by T. Doyle
“Maybe it fell off? Maybe Oscar’s Dad went out there to check to see if anything of value was left. Have you talked to Ray?” Tom suggested in a polite tone to placate the raving lunatic.
Or maybe the killer took it to have images of the people who meant something to Oscar. What if we were next? I clenched my jaw because even I recognized that thought could be considered a tad crazy. I ‘hmmd’ instead. “I’ll talk to Ray now and call you back and let you know.”
“That’s okay, Charlie. You don’t have…”
“Stop right there, Tom Garner. I don’t believe Oscar accidentally overdosed, which means he was murdered. And now I realize that the killer may have returned to the cabin and taken a photo of me, my husband, and son.”
He sighed. “Fine. If you don’t find it, call me.” He ended the call.
No more snickerdoodles for him!
I searched the area surrounding the television and still couldn’t find the calendar or the photo. It seemed like other things were missing, too. I took pictures with my phone and would compare them side by side at home. I called Joe and told him everything.
“Tom doesn’t believe you?” Joe asked for the third time.
“I think he doesn’t care.”
“I’m calling Drew. He needs to use the buddy system until we figure out who killed Oscar.”
My heart slowed. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“No. Babe, someone we know killed Oscar and they now have a picture of Drew and us. Until we find out why, Drew needs to be extra-vigilant. I’m gonna call him now.”
Maybe I was a tad irrational, because I found more comfort in knowing that my husband believed me than knowing a murderer had our picture.
I tore a blank sheet of paper out of one of Oscar’s notebooks and wrote:
Ray, I think someone broke into Oscar’s. His calendar and his high school graduation picture with Joe, Drew and I taped to the TV are missing. It looks like someone went through the stuff on his desk and the front door was unlocked. Also, Drew said Oscar spent a lot of time playing poker at Del Lago Casino and he’s 20! Please check your video and call me.
-Charlie
I printed my phone number below and then folded the paper and put it in his overflowing mailbox.
I got a text from Ray at ten pm. Hope it’s not too late to text. I just got home. I’ll go through the video and let you know if I find anything.
I responded with a thumbs-up emoji and added his number to contacts as PirateBoy.
In the morning I checked my phone and Ray had responded. Dark SUV drove up, spent 10 minutes, and left. Couldn’t see plates or people. Sent the video to Tom.
Chapter Seven
It rained during Oscar’s funeral. We stood under a large canopy in the damp air. The storm started with a dull pitter patter that grew into a deluge, like even nature was furious Oscar’s life was over.
Oscar’s parents didn’t come.
I swallowed and pushed the anger away. Buried it deep under my grief. Covered it with my own insecurities, until the anger was hidden and all that remained was a pile of sorrow and disappointment and regrets.
Ray wasn’t at the funeral, but then he’d never known Oscar. The entire Sanders family was there; Joe’s parents, siblings, and cousins. Oscar’s friends and acquaintances stood, huddled together, and I recognized most of them. I made a mental list, knowing that I’d want to question them later.
I nodded to Drew, a silent plea, to ask them if they knew if Oscar was being threatened.
He nodded back, his face somber and looking so much older than twenty.
Tyler Rigby stood like his suit was made of metal and his body was slack inside, held up only by the wrinkle-free fabric. He stared at the closed casket, but his eyes looked unfocused. He looked like a man contemplating his own death. And maybe he was. Still, it was nice of him to come, to pay respects, to honor Oscar’s memory. Maybe now, given time and the reality of Oscar’s death, Tyler might be willing to answer my questions about his clients. But not today.
Sixty people crowded around a pit, covered by a large awning to keep it from becoming a mud hole. Two men in forest green jumpsuits lowered the casket using winches. I broke, sobs wracking my body. Joe held me tight, held me together.
My kids silently wept, a young person they’d known for years was gone, and there was no reason for it. Anger festered deep inside my bones, making them brittle, and making it hard to walk back to the car.
I would find out why Oscar was murdered.
Friends showed up at my house afterwards bringing covered dishes, drinks, and stories of Oscar’s benevolence and good humor. Drew put a jar out for donations toward a bench in memory of Oscar at the soccer field. It filled quickly, and peace settled in my heart knowing Oscar would be remembered.
No one cared he was gay.
Discarded by his parents. They never deserved him.
My thoughts ran to my own parents, the strange coldness that permeated the air between them, and always seemed to be about me. But every kid at one point thinks they don’t belong, or believes they’re adopted. Except, I knew I was right.
When my oldest daughter, Jess did a high school biology project on blood types I realized that my O positive blood type meant my biological father couldn’t be AB. I wasn’t my father’s child.
Mom had an affair.
She’d gotten pregnant.
I’d become the glue of their dysfunctional relationship.
I asked my mother and she begged me to keep her secret. So, I did. And every visit home I felt like a rat in a trap, stuck in the lie, and wishing I could rip off my own skin and be free.
I set out more napkins on the kitchen island. Ray strolled into the kitchen, holding his mother’s elbow, and beelined to me. His mom turned her walker toward the dining room and shuffled toward the lunch meat, rolls, and drinks.
Joe helped her make a plate.
“Hey.” Ray leaned against the counter.
“Hi.”
He patted my shoulder, his big hand weighed too heavy and he pulled my hair when he withdrew. The inept sympathy was heartfelt and touching. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Thank you.” I stepped away.
“Ma wanted to pay her respects. We didn’t make it to the funeral because of the rain.”
“I understand. It was really nice of you to come.”
He shrugged and then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, see the thing is I don’t do this stuff, and I feel like I’ve made it more awkward by showing up.” He shifted on his feet and wiped his hands on his pants. Actual pants, with a belt. I noticed his shirt was cleaned and pressed.
“You clean up nice.” I stepped closer and hugged him. “You came, which was kind, and that’s what friends do.”
His arms relaxed and he returned the hug. He stepped back and one side of his mouth quirked. “I try.”
I told him about Drew and Oscar playing poker, the fake IDs, the note, and the missing photo.
“Explains the casino business cards.” Ray stroked his beard like it was a skittish cat.
Tom sauntered into the kitchen. He looked hollow. He’d spent years coaching Drew and Oscar in soccer and donated hundreds of hours as their Boy Scout leader. He gave me a solemn nod. “I’m sorry, Charlie.”
I believed him, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Nah.” He slapped Ray’s shoulder. “Hey.”
“Tom.” Ray gave him a chin nod. “You get anything on the video I sent over?”
Tom shook his head. “Nope. I looked the place over from the outside and they didn’t leave tire tracks. Other than a dark GMC or Chevy SUV we’ve got nothing. We can’t even prove anyone went into the house. Hell, it could be someone checking out your driveway.” Tom side-eyed Ray and then faced me. “They left the TV and other stuff, right?”
I nodded.
“It could be someone just wanting to see where he died. They didn’t take anything of value. We
questioned Oscar’s friends and none of them say they’ve been out there since he died.” He shrugged. “It’s a dead end.” He looked over his shoulder to Jenny who was now pointing her finger at Mrs. Clandenon. “Ray, your mom’s in the other room picking a fight with Mrs. Clandenon over crockpots from the last potluck.” Tom looked at me. “The thing is, I think she’s right and Mrs. Clandenon upgraded at the last bingo night. She took Mrs. Wright’s crockpot home, but Mrs. Wright said not to bother and she’d get it back at the next Knights of Columbus soup and salad night.”
Ray rubbed his neck. “Tom, did you ever think police work would include keeping the peace over slow-cooker thieving?”
Tom’s face softened. “Buddy, I’m glad that’s the most exciting thing for my week. I got kids, and I want to go home every night. But maybe you could talk to your mom? She’s having trouble changing the subject.”
“Sure.” Ray turned toward me. “I’ll probably take her back to Sunnyview. I think we should go to the casinos. You free on Monday?”
“I can go after three,” I said.
“Why are you two going to the casino, together?” Tom cocked his head to the side and his hands moved to his belt, patting his hips where his gun and flashlight usually rested.
Ray’s shoulders rolled back. “We’re following some leads regarding Oscar’s death, especially since it looks like the murderer returned to the scene and took a picture of Drew, Joe, and Charlie.” He gave Tom a dead-eye glare, and even I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. “Good luck with your crockery caper.” Ray stepped around Tom and into the living room.
Tom turned cop eyes on me. “Charlie, I’m sorry you lost Oscar. But it was an accident. I cared for him, we all liked him. You go down this road and you may find things that will ruin his reputation and it’s not going to bring him back. Just stop now.”
I patted Tom’s arm. “I’ll stop when I find out the truth.”
Tom’s jaw hardened. “Maybe you ought to consider that if that photo was stolen, you could be the target. Just leave it alone, let us handle it, or you may end up with more than a restraining order.”
He was threatening me?
Joe’s arm hugged my waist and he pulled me against his chest. “You okay, honey? You look pale.”
I tilted my head back and kissed Joe’s jaw. “I’m okay. Tom’s angry because Ray and I are going to the casinos to investigate Oscar’s murder.”
“Death.” Tom’s shoulders stiffened, along with his jaw. “At least get the words right.”
“Tough election, Tom?” Joe’s usually easy-going tone sharpened, as if to cut through Tom’s evasion.
Tom slapped on a tight smile. “That’s not what this is about. Now, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I’m truly sorry about Oscar, but the medical examiner has ruled his death as accidental. I’m not investigating because it was an accident. You’ll have to trust me that if I thought we could pursue it, we would.” Tom rolled his shoulders. “I am sorry for your loss.” Tom thrust his hand forward.
Courteous, Joe shook his hand. “Thank you for coming.”
Tom nodded at me, turned and left.
My joints felt like they had grit between them, each movement wearing me away. My sciatica flared, reminding me I was old, numb, worn out. I was exhausted, but Joe was there, my foundation. He was sad but steady, mourning, but still Joe, capable and organized. Shaking hands and thanking people for sharing their grief with us.
I smiled, and cried, and hugged, and held my children tight and told them I loved them. Joe took me to bed and held me close all night.
Chapter Eight
We went to church as a family. The kids caught up with friends from town over donuts and juice in the parish hall, and then headed back to school. The house, hauntingly empty, smelled of bacon and pepperoni rolls and chili from the previous evening. The ghostly reminders of Oscar and the kids weighed on my shoulders.
Joe seemed to sense my gloom and wrapped me in his arms. “Babe, how about I take you someplace special today?”
“Where?” I leaned back and Joe’s impish smile made my heart beat a little faster.
“Sam’s club. We’re out of bacon and toilet paper.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“You seducer.” I hugged him closer, my head resting in the crook of his neck, my favorite place to be, tucked in close enough to sync my heart with his steady beat.
Later, after we’d unpacked the groceries I still felt unsettled in the empty house.
“You know what would be good right now?” I sidled up to Joe and rubbed his shoulders.
“Pizza and beer?” He turned and pulled me close.
“It’s like you can read my mind.”
“I would hope so, after all these years.” He kissed my forehead.
I changed into my eating jeans, the ones with a little more room in the waist, and pulled on a soft sweater and wrapped a colorful scarf around my neck, to hide the inevitable food stains. Joe changed into a blue button-down shirt that made his eyes even bluer than normal.
“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll never get out of the house for date night.” Joe’s warm voice slid over me, suggestive and sweet.
We Knead Pizza, located downtown, was a favorite local watering hole. Packed on the weekends, we were lucky to get seats at the bar. The stone ovens radiated warmth and delicious scents and filled the place with a cozy, friendly ambience.
Kitchy signs hung on the walls with instructions like, Be Nice or Leave, and Wonder Woman is a state of mind. The colorful waitstaff moved at their own pace, which ensured good sales at the bar.
Joe sat facing the front door, nursing a microbrewed stout, and enjoying people watching.
“Kristi is here with Ray,” Joe’s low, smooth voice tickled my ear.
“No way.” I whipped around and waved. Kristi and I worked together for three years before she became a forensics nurse. “I wonder if Kristi knows anything about Oscar’s case?”
Kristi waved back and nudged Ray out of the way. She looked great, as always, casually dressed in jeans, a white blouse, and a chunky turquoise necklace. She pulled off cool confidence, making me feel like Betty to her Veronica.
Joe slid off his barstool and offered it to Kristi. He stood behind me, putting his proprietary hand on my shoulder.
I liked it. I tilted my head back and he kissed me quickly.
“How do you know Ray?” I asked.
“High school.” Kristi looked at the hostess stand, where the twenty-something mini-Kardashian wannabe leaned close to Ray, her hand pet his shirt. Ray might have even beard-scaped.
He gave the hostess a pirate wink and I groaned.
“He hasn’t changed much.” Kristi’s tone held amusement. “I don’t think he can help it. It’s like he has no flirting filter.”
“He’s never flirted with me.” I picked up my mug of Knead IPA and sipped.
“You’re married. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a poacher.” Kristi nodded to the bartender and pointed to my mug. “I’ll have the same.”
The bartender, man-bun, beard, and biceps of Thor, winked.
Kristi returned the gesture with a saucy smile. I was impressed.
“What’s the poacher story?” I asked.
“He caught his brother-in-law in a compromising position. He had to live through the drama of his baby sister’s divorce.” Kristi rushed her answer, watching Ray amble over.
I introduced the guys. “Joe, Ray. Or do you guys know each other?”
“Not really.” Joe shook Ray’s hand. “I left for college long before Ray started high school. Thanks for helping Charlie with the cabin clean up.”
“No problem.” Ray leaned over Kristi’s shoulder, waved to the bartender, and held up two fingers.
“I take it you’re a regular?” I sounded accusatory. Rats. I’d promised myself I’d be nicer.
“It’s a small town,” Ray said. “You know Kristi?”
“We worked together when I first
moved to town.” I tipped my mug towards Kristi. “Any news about Oscar’s insulin pump?”
“Nothing yet. It could take a couple of weeks.”
“Can’t you rush it?” Ray asked.
Kristi turned on her stool and poked Ray in the chest. “No, it’s gone to the state lab, and I don’t have any pull there. Besides, I only agreed to this dinner so I could talk to you about getting your mom to back off my Aunt Evie.”
Ray’s face froze, looking like a Greek tragedy mask, with raised eyebrows. He rubbed his chest where she’d poked him.
Memories of Evie Feeney smooching Ray’s dad made my face pucker. “It’s true.”
“What?” Kristi asked me.
I shuddered. “Your Aunt Evie was totally going at it with Ray’s dad.”
Ray groaned, his head dropped and his hair tumbled forward, covering his face. “Just stop. Don’t say another word.”
Kristi’s face twisted like she could picture what I’d seen. “That’s just… Don’t you guys have rules there about fraternization or something?”
“They’re adults.” I refrained from eye rolling and got a facial tick. I rubbed my eye.
The bartender placed Kristi’s beer in front of her. “Can I get you anything else?” His suggestive tone made me blush, but Kristi gave his man-bun the squint eye and shook her head.
He plunked a rocks glass with amber liquid in front of Ray and turned away.
Ray waved to get the bartender’s attention, picked up his glass and swallowed. “I’m gonna need another.”
“Yes, sir.” The bartender grabbed a bottle of Four Roses Whiskey and refilled Ray’s glass.
Ray narrowed his eyes at me. “I can’t even with you right now.”
“Oh, shut it.” Kristi poked Ray again. “We’ll come back to that later.” She grabbed her beer and sucked down a huge gulp. “Or maybe not. Look, normally I wouldn’t get involved, but Evie is convinced your mom is plotting her murder.”
Ray scrubbed the back of his neck, like he was considering the very real possibility. “Is she?”