by J. L. Wilson
“We expected him to show up on Monday at school and laugh about it,” Dibs said. “That was the plan anyway.”
“He said how he was going to make this dramatic entrance. Everybody would be out looking for him and he’d come to school, back from the dead.” Lightly took a swallow of beer then belched softly. “Peter always was kind of a showoff.”
“Then you and Tom were in that accident and”—Totts glanced at the other two men—“we kind of forgot about Peter. I mean, he didn’t show up and I guess we figured maybe he really did run away.”
“We weren’t sure what to do,” Dibs said. “We didn’t want to get Peter in trouble.”
And you didn’t want to get yourselves in trouble either, I thought but didn’t say.
“But a body washed up and his mother identified him,” Bell said softly. “She thought he was dead.”
“We all did,” Lightly said. “That’s why we never told anybody. We were afraid that the fall screwed him up and he stumbled away and drowned.”
“We were worried about you, too. We thought you might be blamed. After all, you were so mad at Peter. We were afraid the police might think you were involved,” Totts threw in.
“It was an accident,” Dibs said. He was so anxious to talk his slice of pizza sat on his plate, forgotten. “Lim helped us cover it up. He was worried, too. It was his house. I suppose he was afraid the cops would charge him or something.”
“He’s lucky they didn’t,” Bell said. “As it was, he lost his job. I suppose everybody wanted to cover it up.”
“Peter convinced us he had it all figured out,” Lightly said hurriedly. “You know how he was, Tom. He was a math genius. He had all the probabilities figured.”
“Not math, really.” Bell swished the liquor around in his glass, idly watching it spin. “He was great at predictive analysis.”
I looked at the others and was relieved to see they looked as confused as me. “What?”
“Peter could analyze the behavior of a game player and predict the moves the player would make. He couldn’t predict the game itself, but he could usually predict how people would react to the games. Your father figured it out, Wendy.”
Lightly leaned back in his chair. “That jerk. Is that why he always beat me when we played video games? He always had a fat bet on the game and he almost always beat me.”
“And I’ll bet he beat you only when he had a fat bet,” Bell said. “He analyzed your style of play and he knew how the games worked. He could predict the effect your moves would have. Keep in mind the video games were primitive then. It was easy for somebody who could do that.”
“He didn’t always beat you,” Dibs pointed out.
“That’s because I knew what he was doing so I made sure I never acted predictably.” Bell took another swallow of his drink, crunching down on one of his watered-down ice cubes. “All you had to do was pay attention to what you were doing when you played. It was easy to throw in a few moves that didn’t make sense.”
“I remember,” I said, his words triggering a faint memory. “Dad talked about it. He said most games were set up to train people to make certain moves, to back them into corners.”
“Exactly. That’s why my app did so well,” Bell said with a grin. “I based it on you and you were so predictable. It was up to the user to make you unpredictable.”
“You rat.” I nudged him and he shied away.
“Ticklish, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” I said warningly. “You may be unpredictable about some things, but you aren’t about that.”
“And Wendy,” Totts pointed out. “You were always predictable about her.”
Bell stared at him blankly.
“You were,” Totts said defensively. “We all knew how you felt about Wendy.”
Bell nodded, his eyes distant as though he was looking at a memory. “Of course. The car accident.”
“What?” Now it was Totts’ turn to be confused.
Bell turned to me. “Peter knew I’d come after you. He rigged my car. He tried to kill us.”
Chapter 10
We all stared at Bell. It was Lightly who spoke first. “That’s crazy.”
“Peter wouldn’t have done that,” Dibs said. I could tell he had recovered his composure because he was eating again. “How could he?”
“It would be easy. My car was in the parking lot at high school. I suppose I went in to shower after baseball practice. I always did.”
“But he can’t just drop to the ground and fiddle with the underside of your car in the parking lot,” Totts pointed out. “There would be people all round there.”
“But he could pop the hood and mess with something inside,” Bell said grimly. “All you’d have to do on those old cars is reach in and pull out something. Don’t forget, Peter and I worked on that car together. He was a top-notch mechanic. It would be easy for him.”
“But you drove it,” Totts objected. “It started and drove fine. What did the cops say caused the accident?”
“A tire blew and we went into the ditch. I couldn’t control it.” Bell’s hand tightened on his glass.
I touched his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I never could figure that,” Dibs said, finally pushing away his plate. “You took great care of that car, Tom. It was like your baby. How could you blow a tire?”
“Ran over something in the road?” Lightly asked.
“All it would take is a screw in the back tire,” Dibs said, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh. “You were on a gravel road filled with potholes. You hit one of those, and that would do it.”
“That’s still not saying somebody caused the accident,” Totts, ever the lawyer, said. “There’s a lot of ways you could just have an accident.”
“It was a convenient one,” Bell said. “You said it yourself. Everybody was worried about us. People forgot about Peter until a week or so later, when that body washed up. Or at least they didn’t worry about him right away.”
“And by then the trail was cold and he was long gone,” I said softly.
Totts shook his head. “No way. Peter didn’t run away. He got disoriented or something, he fell in the river, and he drowned. The police tracked his footsteps all the way to the river.”
“But—” I looked at Bell, expecting him to refute it. Instead he just shrugged.
“There’s no way to tell now, is there?” he said. “The authorities did the official ID from the dental charts and that was that.” He chomped on another bit of ice from his glass.
“Then what was that you told a reporter about looking for Shadow?” Lightly regarded Bell warily. “Sounded like you thought he was still alive.”
“Nah. I had to give them some story about why I was here besides the funeral. Otherwise the reporters would be bugging Wendy and trying to crash the service.”
It sounded plausible to me and it must have sounded okay to them, too, because the subject was dropped. Talk turned to getting caught up on what had happened since graduation and that kept us busy until almost ten o’clock when Dibs was the first one to push away from the table. “I’ve got a half-hour drive and I’d better do it before I’m too relaxed.”
He rose and the others followed. “I’ll be there on Friday, Wendy,” Totts said, touching my arm in consolation. “Your mother was a special lady.”
“I’m planning on it, too,” Lightly said.
“Me, too,” Dibs chimed in when we all moved toward the front door. “Are you going to be around for a while after the funeral?”
“I think so,” I said. “I need to wrap up a few things, figure out what to do with the house. I took some vacation time on top of my bereavement leave, so I don’t plan to go back to the office for another couple of weeks. I’m playing it all by ear.” It wasn’t until I spoke the words that I realized, somewhere in the back of my mind, was the idea that maybe I wouldn’t go back at all. Work and my life in Des Moines seemed more than just a two-hour drive aw
ay. It felt like it was on another planet.
Totts shot me a questioning look, but lawyerly discretion prevailed. “We’ll make sure to get together before you leave town,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “It was good to see you, Tom. Don’t be a stranger when you come back to town to visit.”
“Maybe he won’t be coming back now that Mrs. Davis is gone,” Lightly said, opening the door and stepping onto the stoop.
“Oh, I think I’ll be around.” Bell didn’t look at me when he said it, but the others all exchanged knowing looks.
I moved outside with them, peering to the right through the misty fog. The dark sedan was gone. “I guess our eavesdropper got tired of watching the house,” I said to Bell while I waved good-bye to the Lost Boys, hurrying to their cars parked in front.
“That bugs me.” Bell closed the door behind me and walked back to the dining room, going to the window to look out. “The other guys don’t know this one. I’m not top-drawer news, so why would a service send somebody else out here? I need to talk to that guy tomorrow and see who he’s working for.”
I cleared off the table and stacked the dishes into the dishwasher. “Maybe it’s somebody new trying to break into the business.”
“I can think of better ways to do that than to follow a middle-aged business executive around a small Midwestern town.”
He sounded grumpy. No, he sounded depressed. That wasn’t like Bell. I turned to look at him. He was still at the window, but he wasn’t looking outside. He was staring down at the pictures in the china cabinet. Mom always said her china wasn’t worth displaying, but her family was, so she carefully arranged the photographs between the wooden panels holding the glass panes in the top of the cabinet.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, joining him.
He opened the cabinet door and took out a picture of our family from when I was just a child. I sat squeezed between David and John. Mike sat on my lap and I had my arms firmly around him to keep him from squirming. Mom and Dad stood behind us, laughing while we kids all looked solemn and serious. “This is such a good picture. Your parents really were great people. They were such good role models.”
I moved to stand next to him. “I think they enjoyed having kids. I think a lot of people nowadays have kids because they think they should, but they don’t really enjoy it. You know what I mean—those people who have kids booked into every possible sport, so busy they don’t have time to really interact with the kid.”
Bell put the photo back in its place and took out another, this one a high school graduation picture of me in my cap and gown. My thick, light brown hair was shoulder-length and cut into layers, all curled and styled on those god-awful hot rollers. Our school colors were dark green and gold. I was brandishing the dark gold mortarboard hat and my diploma and I had a broad grin, as though relieved and amazed that I had really graduated.
“You were so beautiful,” he whispered, touching the woman-girl in the photo. “You still are, but in a different way.” He said it almost absently, as though unaware I was even there. I think maybe he was talking to himself. “You were everything I wanted in life. I loved you so much. Life was perfect.”
“You wanted travel and adventure, too. Don’t forget that.” I took the photo from him and put it back. “I couldn’t do that. I’m not made for uncertainty.”
“I know.” He looked deep into my eyes and I saw that yes, he really did understand, finally. “It took me a long time to realize that it didn’t mean you were a coward or weren’t brave. That’s what I thought at first. I think it made me feel better because you wouldn’t go away with me. You were just an old stick-in-the-mud. Poor Wendy, tied to the earth, not able to fly away with me.”
I smiled. “I didn’t want that. I would never have enjoyed it.”
“I know.” He took my hand and pressed my palm against his cheek. His beard was stubbly against my skin. “I’m done running around, looking for happiness. I’m ready to admit that it’s not a crime to want to stay in one place.”
I caressed his face, gently brushing back a strand of his thick hair. “That’s a good lesson to learn. It’s important to know not only where you belong, but to know where you want to be.”
“I want to be with you.” He pulled me into his arms and I went willingly. It felt so right to be with him, to feel his body against mine.
His kiss was right, too. We started out tentative and hesitant, but we quickly moved to passion. It wasn’t that he felt familiar. His body, and mine, had changed too much for that. But there was a sense of homecoming, a sense of safety that I would never have felt with a new man. He knew me and he accepted me. There would be none of the usual games that people played when they met and—
Fell in love? We broke apart. Bell laughed softly and looked to his left. “Nothing like being two silhouettes on the shade.”
I followed his gaze and saw the window, which had the shades partially down. “No kidding.”
He touched my face. “I’d like to stay.”
“You can’t. You drove here. If your truck is here all night that will give the reporters a real story to write about.”
“Damn it.” He sighed. “You’re right.”
It was now or never. I could stay on my safe path, going about my normal, everyday life. Or I could take a chance, jump on the carousel, and fly away with Bell.
“Of course, I don’t care about that and neither do you. So why don’t you stay?”
His eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“If you keep asking questions, I might change my mind.”
He quit asking questions.
****
It was the most natural thing in the world to wake up the next morning and have Bell in bed with me. It took a second to realize that we were in my room, in the home where I was raised, in the double bed that was mine throughout my growing up.
We used to wake up together in the cramped bed in the equally cramped bedroom in the apartment he shared with three other guys at college. And of course, before that in high school, we never had a night together. Our moments were stolen wherever we could find them.
I opened my eyes and found Bell regarding me from inches away. Athos was at the foot of the bed, pressed against Bell’s legs. “You made a friend,” I said. “He hasn’t slept with me before this.”
“I used to bring him treats when I visited your mom. He remembers me.” Bell leaned closer and kissed the tip of my nose. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
I brushed a kiss across his lips. “Thanks for wanting to stay.” I glanced at the clock. “Time to get up and get this day going, I think.”
“What’s your hurry?” He scooted closer and drew me into his arms. Athos took the hint and jumped off the bed.
I barely heard him leave.
An hour or so later, Bell and I had showered and were tackling a plate of eggs and bacon in the dining room. “What’s on your agenda for today?” he asked, sipping coffee. Athos was on the floor nearby, eyeing him hopefully. Bell crumbled some bacon and lowered it to the floor. Athos wandered near it, apparently disinterested until Bell switched his attention to me. Then the cat jumped on the meat and devoured it in an instant.
I smiled at their interplay, something obviously familiar to them both. “Nothing, really,” I answered. “The cousins begin arriving this afternoon. We’ll have dinner with Aunt Jane tonight. She has it set at the assisted living place where she lives. They cater special events and have a private dining room.”
“Does that mean if I want time on your schedule, I’d better book it now?”
“The next few days will be hectic. Family today and tomorrow, of course. Most of the cousins will leave on Saturday, but a couple of them are staying to Sunday.”
“Hmm.” He reached over and took my hand. “Will you drive out to Jamie Lim’s old farm with me today? I called the realtor and he said he’d leave it open for me to walk through.” Bell grinned. “I guess they aren’t too worried about break-ins.”
&nbs
p; I squeezed his hand. “I’ll go with you, sure, if we can do it this morning.” I glanced at the window where sunlight was streaming in. “At least it finally quit raining so we won’t have to slosh through too much mud if we walk around.”
“You sound pessimistic.”
“I’m realistic,” I corrected. “Trust me.” I looked under the table at his footwear and saw Athos leaning against his leg. “Your sneakers might get a bit mucky.”
Bell gave Athos another bite of bacon then straightened. “You realize if I leave here wearing the same clothes I wore last night the reporters will have a field day.”
I frowned, feeling a moment’s panic at the thought. Then I decided, hell, what did it matter what anybody thought of me? I didn’t live in town, anyone who knew me knew that Bell and I were old friends, and I wasn’t really worried about my so-called reputation.
“I’ve got a jacket you can wear,” I said after a moment’s consideration. “Nobody will notice if you’re wearing the same jeans as last night.”
“Good idea. Maybe I need to pack a bag if we’re going to do this again.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.
“Or maybe I should and we can stay in your penthouse.” I waggled my eyebrows right back at him.
He grinned. “I’m sure we can work out something.”
“Well, we’re not going to work out anything for a few days, until the family comes and goes. Let’s cross that bridge when we need to.” I looked at the rooster-shaped clock over the kitchen sink. “It’s ten now. Let’s go out to the farm and look around. I want to go through those notebooks of Dad’s, too. Are they at the hotel?”
“They’re at my penthouse, yes.” He grinned at me. “I skimmed through them yesterday.”
“I got these from Mom’s jewelry box.” I went to the sack I brought home from the bank and pulled out the papers I jammed inside. “Mom left me this note. Aunt Jane said that Dad saw Peter the night he disappeared. He talked to Sylvia about it, but she just blamed you and me for what happened.”
“God forbid Sylvia should blame Peter,” Bell muttered. He sorted through the pages, frowning. “Copies of specific pages from your dad’s journals. I wonder why?”