Rob’s hunched back was turned away from the door. He would have seen Lori walk in only if he had raised his head and caught her reflection in the window. Lori sat in one of the two chairs facing the desk, the one farthest from Rob, and waited for the phone call to end. She eyed the uneaten sandwich sitting in the center of the desk—a tuna melt by the look of it—and a sweating can of iced tea. At least that habit hadn’t changed. It was lunchtime and Lori was hungry. To distract herself, she looked for changes in the room since her tenure as Rob’s wife.
When Rob had been promoted to this office, she had offered to help him decorate, help that he refused. She would only make it look cozy, he claimed, when an office needed to express the seriousness and stature of its occupier. To her the result was cold and uninviting. A long glass and chrome table for a desk, a slightly smaller and lower twin for a coffee table. The sofa and two armchairs were upholstered in taut black leather that in the summer always stuck to her thighs. The phone was black, the pen and pencil holder was black, the halogen lamp was skinny, black, long-necked, and Italian. The wall-to-wall carpet was a rough, thick sisal that Lori was sure would scrape her knees if she ever fell on it. The chair she sat on was chrome and leather with no hind legs. It sank when she sat in it.
Rob hung up and turned around. When he saw Lori the expression on his face remained weary, lifeless. His jaunty defiance was gone. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi, Rob.” They stared at each other for a few seconds, Lori overwhelmed by a sense of futility. All those years together to end up staring, barely able to speak to each other.
“Kate sent your check this morning,” Rob said.
“I didn’t come for the check. I mean, not only for that.” Looking at Rob’s face, Lori was reminded of a deflated balloon, wrinkled and ready to be discarded. Was he overwhelmed by grief or fear? Both? “Do the police have any news?”
“I expect them to arrest me any minute.”
“Because Valerie’s death made you rich?”
Rob picked up his black pen, twirled it between his fingers, and said nothing.
“I know about Seth. Who else do you owe money to?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Lori slammed her hand on the glass desk, rattling the plate the sandwich was on. “But it does! The people you owe money to could be suspects. Look, I’m trying to help. I know you didn’t kill Valerie. Talk to me. Maybe together we can point the finger away from you.”
Rob put the pen down, picked up a pencil.
“Please, Rob, for Jessica’s sake, don’t stonewall me.”
His fingers now twirled the pencil. “What do you want to know?”
“About Waterside Properties. About being in debt and not paying back your investors. About claiming someone was trying to kill you and then denying it. About rushing to write a will.”
Rob swiveled away from her and looked out of the window. Lori followed his gaze. In the office just opposite, a man was talking animatedly on the phone while trying to change into a clean shirt without losing his grip on the receiver. Put the phone down and press the damn speaker button! Lori wanted to shout at him. She turned back to Rob. “Please, Rob. Talk to me.”
Rob kept looking at the man struggling with his shirt. Then he said, “Over lunch the day Val died, after we signed our wills, she told me she was in love with someone else. I had been begging her to help me out, and she told me about this other man, and that I had to get out of the mess I was in by myself. She didn’t want to understand that I got into this mess because of her. The apartment, the car, the expensive restaurants, the engagement ring, the gifts she wanted. Everything had to be top of the line with her. She was convinced men wanted to marry her only for her money. I had to prove to her I was as rich as she was.” Rob looked across at Lori with woeful eyes. “Val had terrible self-esteem.”
Lori reached for a sandwich half and bit into it. She thought tuna melts were an insult to gastronomy, but she needed to stuff her mouth before she said something she’d regret.
Rob’s eyes dropped to his hands splayed on the desk. “After she told me about having loved this man for years, the crazy thing is I should have walked out on her right then and there, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I dragged Val out of that place and took her home and we made the best—”
Lori swallowed quickly. “I don’t need details, Rob.”
He was too lost in his own story to apologize or to realize she was eating his lunch. He probably doesn’t even realize he is talking to his ex-wife, Lori thought, taking another bite. Instead of being hurt by his tactless confession, she found herself intrigued by his inability to accept defeat. She had, while married to him, never noticed the extent of his ego.
“I never thought of leaving Val,” Rob said. “She assured me it was over between them even if she still loved him. I was going to make her love me. I knew I could do it.”
His eagerness almost made Lori feel sorry for him. “I’m sure you would have.” She put what was left of the sandwich down. “Did Valerie tell you who the man was?”
“I asked her not to. I didn’t know she was going to get killed that night.”
“I hope you told the police about this man.”
“I got a skeptical grunt for an answer.”
“Valerie’s office manager confirmed your story.” Rob’s expression didn’t relax. Maybe he was thinking the story would get to the papers and he would look like the fool he was. “Tell me what happened with Waterside Properties?”
“I committed to buying shares because Val was going to go in with me, plus Seth and two others you don’t know. Then she backed off. I tried to scrounge up some more money but couldn’t.”
“What about the powerful clients you’ve helped through the years?”
“I stay away from former or possible future clients. Something goes wrong and that’s the end of me as their lawyer.”
“And something did go wrong.”
Rob lowered his head in acknowledgment. “I used the money for Waterside Properties to pay off a loan. I thought I could stall for time, not let on that the deal wasn’t going to happen, but the word leaked out anyway and my investors wanted their money back. The night the car almost ran me over, I thought Seth was giving me a warning. Pay back or else. I didn’t think that for long, but I played it up for Val.”
“So she’d worry about you and lend you money?”
Rob lowered his head in answer. “I insisted we write up our wills right away. No time to lose. I might get killed any moment.” His voice held no emotion. “Val was okay with the wills and called the lawyer, Warren by the way.”
“I know. My divorce lawyer. Funny choice.”
“Her funny way of getting back at me for needing money. I was in too much of a hurry to object to Warren. After all that she still wouldn’t lend me any money even though she knew I’d give her back every cent with interest.” Rob leaned back, tilting his chair to the wall. Lori noticed the dark patch under his chin, where his razor had missed. “She was really fixated on money.”
“Did you tell Seth the two of you were writing your wills?”
“He called me Monday morning while I was in a cab on my way to meet Val at Warren’s office. I told him to get off my back. Val was going to give me the money I owed him any day now. I was still thinking she was going to come through.”
“Did you mention you were on your way to rewrite your will?”
“Yes, I did. I don’t know why.” Rob picked up the half-eaten part of his sandwich and took a bite. “You think he killed her so I’d inherit and pay him back?”
“It’s as a good a motive as any, but what the police think is what matters.” Lori stood up and swept crumbs off her lap. If she was going to drive to Cape Cod, she had better get going. “Thanks for talking to me, Rob, and good luck.”
Rob stood up. “I’m truly sorry about us.” His face was stricken. Moved by the sincerity of this expression, Lori looked away at the building opposite. The man was still
getting some urgent point across over the phone, but his transformation was now complete, the clean shirt neatly tucked in, buttoned. If only it were that easy.
“Us is in the past, Rob. Let’s just worry about now. If you have any news from the police, good or bad, please let me know.”
As she walked to the door, he said, “When Jess comes home next week, is there a chance I could, you know . . .” He left the question in the air.
Lori turned around slowly. “You could what?”
“Spend some time at the house?”
How long was “some time,” Lori wondered. Two days, a week? For good? She wasn’t prepared to think about it now. “I don’t think so, Rob.”
“I didn’t buy the Jaguar you saw. I only leased it.”
As if that solved anything. Lori closed the door behind her.
With Streisand singing Sondheim in the CD player, an overnight bag in the backseat, an avocado and turkey wrap on her lap, and a full tank of gas, Lori headed for Cape Cod. She had refused to go along with her mother’s request to call her every two hours, but she had given her and Beth Warren’s Cape Cod address and phone number to stop them from worrying. During the hurried minutes she’d been home, Lori had called Jessica, who accepted her sudden upcoming visit with the usual teenage roller coaster of emotions, suspicion followed by elation, more suspicion, and closing with seeming indifference. Lori was looking forward to seeing Jessica, no matter what her welcome was.
Rob had to be missing her, too. “I’m so sorry about us,” he had said with a stricken face. His first show of remorse. When he asked to come home for a few days, what had he been trying to tell her? Did he know what he wanted? Should she let him? Jessica would be ecstatic. Lori knew she didn’t want Rob back in her home, not even for one day, but how could she explain that to her daughter? Lori imagined her reaction. “How could you, Mom? Don’t you have a heart? What about me, Mom? What about how I feel?”
And if she did let Rob come home and sleep on the couch in the den? What would that change? He would still be the man who walked out, who had done irreparable damage to her and the daughter he claimed he adored, who was only back because his new wife was dead, who would surely walk away again as soon as he was healed. But with Daddy home, Jess would start hoping that maybe he was back for good. And if, by the slimmest chance, he did want to stay, Lori wouldn’t, couldn’t, have him. Not even for Jessica’s sake. She loved her daughter more than she could say, but love for Rob was gone. Theirs would not be a family, only a cold, lifeless gathering of three unhappy individuals.
Once Lori hit Route 90, she punched the number Alec had given her. “I need cheering up,” she said when he answered, not giving her name first, treating him like an old friend.
“Another picnic tonight, then?”
“I wish.”
“Do you have a cold?”
“Sinus trouble.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lori could tell from the politeness in his voice that he didn’t believe her. She was sorry she had lied to him now. She was sure he understood tears very well. She was also sure he would never pass judgment. How she knew this, she couldn’t tell. Maybe the divorce had given her a sixth sense to recognize genuine goodness.
“Look, I’d love to try the gnocchi recipe you sent me,” she said. “I bloom with optimism when I cook, and you’re a great mood enhancer, I’ve discovered. That combination would really be great. Any chance you’re free tomorrow night?”
“I would enjoy that very much, but first I should tell you that I’m not—”
Lori jumped in, her face suddenly hot. “I know. I think that’s wonderful.” What was she saying? “I mean, it’s fine. Really. Seven thirty?” She thought she heard a chuckle at the other end.
“I’m glad you feel that way. Seven thirty it is. I’ll bring the wine.”
“Great.” Lori said goodbye and punched the off button. He must have thought she was making a pass at him. Thank God, now the gay issue was out in the open. She turned up Streisand and took a large bite of her avocado and turkey wrap. She was feeling better, but Cape Cod and the town of Chatham were still a long way away.
Lori stepped out of the car into the white brilliance of what she called water light. She lifted her face to the sky, inhaled the salt air, and waited for the knots in her body to loosen, smooth out. Only then did Lori look at her surroundings. Warren’s vacation home, bought when he was still married to Margot, surprised Lori. Knowing the Dixons’ tendency to show off the money they had, she had expected a sumptuous ultramodern house with glass walls and impeccably kept grounds. Instead she was looking at the back of an old-fashioned, two-story beach house with cedar shingles that had aged to a soft pale gray. The small windows had white trim and peeling sky-blue shutters. At one side of the house, a narrow blue door, also peeling, probably led to the kitchen. The land the house sat on was a spontaneous mixture of wind-bent scrub oaks, weeds, sand, and tall grasses. Only its location, facing the beauty of a wide bay, spoke of money.
As Lori walked to the trunk of the car to get her overnight bag, a fanny-wagging black cocker spaniel hurled itself at her thighs, followed by a running Jessica, who flung her arms around her mother. “It’s cool you’re here, Mom.”
“Thanks. That’s a nice welcome.” Lori gave Jessica a tight squeeze while the dog wiggled itself between their legs, licking them to claim some attention.
“Stop it, Gertie,” Jessica said. “That’s icky.”
Lori stepped back to enjoy the sight of her barefooted daughter, in frayed denim shorts and a moss green tank top, happily scratching the dog’s ears. Her skin had turned to a warm walnut tan and her hair had bleached into a mass of pink-gold curls. “You look wonderful, sweetie.”
Jessica blushed and pulled at the dog’s collar.
“How’s Deuce?”
“He left yesterday, but it’s okay because I need my space, you know?” Jessica took Lori’s overnight bag from her and they walked to the kitchen door with Gertie following. “I mean, I like him and all,” she said while opening the screen door, “but why do guys have to take over?”
“Only some of them do,” Lori said. Rob was in that category. Jonathan, too. “You have to stand your ground.”
“That’s what Angie said, but it’s kind of hard when you want him to like you. You should do this. You should do that, like you don’t have a brain of your own. It’s so obnoxious. I finally told him to lay off and he left.”
They walked into a large linoleum and Formica kitchen with yellow metal cabinets. Lori was reminded of the kitchen she grew up in until her mother, after a good year at the travel agency, went for granite and tile. “I’m sure he didn’t leave because of what you said.” Lori followed Jessica up a narrow back stairway to the second floor, wondering where Warren and Angie were.
“I knew he was leaving. That’s why I told him. I want him to think about it.” Jessica opened a door to a small, sparse room with striped cornflower blue and white wallpaper, a small bureau, a single bed covered with a yellow and white quilt, a child’s rocking chair, a blue rag rug on the wide plank floor. A narrow window below a sloping ceiling overlooked the bay. Jessica sat on the bed cross-legged with Gertie pushing up against her.
Lori unpacked the few things in her bag. “You don’t look unhappy,” she said.
“Angie says I’ll cry tomorrow, but I don’t think so.”
“Good for you.” Her daughter had more gumption than she’d ever had. “You’ve made a friend,” Lori said, watching Gertie stretch herself over Jessica’s legs.
“Gertie’s great. Can we get a dog now, Mom? Can we? I promise I’ll take care of it. Walk it, feed it, everything. I promise.”
A promise that might last at most until school started. Lori shifted her pajamas from one side of the drawer to the other. A big soft mutt who would fill the empty space in her bed and give her undying devotion. It was tempting. And it would keep Rob out of the house. He was allergic. “Let’s talk about it when yo
u come home, okay?” Lori turned to face Jessica and was met by wary eyes. “I’m not saying no, sweetie.”
Jessica shrugged off her words. “Why did you come, Mom?”
How much more time would it take for Jess to trust her, Lori wondered, sitting down next to her. “I missed you and I needed to talk to Warren about a few things.”
“Dad’s okay?”
“I saw him this morning. I’d say he’s as okay as he can be under the circumstances. It takes time to heal.” Lori stopped herself from adding, “as you know.”
Jessica pushed Gertie to one side, her expression still cautious. “You’re not angry about my not telling you who called Valerie in the car that night?”
“I understand. You have to keep your promise to Angie.” Anyway, she had a pretty good idea who the caller was.
“Thanks, Mom.” Jessica stretched out her long legs to the floor. “We better go down. Warren’s waiting for you to have cocktails on the beach. Come on, Gertie.” She stood up and looked down at her mother’s high-heeled sandals. Lori hadn’t wanted to waste time changing to a more casual outfit. “Lose the shoes, Mom.”
Warren, in a red bathing suit with florid stomach jutting out underneath an old yellowed polo shirt, stood up from his Adirondack chair as Jessica and Lori, now barefoot, approached. Behind his bulky frame a narrow path of sand cut through pale green grasses and led to the shimmering blue of the bay. To the right, a wooden sailboat rocked gently next to a short pier. Above, the paler blue of the sky held a low string of clouds that looked squirted from a pastry bag. Warren grinned. “Welcome to Margoland.”
Angie, knee deep in the water, waved. Jessica and Gertie ran in after her.
Camilla T. Crespi - The Breakfast Club Murder Page 25