by Jade Astor
Unsure how to respond, Darian sipped his coffee.
“Want to go for a run around the block after breakfast? It’ll be too hot this afternoon. I don’t know about you, but I always slack off this time of year. All those papers and final exams to score. I’m sure you can relate.”
“Uh…today? Is that wise, Mom? I mean…the paper might not have revealed your name, but they published Rikki’s. Chances are someone at the paper has a mole in the police station. What if reporters are staking out the house, wanting to snap a photo or ask intrusive questions?” They’d done the same to him after the convenience store shooting, though he decided not to bring that up with Ange.
“You think they’d want to interview us?” Ange blinked at him as though horns had sprouted from his forehead. “I can’t imagine why. They know we’d only say ‘no comment.’”
“I’d expect them to try anyway.”
“If they want to waste their time, I suppose that’s up to them. I don’t plan to remain a prisoner in my own home, especially since you’re only here for a few days. Rikki and I were both so happy when you took up running. I’ve been looking forward to hitting the road with you.” Her expression turned wistful and then tightened again. “But if you don’t want to come, I’m perfectly happy to go by myself. I try to get out every morning if I can. Your visit’s thrown me off a bit, along with a few other obstacles.”
“Okay, Mom. If it means that much to you, I’ll give it a shot.” Darian had no intention of letting Ange jog around the block on her own. Nosy journalists weren’t the only issue that concerned him. For all he knew, Lanislaw had cops watching the house too. Hastily he gulped down his breakfast and got up. “Let me change my clothes and I’ll be right with you.”
On his way out of the kitchen, he passed Rikki on her way in, wrapped in a plush pink bathrobe. That gave him an idea.
“Hey. Mom and I are going for a quick run before it gets too hot out. I don’t suppose you’d want to throw on some sweats and come too,” he said hopefully. A bodyguard, he reasoned, wouldn’t be out of place under the circumstances. “Maybe we could even talk Argo into tagging along.”
Rikki looked surprised, but she noticed Ange watching and opted for a diplomatic excuse. “Sorry, I can’t. I need to get back to the hotel as soon as I can. No telling what kind of chaos the staff is dealing with. They need leadership.”
“I suppose Lanislaw will be there, waiting for you.” Ange turned back to the paper.
“I expect so.” Rikki flashed Darian a nervous smile. “Argo’s coming with me. He wants to talk to Lanislaw, too.”
“That’s good.” Darian hoped Ange would see it that way, too. “Lanislaw should consider himself lucky Argo’s around. In fact, we should all feel better about the case with him here to help.”
“If you say so.” Ange sounded bored. She made no effort to converse with Rikki.
“I’ll just get changed then,” Darian said. “Be right back.”
In his room, he found Argo freshly showered and dressed, smelling of sandalwood soap.
“I talked to Lanislaw,” he said while Darian rummaged around for some clothes he could jog in. “He’s willing to meet with me, at least. I don’t know if he’ll tell me anything, or listen to my ideas, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Just make sure he knows my mom didn’t kill anyone,” Darian said as he exchanged the t-shirt he’d slept in for a faded blue one emblazoned with the Birchwood crest. The words sounded bizarre, even to his own ears.
“You’ll be okay here with Ange? We’re down to one car for the moment. I’ll see what I can do about that while I’m at the hotel, too.”
“We’ll be fine. Thanks, Argo. I mean it.” Darian stopped rummaging in his suitcase long enough to lean over and kiss him. “What a lousy way to spend your vacation. I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”
“No worries. But I’ll hold you to that. And remember, I always know where to find you.”
“I’m counting on that,” Darian said. Argo exited the room and he finished dressing. As he tied the laces of his sneakers, he noticed the paper bag Argo had left on the nightstand. In it sat the jug of genuine maple syrup Argo had brought as a present for his moms. He hadn’t even had time to decorate it with a Christmas bow yet. Darian’s own gifts for his moms—and the watch he’d splurged on for Argo—likewise lay unwrapped in the pouches of his luggage. He’d envisioned a pleasant gift exchange in the living room or perhaps on the patio, with the familiar decorations around them and possibly some festive music playing. With every passing minute, the prospect of enjoying any such scene faded. How had a simple holiday visit turned into this much of a mess?
Half an hour later, with Rikki and Argo off to Mermaid Towers and the breakfast dishes churning in the dishwasher, he and Ange headed out to run a quick circuit around the neighborhood. After a brief warm-up, they set off at a modest cadence.
“Good form, Darian,” Ange said approvingly as they rounded the first corner. “You’re pretty good for a beginner.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do these days,” Darian teased. “I have a life when you’re not around, you know.
“I’m glad you decided to come out with me. Physical exercise helps relieve stress. Don’t you feel better already?”
“I guess I do, yeah.”
“I’m glad Argo’s looking into that…that business at the hotel.” Clenching her fists, Ange picked up her pace. Darian speeded up, too.
“Me, too.”
“I want you to be honest, Darian. Doesn’t it bother you—what he does for a living? Handcuffing people, throwing them in jail?”
“He only does that when he has to. He tries to handle every case fairly.”
“I’m sure they all say that. And they probably mean it. But the people wearing the cuffs see the situation differently.”
Darian couldn’t disagree. This time, Ange was speaking not just from an academic viewpoint, but from personal experience.
“It’s what he does, Mom. More than that, it’s what he loves to do. Being sheriff is part of who he is. A big part. Just like teaching and researching is part of who you are. I’d never ask him to change.”
They ran on, turning another corner. Most of the houses were quiet, the occupants still inside or asleep. Darian welcomed the peaceful silence, the balmy warmth of the air. If he’d stayed up north, right now he’d be stomping through a foot of snow, bundled up in three layers of clothes and maybe sporting a dorky hat with flaps over his ears. Yet he realized he’d begun to think of his small, snow-covered cottage as home.
“It seems like you’re sure about this,” Ange said. “About him.”
“I think so, yeah.”
“I can’t deny we worry about you. When all of that other stuff went down this fall...when you were making that film with the actor... Rikki and I hoped... well, I guess the actor wasn’t a much safer choice after all. Seems you got involved in a murder with him, too.”
“You could look at it that way.” Darian couldn’t help smiling. “So maybe it’s not Argo who’s a danger magnet. Maybe I’m a bad influence on him.”
Ange speeded up a little more. Darian kept pace, though he was feeling the strain in his lungs and his calves. Ange, the more experienced runner, hardly seemed tired at all.
“It’s hard having you so far away,” she admitted. “Was it wrong to hope you’d come back to Florida? It makes me shiver when I think of you so far away, living in a place that’s frozen half the time.”
“I have my own life now, Mom. And okay, sometimes I’m a little cold, but overall I’m happy. The clothes you and Rikki sent me from the catalog helped.”
Ange forced a laugh, but Darian could tell her mind was drifting down a less pleasant path. “Rikki picked most of it out. Just about maxed out our credit card ordering stuff for you. I told her to go easy, that you could buy everything you needed. Still, she insisted. She was convinced you would get pneumonia because you weren’t used to the weathe
r. And she said classrooms in old schools like yours were drafty.”
Her breathing grew more labored, her speech more pressured, as she went on. Once, Darian was sure he heard her voice catch on the edge of a sob.
“You need to talk to her, Mom. Sit down and hash things out.”
“That’s what marriage is supposed to be all about isn’t it? Hell, you know I’ve never had any trouble speaking my mind. But in this situation, I never could do it. So things just went from bad to worse. Now she thinks I’m a killer who took out a rival.”
“She doesn’t really think that,” Darian said. “She’s just frustrated because you won’t open up to her. Someone needs to take the first step.”
“This might sound strange, but I guess I’m afraid she’ll be too honest with me. That I’ll hear something I’m not prepared to deal with. Remember the story of Pandora’s box? Opening the lid unleashed turmoil and evil into the world. I didn’t want to let out emotions I won’t be able to stuff back in once I’ve taken them out. Super job I did, huh? Anyway, none of that will matter if I end up in prison. Rikki will go on with her life. I’d want her to forget me.”
“Mom, that’s not going to happen.”
“We’ll see.” Glancing up, Ange motioned him to veer to the curb. “Careful. Car coming.”
Sure enough, a white SUV-type vehicle came rumbling toward them. Spotting them, the driver slowed. Darian recognized the lettering on the hood.
“Uh oh,” he said. “Mom, it’s a TV news van.”
“Don’t worry,” said Ange. “They have no idea who we are. Just keep going like everything’s normal.”
Darian groaned. If only that could be true for even one day. Through the windshield, he saw two people start gesturing and jabbering excitedly as the news crew recognized Ange, whose photograph had appeared in the local paper before in connection with various college events. For all he knew, she’d been right about the local reporter writing much like the staff at her school paper because they were in fact her former students.
“They’re taking video of us,” he said when the van eased closer and a camera appeared through the side window.
That wasn’t the worst part, though. At the same time, another car came into view, cruising down their street from the opposite direction. The people in the front seat of that one started pointing at them, too.
Chapter 9
“Great. Two of them. Now what?” Darian slowed, glancing from one approaching car to the other. Beside him, Ange began to look worried. With the street blocked in both directions, their best option was to cut between the nearest houses and try to get back by crossing yards and patios. But that, obviously, brought with it a new set of problems, ranging from irate homeowners to fire ants and snakes lurking in the grass.
The news van had drawn up almost parallel to them, their video camera blinking, when the smaller vehicle came to a complete stop. Relief washed over Ange’s face, which puzzled Darian until he spotted Iris in the passenger seat. The driver’s window slid down and Bodie leaned out.
“Quick! Jump in the back!”
“Let’s go,” Ange said, and moments later they were peeling away, roaring past the news van and taking a hasty left at the first intersection they came to.
“Talk about serendipity,” Darian said, buckling his seatbelt as the car swerved around the corner. “How did you find us?”
“We were just coming back from Mermaid Towers,” Iris explained. “Zara insisted on going to work—Rikki’s called some kind of staff meeting and she didn’t want to miss it. Bodie and I objected, of course, but we can’t tell her anything when her mind is set. But no way would we let her go alone. We watched until she got inside the building.”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Bodie said, speeding to the next stop sign and whipping around it without even slowing. Thankfully, no one else was heading their way. “I saw this on TV once. If someone’s following you, just take three lefthand turns and leave them choking on your dust.”
“I think he might have misunderstood,” Darian whispered to Ange, but luckily they made it to Bodie and Iris’s driveway in one piece. The news van had not followed them.
“They’re probably on the way to your place now,” Iris said in disgust.
“That’s okay.” Ange affected a philosophical attitude, but Darian could tell she was shaken. “If they want to take pictures of an empty house, they can be my guests.”
“Vultures. We saw the paper this morning. Pure sensationalism. No one who knows you could ever think you were involved in such a savage attack, Ange.”
“Thanks, Iris. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“You have my support, too,” Bodie said. “Come on in and I’ll put on some coffee. Let those hacks circle around until they get frustrated or one of the neighbors calls the cops on them.”
When they got inside, Bodie lowered all the shades and drew the curtains while Iris hugged Ange.
“Are you all right? What a night you had.”
“Hanging on,” Ange said. “I was hoping someone would tell me it was all a dream.”
“No worries,” said Bodie. “We have just the thing to take the edge off. Banana bread fresh from the oven, complete with chocolate chips. We had some for breakfast before we dropped Zara off at the hotel. With any luck it’s still warm.”
“Sounds great.” Ange brightened a little. “You know my theory. Chocolate makes everything better.”
“No argument there,” Iris said. “As a psychologist, I can assure you that research confirms it. Go ahead into the living room while Bodie makes the coffee and I grab some plates and forks. You know the way.”
It had been over a year since Darian had been in Bodie and Iris’s modest home, but the décor hadn’t changed much, if at all. The basic layout resembled Ange and Rikki’s house, though slightly more old-fashioned. He recognized all the decorations—a few framed prints of Impressionist paintings, family photos on top of a well-stuffed bookcase, a clock in the shape of Sigmund Freud. As the seconds ticked by, Sigmund’s legs swung as though walking on an invisible treadmill. The clock had been a gift from one of Iris’s psych students as thanks for her help on a senior thesis.
One new addition was an enormous calendar on the wall featuring a collection of scenes from European cities. Darian paused to admire a shot of Venice decorated for Christmas, with the Rialto Bridge and even some of the gondolas strung with twinkling lights.
“Zara put that up,” Iris said, entering the room with the promised banana bread and all the necessary utensils. “She’s fascinated with Europe these days. Seems to imagine it as some kind of utopia. I suppose it’s all these people at the hotel. Gabrielle loves—well, loved—to talk about her castle tours and her rich world-traveler friends. You know, all those things that turn a young woman’s head. Luckily for you, Ange, Darian’s a scholar at heart, too. He’s content with a shelf full of books and a few classes to teach, just like we are.”
“True enough,” Darian said. If only reading literary criticism and writing lectures about the great English poets was all he had to contend with. The occasional sassy student or plagiarized essay would be a lot easier to deal with than the murders he seemed to keep stumbling over.
As they settled on the sofa, his attention drifted to some pictures of Zara as a child. One featured a much younger Bodie, posing with his daughter on the deck of a sailboat, beaming. Both their lifejackets and their smiles matched.
“Two peas in a pod, aren’t they?” Iris said.
“They sure are.” Darian smiled as pleasant memories filled his mind. “I think we took that around the time I met all of you.”
“Yes. Ange had just joined the faculty. You must have been about seven or eight. I remember thinking how nice it was that Zara had someone her own age to hang around with.”
“Not everyone would have been as welcoming as you and Bodie were back then,” Ange said. “We appreciated it, believe me.”
“Well, academics seldom v
alue conformity,” Bodie said when he arrived with the coffee. “Why should we? The celebration of differences is where real knowledge begins.”
Near the sailboat photo was a shot of Iris, Bodie, and Zara posing with Darian and his two moms at their wedding. Ange stared at it wistfully.
“That was quite a party, wasn’t it?” Iris recalled. “You and Rikki made history that day. We wouldn’t have missed it.”
“We didn’t really think about it like that,” Ange said. “We were mostly just celebrating our family. Just like anyone else—or at least anyone else who had a nearly grown son and had been legally prevented from making things official for so long.”
“Either way, Bodie and I were proud to take part.” Iris grinned at Darian as she picked up a large cake knife. He watched her slice into the banana bread’s soft center with a practiced hand and tried not to imagine what it would be like to plunge a blade into living flesh. He reminded himself of Lanislaw’s bombshell—Gabrielle had been strangled, not stabbed. “I wonder if we might be attending another ground-breaking event before long. Argo seems nice, doesn’t he?”
Darian felt an unexpected twinge in his chest. He’d never heard Argo speak fondly of the concept of marriage or commitment. His own family ties, with his sister and a brother in law he didn’t care for, evoked much less positive reactions. Was there a chance he’d ever come around to the possibility of something more?
Argo always said cops didn’t do well with togetherness, and Darian believed him. That idea always hung between them like a curtain, and it made things easier in some ways. Darian didn’t think Argo would ever change his mind about that, so he saw no point in hoping otherwise.
“It’s too soon to consider anything like that,” he said, waving a hand as if to shoo the topic away. “After all, why ruin a good thing?”
Conversation faltered as Bodie passed around the coffee and Iris did the same with the bread. The two of them seemed to be waiting for Darian to answer another question, also involving Argo, that no one quite dared to ask out loud. Finally Iris took the plunge.