaking her head. “You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Nina, it’s urgent,” said Rose.
“Okay,” Nina sighed. She turned back to the phone. “All right. I’ll be over in a little while.”
“Please hurry,” said Rose, and the catch in Rose’s voice gave Nina a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
THE drive to Seaside Park didn’t take long, although it involved crossing several bridges built to span the swamps of the wetlands. Once past the welcome sign, the atmosphere changed. The shore town was completely different from Hoffman. For some reason, the hordes of New York City commuters who clamored to live in the suburbs eschewed this sprawling bungalow-filled town. It was an extra half hour away from the city, and there was a distinct lack of shopping centers in the vicinity. And, of course, the suburban ideal of having the best schools and cultural life for students was clearly not the highest priority here. Instead, the town offered ocean, peace and quiet, a lot of seafood restaurants, and sunsets over the wetlands year-round. Not a bad trade-off, Andre thought.
Because it was midweek and off-season the town was fairly deserted. Andre had no trouble finding the street and the neat gray frame house where Lieutenant Jenkins and his wife, Sally, lived. Andre parked at the curb beyond the driveway and climbed the steps to the aluminum storm door with an elaborate metal J at waist level. He rang the bell and waited.
After a few minutes the inside door was opened by a midde-aged woman with bleached hair in a perm that had lost most of its curl. She was wearing blue pants and a Fralinger’s Salt Water Taffy T-shirt with a colorful Victorian design on the front. She frowned at the sight of the exotic-looking man on her doorstep.
“Yes?” she asked, keeping the storm door securely locked.
“Mrs. Jenkins?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
Andre thought about the story he had prepared, given what little he knew about Calvin Mears. “My name is Andre Quinteros. I’m a physician.”
Andre could see her shoulders relax a little bit when she heard that he was a doctor, but she still regarded him suspiciously.
“I treated your, uh … sister for several years on and off,” Andre lied.
“I don’t remember seeing you at the hospital,” Sally said.
“Well, unfortunately, I was away when she contracted her final illness. And then, her death was so sudden. I feel terrible about it. She was still a young woman.”
Sally reached down and unlocked the storm door. She pushed it open just enough to rest against it. “She went quick,” agreed Sally.
“Tragic,” said Andre. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Sally Jenkins cocked her head to one side. “Thank you. You came all the way down here to offer your condolences?”
“Well, actually.” Andre held up an envelope. “I have something I have to deliver. She knew she had a terminal condition, and she asked me to do her a favor. She wanted to be sure that … um … this went to her son.”
“She didn’t have no money,” Sally said.
“It’s true that she was virtually indigent, but that was why she left this with me. So that she wouldn’t be tempted to spend it when she got desperate. She asked me to put it in Calvin’s hands, and she said that in the event of her death, you people would probably be taking care of him. You know. Being his aunt and uncle.”
“How come she didn’t go to a lawyer?” said Sally.
“She couldn’t afford a lawyer,” said Andre.
Sally nodded at this, as if confirming it was true.
“I volunteer at a clinic. She used to come and see me there,” Andre said. “I guess she figured she could trust me.”
Sally snorted. “That figures. You’re good-looking.”
Andre smiled thinly. “In any case, I wanted to deliver this to her son.” Andre tapped on the envelope in his hand.
“He’s not here,” said Sally. “You can leave it with me.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Andre. “I promised your sister I would bring this to him and put it into his hands.”
Sally peered at the envelope. “How much is it?”
Andre gave her a reproachful look. “It’s not a great deal of money. But it was her wish for her son to have it.”
Sally gazed at him thoughtfully. “This isn’t some scheme you cooked up with that Keefer guy to get to Calvin, is it?”
“Excuse me?” Andre asked politely.
Sally looked out at Andre’s car at the curb. The M.D. plates were clearly visible. She looked back at Andre and then sighed. “This sounds like something Penny would do. Oh well. All right. He’s not staying with us. We crowd him, he says. He’s staying over at the Ocean Breeze Motel. Unit 408. You know where that is? It’s a few blocks in from the boardwalk.”
“I imagine I can find it,” he said.
“I’m gonna call Calvin and tell him you’re coming,” she said. “If he don’t want to let you in, that’s his business. You can slide it under the door.”
“That’s fine,” said Andre. Despite her lackluster appearance, this woman was nobody’s fool, he thought. He wondered if he could get to the Ocean Breeze Motel before Calvin decided to bolt. Of course, Calvin would be curious about the envelope with the money. That might be enough to make him stick around. Andre had to hope so. “You have a nice day,” he said.
Andre walked back to his car and was leisurely about getting into the driver’s seat, for the benefit of the cop’s wife still watching him from the doorway. He adjusted his mirrors and checked all his locks before pulling slowly away from the curb. Once out of her sight, however, he navigated through town screeching around corners, past blinking red lights, and accelerated to the speed limit on the deserted road that ran past the wetlands toward the boardwalk.
The Ocean Breeze Motel was not difficult to find, and luckily he had the room number already. There was a large parking lot in front of the fifties-style motel, but room 408 was in back. Andre drove around and parked his car. There were a few other cars scattered in the parking spaces, and beyond the parking lot, an empty swimming pool with a single round table and a few overturned plastic chairs beside it. Outside of a room down the walk
way was a chambermaid’s rolling cart, piled high with towels and cleaning supplies, but no signs of the chambermaid.
Andre got out of his car and, noting the sequence of numbers on the doors, walked in the opposite direction from the cart until he spotted room 408. He could see a sliver of light inside the room, like a glaring crease along the seam of the blackout drapes. He lifted his fist to knock on the door, but before his hand made contact with it, the door was pulled open from within.
A lean young man with dishwater-blond hair and startlingly handsome features opened the door. He was pale and sweaty, and his fine gray eyes were wide with fear.
“Are you the doctor my aunt called about?” he demanded.
Andre frowned and took a step back. “Yes,” he said slowly.
“Thank God.” He looked anxiously up and down the deserted walkway and grabbed Andre’s sleeve. “You gotta help me. He’s dying.”
25
THE inviting smell of cinnamon and yeast emanated from the Connellys’ house when Rose opened the door. But the look on Rose’s face was anything but welcoming. She did not smile at Nina as she asked her to come in, and every crease and sag on her middle-aged face seemed more pronounced than usual.
“It smells good in here,” said Nina, trying to be pleasant.
“I made bread. It was something to do with my hands,” said Rose abruptly. “Sit down, Nina.”
Nina sat on the taupe love seat. Rose sat at a right angle to her on the couch. Over Rose’s shoulder, Nina could see a framed photograph of Jimmy and young Anthony, arms around each other’s shoulders, smiling for the camera. “What’s the matter?” said Nina. “You sounded upset on the phone.”
“I’ll get right to the point,” said Rose. “I want to know what happened yesterday. With Jimmy. You left here looking for him. Did you find him?”
“Well, yeah. Actually, I found him at … Didn’t he tell you?” Nina asked.
“He was out all night,” said Rose. “He said he slept at Patrick’s. He was surly this morning when I tried to talk to him.”
At least he came home, Nina thought. Maybe Rose didn’t know he’d been drinking. “Maybe he was tired,” Nina suggested.
Rose looked at Nina with a disappointed expression on her face. “Please, Nina. Don’t try to fog me. I’m not the sharpest tack in the box, but I’m not a fool either.”
Nina reddened and looked away from the older woman.
“I think … Jimmy was drinking.”
Nina tried to look surprised.
“Jimmy thinks I don’t know,” said Rose calmly. “He forgets the years we went through with him when he was trying to kick the drugs and the alcohol. This morning it was obvious. I could still smell it. I could see it in his behavior. He’s like a different person when he’s high. Where was he when you found him yesterday? Was he drunk?”
Rose was obviously not inclined to hysterics or to mincing words, Nina thought. She was not going to be put off with excuses. “He was at a funeral,” Nina said.
“Whose funeral?” Rose asked, surprised.
“Penelope Mears. She was the mother of …”
“Oh, God,” said Rose. “Oh no. It’s Calvin Mears, isn’t it? Calvin Mears is back in his life.” She shook her head. “Lord help us.”
“Well, actually, I don’t know about that. Calvin was in town for his mother’s funeral. I think Jimmy was just trying to be … supportive, you know.”
Rose shook her head. “That’s who called him this morning. I could see the difference in Jim right away. That’s where he is,” she said grimly.
“What do you mean?”
Rose looked at her balefully. “This morning he told me he was going to change his clothes and go to work. But his boss called from Hoffman Flooring. Jimmy never showed up. He just … disappeared.”
Nina tried to think of something reassuring to say, but the words stuck in her throat.
“He’s with him,” said Rose. “With Calvin. I’ll bet you any money.” Rose shook her head and then looked up at Nina. “Was he drinking when he was with you yesterday?”
Nina didn’t want to be a snitch. But apparently her face gave her away.
“I see,” said Rose grimly. She shook her head. “I’m afraid for your brother.”
Nina chewed her lip and thought it over. Then she spoke quietly. “So am I.”
For a minute, they sat in silence. Then Rose sighed. “No one can make him stay straight if he doesn’t want to be. No one can do that for him,” she said. “But I’m afraid if he goes into another tailspin, he won’t be able to pull himself out of it.”
Nina thought about her brother and Calvin Mears. “You said Calvin Mears called,” said Nina. “Do you have Caller ID on your phone?”
Rose frowned. “Yes. I think maybe we do. I never use it. Anthony wanted it.”
“Can I see?” said Nina. “It’s worth a try.”
Rose led her to the phone and Nina picked it up and scrolled the Caller ID messages. “Ocean Breeze Motel,” she said. “Do you know anybody there?”
Rose shook her head.
Nina showed her the time on the identification window. “Is this about the time when Mears called?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Rose.
Nina dialed the number and asked the woman who answered for the motel’s location. Then she put the phone back in its vertical cradle. “It’s a motel in Seaside Park. I’m going down there,” she said.
Rose shook her head. “Nina, it’s up to Jimmy. You can’t make him give up his addictions. He has to do that himself.”
Jimmy is with Calvin Mears, Nina thought. “I just want to find him,” she said.
WHILE she gassed up the car at the local service station, Nina called Gemma’s house. The machine picked up. She tried Gemma’s cell phone and this time Gemma answered.
“I hear Jimmy spent the night at your house,” said Nina. “Where are you? You sound like you’re in the car.”
“I was at the university library,” said Gemma. “Yeah. You’re right about Jimmy. Patrick had to go pick him up at a bar.”
“I think he’s in trouble,” said Nina. “He told the Connellys he was going to work this morning, but he never made it there. I think he went to meet up with Calvin Mears. You probably don’t remember him …”
“Yes, I do,” said Gemma flatly. “He used to call me Bones.”
Nina winced. She knew that Gemma had endured a lot of teasing about her scrawny appearance in school. “Well, he’s a jerk. He always was. Anyway, I’m going to try to find Jimmy. Calvin and Jimmy are a bad combination. Listen, Gemma, I need a favor. Can you pick up my aunt’s prescriptions at the Village Pharmacy and bring them to her? The pharmacist said she can’t have all of them ready for at least an hour, and I want to get on my way.”
“Sure,” said Gemma. “No problem.”
Nina thanked her sister-in-law, paid for the gas, and headed toward Seaside Park.
Dark clouds were gathering over the deserted beach town by the time Nina arrived. She stopped at another service station for directions and made her way slowly to the street, two blocks from the beach where the Ocean Breeze Motel was located. As soon as she turned the corner and saw the neon sign for the Ocean Breeze, she also saw that there was some sort of commotion going on around it. There were police cars and an ambulance in the parking lot, and people were clustered outside the motel office talking and pointing. A yellow police line had been set up, blocking access to the motel rooms. A few angry customers were demanding that they needed to get in. Nina’s heart was in her throat as she parked at the curb and walked up to where a knot of police officers were standing.
Before she could even open her mouth to ask a question, one of the officers said, “All right, move along here.”
“What happened?” she said.
The officer did not look at her. “Everybody move along. We need everybody to get out of the way.”
A heavyset girl in a barn jacket and blue jeans was making notes on a pa
d. “They had a shooting,” she volunteered.
Nina’s heart skipped a beat. “Who got shot?” Nina demanded.
“I don’t know. I’m trying to get some answers myself. I work for the weekly paper. Somebody who was staying in the motel.”
“My brother was … visiting here,” said Nina anxiously. “Do you have any names?”
The girl looked at her pad. But before she could find the name, Nina saw a car door open and two people she recognized got out. The stocky, balding man was wearing fishing gear and waders, and the woman was wearing stretch pants and a T-shirt with some sort of Victorian design on it. It took Nina a moment to recognize them as one of the officers, apparently in charge, went up to them and shook hands with the balding man. Calvin’s aunt and uncle, from the cemetery, she thought. The uniformed officer leaned in and spoke earnestly to the two of them. The woman let out a startled cry and sagged against her husband.
“Calvin … Mears,” said Nina.
“That’s right,” said the female reporter. “He was killed. The ambulance took the other two away. Hey …”
Nina rushed past her and up to the police line, behind which the plainclothes officer who had been speaking to Calvin’s aunt and uncle was talking with a woman wearing plastic gloves. “Excuse me,” she said. “Excuse me. Please, I need help.”
The officer turned to Nina with a frown. “Get back from there, please,” he said.
“My brother was with the man who got killed. I need to know …”
“What’s your brother’s name?” asked the detective.
“Avery … James Avery.”
The officer looked at his notebook and his frown deepened, but his impatient look disappeared. “I’m sorry, miss. What’s your name?”
The Girl Next Door Page 21