by Lora Roberts
“He must be the brother who was romantically involved with her,” Bridget whispered. When Tom Dancey didn’t speak for a few minutes, other people in the crowd began whispering, too. I saw the two ladies we had followed from the parking lot exchange significant glances.
“Someone from the police department would like to say a few words,” Tom Dancey went on, mastering his emotion. “Once more, thank you for this beautiful display of affection. Rita would have been proud. Maybe she is proud, somewhere.”
There was a sympathetic murmur from the crowd. I waited for Bruno to go forward, but it was Officer Rhea who stood in front.
“We deeply regret that we are not quite finished with our investigation,” she said. “As Mr. Dancey said, all the evidence points to accident. But in case it was not an accident, we are doing a very thorough check of the scene. And we’d like to ask all of you to let us know if you remember anything suspicious, or if anything in the least bit out of the way catches your eye in the next few days. I would be glad to give my card to anyone who wants it, or you can reach us through the police dispatcher. Please don’t hesitate to call or to come and talk to me if you have any concerns.”
The crowd began to break up. A few people went to talk to Tom Dancey; a few more headed for Officer Rhea.
Bruno cleared his throat, looking from Bridget to me. “As I said, I have a favor to ask.”
“That depends,” Bridget said warily. “I’ve told you everything I know, and a lot more besides. What else do you need?”
“I need you to go around the garden with me and tell me about the gardeners.” Bruno smiled easily. “Nothing for the record, just to let me get acquainted with them. I feel that the personalities of the people involved are important.”
“So you are sure it wasn’t an accident.” Bridget sounded distressed.
“No, I am not sure. That is why I need more information. The case is obscure right now. And the more time that goes by, the less likely we are to find out what really happened. Will you help me?”
“Does it have to be tonight?” I wanted to get back—to check on Amy, I told myself, though I knew it was more to do with Drake’s phone call.
“Tomorrow morning would be okay.” Bruno whipped out another little book, this one an agenda of some kind. “If you could meet me here?”
“I have to do snacks at preschool,” Bridget said. “It would have to be after ten—eleven would be better.”
“And I’m probably taking Amy to the doctor first thing in the morning. Eleven would work better for me, too.”
“Good.” Bruno made a note. “Thank you both. I feel sure that with your excellent skills of observation, you will help me understand all this better.”
“Well, guess I’d better get home now.” Bridget started back along the perimeter path, and I followed her.
Bruno came along with us. “Have you heard from Paolo lately?” He looked at me, his dark eyes liquid in the faint moonlight.
“He’s left a couple of messages on his answering machine,” I said cautiously. Everyone persisted in treating me as if I were Drake’s special friend. Maybe that was true. But I didn’t like my personal life being known by so many people.
“I had e-mail from him today.” Bruno smiled. “He instructs me to refrain from upsetting you at the same time he says not to drag you into it. I am not trying to drag you in, Liz. But I must ask questions, and I believe both you and Bridget can help me with background.”
Bridget looked uncertain. We had reached her car, and she stood by the driver’s door, keys in hand. “So can other gardeners, who’ve been here a lot longer.”
He spoke patiently. “Those other gardeners might not be such careful observers. Be assured I plan to talk to many of them, especially any who feel they have something to tell me. But I ask you and Liz for your points of view because I respect your abilities. If Paolo were here, I’d let him handle this. But he may not be back for a long time. Maybe not ever.”
The last words were spoken low. As soon as they were out of his mouth, Bruno looked as if he would like to call them back.
I could say nothing. I felt a great hollowness in my chest, and the lump in my throat would have kept any words from getting out.
Bridget was not so handicapped. “What do you mean by that, Bruno Morales?” She planted both hands on her hips and gave him a glare. “Paul is so coming back.” Her glance flicked to me. “He would never leave Palo Alto.”
“Forgive me.” Bruno ran a hand over his head. “I am making a mess of this. It is nothing Paolo has said to me, you understand.”
“Just what gave you the idea he was going to bail?” Bridget sounded as indignant as if she had some right to grill Bruno on my behalf. Still speechless, I felt grateful to her.
“I heard from a colleague in Seattle that they want Paolo to interview for some new position they’ve created that coordinates investigations between different branches.” Bruno sighed. “Such a position would be a step up, besides allowing him to stay with his family in this uncertain time. I know nothing of Paolo’s feelings in the matter. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Drake wouldn’t take that position. He loves his work, his house.” Bridget shot me a glance. “His neighbors.”
I finally managed to produce my voice. “But his family is in Seattle.”
“This is true.” Bruno, I could tell, was worried. “And they have all that coffee. Paolo worked so hard to cut down on his coffee consumption. I am afraid that he will come back more addicted than ever.”
“If he comes back.” That funny sensation in my chest wouldn’t go away. It felt like a giant grapefruit spoon had scooped out my heart.
“He’ll be back.” Bridget spoke up stoutly, and gave me a brief hug. I felt better.
“You are correct, I’m sure.” Bruno opened the passenger door of Bridget’s car and gestured me in. “Please, forget I said anything. I feel foolish for alluding to something so remote in possibility.” He shut the door carefully, and walked away.
Bridget looked at me, her face worried. “He’s right, it’s so remote as to be mythical. You know Paul will be back.”
“Right.” I managed a smile. “I know that.”
I asked Bridget about her Christmas shopping process, and she dove into the topic with gusto. It kept her occupied all the way back to my house. And that was a good thing, because I had a hard enough time forcing breath past that empty place in my chest, let alone words.
Chapter 15
It was not quite eight when I got in. Amy was drowsing on the couch, headphones on, book open. The book, I was interested to note, was The Investor’s Guide to the Stock Market, although she had Bridget’s book on the couch next to her. She sat up straighter when I came in, and asked around a yawn, “Is it late? How was your service?”
“It was fine. I was thinking about going over to Drake’s place to check the messages and see if he’s called. Is that okay?”
“You’re getting a lot of mileage out of his house while he’s gone, aren’t you?” Amy yawned again. “God, I’m so sleepy. I haven’t slept this much since I can remember.”
“Sleep as much as you want.” I turned with one hand on the doorknob. “Will you be okay? Should I hang around?”
“Heck, no, don’t stay on my account.” She smiled at me and flopped back onto the couch. “I don’t want to get in your way. Just pretend I’m not here.”
As if I could.
I let myself into Paul’s house and looked at the blinking light on his answering machine. I hoped I hadn’t missed his call. Then I caught myself. Was this me, getting so hung up on the importance of telephone calls?
I played back the messages on the answering machine, wanting to hear some reassurance from Drake about his future plans, dreading that he might have just left a message saying, the movers are coming, give them the keys. Of course, he wouldn’t do that. But having so much emotional dependence on one person was infuriating. I preferred to slip through my life, hin
dering no one, finding no impediment myself. This policy, though it had served me well for many years, was no longer working. The thought of never seeing Paul again, of living without him, was not just an impediment, it was a total roadblock.
The first message was someone from the city, reminding Drake about a deadline for filing some kind of paperwork. I made a careful note of caller, subject, and phone number in Drake’s phone log. The second message was a hang-up. The third was a woman with a cool, authoritative voice and a tone of casual intimacy I found shocking.
“Paul, it’s silly to call long-distance to leave you a message, but in case I can’t reach you at the hospital, you might pick up your messages from home. Daphne says your dad is better, so I assume we’re on for dinner after all. Please give me a call.” She didn’t give her name or phone number.
I switched off the answering machine. Though I hadn’t written anything down, every word of the last message was engraved in my recollection.
My hand holding the pen trembled too much to form letters. I set the pen down on the notebook and found myself standing by the living room window with no thought of how I’d gotten there. Staring blindly into the night, I took deep breaths until the panicky beating of my heart slowed.
It’s always painful to face the evidence of your own folly. I had been devastated by a man once before, and it had been life-threatening and horrible and had made me so wary of human contact that I had thought I’d never recover. In the past year, my feelings had changed, due in no small part to Paul Drake. I had resented his pushing and prodding me out of my safely frozen emotions, but I had found myself warming up to relationships with those around me—especially him.
Now that I was thawing nicely, perhaps he’d grown tired of waiting for the rest of the ice to melt.
I leaned my forehead against the cool window glass and tried to control the chaos that swirled through me. Because the living room was dark, I could see clearly through the front window.
Carlotta’s car was parked there again. She was actually blocking the end of the driveway, no doubt to see better down it to my cottage in the back.
All those swirling emotions coalesced into one pure feeling: rage. I straightened, my hands tightening into fists. Bad enough that I should have to cope with the fear that I had blown any chance of creating a strong bond with a man I cared for. Bad enough that I had only myself to blame for being so reluctant to, so to speak, go to the mat with Drake. Did I have to be continually hounded for being an outsider, for having no one in my corner, for simply wishing to be left alone?
I headed for the front door, ready to give Carlotta a good reason to fear me.
The phone rang.
I swung around to face it through the archway between the dining area and living room. It rang again, a shrill, self-important summons that twisted my guts.
Like a somnambulist, I walked toward it. It rang once more. On the fourth ring, the answering machine would pick up. My hand hovered over the receiver. At the last moment, I seized it and brought it to my ear.
“Liz? Are you there?” It was Drake, sounding impatient. “Hello?”
“Drake.” My voice was strangled. I cleared my throat. “Hello.”
“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” The impatience left his voice, replaced by concern.
“Nothing.” I had to swallow a couple of times before I could speak. “I hear your dad’s better.”
“He’s a little more comfortable today. They still don’t know if the marrow transplant will be needed.” He paused. “You must have been talking with Bruno. I’m surprised he picked up my e-mail already.”
“You—” I cleared my throat. “You had a message. She said—”
“She?” His voice was sharp.
“The woman who called. She didn’t leave a name or time. She said Daphne said your dad was better, so she assumed you could do dinner.”
There was silence for a moment. Then Drake spoke. His voice, unexpectedly, was laced with humor. “Are you jealous?”
“Yes.” The one word burst from me before I could stop it.
He laughed. “That’s good.”
“Drake, you can’t do this to me.”
“I’m sorry, Liz.” He spoke more gently. “Suellen’s parents and mine are close, and she’s Daphne’s best friend. We grew up together. Her folks invited my mom and my sister and me for dinner, but we begged off until we knew if we could leave the hospital. See? No big deal.” He added thoughtfully, “I don’t really know why she called there, though. She knows how to reach us at the hospital.”
“Does she know I’m picking up your calls? Have you talked about me?”
The humor left his voice. “I don’t discuss our relationship with anyone.”
“Because we don’t have one?”
“Don’t push, Liz.”
“She called here to warn me off.” I don’t know how to play female games, but that doesn’t mean I can’t recognize them when I see them. “Is she married?”
“You really are jealous, aren’t you?”
“Just answer the question.”
He sighed. “She was married. It didn’t take.”
“She cried on your shoulder. She’s ready for a family, for a nice little home in the suburbs. She’s always thought the two of you would get together sometime. She—”
“Liz, stop.” The exasperation was clear. “Sheesh, I was going to put you through the wringer for all the trouble you’ve gotten into while I was gone. How did you turn the tables on me like this?”
“It’s true, isn’t it? Her biological clock is ticking—”
“Women must have some kind of weird psychic network link, that’s all I can say. You’ve never even met Suellen.”
I took a deep breath and tried for some control. “I’m sorry, Drake. I can’t believe I would babble like that. It’s just that Bruno said—”
“What did Bruno say? You have been talking to him, haven’t you? Is he making you part of the investigation? I’ll have his hide for that.”
“Don’t be a dork, Paul. He’s just doing his job. And speaking of jobs, he said you’re being offered a very nice one in Seattle. Where they have all that good coffee, and women who want to embrace domesticity—”
“This is a side of you I hadn’t seen before.” I couldn’t tell what he was thinking from his voice. “I have a very good job in Palo Alto, one that doesn’t involve so much paperwork. I have plenty of domesticity there. I have a nice house. I have all the coffee I want. And there’s something very important in Palo Alto they don’t have here.”
“Sunshine? It rains a lot there, I’m told.”
“That’s true. It rains, and there are no stubborn women who drive incredibly old VW buses and grow divine vegetables.”
“And no dogs like Barker. Don’t forget him.”
“There are certainly no other dogs like Barker anywhere in the world.” He was amused again. “What’s the boy up to these days? Digging up my yard?”
“He’s in ecstasy because of Amy’s visit.”
“Oh, yes. Amy.” Drake smothered a yawn. “What’s happening with her? Did she confess to arson?”
“She’s pregnant.”
A moment of silence. “Whoo. She really knows how to worry her poor old aunt. What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Not my problem.”
“Famous last words.”
He was right about that. “I hope she goes to Planned Parenthood tomorrow for a checkup and some counseling. It’s up to her. She doesn’t want to have the baby, but she might change her mind.”
“Hey, she could pass it over to you. Instant family.” This careless echo of Bridget’s suggestion blew through me like a cold wind. “I hope you’re joking, Drake. And it’s not funny, anyway.”
“No, it’s not.” He sighed again, the gusty sound whispering into my ear. “What else is happening? Any other dead people cropping up?”
“No, but Carlotta’s parked outside again. Sh
e’s blocking the driveway.”
“She’s losing her marbles, if she ever had any.” Drake was exasperated. “Do me a favor. Don’t go confront her. Call the parking enforcement and ask them to send someone out. Don’t get involved, Liz.”
“It’s such a mess.” I wondered how tired Drake was of being embroiled in my messes. “I didn’t ask for this. It’s because people like Carlotta see me as undesirable.”
“Don’t let them chase you away. Just ignore it, turn it over to the police.” His voice was urgent.
“Chase me away, hell! I’m getting mad. What have I done wrong? Nothing! Why should I put up with this?”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re showing a lot of spirit for a woman who likes to duck.”
“I’m just tired of being pushed around,” I muttered.
“I hear you. Just the same, don’t go confronting loony old ladies. Just a minute.” He put his hand over the receiver; I could hear muffled voices. “I have to go. Remember, I love that you’re jealous. But you don’t have to worry.” He paused. “I miss you like crazy.”
“Same here.” I controlled the quaver in my voice. “Thanks, Drake. Paul. I—I look forward to your return.”
“How much?” His voice was lower, sexier.
“How much?” I ran my tongue over my lips. “Well, I was thinking about becoming more acquainted with your bedroom.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ll remember that.” He spoke to someone else. “Be right there, Daff. Bye, Liz.”
I hung up the phone in a completely different frame of mind than I’d answered it. True, this Suellen sounded like the kind of woman who got her way, although how I could tell that from just a seconds-long message was another one of those female mysteries that Drake would decry as impossible. At any rate, he still seemed to prefer an unremarkable-looking ex-vagabond with a gardening jones and an unruly dog. Lucky for me.
I had forgotten to give him his other message, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, even Carlotta crouching at the end of my driveway, a self-righteous monitor of my criminal behavior. I drifted into the living room and checked that she was still there, which she was. Putting my hands up against the window to seal light from my eyes, I could even see a little penlight in the front seat with her shadowy bulk crouched behind it. She was reading something, and after our previous encounter, she’d chosen to eschew her dome light. This little precaution only made me smile. Ten minutes ago, I would have been out there, dumping her penlight’s batteries on the ground and trying to scare some sense into her.