I don’t know who collapsed laughing first, but soon the three of us were in a heap.
“Oh well,” Wendy said when she caught her breath. “Now that I see myself, I can’t believe that so-called friend talked me into buying this monstrosity. And I wore it in public!”
“Brides,” Lilith intoned as if she had firsthand knowledge. “They like to be the center of attention. No bridesmaid is ever supposed to look good. That’s their subtext. Don’t let yourself be fooled again.”
“Matron of honor!”
“Goes double,” Lilith muttered.
Wendy sighed. “No wonder Brad wouldn’t comment. I could try to sell it, but who in their right mind would buy it?”
I said, “Don’t worry about that. If you’re lucky you’ll get twenty percent of the original value, but every forty dollars counts. The shoes and evening bag are keepers. Nice and neutral classics. You’ll get to use them for years.”
Shortly after, Wendy was back in her closet-cleaning gear and the monstrosity was lying in its protective zippered bag on the Sell pile.
“How does that feel?” I said.
“I’m surprised, but it feels good to send it packing. I didn’t like it, of course, but all that money and the sentimental value. But of course, you’ve explained the politics of all that.”
“When something’s hard to get rid of, maybe it’s an investment or sentimental object or it’s you wanting to be a different size or a different age or in a different life, but the minute you decide to turf it, you can feel the weight lift off your shoulders.”
“Yeah and I want the forty bucks, too. We’re not through here yet.”
The remaining items at issue—pants that were too tight, a gift sweater that was the wrong color, and a yoga top that clung like freezer wrap—all hit the Sell pile in a flash.
“And we’re done with Phase 1,” I said. “We can see the bed. I’ll leave you two to sort the shoes, and I’ll see you tomorrow to plan how we’ll store your remaining clothing. Have a look at the pictures I left behind. Decide if you like things open and visible or closed off and neat. We’re nearly finished.”
Wendy gave me a big hug.
I said, “Lilith will cart away the toss and donate stuff. And if you want, I’ll take the Sell pile to the consignment shop tomorrow. That will save you from having a midnight change of heart.”
“I’ll come tomorrow, too,” Lilith said.
I glanced at her sharply. The hundred dollars wouldn’t last much longer, even with me charging for portions of an hour and subtracting any minutes that I was eating, drinking, chatting, or laughing.
“No charge,” Lilith added quickly. “I’ll do it as a friend. Anyway, I haven’t seen too much of Charlotte in action and I’d like to watch how she measures and helps you decide about storage.”
Wendy gave her a mom-size hug. “I’d love it if you came over. We’re great buddies.”
Right, I thought. And Seth didn’t have a thing to do with it.
Speaking of buddies, my cell phone vibrated angrily for the third time during that short conversation. I decided to take it.
Pepper.
What the hell was wrong now?
Whatever was troubling Pepper, she didn’t respond. I sat in the Miata and thought about what to do next. Ever since Wendy had mentioned that her husband was a paramedic, I’d been wondering about what the emergency personnel might have observed on the scene when Anabel’s body was found. I knew the police believed it was an accident, but, face facts, the best detective in Woodbridge was definitely Pepper and she was on leave with her baby at the time and pretty much obsessed with that baby. Her partner, Frank D’Angelo, was seconded to yet another task force, as well as being a distracted newlywed. They weren’t exactly plugged into the pulse.
Tierney seemed sharp enough, but he was new to Woodbridge. And he wouldn’t tell me even if he did think there was anything suspicious about Anabel’s death. We didn’t seem to have a trusting relationship. It couldn’t hurt to have a chat with the paramedics, but I knew that Tierney would never tell me their names. Nick would know who the emergency workers had been. He’d been there early on. With Nick that couldn’t be a good thing. No doubt he’d blundered all over the walkway, trampling evidence. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Wendy’s husband, Brad, might have known their names. I should have asked him when I’d had the chance. Maybe the next time I was there. I left another message for Pepper and headed home to catch up on my calls and clients, check e-mail and phone messages. Halfway there I made a U-turn and headed for Old Pine Street. I pulled up in front of Pepper and Nick’s place. I peered into the garage window. Only Nick would have a window so he could admire his vehicles while mowing the lawn. Of course, the garage had the kind of security that the governor’s mansion gets. Nick’s Mustang and truck were still parked inside. I hoped I didn’t set off any alarms by peeking in. Pepper’s new Ford Edge was gone. No one answered the front door. Where were Pepper and Little Nick? Pepper was so overprotective. She’d never leave the baby with any mere mortal babysitter. Was she scouring town in her agitated state of mind looking for Nick?
I decided that my office duties could wait. It had been that kind of day. The advantage of keeping on top of my schedule as a general rule is flexibility when I need it. My friends usually roll their eyes if I mention that. Of course, with all the complications provided by the Beauchamps, Pepper, and Nick, I’d be seriously behind in no time. There are limits to flexibility.
Pepper was not at the Woodbridge Police Station, although I suppose it was a ridiculous idea to think she might have gone looking for Nick there. As all the squad cars look alike, I couldn’t tell if Nick was there, either, though it must have been near the end of his shift. I straightened my blouse and checked my makeup in the rearview. I walked into the station with my head held high.
I asked the desk sergeant if I could speak with Officer Nick Monahan.
“Sure can.”
“Thank you,” I said with my warmest smile, secure in the knowledge that there was no lipstick on my teeth.
“Course you’ll have to find him first.”
“Everybody’s a comedian,” said a voice behind me. I turned to find Connor Tierney grinning.
“As long as they don’t give up their day jobs first, I guess that’s all right.”
“Nicely put,” he said. “Why do you want to talk to Nick?”
“Just saying hello.”
“Try and remember that I’m the bad policeman with the good instincts and you’re the lady who gets arrested. How many times is it now?”
“Never for asking if I could talk to someone, though. I see that the law-and-order approach is gaining ground in our town.”
“Nick doesn’t seem to be reachable.”
“Crap,” I said.
“Do you know anything about that?”
“No. Yes. Maybe I do. But not much. I wanted to discuss something with him, but I’ll try again when he’s not on patrol.”
“How do you know he’s out on patrol?”
I found myself biting my lip yet again. “I don’t. But I did see him a couple of times this morning. I’m sure he’s out patrolling diligently. Maybe he had a flat tire or something.”
“Could be, and maybe that flat tire happened at the same time as he stopped responding to his radio.”
The desk sergeant was grinning along with Tierney.
“I guess it’s funny,” I said. “I was a bit worried, but if you guys are practicing your stand-up comic routines, I’ll head home to mind my own business.”
Tierney caught up with me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s not like you to mind your own business.”
“People change. I’m going home. I have a lot of work to do tonight.”
“Work to do?”
“Yes. I—”
I couldn’t believe it. Of course. Dinner! I had it written on my list, but the problem with Nick and Pepper and my lack of sleep and my worry about Lorele
i had all driven it out of my mind. I was losing it. And that is so not like me.
“Until dinner, of course,” I said. “And allowing time to get ready before.”
“I thought maybe you might have forgotten.”
“Ha. Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“You look like you’re annoyed.”
“I’ll see you tonight. I need you to promise me that there will be no meddling.”
I was still having a bit of trouble making eye contact. I let my eyes stray behind him to a poster of police, firefighters, and paramedics. It was attractive and soothing. Made you feel safe looking at it. It didn’t seem like the right time to ask Tierney if he knew the names of the paramedics who were first on the scene when Anabel Beauchamp died.
Pepper still wasn’t answering. I sure hoped she didn’t end up home with a cranky baby and an infantile husband on suspension. She was already on the edge. I thought if we misfits had to help out, there’d be a fight to see which of us got the baby, as a couple of hours consoling Pepper and Nick would seem a lot longer.
I glanced over my shoulder on the off chance that Tierney was behind me. On this crazy day when the police seemed to have nothing at all on their To Do lists, anything was possible. The coast was clear, so I veered off and retraced the route I had taken that morning when looking for Nick. He was a creature of habit. I tried the doughnut shops, the drive-thru coffee shops, the movie theaters, although that seemed unlikely. I even returned to Hank’s. No Nick. No Pepper.
I glanced at my watch and reminded myself that an organized person has learned to deal with shifting priorities. I was and I had. So. New first priority: Find Nick. Where else would he hang out?
I even drove by my place, but neither Pepper nor Nick were parked in the driveway. I zipped along and down Long March Road to Jack’s shop.
Jack was in the shop looking bemused. With his free hand he was spinning the wheels of two Italian bikes that were suspended from the ceiling.
“Guess what?” he said.
“Let me think. You’re holding a baby?”
“Yeah. Of course, you’re cheating since you can see him.”
“Since I’m on a winning streak, I’ll hazard another guess. Pepper left him with you?”
“She did. And the little dude and I have a great time playing with these excellent toys, whenever we get tired of the sock monkey and the ducky.”
“Huh.”
“Isn’t that neat?”
“Sure is, Jack.”
Little Nick squeezed his soft plush yellow duck and it squeaked.
Pepper is the ubermom. She wouldn’t leave her baby with Jack, even if he is baby crazy, without a damn good reason. I mean it is, after all, a bike shop. Normally Nick wouldn’t count as a good reason for such an out-of-character decision. It would have to be a crisis, such as last night’s melt-down where she told me she was afraid Nick was mixed up in something dangerous. Had she confronted him again and learned that the danger was imminent?
11
Don’t give up on favorite items with small problems: An inexpensive sweater defuzzer can give new life to pilled sweaters, tops, and pants.
Was it my fault for telling her that Nick was out there, upset and worried about some danger?
“Okay, good, Jack,” I said. “Carry on.”
As I left the bike shop, I asked myself what to do now. I knew that in normal circumstances the right thing was to call the cops. I had learned that the hard way over the last few missteps, shall we say. But Pepper and Nick were the cops. Therefore, it wasn’t like I was not working with the cops. I could have contacted Tierney, of course. But what would that do for Pepper and Nick? Would it damage Pepper’s career when she returned to work if every one of her colleagues knew she’d been weepy and hysterical? My guess was yes.
And of course, it would get Tierney pissed off at me. This had turned into a crappy situation. I wasn’t going to be able to relax until I found out what was going on.
I needed to find either Pepper or Nick. Then if there was something to be worried about, I’d have a better sense of what to do. Nick had been hanging around Hank’s today, someplace I would have thought he’d outgrown. But then he’d always seemed happy there. Where else had he been happy? A couple of minutes of serious thinking and I thought I might have an answer. Nick had always been happiest making out. That was probably still true. For some reason, I felt compelled to check. Perhaps because the image of Nick’s face, so full of fear, kept flashing in my brain.
I squealed away from the curb and headed for the only place I could think of that meant something to Nick. Bakker Beach. I use “beach” in its broadest sense as there is no sand, only rocks, trees, brush, and a bumpy track off the nearby county road. At least there was a view of the Hudson, which was particularly spectacular during a full moon. Bakker Beach was far enough out of town to be a fine and private place for making out. It was a twenty-minute drive from the edge of town. Nick had collected panties from half the graduating girls in St. Jude’s, if you could believe his claim. Of course, that had been before Pepper got him in her sights. They’d had their own Bakker Beach moments.
Twenty minutes later, my heart soared as the Miata lurched down the bumpy track and crested the slight hill at the end of the line. Two vehicles were angled on the ragged grassy slope. A squad car was idling, door open, although Nick was nowhere to be seen.
I stopped at the top of the incline to the beach and hopped out of the car. I didn’t want to get stuck on the sandy uneven track.
Pepper’s new red Ford Edge was parked straight on, doors closed. I paused midstep. What was she doing here? What if I was about to interrupt a romantic moment between a married couple? I stuck my head back into the Miata and gave a short blast with the horn. I waited to give them time to adjust their clothing if necessary and then stomped over toward the car.
I felt like giving the two of them the kind of old-fashioned talking-to that you hear about. I also felt like letting the air out of their tires. Nick was going to be in trouble at work, not that I cared. But overprotective Pepper had left her baby in a bike shop. How crazy was that? As I reached Pepper’s car, I could see she was resting her head on the steering wheel. I knew she was tired, but this was ridiculous. You would have thought the blast from my horn would wake her up. I was surprised her own car horn wasn’t blaring with her head in that position.
I knocked on her window. She didn’t move. I hammered loudly. Nothing. I tried shouting. Still nothing.
“Pepper!” I pulled at the door handle in a panic.
Locked.
I banged on the window again.
I raced to the front of the vehicle, intending to pound on the windshield. I raised my fist and gasped. Pepper’s face was squashed against the steering wheel, a jagged gash showed on her forehead. There was far too much blood.
I don’t know why I thought screaming “Pepper” would do any good. I tried screaming for Nick, and that failed utterly, too. It crossed my mind that whoever had done this might still be in the vicinity. I whipped my cell phone out of my pocket to call 911.
Great. I must have been in one of the few pockets without cell phone service in the entire county. I moved to the other side of Pepper’s vehicle and tugged at that handle. She was bleeding quite a lot. I thought if I could staunch the flow, I could drive us to the hospital, or at least to meet an ambulance.
Of course, it was locked.
Pepper always kept her doors locked. She wasn’t the trusting type. But she wouldn’t have locked the doors against Nick. That didn’t make sense. Unless Nick was the person who’d injured her. I couldn’t allow myself to think that Pepper might have been dead. I hunted around for a rock big enough to break the back window without getting Pepper hit by glass. The rocks I tried were pathetically small.
I hated to leave her, but I didn’t have any choice. I turned to head up the hill to the Miata when a movement caught my eye, from the brush by th
e side. Naturally, that movement was between me and my car. Who was it? The person who’d injured Pepper? Nick? A bear?
I didn’t wait to find out. I jumped into the idling police car and slammed and locked the door. The key was in the ignition or it wouldn’t have been idling. Lucky for me it hadn’t been idling long enough to kill the batter. I tried my cell again. Still no signal. I stared at the police radio equipment. How did that work? No time to find out. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a dark shadow approaching. I wasn’t the only person in the world who would have grabbed the wheel, slammed that cop car into reverse, and stepped on the gas.
The squad car rocketed backward toward the Miata, and I jerked the wheel in time to miss it. I zigzagged backward up the road, practically standing to touch the pedals. No way was I taking the time to adjust the seat.
As I approached the county road, I slowed until I found a segment wide enough to turn around. With one eye on the back window, I managed the U-turn. I tried again with my cell phone. Still no service.
I shot forward in the car and drove to the highest spot of the hill.
The little bars were back on my phone. Four!
I pressed 911 and gasped for breath.
“Oh hi, Charlotte,” the familiar voice said. I’d known Mona Pringle since high school at St. Jude’s, although lately all our interactions seemed to be through 911.
Mona said, “Do you have a cold or something?”
“Emergency, Mona. No time for banter. Pepper Monahan has been badly injured. She’s at the entrance to Bakker Beach. She’s in a locked vehicle, bleeding. Her husband—”
“Nick the Stick?”
“Nick’s car is on the site with the door wide open and there’s no sign of him.”
“Any sign of the perp?”
“No one else that I could see, Mona. I think you should say “officer down” or something to the police, so they realize how—”
“Don’t worry. I know how to do my job, Charlotte.”
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