This had to be the same drowning victim Ruth read about on the day she arrived. She thought back to the first time she met Tim’s new boyfriend Nick Musgrove. It was when Ruth was visiting Tim in San Francisco this past summer, shortly before she went back to Minnesota to tie up all the loose ends for her move. Tim and Nick had only met the day before and spent their first night together here in this, Tim’s old apartment.
Ruth remembered she heard voices in the garden early in the morning and came out to find the two of them there—her nephew and his handsome blonde friend. From that first moment Ruth could imagine the two of them together forever, as if they were already smiling into one another’s eyes in a picture frame on the mantel.
Ruth always swore that she hadn’t inherited any of her mother’s psychic gifts. They had skipped a generation and landed squarely on Tim’s shoulders, for which Ruth was grateful and relieved. He was better able to handle them than she would have been, but still… there were times when Ruth simply knew she was right about something.
The man in the newspaper sketch was totally bald, but Ruth had scribbled shoulder-length hair onto him until he looked an awful lot like Nick Musgrove. He could easily pass as Nick’s brother… or his cousin. And if Nick’s cousin was the drowning victim in this morning’s Chronicle that would explain why he hadn’t shown up yet. Ruth looked up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was nearly 10:30. She needed to talk to Tim as soon as possible. She hated to wake the boys, but she would have to risk it.
“Hi, this is Tim. I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a…” Ruth started to set the phone back down, but paused. Maybe they were in the shower. He mentioned that they sometimes showered together… to save water. Or maybe they had gone out to breakfast. “…of the tone and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, I promise… unless you’re trying to sell me something, in which case you must have the wrong number.”
“Tim, it’s your Aunt Ruth. Call me as soon as you get this. Whatever you do, don’t let Nick see this morning’s Chronicle. I’m afraid it will come as a terrible shock.”
Ruth had no way of knowing that Tim was barreling up Highway 101 at the moment. Tim knew that if Nick was too hurt and upset to return his calls, the only thing to do was to speak to him in person. In person was better, anyway. He would find Nick and explain what happened, and they would have sex and everything would be fine again. At least he hoped so. Tim didn’t have to work until Tuesday. Good sex could solve just about anything.
Tim made it through Santa Rosa in record time. Traffic was light this morning on River Road, too. It was off-season for the resorts, and the air was filled with the smells of wood-burning stoves and damp redwoods. Tim slowed the Thunderbird to the speed limit through Guerneville’s Main Street and noticed a few guys hanging out in front of the Rainbow Cattle Company smoking cigarettes, but no one he recognized.
He drove on to Monte Rio and turned up the steep hill to Nick’s house, but the truck wasn’t there. Tim got the Thunderbird turned around and drove through the streets of the little town looking for a public phone or an open place of business. Didn’t anybody use pay phones anymore? He might have to break down and get a damn cell phone one of these days, after all. Lights were on at the laundromat and there was a phone inside, so Tim tried to call Nick, first at home, then on Nick’s cell phone and finally at the greenhouse.
When someone finally picked up the phone at the nursery, Tim blurted out, “Hello, is Nick there please?”
“No, he isn’t. He’s out of town for the weekend.” Tim recognized Jenny’s voice.
“Oh… Jennifer… Jen, sorry… good… it’s Tim Snow.”
“Oh, hi… I thought maybe this was finally going to be Nick’s cousin calling…”
“You remember me, don’t you?”
“Sure,” she said, “but I thought Nick was spending the weekend in San Francisco with you. Is there some kind of trouble? Didn’t he make it?”
“He made it down to the city, all right. I guess you could say we got our wires crossed. It’s a long story.”
“Well, I don’t know where his cousin is either. It’s Kent’s first day back, and he just told me the cousin stopped by here the last day Kent worked and…”
Tim didn’t care about Nick’s stupid cousin; he wanted Nick! On the other hand, he wanted to stay on Jen’s good side and keep her talking. “So the long-lost cousin finally showed up after all? And Nick still went down to the city?”
“Nick didn’t know. Kent was out sick with the swine flu since that day. It was over a week ago, that same day you and Nick were off wine-tasting. I was in back when Nick’s cousin Nate came in, so I didn’t see him. Kent just told me about it this morning.”
“Uh-huh…”
“Yeah, Kent told Nate that he should stop by the Rainbow Cattle Company and ask around. He thought you guys might both have been there if Nick wasn’t here and he wasn’t at home. Imagine sending a straight cop from New Orleans into a gay bar…”
“It probably wasn’t his first time. Listen, Jen, I need to get a hold of Nick. I’m in Monte Rio at the laundromat. I just drove up to his house and he’s not there. Do you have any idea where he is? I have to talk to him, Jen. I really need to see him.”
“Well, if he’s not with you, I imagine he could be at his parents’ place in Alameda.”
“Alameda! Damn, why didn’t I think of that?”
“I’m sure he planned to stay with you though, but he mentioned stopping to see them this weekend, too… something about his grandmother.”
“Can you give me their number?”
“I’m not supposed to—”
“Jenny, it’s Tim, for God’s sake!” he pleaded.
“Well, I guess it’s all right… hold on. It must be here someplace. I’ll have to look for it. It’s not like I would ever call him there unless it was an emergency.”
“This is an emergency as far as I’m concerned. Don’t worry. If he gives you any trouble I’ll swear I held a gun to your head.”
“All right, just hold on. It might take me a while… Kent, do you know where Nick keeps that other list of personal phone numbers? I thought they were…”
A teenage kid stood in the doorway of the laundromat with his portable radio loud enough to rattle the windows. Tim screamed at him, “Hey! Do you mind?” and pointed to the phone in his hand. The kid gave Tim the finger and stepped back out to the sidewalk, the noise fading as he walked away.
Tim jotted down the number Jen gave him, and then realized he needed more coins to call Alameda. The change machine was broken, but a couple of elderly ladies doing their wash were each willing to give Tim four quarters for a dollar. They told him that he was their hero for chasing away the hooligan with the radio, at least for the time being.
Still no luck… no answer at Nick’s parents’ house, and there was no answering machine. “Goddammit, Nick!” He would just have to keep trying.
Chapter 16
At first Ruth was annoyed when she didn’t hear back from Tim. Now she started to worry. If Ruth was good at anything, it was worrying. Where could Tim possibly be? She was sure he and Nick must have gone out to breakfast someplace in the neighborhood. She glanced at her watch. It was getting to be more like time for brunch—a late brunch… somewhere outside of the neighborhood. They each had their own set of wheels, now, so they could have gone anywhere. She just hoped Tim checked his answering machine the minute he got home. What if Nick was standing right there with him when he did? He would hear her voice warning Tim not to let him see the newspaper.
The only sensible thing to do was to run over to Hancock Street right now. She wrote a quick note:
Tim—I’ve been trying to reach you. It’s very important. Please call me the minute you get home. Love, Aunt Ruth
She tore the note off the pad, grabbed her purse and stuck the note inside. Then she picked up her keys and dashed down the stairs to the gate.
Tim was exhausted, physically and emotio
nally. He’d hardly slept at all last night, and he was no closer to finding Nick now than when he left home. Ever since he cursed into the pay phone, the two elderly ladies in the Laundromat had been staring at him.
Tim got back in his car and drove to Guerneville. If he headed back to San Francisco now, Nick would probably be on his way north. They could cross paths on Highway 101 and not even see each other. Tim tried to remember one of the few sensible things his crazy mother had instilled in him: If you’re lost, stay in one place, and we will come and find you.
Nick had never met Tim’s mother, and Tim was determined to keep it that way, but he decided to stay put. Maybe Nick’s parents had instilled different rules to live by. Maybe Nick’s father had taught him how to hunt. Oh, if only Nick was hunting for me, instead of angry and hurt and who-knows-what-all-else…
Tim checked into a room at the Triple-R Resort. He had to regroup and unwind and get a grip. His room was directly across from the bar. He only had to walk outdoors, and it was about ten steps to the nearest bar stool. It would be convenient if things got any worse and he needed to drown his sorrows.
Tim knew it didn’t do any good to blame himself, but it was hard not to. Now he wished he possessed his grandmother’s entire “gift” and knew how to make use of it. He’d be willing to try any trick to find out where Nick was. He decided to walk over to Pat’s on Main Street for a huge breakfast. He hated to order decaf, but he needed to sleep after this. Maybe he would even be able to dream something useful, and the sooner he got around to it the better.
Back at the room, stuffed on pancakes, Tim got undressed and made a couple of phone calls. First he called the greenhouse to tell Jenny where he was, just in case she heard from Nick. Then he called his Aunt Ruth.
“Tim, where have you been? Did you just get home and get my note? I hope Nick didn’t hear my message about his cousin on your answering machine.”
“What message? I haven’t seen Nick. I’m in Guerneville.”
“Guerneville? I thought you and Nick went out for breakfast. What do you mean you haven’t seen him? He came into the restaurant last night right after you left. What are you doing in Guerneville?”
“Last night got all messed up! It’s a long story. I went to the Midnight Sun and that boy—Theodore’s nephew—was so drunk he started kissing on me, and Nick must have walked in and seen us and… I’m sorry, but it wasn’t my fault. I was totally innocent.”
“Oh, Tim…”
“Nothing happened with that kid! I can see how it might have looked, but Nick has just got to believe me. And besides, he was the one who didn’t want to come down this weekend because of his damned cousin! How was I to know he changed his mind at the last minute? I mean… he sent me an e-mail, and he left a message, but I left for work early, so I didn’t know. Then later that night he left me a note at the house that basically said goodbye and it was nice knowing me. I’ve just got to see him and hold him and explain to him that nothing was the way it looked…”
“I’m sure you two can work things out, Tim, but I’m afraid he’s also going to be even more upset about his cousin.”
“What about his cousin?”
“Do you have the Saturday Chronicle?”
“Hold on a second. I think I saw one on the bar. I’ll go get it…”
Tim pulled his jeans back on and walked barefoot and bare-chested across to the bar, grabbed the Bay Area section and headed back to his room.
Someone yelled, “Hey! That’s my paper! I’m not done with that.”
“I’ll bring it right back,” Tim hollered, but he’d already given his door a shove, and it closed before the man heard him.
“Look at that police sketch on the front page. I think that’s Nick’s cousin.”
“Holy shit… I’ll bet you’re right! He’s kinda hot! They could be twins if Nate had hair or if Nick shaved his head.”
“That’s what I thought, too. But if Nick’s cousin is dead…”
“That would explain why he hasn’t shown up… duh!” Tim finished her sentence for her.
“Tim, when are you coming home?”
“Not until I find Nick. I left a message at the nursery, and I’ve called his parents’ house in Alameda, but they don’t answer. There’s no sense heading back if he’s on his way here. I’m not scheduled to work at Arts until Tuesday. I checked into a room at the Triple R if you need to reach me. Do you have a pen? Take down the number. Call me if you hear anything, but right now I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“I sure will, honey. Get some rest.” Ruth wasn’t comfortable discussing the mystery of her nephew’s psychic abilities. She’d felt the same way growing up when their mother spoke of things that she and Betty couldn’t begin to understand. Ruth knew that when Tim mentioned sleep, he might intend more than just getting some rest for his body. Sometimes his dreams held the answers to his problems.
Tim opened his door a crack to see if anyone was sitting at the end of the bar before he dashed back with the newspaper. “Sorry about that,” he told the bartender, “I didn’t realize anyone was reading it.”
“Don’t worry about it. He found another one. Keep it.”
“Thanks.” Tim took the paper back to his room and flipped through it. Sometimes they printed related stories on the same page. There was another one about a break-in at the Highway Department’s construction site just south of Sebastopol. The thief or thieves stole an enormous stash of Red Cross du Pont dynamite, yards of detonation cord and enough blasting caps that the Department of Homeland Security has been informed of the theft.
Tim knew exactly where that construction site was, just down the road from the nursery. Nick drove right by there on his way to work whenever he took Highway 116. Tim drifted off to sleep until about 5 p.m.. He expected to dream about Nick or his dead cousin or dynamite and terrorists, but if he had any dreams he couldn’t remember them. It felt more like a coma than a nap, the sort of daytime sleep that was hard to shake off.
After his nap, Tim felt disoriented in a strange place. He showered and the events of the past twenty-four hours crept into his brain with a woozy kind of wakefulness. He walked back over to Main Street to see if anything was happening at this hour on a Saturday. He took the alley short-cut to the back door of the Rainbow Cattle Company. Someone sat in a car with the windows wide open, the radio blasting a country oldies station. Tim could hear the disc jockey’s voice, “Next up: Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys with their hit, Take Me Back to Tulsa.”
Inside the bar it was fairly quiet. Tim recognized the bartender from the last time he was here. “Hi, how about a Bud? Do you remember me?” Tim smoothed a wrinkled twenty across the bar. “I was in here the other night with Nick Musgrove…”
“Sure… it’s Tim, isn’t it?”
“Right,” Tim extended his hand. “You’re better with names than me.”
“Charlie.”
“Charlie… that’s right, sorry…” They shook hands. “Say, you haven’t seen Nick today, have you?” Tim thought Nick might have driven back through town while he was napping.
“I haven’t seen Nick since that night you two were in here playing pool. No, wait… I lied. He stopped in one evening, didn’t even stay for a beer, said he was looking around for his cousin. Nick used to be a regular customer on the weekends, but now he’s always taking off to the city. I guess married life agrees with him.” Charlie grinned and gave Tim a wink.
A stranger stepped up and slid into the bar stool beside Tim, who hardly noticed the man until he said, “What a coincidence. I’m looking for Nick Musgrove, too. Name’s Fred…” His rolled up sleeves revealed crude tattoos on both arms. He stuck out his right hand toward Tim.
“Hi, I’m Tim Snow. Where do you know Nick from?”
“You could say I’m an old friend of the family. Buy you a beer, Tim?”
“No thanks… I just got one.”
“You feel like shooting some pool?”
“Okay…” Tim was in n
o mood to play pool, but he was curious about this guy who claimed to know Nick. Aside from the tattoos, his skin was ghostly white. Most people in a resort area had some color in their cheeks. Some kept a year-round tan, though it was apt to fade by spring. Right now it was too close to the end of the summer for anyone to be so pale. “You live around here, Fred?”
“Nope, not lately.”
Tim got solids on the break and then picked off three more balls before he missed a tough bank shot. “How long have you known Nick?” Tim asked as Fred chalked up his cue stick.
“We go way back… Damn!” Fred said, missing an easy shot. “…back when him and Larry were first together, getting the business off the ground.”
“I heard Nick mention Larry,” Tim said, and picked off three more solids and scratched on the cue ball, “but that was way before my time.”
“Oh, yeah?” Fred was missing the easiest shots in the world. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to the game. “What did Nick mention?”
“Just that Larry’s in prison somewhere.” Tim wasn’t a great pool player by any means, but he was lucky sometimes, like now.
“That so?” Fred asked and Tim sank the eight ball to win the game.
“That’s what Nick told me. How come you’re looking for Nick, anyway, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’ve got a little present for him, that’s all.”
“A present from you?”
“Yeah, from both me and Larry, I guess you could say. How about another game of pool, Tim?” Fred asked.
“Okay, I guess so.” Tim thought this guy was weird, and he didn’t much care for him, but he had nothing else to do. Furthermore, he thought he might learn something more about Nick’s past.
“Let’s make it interesting this time,” Fred said with a crooked grin. It reminded Tim of a dirty white picket fence… with pickets missing. “Whaddaya say to twenty bucks?”
“I never play for money.”
“How about for our next drinks, then?”
“Well, okay,” Tim said.
“Where do you know Nick from, Tim?” Fred racked up the balls.
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