Hurley and I leave the station and get into his car. Both of us are silent during the drive and I assume his thoughts, like mine, are focused on Hal, Tina, and the tragedy that befell them. But it turns out I’m wrong, at least partially.
“What was the deal with that pendant you were looking at?”
“Nothing special,” I say with a halfhearted shrug. “For a moment, I thought it looked familiar to me, but it wasn’t.”
“You’re lying to me, Winston.” He frowns and makes a noise like he’s trying to clear his throat. “I’ve got to quit calling you that. You’re not going to be Mattie Winston much longer.”
“Well, if I take your name, it will just get confusing because we’ll both be calling one another Hurley,” I say, glad the subject has been changed. “I suppose you could call me by my first name like everyone else does.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I need something unique, something that is just mine.”
“How sweet,” I say with a smile.
“I could call you ‘Matterhorn,’ since that’s technically your real first name.”
“You could,” I respond, my smile fading in a flash, “but then I’d want to kill you.”
“Ouch. Okay, how about something along the lines of ‘wifey’ or ‘old lady’?”
I give him a sly smile, knowing he’s yanking my chain.
“Or to get back to my original question, how about ‘liar’? I know you’re not telling me the truth about that pendant.”
“Yeah,” I say very slowly. “Okay, I have a hunch about the pendant, but it’s a long shot and I’m not sure it will pan out. I need to think about it a little more before I commit.” This is my attempt at a stalling tactic, and I hope it will work, but Hurley can be as determined as a dog on the scent when it comes to things like this.
“If it’s relevant to the case, or even may be relevant, you should tell me. Talk it out with me. Two heads are better than one.”
“Not yet. Give me a day, okay?”
Another frown, and for a second, I think I’ve won. But then, to my shock and surprise, he pulls over to the side of the street and stops the car. He turns toward me, his arm on the edge of my seatback. “Sometimes I feel like you’re keeping things from me,” he says. “Important things. And if we’re going to go through with this marriage thing, we need to get things out on the table.”
I sigh and let my head loll back. His hand drops down from the seatback and massages the top of my head.
“Look, if you don’t want to go through with the marriage thing, I’ll understand,” he says.
“That’s not it, Hurley.”
“Then why are you waffling on setting a date?”
“Because it’s complicated. And if you remember, I did agree to a date, but things fell apart—literally—in the case of the park. So we still need to find a venue, and there are a million other things to plan and do. I have to find a dress for me, and a dress for Emily, and figure out if we’re going to have a reception, and who to invite to what . . . it’s an endless list. And my life has been a bit busy lately, in case you hadn’t noticed. Not to mention it’s going to get a lot busier now that Hal’s . . . with Hal and Izzy . . . you know.”
“I know. We’re both busy. But we don’t need to do anything fancy. Let’s keep it simple . . . go before a justice of the peace, or take Otto up on the offer of his backyard. The ceremony location doesn’t matter. What matters is our commitment to one another and to our family, right?”
“Of course,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. “But I want it to be something meaningful and memorable. I don’t mind casual, but I’d like to have something special to wear for the occasion. And you don’t know how hard it is for me to find nice clothes that fit. I’m too tall, too round, and have arms like a baboon. Finding an outfit of any kind is a challenge. And don’t even get me started on the shoes. I’ve got feet like the Abominable Snowman and they don’t make pretty, girly shoes in Sasquatch sizes.”
“That’s it!” he says, taking his hand from my head and snapping his fingers. “I’m going to call you ‘Squatch’ from now on.”
I roll my head to the side and give him a look of disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s something uniquely you,” he says, leaning over and giving me a kiss on my nose.
He’s right about that, and for some odd reason, though I should probably be offended by the name, I kind of like it. “Fine,” I say. “Squatch it is.”
“Okay, Squatch,” he says, checking his side mirror and shifting the car back into gear. He pulls out onto the street and continues our drive. “If you’re being honest about your willingness to go ahead with it, then let’s firm up the date and the place. We’re getting married in two weeks, in the early evening on the Fourth of July. We’ll do it at our house and it will be a small group of just family. That includes Izzy and Dom, of course. I’ve already talked to a judge here in town who’s willing to officiate. We’ll make it very informal. Hell, you can wear your jammies and slippers if you want. After that, we’ll host a small dinner party at Pesto Change-o to celebrate. I’ve talked to Georgio and he said he’d be glad to let us use his banquet room.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him. It’s the truth. I’m speechless. I can’t believe Hurley has been planning this all along, some of it behind my back.
“You can say it’s okay. You’ve done the big fancy wedding stuff before, so there’s no need to do it again, right?”
“Right.” I have no qualms about the level of simplicity he’s suggesting, but the rapidly approaching date has me nervous, not because I’m unsure about marrying him. I’ve never felt more certain about anything in my entire life. But there’s a small catch. Hurley is absolutely right to suspect I’m keeping secrets from him . . . one secret anyway, and it’s a big one. His intuition is on target: it has to do with that pendant.
“So let’s do it, Squatch,” Hurley says as we arrive at Tina Carson’s house. He pulls to the curb and turns off the engine. Once again he turns to look at me, his big blue eyes searching my face, his expression hopeful yet guarded. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair away from my face, his gaze roaming over my head. “I do love you, Squatch,” he says, his voice low and tender. I feel something in my gut go all soft and squishy. “You know that, right?”
I nod. “I love you, too, Hurley, so much it scares me.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I realize the time has come. I need to tell him the truth, the truth about my father, my background, his background, and how they all tie together. I’m not sure how he’ll take it, but the truth needs to come out.
“Before I agree to your plans, I need to tell you something,” I say, bracing myself. “If you still want to marry me once you hear what I have to say, then I’m more than happy to go ahead with your plans.”
He leans away from me, effectively bracing himself. He looks wary, a little frightened even, and I wonder what possibilities are racing through his mind.
With a steadying breath, I turn in my seat to face him and begin.
CHAPTER 16
“It’s about my father,” I tell Hurley. But before I can utter another word, a pounding sound comes from behind me, making me jump. I whip around, banging my knee on the glove box. A face is staring at me through the window and it takes me a second to recognize it. It takes me several more seconds to slow my heart.
For once, I’m glad to have Alison Miller show up at an inopportune time, though I can’t say the same for Hurley. He looks thoroughly annoyed as he lets out a perturbed breath.
Alison waves, staring back at me with a smile bordering on maniacal. I lift my handle, my warning to her to step back, and she does so. “What are you doing here, Alison?” I ask as I open the door. I spin around and put my feet on the ground, taking a moment to massage my aching knee.
“I figured you guys would be showing up here sooner or later. I tried to get someone over at Hal’s house to tell me something . . . a
nything . . . but none of them will talk to me.”
Hurley has gotten out of the car and walked around to my side. “What makes you think we’re going to be any different?” he grumbles.
“Aw, come on, Hurley. Give a girl a break.”
Considering all Alison has been through over the past year, it’s hard to ignore her plea, especially since she’s also helped me out a time or two by digging up information. Hurley has been a lot more trusting of Alison lately—a trust she had to earn—and I think his reticence now is because he’s so annoyed by her untimely interruption of our conversation.
I give Hurley a pleading look and his stern expression goes slack. Not that it makes any difference. “We’ll keep you in the loop, Alison,” I tell her. “But to be honest, we don’t have anything new to tell you yet.”
Hurley stares at the house impatiently.
I look around at the neighboring houses. It’s still light out, but the sun is low in the west, casting shadows over the lawns and street. In another hour, it will be dark. I see curtains twitching in windows in nearby houses as curious neighbors spy on us, eager to know what’s going on.
And then the front door opens in the house immediately to the right of Tina’s. An elderly woman with steel-gray hair, a full, wrinkled face, and a plodding, cane-assisted gait emerges and heads for us. She is dressed in a ratty-looking housecoat worn over a pair of overalls and an old, faded Grateful Dead T-shirt.
“You the cops?” she asks, a bit breathless from her exertions.
Hurley nods and flashes his badge. I show my badge, too, but don’t offer any explanation as to what office I’m from. Alison says and does nothing.
“Was Tina the one killed in that boating incident?” the woman asks.
“Why would you think that?” Hurley counters, handily avoiding an answer.
“I talked to her yesterday and she said she was going out on the boat with that boyfriend of hers today.” The woman shrugs. “She sometimes spends the night at his place, but I noticed when he picked her up this morning that she didn’t have any kind of overnight bag. Usually, she’s home by now if it’s just a day trip.”
“We haven’t officially identified the woman involved yet,” Hurley says. “But if it was your neighbor, are you aware of anyone who might want to harm her?”
“Harm Tina?” She makes a little pfft sound and shakes her head. “Can’t imagine it,” she adds. “Tina is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Kind of a quiet loner, though, other than the time she spends with that fella.” She pauses and cocks her head to the side, narrowing her fleshy eyes at Hurley. “I may be old and slow, but I’m not stupid. If you haven’t identified the victim yet, what are you doing here at Tina’s house?” She nods toward his hand. “I’m pretty sure those are her house keys you’re holding.”
I look over at Hurley and raise my eyebrows, giving him a “gotcha” smile. I’m curious to see how he’s going to field this one.
“Okay, we’re fairly certain the victim was Tina,” Hurley says, “but until we make an official identification and notify her family, I don’t want that information getting out. I’m sure you can imagine how devastating it would be to learn about a loved one’s death via gossip or the TV news.”
“Of course,” she says, sounding a tad annoyed. “Like I said, I’m not stupid. I’m also not one of them gossipy types. I like my privacy and I try to respect other people’s, too.”
“I’m glad you understand, Ms. . . .”
“It’s Miss,” she says impatiently. “But please just call me Gloria, Gloria Needham.”
“Thank you, Miss Needham,” Hurley says with his most charming smile. “Please don’t share any information with your neighbors until you hear the identity announced officially on the news.” He turns to head for Tina Carson’s front door, but Gloria stops him in his tracks.
“So, does that mean you aren’t interested in the man who was snooping around Tina’s house earlier today?”
“Who?” Alison asks, jumping on it as Hurley whirls back around with a frown.
“Hell if I know,” Gloria says. “Never seen the guy before. And he’s the type I would remember. Distinctive-looking, you know?”
Hurley opens his mouth to ask her something, but Alison beats him to it.
“How so?”
“He was a real big guy, like six and a half feet or so. I could tell because he was able to look into Tina’s kitchen window around back without standing on his toes or anything. He was big the other way, too. Broad, you know. Kind of resembled a block of cement with legs.”
“What time was this?” I ask, beating Alison to the punch.
“It was this morning, around eleven or so,” Gloria says. “Tina wasn’t home, of course. She left around nine when her boyfriend came to pick her up.”
Hurley finally gets a question in. “Did he knock on the front door at all, or was he only in the back?”
Gloria shrugs. “Can’t say for sure. My kitchen window looks out on the back of the house, so he might have gone to the front first. If he did, I wouldn’t have been able to see it. You could ask Elsie. She lives in that yellow house across the street and she’s usually watching out her living-room window every day. Elsie’s got the dropsy, you know, so she spends most of her day in a recliner right by her front window. She doesn’t get around so well, but she doesn’t miss much that goes on in the neighborhood.”
I glance across the street and, sure enough, I can see the vague shape of someone on the other side of the sheer curtains in the picture window of the house Gloria indicated.
“Can you describe this man more for me?” Hurley says, taking out his notebook and pen. “What about his hair? Did he have any distinctive facial or body features? And what was he wearing?”
Gloria scrunches up her face, creating even more wrinkles. “His hair was dark and thin on top. He had one of those comb-over things, you know, the way men do when they try to hide the fact they’re going bald? The breeze caught it once and made it stand up on his head like a Mohawk.”
Hurley nods and scribbles down the details as Gloria continues. I see Alison is taking notes, too, and I make a mental note to remind her she can’t print the info in the paper.
“As for his clothes, he wasn’t much of a dresser. Had on them chino kind of shorts, and he wore them low beneath his gut. His shirt was just a big old tee, gray I think. I remember his shoes well, though,” she adds after a momentary pause. “They were sneakers, all white. Didn’t go with the rest of his outfit at all. And his feet were huge.” She pauses again and glances down at my feet. “Kind of like your lady friend here.”
Hurley bites back a grin and shoots me a sly side glance.
“That’s about it,” Gloria concludes.
“This is very helpful,” Hurley says, still scribbling. After a moment, he finishes and tucks the notebook back into his jeans pocket. “Again, I’m going to ask you to keep this information to yourself,” he adds, giving Gloria a stern look. “This man might be dangerous and it might not bode well for you if it got out that you saw him.”
Gloria waves away his concern. “Pshaw. I can take care of myself,” she says. “I got Bessie to protect me.”
“Bessie?” I echo. “Is that a dog?”
“Hell no,” Gloria says, looking at me like she thinks I’m dumb as a box of rocks. “Bessie is my Luger.” She pats one of the side pockets of her housecoat. “I keep her loaded and ready to work all the time. Take her with me everywhere I go.”
We all stare at Gloria with newfound fear and respect. I half expect Hurley to give her a lecture on carrying a concealed weapon, or, at the least, a warning to be careful with old Bessie, but he, perhaps wisely, says nothing.
“Thanks for the information, Gloria,” I say. “If we have any other questions, is it all right if we call you?”
She nods and gives us her phone number, forcing Hurley to take out his notebook again so he can write it down. With that done, Gloria wishes us good night and
waddles back home.
“Alison,” I say, “you can’t print any of the stuff she told us until we say so, understand?”
She nods. “I promise to play fair as long as you promise to keep me in the loop and give me first dibs on anything you come up with.”
“We can do that,” Hurley says.
“Can I come inside with you guys?”
Hurley shakes his head. “You know I can’t allow that.”
Alison shrugs. “Had to ask.” She glances across the street. “Mind if I go talk to this Elsie woman?”
“Yes, I mind,” Hurley says with an impatient sigh.
“Does that mean you’re going to be mad when I tell you I already did?”
“What?” Hurley moans. “How? When?”
Alison shoots him an apologetic look. “I’ve been parked here for hours, waiting for you guys to show up. I saw her over there and figured it couldn’t hurt to ask her a few questions about Tina.”
“And?” Hurley says in an irritated tone. He rakes a hand through his hair and grimaces, squeezing his eyes closed.
“I asked her if she’d seen Tina today.” She hesitates, looking abashed. “I told her I was hoping to chat with her about an article I wanted to do on Tina.”
Given that Tina is a local librarian, it’s hard for me to imagine what there might be about her that would be article-worthy.
“I didn’t really have an article to write about her,” Alison explains, looking embarrassed. “But she does work at the library and she’s very well-read, so I told Elsie I was hoping to get Tina to write some book reviews for the paper, but needed a reference.”
“And what did this neighbor lady tell you?” Hurley asks, massaging his left temple with two fingers.
“She said she saw Tina leave this morning with her boyfriend and hadn’t seen any activity over there since. No one in or out. I told her I was going to wait around for a bit to see if Tina showed up, hoping it would keep her from calling in a complaint about me. She seems like the type who would do that.”
“And rightly so,” I say. “If more neighbors were as attentive as Elsie and Gloria, we’d probably have a lot less crime in this town.”
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